Chapter Text
Bangkok – Prasert Law Firm
Prasert Law Firm was a titan in the legal world—one of Thailand’s top ten firms, handling high-profile corporate battles, multimillion-dollar lawsuits, and clients who valued winning above all else.
And Film Prasert was at the heart of it.
As co-owner of the firm, her reputation was built on precision, ruthless efficiency, and an unyielding demand for perfection. Everything ran exactly as she wanted—because one person made sure of it.
Her assistant.
Her best friend.
And now, she is leaving.
Honestly, Film didn’t blame her. It wasn’t personal. People came and went. That was how things worked.
✦✦✦✦
Film stood in her office, arms crossed, as Love stacked files on her desk one last time. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows over the polished wood.
Love hesitated before speaking. "I still can’t believe I’m leaving."
Film didn’t reply.
"I mean, I can believe it—I was the one who decided to move," Love continued, forcing a chuckle. "But it still feels... weird."
"You could stay," Film said, tone even.
Love sighed, shaking her head. "You know I can’t. We’ve talked about this."
Film had tried to convince her to stay. More than once. But Love’s decision was firm—her wife, Milk, needed her in Chiang Mai.
Still, Film didn’t like it.
Love had been at Film’s side since high school. Even when they chose different majors at university—Love had chosen administration, Film had chosen law—somehow, their friendship remained intact.
As Film’s assistant, Love had been the one to keep Film’s life in order, the only person who understood her without the need for explanations.
And now, Film is losing that.
"You’re the only one I trust to keep up with me," Film admitted.
Love smiled. "I know. That’s why I’m going to find someone who can keep up. I’ll train them myself—make sure they meet your impossible standards."
She sat down across from Film, her expression turning serious. "I’ll train them myself. I won’t leave until I’m sure they meet your standards."
Film studied her. Love never made promises lightly. If she said she’d find someone capable, she would.
"You better," Film muttered.
Love laughed. "Come on, let’s get through these interviews. If anyone can handle you, we’ll know soon enough."
✦✦✦✦
The conference room was cold, modern, and impersonal—much like Film herself. She sat at the head of the long table, arms crossed, while Love took notes beside her.
Candidate after candidate walked in, only to be dismissed within minutes.
The first candidate entered—a nervous man in his thirties, clearly eager to please.
"I’m great under pressure!" he blurted.
Film arched an eyebrow. "If I call you at 3 AM needing a full case briefing in ten minutes, what do you do?"
He hesitated. "Uh... I ask what to prioritize?"
"Wrong answer."
Love winced as Film dismissed him with a wave. "Next."
The second candidate was a woman with an impressive résumé but an inflated ego.
"I prefer working independently," she said smugly.
"Then this isn’t the job for you," Film replied without hesitation.
One by one, candidates came and went—too inexperienced, too arrogant, too slow, too easily intimidated.
By the time the fourth candidate stammered over their own name and Film quickly kicked him out the room, Love sighed. "This is not going well."
Film rubbed her temple. "This is a waste of time."
Love glanced at her list. "There’s one more."
"And?"
Love hesitated. "She’s... different."
"Define different."
"She’s calm. No exaggeration, no desperation to impress. Just... focused."
"We'll see about that. Send her in."
Then the door opened.
A woman entered, moving with quiet precision. She was dressed immaculately—a crisp white blouse tucked into a fitted black skirt, not a single wrinkle out of place. Dark brown eyes met Film’s with unwavering confidence.
She walked straight to the table, placed a neatly organized portfolio down, and folded her hands in front of her.
"Good afternoon, Miss Prasert," she said smoothly. "My name is Namtan Sutthisak."
Film studied her.
No nervous energy. No over-eagerness. Just control.
She flipped open the portfolio. A degree in business. Fluency in multiple languages. Experience in high-profile corporate firms.
"You worked for Mr. Wichai," Film noted. "He retired last month."
"Correct," Namtan replied. "I saw that as an opportunity to take on something more demanding."
Film raised an eyebrow. "You want a demanding job?"
Namtan’s lips curled into the faintest smile. "I work best under pressure."
Love leaned forward. "Miss Prasert is... particular about how things are done. Most people find the workload overwhelming."
"That won’t be a problem."
Film tapped a pen against the table. "If I call you at three in the morning for an emergency case briefing, will you answer?"
"Yes."
"If I give you an impossible deadline, will you meet it?"
"Yes."
“If I call you at 3 AM needing a full case briefing in ten minutes, what do you do?”
“I'll quickly do it.”
"If I tell you to cancel all your plans at a moment’s notice, will you do it?"
Namtan’s expression didn’t change. "I don’t have plans."
Film paused. Interesting answer.
She leaned forward slightly. "You do realize working for me means putting your life second to mine?"
A beat of silence. Then, Namtan tilted her head slightly, her voice soft but certain.
"That won't be a problem."
Something shifted in the air.
Film had interviewed dozens of assistants before. Some were qualified. Some were even good. But none of them had ever given her this feeling—this unsettling certainty that they were already ten steps ahead of her.
She studied Namtan for a long time. Then, finally, she shut the portfolio.
"You start tomorrow," Film said.
A ghost of a smile crossed Namtan’s lips. "Of course."
As Namtan stood and exited the room, Love exhaled. "She’s... different."
Film watched the door close, something unreadable in her expression.
"Yes," she murmured. "She is."
Love hesitated before speaking, tapping her pen against the table as she stared at the closed door. "She has a certain... vibe. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or not."
Film didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of Namtan’s portfolio.
"Explain," Film said finally.
Love hesitated. "She’s confident—too confident. Not in an arrogant way, but in a way that makes me feel like... she already knew she was getting this job before she even walked in."
Film hummed in thought. "Confidence isn’t a flaw."
"No, but it’s unusual for an assistant candidate," Love pointed out. She frowned, her instincts unsettled. "Most people, no matter how capable, at least try to impress you. But she wasn’t trying to convince us she was the best. She acted like she already was."
Film tilted her head, considering.
Now that Love mentioned it, Namtan had been unnervingly composed from the moment she walked in. No flattery, no false modesty, no eagerness to please. Just... complete self-assurance.
"She knew exactly what I needed to hear," Film admitted. "Not just in her words, but in her delivery. That’s rare."
Love crossed her arms. "It’s calculated."
"Good," Film said simply. "I need someone calculated."
Love frowned. "Are you sure? Something about her felt... off."
Film turned to face her fully. "You wanted someone who could keep up with me. You said you’d find the perfect assistant. What if this is her?"
Love hesitated. "What if she’s more than that?"
Film arched a brow. "More than an assistant?"
Love let out a small sigh, shaking her head. "I don’t know. I just have a weird feeling. Call it instinct."
Film considered her for a moment before standing up. She picked up Namtan’s résumé, flipping through it one more time. Every credential, every experience—it was all flawless.
And yet, it wasn’t Namtan’s qualifications that lingered in Film’s mind.
It was the way she had spoken.
That quiet, unwavering certainty.
"That won’t be a problem."
"I don’t have plans."
Most candidates were either desperate or detached. Namtan had been neither. She had been something else entirely.
Let’s see if she means it.
Film exhaled softly and stood. "I’ve made my decision."
Love sat up straighter. "You’re seriously hiring her?"
"Yes."
Love sighed, rubbing her forehead. "You should at least consider another round of interviews. Maybe—"
"I don’t waste time with second choices," Film interrupted smoothly. "She’s the best candidate. She starts tomorrow."
Love looked unconvinced but didn’t argue further.
Instead, she gathered the remaining documents and stood, shaking her head. "Just… be careful, okay? There’s something about her that I don’t like."
"I appreciate your concern, Love," Film said finally. "But I think she’s exactly what I need."
Love looked at the closed door one more time.
Namtan had barely been in the room for ten minutes, yet she had left an impression—one that Love couldn’t quite shake.
"I hope you’re right about her," Love muttered.
Film smiled faintly. "I always am."
She had no idea just how much her life was about to change.
✦✦✦✦
Outside, just beyond the office doors, Namtan walked through the hallway of Prasert Law Firm, her steps slow and unhurried.
She knew Film would hire her.
She knew the moment she saw her.
And soon, Film would know it too.
Because no matter how powerful Film thought she was—how in control she believed herself to be—Namtan had already decided.
She would be everything Film needed.
And Film would never get rid of her.