11. WORK LOVE BALANCE

The slender body lay on the bed, watching as a robust figure, full of defined muscles, approached slowly to position himself over him. With both hands, he touched Jira’s body, gently caressing the white abdomen covered by a soft, comfortable cotton shirt, while the other hand, without hesitation, unbuttoned the pants hugging his slim waist and tossed them to the floor.

Perfectly shaped lips began to kiss from the flat abdomen, slowly ascending to other parts of the body. At first, he touched gently, leaving kisses on every inch of skin until stopping at the hollow of the neck, a particularly sensitive spot that made the slender body move in rhythm with the caresses, responding to the intense stimulation.

Jira tilted his head, letting himself be carried away by the intensity of the moment, but when his eyes met the sharp face of the man dominating him, everything stopped abruptly.

Doubt crept in, replacing the initial heat.

Suddenly, Jira’s large, round eyes reflected the image of Pheem’s body superimposed with Ko’s. No matter how hard he shook his head to rid himself of it, Ko’s cold, indifferent face kept appearing clearly.

The slender body decided to divert his gaze from Pheem and let out a frustrated sigh, leaving the taller man bewildered. However, he was unwilling to give up. He tried to lean in to kiss Jira’s moist lips, but Jira turned his head to the side. Pheem then used the palm of his hand to gently hold Jira’s chin and make him look straight ahead.

After a brief moment of hesitant gazes, the young man brushed the tip of his nose against Jira’s pale neck and whispered in a soft, seductive voice:

“Are you okay?”

Jira’s face was full of confusion. He tried to regain the mood by embracing Pheem’s strong neck and pulling their bodies even closer. He brought the tip of his nose to the hollow of Pheem’s neck, trying to respond to the sensations he offered, but failed to evoke the expected romance.

He realized it still wasn’t the right moment.

The smaller man regained almost complete control of his senses and gently pushed the larger body away to maintain distance.

“Give me a moment, please.”

The man who heard this was surprised, but when pushed aside, he did not insist and agreed to give him time, though he didn’t fully understand what Jira needed.

Regain his composure? Get used to it? Prepare mentally? Or what?

Those questions remained unanswered doubts. He could only watch as Jira, still dressed, quickly got up from the bed and went to the bathroom.

The sound of water running from the sink filtered outward. Pheem’s mood spiraled; from wanting to move forward, he felt stuck. He could only pray his fears wouldn’t come true. Every second of waiting was an unbearable torture.

He stared at the bathroom door until it finally opened.

Jira’s eyes were red and swollen. The taller man mustered courage, awaiting an explanation with his heart on edge.

“I think it’s too fast,” said Jira.

Disappointment after disappointment. Pheem blamed the perfume Marwin had sprayed, but it didn’t matter-there was still hope.

“I understand, but it’s not serious, right?” “I’m sorry, really.”
“You don’t have to apologize. Maybe it is too fast, as you say.”

The smaller man watched as Pheem clumsily got off the bed, carrying the scent of Marwin’s perfume with him.

“So… I’ll leave, so you can rest.”

A large hand grabbed the recently removed clothes and put them on carelessly, under Jira’s guilty gaze. Pheem thought to himself, wishing the other would stop him, say something-anything-but it didn’t happen.

Neither did he have the courage to say anything, something unusual for a supposed casanova, a man known to play with hearts. In the end, all he could do was say goodbye.

“See you later, okay?”

With a forced smile, he staggered out of the room.

After closing the door, he stopped in the hallway, trying to process what had happened. Everything had moved too quickly to understand, and he didn’t even know his emotional state.

And for the third time, Pheem blamed Marwin’s perfume.

He pulled out his phone and checked his contacts. He decided to make a call. It wasn’t long before someone answered. In a serious tone, almost as if he wanted to destroy the entire world, he said:

“Are you free? Come see me.”

 

When Marwin stepped out of his room wearing only a towel around his waist, he was surprised to see his roommate, shirtless, having coffee at the kitchen counter. He didn’t know when Pheem had returned. Just as he was about to ask, a woman emerged from Pheem’s room.

“I’m leaving, okay?” she said, waving lightly to Pheem as if it were routine. Marwin couldn’t help but give her a mocking glance.

“What, you came with someone else? Or didn’t you close the deal last night?” “That was too fast. It needs to mature a bit more.”
“Ha, excuses! Admit you failed.”

“It’s because of the damn perfume you sprayed, idiot.” “Don’t blame me.”
Marwin, feeling sorry, didn’t want to bother his friend further. As Pheem frowned, his phone vibrated. With a cold expression, he let it ring a moment before answering.

[I called you last night, why didn’t you answer?] Ko asked, his tone seeming to hide something.

“I was busy with something,” Pheem lied blatantly. [At ten at night? Tell me the truth.]
“Fine, if you want the truth,” Pheem paused before speaking seriously. “I was with someone.”
[Really? Do I know her?]

“Can’t you stop meddling in my affairs? Tell me, why are you calling? You didn’t send the schedule.”

[The agreement to merge with Thames is ready. I want you to come sign the documents. I left everything with the butler; he’ll give it to you.]

“Aren’t you in the room?”

[No,] a stuttering sound came over the phone, suggesting Ko was driving somewhere. “Where are you going?”
[Can’t you stop meddling in my affairs?]

“You’re clever, asshole,” Pheem retorted before expressing his concern bluntly.

“What will you do when Thames finds out it’s you? One day he will.” [When he knows, it won’t matter.]
“And now what?”

[For now, keep him fooled.]

The call ended. Pheem stood tensely in the same spot. Work was overwhelming, but the real problem was his relationship with Jira, which wasn’t progressing.

 

A black Maserati stopped by the curb. Ko, inside the car, didn’t move immediately, as if waiting for something. He noticed a florist with some customers coming and going. Once the place emptied, he put on sunglasses and quickly entered.

He scanned the place before approaching the counter for assistance. “I want a bouquet of tulips.”
“What color?” the employee asked. “White.”
“How would you like it prepared?” “As you like.”
“For whom? We can help you pick something special.”

Ko paused for a moment, looking around before replying seriously:

“For someone who, upon receiving them, will have to fall in love with me.”

As he spoke, he watched the employee prepare the bouquet with an indifferent expression. Once it was ready, he pulled out his phone and sent a message to Jira, calling him back to work.

Jira arrived at the penthouse at the exact time. Upon entering, he found Ko focused on his laptop at the desk. Ko stared at him before casually asking about the previous night.

“Why didn’t you answer the phone last night?” “I was sleeping. Was it something important?”
Jira clenched his fists, fearing he might be discovered, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Building a relationship with someone in the company was already against the rules, but what he had with Pheem went beyond simple friendship, making him feel even more guilty.

“It was nothing, I just couldn’t sleep,” Ko replied, observing Jira’s face before handing him the bouquet of tulips he had bought, remembering that they were the flowers from a drawing Jira had made.

“Motivating the employees?” “Maybe. Do you like them?” “Thanks, but not really my thing.”
“What a fickle heart,” Ko joked, before continuing in a playful tone. “What flowers do you like?”
“Why do you want to know?”

“Let’s make a deal. If I guess, you work overtime. If I fail, I give you a day off.”

Jira looked at him suspiciously, unsure what Ko intended, but ended up nodding like a naive fool.

“What are you up to? Why suddenly play the flower guessing game?”

“Come on, it’s just for fun. I’m giving you a chance to rest because I surely won’t guess. There are thousands of flowers in the world…”

Ko glanced at the tulips in Jira’s hand. “Keep those tulips. Go change.” “What do I have to do today?” “Change first, then I’ll explain.”
Jira entered the bedroom and found clothes prepared by the butler on the edge of Ko’s bed. He changed in front of the mirror, feeling lucky to wear clothes that fit him so well. Still, he added some accessories for a more modern touch.

Ko, who had followed him, commented with a teasing tone:

“You look good, who would’ve thought?”

He stepped closer to adjust Jira’s shirt, which wasn’t sitting quite right.

“Today, you’re attending a meeting about funding for soft power in fashion. As always, don’t do much-just follow my instructions.”

“Where is it? Honestly, just thinking about the hall gives me chills.”

The memory of the awards event returned. Jira rubbed his head to shake off the embarrassment, but the gesture annoyed Ko, who grabbed his wrist with one hand while fixing his hair with the other, explaining more details.

“It’s at THACCA*. Today’s an important council meeting on government fund approval.” (*) Thailand Creative Culture Agency.
“Is it that serious?”

“We’re representing Memento Couture*.”

(*) Memento Couture is a brand that fuses photography and fashion, creating garments with gallery-quality customized prints using a museum-grade printer. The brand prioritizes
made-to-measure pieces with premium materials and sustainable practices, offering a unique fusion of art and fashion. Each piece includes an artist’s plaque and a QR code for authentication, highlighting its collectible nature.

“All Memento companies yours?” “How shady do you think I am?” “And how shady am I to you?”
“Very dark, completely,” Jira joked. He had worked on several projects but didn’t know when he might end up in jail. The future was uncertain, so he had to plan a backup. For now, he would save enough to escape if necessary.

“You’re wrong, I’m as pure as snow.” “Ha.”
“Listen, your task is to ensure, no matter what, that Thames doesn’t get government support.”

Ko led him to the parking lot, explaining more details while Jira, listening to the mission, remained silent, unable to calm down.

“The work is more complex than picking up an award. I’ll give you a concept summary. Today, you’ll be part of the committee. We have two main points to object to.”

Jira listened carefully as the elevator descended.

“First, the funds are intended to support emerging designers, and clearly the company’s secondary brand, Library, doesn’t meet that criterion.”

“Second, it’s well known that Thames doesn’t truly support new designers and tends to appropriate their work.”

“Is that true?” Jira asked after hearing the points.

“Your job is to make it sound like the absolute truth.”

The elevator reached the basement. Ko stepped out, but Jira started to worry. They reached the parked Maserati. Ko unlocked the car and sat down, but Jira didn’t move, a question still on his mind.

“What’s wrong? Get in.”

“I’m scared, okay? You’re asking me to do dirty things.”

“Remember, we’re not the ones who should be afraid. Thames should be.”

“This is getting murkier and murkier. Won’t it be a problem if I lie in front of the committee?” “Don’t worry. Truth or lie depends on perspective. If you convince the majority, it’s done.”
“I don’t even believe it myself, how am I going to convince others?”

Ko got out of the car, closed the door, and approached Jira with an intimidating presence.

“What do I have to do to make you feel safe? Do you want to play the victim again, like the first time, until you’re ready?”

“You don’t have to be so cruel. Just explain clearly if Thames really doesn’t support new designers. That’s enough for me.”

Ko sighed and explained briefly:

“Thames isn’t a saint. Even if he supports some new designers, it’s for his own interest. If he gets government funds, he’ll gain the council’s trust, and then we won’t be able to bring down his company.”

“We need to make him lose credibility. If Thames falls, our team will take his place.” “And I have to be the bad guy again? Until when? This is exhausting.”
“What would make you feel better?”

“I don’t know, money maybe? If I get caught, it should at least be worth it,” Jira said sarcastically, though Ko took it seriously.

“How much do you want? Write the number down.”

Jira sighed. He didn’t want money, but feeling cornered, he took out his phone and typed a number as a guarantee.

“Fine, as you wish. Just trust me, as I trust you to draw.”

Their eyes met: one determined, the other hesitant. Ko didn’t give Jira time to prepare. He put on some headphones.

“Relax, the meeting room isn’t that important. What counts are the connections behind the scenes.”

He placed a small transmitter device in a handkerchief, folded it carefully, and tucked it into Jira’s shirt pocket.

 

By the afternoon, they arrived at the Creative Culture Agency, where the meeting was held. Jira, still anxious, didn’t want to get out of the car, but Ko encouraged him with reassurance.

“It’s time. You can do it, you’re good.” He added: “I’ll come back for you later.” “What? You’re leaving?”
“I’m going to conquer your heart.” “What heart? Stay with me.”
“I’ll be listening the whole time, don’t worry.”

Without giving him a chance to protest, Ko helped him out of the car, and the Maserati drove away, leaving Jira alone, unsure whether to move left or right. He pulled out a menthol inhaler and took a deep breath to muster courage.

He didn’t know if it was good or bad luck, but upon entering the building, the tension spiked. He saw Thames smiling and chatting with the committee. Jira spoke through the earpiece to his boss.

“I’m so nervous I feel like my soul is going to leave my body.” [Who do you see now?]
“Thames.”

At that moment, Thames noticed him and approached with a smile after saying goodbye to the group he was talking with.

“Khun K! Today I might need a bit of your help.” “How can I help you?”
“If you could support me like the other day, it would be a big help.” Ko intervened through the earpiece.
[Don’t pay too much attention, remember we’re no longer here to earn him over like before.] Thames looked around before leaning close to whisper only to Jira:

“I know a representative from a company will come today. They’ve changed all their leadership, and I think they’ll try to block my funding.”

“What company?” “Memento.”
Jira’s heart skipped a beat. Soon, the organizer called everyone to the meeting room. Influential people from various fashion companies and the government took their seats. Jira entered with unsteady steps and sat in a chair labeled “Memento.”

Thames, seeing him, turned pale. He had just been betrayed.