Rule No. 1: Don’t be too emotional : Special 2

We hug and yes, we make love

And always just say “Goodnight’

And we cuddle, sure I do love it

But I need your lips on mine

How old do you think is too old to follow a dream? If you ask me, l don’t know. But I hope twenty-seven isn’t a number that’s too late. Best Seller #1 Rule No. 1: “Don’t be too emotional.” #Don’tRequestPJane I was at a bookstore in a department store, standing with my arms crossed, gazing at my own novel.

It had been published by a famous house and was sitting on the shelf. I looked at it with immense pride. It wasn’t just a bestseller in the BL (Yaoi) category; it was the number one bestseller of every single book in this store. This wasn’t the first time I’d swung by the mall near my house and walked into the bookstore-I do it several times a month.

That’s the perk of being a writer: no matter how famous you get, people don’t chase you down like a celebrity. No one meddles in your private life. It’s the work that’s famous, not the person. I picked up two books that looked interesting after reading the blurbs, paid, and drove home. When I arrived, I pulled into my usual parking spot.

Even though I’d been driving this BMW for a while, I still felt a bit tense. I never imagined I’d have the luck to drive such an expensive car. I should clarify that I have enough pride not to want to live off someone else, so I pay the installments for this car myself. This was despite a “certain someone” trying to buy it for me as a gift at every opportunity, even going as far as calling the price “pocket change” to get me to accept it.

That annoyed me so much we had a massive blowout. Eventually, we met in the middle: he paid the down payment, and I pay the monthly installments. I heard the sound of a piano drifting into the living room while I was carrying my bag of books toward my office. The beautiful melody made me decide to go listen instead.

P’Jane’s fingers danced across the keys. The song he was playing today had a sweet, romantic melody, but I remembered the lyrics well because it’s one of my favorites-and it’s actually quite spicy, sexual, and erotic. I was the one who recommended he listen to it. The tall man remained focused, immersed in his playing.

I sang the next lines: “Baby we’re two distant strangers I know you don’t speak my language But I love the way she’s talking to me” (Love Talk – WayV) P’Jane turned and gave me a small smile, then kept playing, speeding up the tempo to make it even more provocative. I sang until the very end of the song.

Finally, he struck the last note to close the piece elegantly. I clapped loudly, putting on a deep, dramatic voice like a movie narrator.

“Bravo! Mr. Palakorn, bravo!” P’Jane laughed and lunged at me, catching me in a headlock before I could escape. His large hand ruffled my hair vigorously until it was a mess.

“Ow! What the heck, P’Jane?! Let me go!”

“Are you teasing me?”

“I’m not teasing! It was a real compliment!” We played around for a bit longer until he finally let me go. We then settled in to lounge and watch Netflix in the home theater room P’Jane built specifically for movies and series. I grabbed the remote.

“What should we watch today?”

“You choose, Jane.”

“Let’s keep watching Bridgerton, then.”

“Fine.” I hit play. It might seem strange for a man like P’Jane to watch Bridgerton, but don’t be surprised-I was the one who picked it first, and I got hooked. P’Jane just goes along with whatever I want. We sat watching for nearly two hours when P’Jane asked me-just as Daphne was talking to the Duke: “What day is your book signing?”

“In two days.”

“Are you excited?”

“I’m scared.”

“What do you mean?” P’Jane grabbed the remote, paused the show, and turned to ask me seriously. I shrugged. Honestly, I wanted to get back to the series more than I wanted to discuss this, but I figured I should answer.

“There’s an author who doesn’t like me doing a signing on the same day. Even though we’re at different booths.”

“The one you had that Twitter fight with?”

“Yeah. The only one.” The situation was quite silly. I won’t say I was entirely blameless, because my sharp retorts escalated things until our fanbases went to war. It got so bad it trended on Twitter for two days. Even though I didn’t start it, I have to admit I played a part in it. Even though we both released statements and apologized afterward, believe me, the tension is still there. I’m certain he hates me.

“Is the author a woman?”

“A man. I mean, he’s like me.”

By that, I meant he was a man who liked men. Not surprising, since he writes BL novels too. P’Jane smiled.

“You should say he’s like us.”” You’re bisexual.”

“But I’ve only loved one man for many years, and I’m not changing my mind.”

“Smooth talker.”

“I admit it.”

“How does it feel to like ‘Jane’?” I asked.

“You mean liking a man? It’s no different. I want to take care of you, protect you, be close to you, touch you. I worry about you. I care,” P’Jane answered simply in his steady voice.

“That sounds very much like basic human instinct.”

“Of course it is. Love is love.”

“Are you sure you’ve chosen me and won’t change your mind? It’s not like you’ll see a beautiful girl, run off to her, and tell me you just realized you don’t like men?” He turned to look at me. His sharp, sweet eyes reflected a crystal-clear seriousness, pinning me in place so I couldn’t move.

“It’s hard enough just to find someone you love. Why should I have to care about which genders I can or can’t like? Isn’t that too complicated? If that’s how you think, you might as well not love anyone at all in this life.”

“Whoa.”

“What? Why that tone and that face?”

“That was so cool and so deep. Let me write that down to use in my next novel.” P’Jane laughed, reaching out to ruffle my hair while I grabbed my iPhone to quickly type out his words. He gave his permission.

“Go ahead.”

“How are you so cool? When you play piano, you’re like a professional. You’re a genius at studying, you’re great at business, and everything you say is a quote.”

“And that person is loyal to this Jenalee alone.”

“Smooth talking again.”

“I admit it, sir.” I pinched P’Jane’s cheek affectionately before sighing.

“Sigh. Okay, let me circle back to the original topic. I’m nervous because that other author has a huge fan base. He’s been writing much longer than me, and he has a whole ‘author gang’ of allies. I don’t want to sit there and be glared at or feel the bad vibes. I don’t have a ‘pack’ like them.”

“Does that really happen? Can people not separate their personal lives from their work?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even want to think about it. You know I’m a bit of a scaredy-cat.” He smiled , rocking my head with his hand.

“Not just ‘a bit’.”

“I wish I were brave like you. How can I be more bold?”

“Change yourself.”” I’ve tried! But in the end, we have a core self that can’t be changed, right? I tell myself to be brave, but I’m still a chicken. I can lie to anyone, but I can’t lie to myself.”‘ I lay down on P’Jane’s lap, burying my face and whining.

“I hate this feeling.”

“What feeling?”

“The feeling of not understanding anything. I can’t find a logical reason why he hates me.”

“Envy.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” I looked up. P’Jane’s face was neutral. He continued: “Envy. Jealousy. Fear. Insecurity. What more reason does a human need to hate someone?”

“But he could argue that I’m being conceited. Why would he be jealous of me? If I hate cockroaches, does that mean I’m jealous of cockroaches?”

“The feeling of hating a cockroach comes from disgust and fear. With other humans, it’s a different story. And you aren’t disgusting. Therefore, the only thing I can deduce the other party is feeling is envy. Now, this is just an opinion, not a fact-but usually, my opinions are correct.”

“What would he be jealous of?” I brushed off P’Jane’s arrogance because I was used to it, but I was genuinely confused. How could he be jealous when he’s been famous much longer than me? P’Jane took a sip of cold water. His body language told me that Dr. Jane Patrick Palakorn had entered full “serious mode.”

“Your first work became famous very quickly. From what I saw on Twitter during that drama, he had been famous for quite a while before you. Your writing styles aren’t that far apart, even if you both have unique flairs. This means there’s a high percentage that your readers are the same group. He’s likely afraid his popularity is being stolen, leading to insecurity, instability, and envy because you’re a rising star. He’s probably afraid of being dethroned from the number one spot.”

“If you’re putting it that way, it means I’m number two,” I narrowed my eyes, feeling slightly annoyed. Who likes being anything other than number one?

“If you look at it from my perspective alone… ‘ Number One’ or ‘Number Two, ‘ it’s all just an imaginary concept, no different from a fairy tale to trick children.” P’Jane said something that made my bubble of fantasy pop. I narrowed my eyes even further until they were just slits.

“I know.’ If you’re stranded on an island and hand a monkey money, it won’t give you a banana. There are no tigers that kill each other over different religions, and dolphins don’t follow their dreams.’ That kind of thing, right?” He grinned.” Yes.”

“Hmph,” I snorted. I felt like he didn’t see my problem as a big deal at all.

“Only humans take imaginary things so seriously that they turn them into reality.”

“And the most hilarious fairy tale is money,” I quickly interjected. P’Jane kept smiling, gesturing as if to say I was spot on. Actually, I think my boyfriend is… quite wicked. Not just normally wicked. He finds it amusing to see other humans scrambling to get things he considers to be mere “imaginary stories.” And yet, this man is rich enough to be ranked globally. He has a massive amount of that “money” he calls an imaginary thing. Isn’t that contradictory? But once you understand him, it doesn’t feel contradictory at all. Since he is someone who does everything to seek power and connections, I bet the FBI will be asking him for help soon. And he’d probably give them a villainous grin and negotiate a deal for maximum benefit-just like Raymond Reddington in the series The Blacklist.

“Sigh. In the end, you’re still you. I take back what I said about you being a hero. You are a ‘Villain’ forever. Take the title.”

“If you’re okay with having a villain for a boyfriend, I’m okay with it too.” I rolled my eyes and buried my face back in his lap, groaning in frustration.

“Ugh, I’m so stressed. And you have work on the day of my signing, too!” P’Jane stroked my hair tenderly.

“You’re going to be fine, babe.” I sighed.

“I hope so.” Because hope was the only thing I had left at this point. The day I both feared and anticipated arrived faster than I thought. Though, to be fair, two days isn’t a long time anyway. I had never stepped foot in this wing of Muang Thong Thani before, so I didn’t know what it was usually like. Now, a hall as vast as a football field was packed with publishing booths-some names I knew, others I’d never seen. Each stall had its own unique colors and decor, lined up in neat rows with enough space for visitors to walk without bumping into each other. I believe everyone has their own “trigger” scents. Like how the smell of coffee sparks excitement, or instant noodles make you suddenly hungry. Right now, the scent of new books drifting through the air made my heart race like a thoroughbred. I might be exaggerating, but it’s the truth-at least for me. Since my novel hit the bestseller list, I was scheduled for a signing during peak hours-5: 00 PM.

I was already at my station while the staff began organizing the long line of readers. The front of the booth was becoming crowded, bordering on congested. I had arrived at 3: 30 PM to account for traffic and to browse for new books to spark ideas and calm my nerves. By now, the anxiety had mostly faded. Still, I had to admit that seeing the line of fans waiting for an autograph, or hearing them say to my face how much they enjoyed the book, made me so proud I almost forgot everything else. Besides, “that” author was with a different publisher. Nothing should spark an incident since we had nothing to do with each other…. Except for the fact that his booth was directly opposite mine. Not only were we signing on the same day, but our times overlapped. Talk about bad luck. However, we were both so busy with our own readers that there wasn’t even time to glance at each other, let alone start a fight. Plus, we aren’t children anymore. Hours passed. My wrist began to ache. The gifts from readers piled up so high that staff had to bag them and move them elsewhere. I was shocked; is this how idols feel? Even if the gifts weren’t expensive, they were touching. Some handed me handwritten letters, telling me their deepest feelings and thanking me for writing this story. It triggered my sensitive side so much I was afraid I’d burst into tears right there.

“P’Mew, can I go to the restroom for a second?” I whispered to the booth manager. I couldn’t hold it anymore. I planned to finish the line first, but when I looked up, the queue stretched almost to the exit. To avoid a total disaster, I needed to handle my business now.” Of course, Jane! I’ll announce it.’ The author is taking a quick restroom break and will be right back! Just a moment, everyone!'”

Across the way, at the bright pink booth, the author named ice immediately dropped his smile as his last reader walked away. Hearing the announcement from the opposite side about the “long queue” made him curl his lip. Seeing his online rival run past, he couldn’t help but sneer.

“Is it really that good? Have you read it, May?”

“I haven’t, P’Ice. But the younger kids say it’s amazing-mysterious, sexy, exciting. Like a roller coaster. The drama is heavy, the romance is intense, and the ‘G.’ (God/ Favor) elements are top-tier. And the hero is very ‘Daddy’-that’s what they say.” The assistant beside him reported quickly, but seeing Ice’s downward scowl, she shut her mouth and tried to flatter him instead.

“It’s just a different vibe from yours, P’Ice. You can’t really compare them. You’re still cooler because you’ve been famous for years. Your fans are loyal. You’re mass-whatever you do is mass.” Ice’s mood improved slightly. He leaned back, crossing his arms and staring at the now-empty seat across from him.

“Honestly, I tried reading it. It’s pathetic that he named the protagonist after himself.”

“Ah… is that so?”

“I’ll admit the prose is okay, but none of it makes sense. The plot is so over-the-top. Who is this guy whose ‘job’ is to grant people ‘blessings’?”

“It’s ‘Favors’, P’Ice. Not blessings. It’s not a fantasy novel,” May corrected him, hiding the fact that she was actually a “Big Jane” fangirl herself.

“Whatever. Whatever they call it. IQ of 200, handsome, rich, sexy, genius, plays piano… it’s just too-” The word “much” was swallowed back down as Ice’s eyes locked onto a tall, imposing man who had stopped in front of his book display. In one hand, the man held a massive bouquet of purple lilacs. The man was flawless. He wore a short-sleeved Louis Vuitton shirt, black jeans, and a matching LV belt. His skin was pale and cool-toned, and his pitch-black hair and eyes radiated a mysterious, magnetic aura. His long fingers grazed the cover of Ice’s novel with interest. He was effortlessly sexy, making everyone around him look dull by comparison. Ice immediately started envisioning this man as the model for his next protagonist.

“Are you here for an autograph?!” Ice blurted out, his voice louder than intended due to the adrenaline. The tall man looked up, his eyes meeting Ice’s. He gave a small, slight smirk. For Ice, the world started spinning. That was a killer smile.

“Are you the author of this book?” The man’s voice was deep and slightly husky, making Ice tremble. Those sharp yet sweet eyes made lce feel, like he was doing somersaults. Was this man trying to kill him just by looking at him? Ice’s heart hammered. He tried not to stare at the bouquet with hope. He never knew he had a fan this incredibly handsome. He had been jealous of Jane’s gifts earlier, but this? A bouquet the size of a house from a man this gorgeous? This was the ultimate win!

“Yes! Yes, that’s me. I’m Ice.” I’ll take the flowers, then ask for his Line ID. We’ll become a couple later, and then I can shove it in Jane’s face that he doesn’t have a man like this.

“Ah, I see. Is your signing session over? Why is that side still so crowded?” the handsome man asked casually, gesturing toward the opposite booth where the line looked like a giveaway for free gold. Ice sneered slightly but answered eagerly.

“It just finished. That side… well, the author is a ‘rookie.’ People are just curious to see what he looks like. It’s just a fad. But if you want a signature, I can stay and sign for you.”

“You sound like you don’t like him very much, Mr. Ice,” the man with the flowers asked with a smile, ignoring the offer of an autograph. Ice laughed, standing up and crossing his arms.

“It’s not that I don’t like him; I just don’t like the style. It’s… too much. Creating some ‘virtual world, ‘ writing complicated stuff, trying to shove in morals, ethics, and psychology. Novels are for entertainment, for relaxation. What I hate most is when his readers say they cry or get so stressed they can’t sleep-and he’s proud of that? That’s not right, is it?” Ice went on a rant, trying to show off how “opinionated” and “deep” he was, unaware that he sounded more prejudiced than professional. The listener just smiled, tightening his grip on the bouquet. Ice reached out his hand.

“Are those for me? Thank you so much!” The man’s lips curled into a smirk.

“Oh, these? I brought them for my boyfriend.”

“Wh… what?”

“Excuse me.” Ice’s smile froze as the tall man turned and walked straight toward the opposite booth-just as his rival returned.

I hurried back to my seat, feeling terrible for making my readers wait. When I sat down, I flashed a wide smile and apologized to the girl at the front of the line. I kept my head down, focusing on signing and chatting with fans, ignoring the sudden commotion that had been buzzing in the line for a few minutes.

Suddenly, a massive bouquet of purple lilacs appeared in my field of vision. I looked up instantly.

“Hello, Mr. Jane. I’m your die-hard fan. Here is a gift for you.” The deep, husky voice and the wicked smirk on his lips sent a shockwave through me. The crowd around my table was buzzing loudly. My jaw dropped. How did he get here? Wasn’t he working?

“Aren’t you going to take my flowers? I’m heartbroken,” he teased.” Take them, Mr. Jane.”

“Ugh… yes, yes.” I reached out, my face and neck flushing red. Then P’Jane made the scene even bigger by turning to a nearby staff member.

“Could you take a photo of me and the author, please?”

“Oh! Of course!” The girl took his iPhone, but the “die-hard fan” wasn’t satisfied with standing in front of the table. He walked around to stand right next to me.

“What are you doing, P’Jane?” I hissed. He smiled, his eyes sparkling.

“Let’s take a photo. You’re my favorite author. I’ve never been this obsessed with a writer in my life.”

“Are you here to prank me? Go home!”

“How cruel,” P’Jane said, looking anything but sad. He looked absolutely delighted. The whispers from the crowd were non-stop: “Who is he? He’s so hot!”

“He looks like he jumped out of a book.”

“Is he an actor? What’s his name?”

“He smells so good… cool and fresh.”

“He brought lilacs for Jane! Just like in the story!”

“Is this what they mean by ‘smoking hot’?” I tried to shoo him away quietly.

“Go! Stop teasing me.” The booth manager chimed in, “Jane! Go take a photo with him! He bought out every single copy of your book on the shelf today!”

“WHAT?!” I yelled. I stared at P’Jane, ready to kill him. I told him never to do that “buying your own book” stuff! And he had promised! He hadn’t even bought a single copy before today, and now he buys the whole booth? I’d have to announce a giveaway on my fan page later to fix this! But he was unfazed.

“Let’s take a photo. I want an autograph too.”” Hurry, Jane!” the manager urged. I stepped out of the booth with the flowers, not wanting to waste any more time. P’Jane, who usually doesn’t care about anyone, was now bossing me around, telling me to stand in a clear spot-one that happened to be perfectly visible to the opposite booth. I saw Ice (Mojitozzo6) staring at me, his eyes practically popping out of his head. He looked both furious and humiliated. What did I do wrong now? I haven’t even spoken to him! People these days are crazy. P’Jane made it even more scandalous by wrapping his arm around my waist. I glared at him.

“P’Jane, stop it. Don’t be so touchy in public.”

“Okay, babe. Sorry.” He let go easily, though his eyes were still mischievous. The whispers reached a fever pitch: “Omg, he called him ‘Babe’!”

“Do they know each other?”

“They must be friends… but wait, he called him ‘P’Jane’!”” Jane and Jane? Could it be… ?”

“It’s them! The real Big Jane and Little Jane!”

“The character’s name is Jane, too!”

“Does Big Jane actually exist? He looks exactly like the description in the book!” “192 cm, black hair, black eyes, mysterious aura like blue flames… it’s definitely him!”

“He’s even more handsome than the description!”

“So the novel is based on a true story!” My face was beet red. Once the photo was done, I shoved the flowers back at him.

“Hold these. There’s no room in the booth.”

“Okay.” He pointed to a spot nearby.

“Keep signing. I’ll wait for you right here.”

“Fine.” I went back to work, but it was hard to concentrate. My boyfriend was pretending to be a fan, taking endless photos and videos of me. What are you, a sasaeng fan? It was impossible to ignore him. Every reader who came for a signature couldn’t stop glancing at him. Like I said-his charisma is insane. My patience finally snapped when I heard two girls whispering excitedly: “If that’s the real Big Jane, should we go ask him for something?”

“A ‘Favor’?”

“Yeah! Let’s test it!”

“If it works, I’ll trade anything for it!” I threw my pen at P’Jane’s arm with the speed of a flying dagger in a wuxia movie. The girls jumped, startled, and stopped in their tracks. P’Jane lowered his phone immediately. I cupped my hands and shouted: “P’JANE! I have something to say!” He didn’t reply, but he stood there, listening intently.

“Thank you for the support, but GO WAIT IN THE CAR! I’ll call you when I’m done. You’re too handsome! You’re stealing all the attention from the author!” The tall man let out a laugh. He gave me a thumbs-up and lugged the lilac bouquet and the mountain of books back toward the parking lot. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least there would be no blood contracts signed here today. I turned back to the reader waiting for me and smiled wide.

“Hello! Thank you for loving #Don’tRequestPJane. Let’s take a photo together!” As I was busy signing, I didn’t see P’Jane walk back to lce one last time. He pulled out the three-volume set of my novel from his pile, handed it to the stunned author, and said: “Mr. Ice, you should try reading this. It’s very good.” He then pulled out a business card.

“And this is my card. If there is ever anything you want to ‘Request’… feel free to contact me.” The tall man’s lips curled into a villainous smirk.

“It might just cost you something more valuable than your life.””… ”

“Excuse me.”