Rule No. 1: Don’t be too emotional : Chapter 25

“Entre deux coeurs qui s’aiment, nul besoin de paroles.

Marceline Desbordes-Valmore

…

I opened my eyes to find myself alone. Looking out the window, the sky was still pitch black. Ah… what time is it? In December, the nights stretch on forever. I pushed myself up from the bed. My ears caught the faint, distant sound of music. I originally planned to put my old clothes back on, but then I remembered they were torn to shreds. Instead, I walked over to P’Jane’s wardrobe and grabbed one of his long-sleeved button-downs to wear for the time being. Even though he’s lean, he’s very tall, so the shirt was several sizes too big for me. After brushing my teeth, I wandered toward the living room.

It was still a total wreck-not surprising, considering only a few hours had passed. I’d checked the clock: it was 5: 42 AM. I picked my way through the debris, following the source of the beautifully played piano. There I found the owner of the condo. He was shirtless, his well-defined collarbones on display. His physique was lean but strong, marked by the muscles of a man in his prime, with broad shoulders and an exquisite skeletal frame. The padlock pendant on his chest looked like a perfect, final touch. I stood there silently watching him play. It was incredibly beautiful and tender. He was so lost in the music he didn’t even notice me.

Every note was played with professional precision. I’d never felt that instrumental music could be this captivating-or maybe it was just because it was Jane Patrick playing it. Moments like this remind me that he is a man of high society. Truly high-born. He might be a “Satan” working in the shadows, a provocateur who exploits others, but he’s a Satan who happens to be the son of a world-class businessman.

Actually, right now, Satan looks more like an angel… I almost expected to see white wings sprouting from his back. Or maybe this is Lucifer before he was exiled to rule hell. I gave a soft, appreciative clap when the song ended. P’Jane turned around, looking startled for a second before he smiled. The curve of his lips is still one of my favorite things to look at.

What I like, I truly like. That never changes.

“That was beautiful,” I praised him sincerely. P’Jane ran a hand through his hair; I’m pretty sure he was actually a bit shy.

“You’re awake?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I nodded. P’Jane shifted over and patted the empty spot beside him.

“Come sit with me.” I nodded again and sat down. I looked at the black grand piano with newfound interest. Before this, I’d mostly just looked at it and felt annoyed every day, even though I’d been staying here for a while.

“How are you feeling? Does it still hurt?” I felt a flush of embarrassment, knowing exactly what he was referring to, before shaking my head.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Really?” P’Jane looked skeptical. Honestly, I could hardly believe it myself, but it was true.

“Yeah, really. I feel completely normal.”” That’s good then. You’re strong, Jane.”

“I guess so.” I play football, after all. Maybe regular exercise helped. I’d secretly read about these experiences on the internet; most said the first time leaves you sore and aching for days-some even said it felt like dying, with blood everywhere. But there’s another group that fees fine afterward. Apparently, I fell into the latter camp. I suppose I can count that as lucky.

“By the way, what did you ask me back then? I was so sleepy l couldn’t really process it.”

“Oh, just the usual. I asked if it was good, if you liked it, if you were impressed. General questions.” Those “general questions” sent the blood rushing to my face. I stared at the grand piano as if it were the most fascinating object on earth, but I nodded and answered through gritted teeth just so it was clear and he wouldn’t have to ask again.

“It was good.”

“Well, of course.” He cracked his knuckles and continued, “Good boys go to heaven, but bad boys bring heaven to you.”

“Hey, don’t be so full of yourself. You’re actually a real pervert, you know that?” Ever since that “top head, bottom head” comment!

“I know,” he laughed, clearly enjoying teasing me. This crazy guy… P’Jane draped his right arm around my waist and began playing with both hands again. It was the same song he’d been playing from the start. We both avoided mentioning the ugly things that had happened earlier, skipping over them entirely as if they never occurred, not wanting to ruin the good atmosphere we had going. I knew deep down that P’Win would be okay because P’Jane had sent someone to look after him immediately after we left. More importantly, I knew I probably wouldn’t see or talk to P’Win ever again. Even though that part felt bad, I had to let it go. No one gets everything they want. I sat there listening to the sweet melody, my ears delighted by the music and my eyes captivated by his ten long, elegant fingers gliding across the keys. The way the tendons and veins slightly bulged on his strong hands as he moved was strangely sexy. Then, his deep voice asked softly: “Jane, do you know this song?”

“No. My taste probably isn’t sophisticated enough.” Honestly, I wanted to say I wasn’t “high-class” enough to recognize music like this. P’Jane just smiled and kept playing.

“What is it called? It’s really lovely.”

“It’s French… La Vie En Rose.” He ran a scale from high to low, his arm pulling me even closer. I sat listening as he continued the story.

“This song is very famous. A timeless classic. It’s been called one of the greatest love songs in the world.”

“Is it an instrumental?”

“No, it has lyrics.”

“Rose… as in the flower, right? In French, do you pronounce the ‘R’with a ‘kh’ sound?” I tried to mimic the accent. P’Jane stopped playing and rested his chin on his hand, looking at me with a smile. I felt a pang of disappointment; I wanted to keep listening.

“Not exactly. In French, Rose means pink. If you translate the title literally, it means ‘Life in Pink.'”

“But roses are pink too,” I countered.

“It could mean a life strewn with rose petals.” I shared my thought, and P’Jane just smiled. He began playing softly again, his voice joining the melody.

“When you listen to the lyrics and translate them properly, La Vie En Rose refers to a life seen through the eyes of someone in love.”  “And that’s why everything looks pink.” I looked away, suddenly feeling a strange skip in my heart at his gaze and those words. I stared down at the piano, tapping it with my index fingers, trying to change the subject.

“I didn’t know you spoke French.”

“I studied it, but I’m not that good.” He placed his hand over mine on the keys. The warmth from his hand radiated straight to my heart.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Really… my pronunciation is terrible.”

“I told you I don’t believe you. Stop lying.”

“I’m not lying. I’ve never lied to you, Jane.”

“What? You’ve lied tons of times! How can you even say that?” I couldn’t help but give him a look. P’Jane smiled and waved his other hand in front of my face like I was a child.

“There, there. Don’t be grumpy, darling.”

“But this song is so sweet,” I noted.

“It must be famous because it’s such a beautiful love song.”

“It is. But part of it is because the singer’s life was so tragic-a total contrast to the song she sang.”

“Hmm?” I looked up at him, intrigued. P’Jane began the tale.

“The singer was a woman named Edith Piaf. She’s a legendary French singer.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Her mother was a cafe singer, and her father was a street acrobat. Her father left her with her grandmother, who ran a brothel in Normandy. One of the prostitutes loved her like her own child. Then, Edith started going blind when she was three.”

“Oh… ”

“When she turned seven, her grandmother gathered money from the prostitutes to get her treated, and she was able to see normally again.”

“Well, that’s good. So the tragedy ended in her childhood, then?”” Not yet.” P’Jane smiled at my naivety, as if to say it wasn’t that simple.

“As a teenager, Edith joined her father’s street acrobat act. Soon after, she left to start singing on the streets herself. That’s where she found her first love. They had a child together, but the baby died of meningitis at age two.”

“Uh… ”

“Then she got a new boyfriend-a pimp who took a cut of her singing earnings in exchange for not forcing her into prostitution.”” Later, a famous nightclub owner in Paris discovered her and invited her to perform. He gave her the stage name ‘La Môme Piaf'( The Little Sparrow) because she was only 147 centimeters tall.” P’Jane lowered his hand to estimate the legendary singer’s height.” He suggested she wear black on stage, which became her signature look.

Edith became a sensation with the single La Vie En Rose in 1946. It was a song she wrote after meeting a very handsome American man. Actually, I don’t think you could call it love at first sight. It’s more accurate to say she saw him and was struck by a very strong… physical attraction.” “Hey, P’Jane!

It couldn’t have been that bad.” He laughed after dragging the legendary singer so hard I couldn’t help but be shocked. “Really… Edith said the phrase ‘Quand il me prend dans ses bras’-which means ‘When he takes me in his arms’-popped into her head the very second she stood before that man. If you don’t call that being turned on, what do you call it?” He cocked his right eyebrow at me with that wicked smirk.

I pursed my lips and rolled my eyes in surrender.

“Fine, whatever. What happened next?”

“Well, that song became a massive hit. Naturally, it allowed her to break free from her pimp ex-boyfriend.” I opened my mouth to say that sounds like a good life, but P’Jane cut me off.

“But the tragedy didn’t end there. She found love again with a French boxing champion she met while touring in New York. The catch? The man already had a wife and kids.” Good grief…

“Of course, when you’re that much in love, you don’t care what anyone says. They carried on a secret affair, a life of love in the shadows. But life is life; there is no certainty. One day, that boxer died in a plane crash while flying to meet her.” P’Jane’s right hand traced a melody on the keys as he continued.

“Not long after, Edith was in a horrific car accident that led to her becoming addicted to morphine and alcohol for the rest of her life. Oh, and she died of liver cancer-died before she was even old.” He looked away from the piano to meet my eyes. “So? Tragic enough for you?”

“Totally. God… I don’t even know what to say.” I tried to imagine Edith having to sing her hit La Vie En Rose-singing about a sweet, rosy life everywhere she performed while her real life was falling apart behind the scenes. It must have been stifling. I sat there lost in thought, my fingers aimlessly hitting random keys. Suddenly, my head was full of the story of this singer I’d never known. P’Jane gently pulled my hand away from the keys to stop my noise and began playing the immortal masterpiece again. He even closed his eyes while playing…

“Des yeux qui font baisser les miens, Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche, Voilà le portrait sans retouche De l’homme auquel j’appartiens.” (Eyes that make mine look down, a laugh that gets lost on his lips. That is the unretouched portrait of the man to whom I belong. ) “Quand il me prend dans ses bras, il me parle tout bas, Je vois la vie en rose. Il me dit des mots d’amour, des mots de tous les jours, Et ça me fait quelque chose.” (When he takes me in his arms and whispers to me softly, I see life in rosy hues. He speaks words of love to me, everyday words, and they do something to me. ) The French lyrics, sung with a beautiful American lilt, rose alongside the emotional piano. Even though I didn’t understand a single word, I could feel what he wanted to convey. I felt the sweetness radiating from every note and vocal trill. Every movement P’Jane made in time with the music-his fingers, his hair, even the tilt of his head-it was art. Jane Patrick was living art.

“Il est entré dans mon coeur, Une part de bonheur Dont je connais la cause, C’est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie, Il me l’a dit, l’a juré pour la vie… ” (He entered my heart, a share of happiness whose cause I know. It’s him for me, me for him, for life. He told me, swore it for life… ) He pressed the keys firmly and drew out the final note, pulling the emotion to its peak. Then, the tall figure opened his eyes and turned to me. We locked eyes.

“Et dès que je l’aperçois, Alors je sens en moi, Mon coeur qui bat… ” (And as soon as I see him, I feel it inside me… my heart starts thumping… ) He stopped abruptly, even though the song wasn’t over. But my heart didn’t stop with it. We just stared at each other. I felt a strange magnetic pull between us. Suddenly, I wanted to be even closer to him. I wanted to be one with him again. We leaned in. I didn’t know if my ears were playing tricks on me, but I thought I heard another heart beating even faster than my own. Our lips were only inches apart. I could see the individual strands of his eyelashes and the faint freckles on his left cheek. Looking at him this closely, he looked a bit more Western-vibrant lips, deep-set eyes, curled lashes, and those freckles. Now he finally looks like a ‘luk-sieo’ (quarter-blood). We were so close I could feel his breath, the moisture settling on my upper lip and the tip of my nose. Our mouths were barely a centimeter apart. “P’Jane… ”

“My pronunciation really is terrible. No matter how you listen to it, I sound like an American singing a French song.’ Rose’ is still ‘Rose.'”” He grinned, the tension breaking instantly. His curved lips pressed a light kiss onto mine-not a full kiss, just a second’s touch.

“I told you my accent was bad.”

“I thought you were lying. You seem to be good at everything.”” There have to be some things I’m not good at, surely.”

“Don’t tell me this is the only song you know how to play! Ow!” I yelped and widened my eyes as he playfully tapped my head.

“Of course not.” “But why this song?” “What else should I play?” He rested his chin on the piano, the keys groaning under his elbow. A wicked, amused smile played on his handsome face.

“Should I play a Pumpuang Duangjan song?”

“Why Pumpuang?” I frowned.

“You know, that one where the lyrics go: ‘l know he’s lying, but I’m willing to be lied to.'” I stared at him, my face flushing deep red, unable to say a word…. Of course. He knew. He knew I was acting sweet and being good to him-even going as far as that-just to survive the storm of his anger. Jane Patrick was sharp as a razor. He knew it in his heart, but he didn’t say a single word. We both knew it wasn’t love, but even so, he was satisfied and happy with what we had. We both found pleasure in it. But if that’s the case, he should also know that the reason I’m willing to go this far is because I have feelings for him too.

“Wait, why are you back?” I asked P’Jane as he walked back toward me just moments after we’d parted.

“Brought you this.” The owner of the padlock pendant showed me the cup of hot tea in his hand.

“It’s cold out. You should drink something warm, Jane.”

“Oh. Thank you.” I took the cup from him. It seemed like there was a winter fashion outbreak at the university because this December had suddenly turned freezing-I couldn’t believe this was Thailand. It was so cold that Bangkok woke up to only 16 ° C. Unbelievable. P’Jane stroked my head. As our eyes met, I felt a tingle in my chest. I felt like… I didn’t want him to leave. I must be going crazy.

“Is that the only reason you came back?”” Mostly.” He paused.” And I missed you.” Sigh. Now, that felt good.

“I’m worried about you,” the tall man said in his deep voice. Looking at me with those eyes… it really made me want to surrender my whole body to him. “Fix your collar so you don’t get sick.” P’Jane adjusted the neck of my knit sweater.

“I’m really going now. I have to get to class.”

“Wait,” I pouted, grabbing his hand.

“Do you really have to go?” He reached out his other hand and quickly pinched my lips.

“You’re too cute.”

“Let go!” I protested, so he released me. I hugged his arm and continued,” So, you really have to go?” “Mm-hm.”

“Can’t you stay?”

“Skip class?”

“But you’ve skipped so many already!”

“I don’t need the lectures to get an A, Jane.”

“But you’ll lose your right to take the exam.” (Thai university regulations require 80% attendance).

“Don’t be fussy, Jane. I’ll see you this evening at Social Dance. I really can’t skip this one.” I still didn’t say anything, but I gripped his arm tightly. Honestly, it took forever for him to finally peel himself away because we were lingering like this. I couldn’t help it; he was the one who came back to find me, so I was going to keep being fussy like this indefinitely.

“I don’t want you to goooo.”-” I don’t want to go either.” I whined for another moment before finally letting him leave. But P’Jane was just as slow to depart; he kept looking back at me lingeringly until he finally vanished from sight. I slumped my face down onto my textbook, completely losing the motivation to study, even though finals were only two weeks away. Sigh. I must really be going crazy. Suddenly, I felt like I didn’t want to be away from him at all. Even a short separation made me miss him. This feeling was different from back when we first dated-it was much more intense.

“Wow, it’s like I’m not even sitting here, huh?” Gap spoke up after being silent for a long time.

I looked up immediately.” What? What did I do?”

“Exactly what you just did with P’Jane. Have some pity on a single guy like me, man. Watching that almost gave me diabetes,” Gap teased, rolling his eyes.

“What ‘sweetness’ are you talking about?” I snapped with a serious face. Gap just shrugged and flipped a page in his textbook, no longer looking at me.

“For real though, it’s good. At least you look refreshed. Not like the past few weeks-you guys were so incredibly tense, we were all walking on eggshells.”

“Ah… really?” I never realized I was that obvious. I thought I’d gotten better at hiding it. I guess I’m still the same person who’s a terrible liar.

“Yeah. I mean, it was clear that things between you and P’Jane were in a bad spot, but we didn’t want to say anything.”

“Really? And how do we look now?”

“You look like two people who just ‘got’ each other.””… ”

“Like you just got together and are totally infatuated.” “… ”

“Trust me, you’re so easy to read, Jane. P’Jane is quiet, so I can’t usually tell with him, but have you heard the saying: The eyes, they never lie? The way he looks at you is… drenched. That’s what makes me so sure.” I couldn’t say a word, but I knew my face was turning bright red.

“I’m not judging. It’s your business. Besides, he didn’t just ‘hit it and quit it.’ He’s taking such good care of you.” I sipped my hot tea to hide my embarrassment, knowing that denying it would be useless. But Gap didn’t push it further. He let me sit in silence while he went back to studying quietly.

“So, are you really not going to Japan with us? It’s not too late to book.”

“I told you, I don’t have the money,” I sighed, thinking about it.

“And I’m not going to ask my parents for it.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame. It’ll be the first time the whole gang goes on a trip and you’re missing.” Thinking about it made me feel down, and I completely lost my mood to study. I really wanted to go to Japan… but more than the destination, I wanted to go with my friends. You can go to Japan anytime you have money, but the chance to travel as a full squad like this doesn’t come often. Our youthful, reckless energy right now will only fade with time. Sigh…

“When is Khing coming? She said she’d tutor us in Stats. She even messaged us yesterday saying she got the ‘inside info’ from Sylvia’s group. What the heck?” I complained.

“And Putt went for a smoke-is he ever coming back?”

“Believe me, the girls are late because they’re picking out winter coats. And for Putt, the ‘cold weather’ is just an excuse; he’s practically smoking two packs a day now. Oh, look, there’s Khing. Wow! Nice new coat, girl! Looking good!”

“Shut it, Gap! Don’t tease me!” I felt like my brain was swelling after a long day of heavy classes and tutoring. Finals were coming, yet the professors were still cramming in content-teaching right up to the very last minute. I arrived at the glass-walled room for Social Dance class, leaning my bag against the wall with the others. As usual, P’Jane arrived about ten minutes late because he had to come from the new building. A moment later, P’Jane arrived. I waved to him, and he smiled back. He dropped his bag and immediately came over to pair up with me. The tall figure wrapped his arm firmly around my waist, pulling me close to his body. Our other hands interlaced, and our faces were only inches apart. I’m starting to see the perks of this class. I did nothing but stare into his eyes, not hearing a single word of what Professor Raphee was teaching. P’Jane didn’t blink either, his gaze fixed on my face. We were both lost in a trance where only we existed. The knit sweaters we wore over our student uniforms were contrasting shades-his was navy blue, mine was red. They were actually from a Harry Potter-themed winter collection; he was Ravenclaw and I was Gryffindor. It suited his intelligence, though honestly, he probably belonged in Slytherin more.

“Did you miss me, baby?” P’Jane asked first in a husky voice. I nodded.

“Of course I missed you. I haven’t seen your face in five hours.”

“You’re being so sweet-talky lately. Let me have a taste.” He leaned his face in closer as soon as he finished speaking. I jerked back just in time.

“Stop it! We’re in class!”

“Can’t I have just a little sip?” Don’t look at me with those eyes…

“No.”

“So haughty.”

“I’m not being haughty, P’Jane! You’re just… ugh!”

“Hey, you two ‘Janes’! What are you whispering about again? I’m teaching! Should I have you two come out and perform for everyone?”

“Sorry, professor!” we answered in unison. After that, we didn’t speak, but we continued to look at each other. I felt so flustered that my body felt warm and tingly. My stomach was doing flips, and I felt like my fingertips and toes were going numb… I finally understood what Gap meant about P’Jane’s “drenched” gaze. It was a look that was wet, steady, and unmoving-simultaneously sugary sweet and burning with desire. To put it simply, his gaze was incredibly seductive.

“And… Step!” Professor Raphee shouted the command. P’Jane stepped forward immediately while still holding my gaze. But I, not being as good at multitasking as he is, didn’t move my feet back in time. I tripped and fell flat on my back on the floor, letting out a loud yelp. I didn’t just fall alone-I dragged P’Jane down on top of me. He ended up hovering over me, pinned between my legs in front of everyone. I heard the class erupt in shocked murmurs; some even covered their mouths. I was so embarrassed my face turned beet red. P’Jane didn’t let the suggestive position last long. He quickly stood up and pulled me up with him. Professor Raphee rushed over, looking concerned.

“Students! Are you alright? Are you injured anywhere?” P’Jane rotated both his ankles and told me to do the same. Luckily, I wasn’t hurt at all.

“No. We’re fine.”

“I saw that, Little Jane! You didn’t keep up with your senior’s steps. You can’t do that. You know the final exam is next Monday, right?”

“Wh-What?! Next Monday!?” I thought we had two more Mondays.

“Yes, Jane. It’s next Monday,” P’Jane added calmly. I looked at him in shock. How did he hear the Professor while he was staring at me like that? How does he split his concentration?

“Yes! Students, the exam consists of three steps: Viennese Waltz, Slow Foxtrot, and Quickstep!” I was stunned into silence. Professor Raphee continued: “You were daydreaming and not listening! Don’t forget, anyone who wants to take Social Dance 2 next semester must get at least a ‘B’ in this class, otherwise, you can’t continue!” The Professor announced this to the whole room, and I immediately felt stressed. P’Jane and I had already talked about taking Social Dance 2 next term for our P. E. credits. We had gotten A’s on all the individual steps so far, but if we messed up these last three, our grades could plummet. To make matters worse, it had been a month and I still wasn’t good at the Viennese Waltz. And if the Waltz is bad, the transition into the Slow Foxtrot will be bad too. I knew it was because I’d been slacking on practice… mostly because I’d been busy running away from him.

“Alright! Back to practicing the Quickstep! Everyone count… One, Two, One!”

“It’s all full, students.”

“What? Even on Saturday and Sunday?” I complained to the university staff. P’Jane and I had come to book the mirror-walled room to practice before the final exam. The staff member nodded.

“Yes, it’s completely packed. If you don’t believe me, look at the schedule. I’m not lying.” I groaned softly when I saw the schedule was indeed full at every hour. We thanked her and walked out.

“Darling.” “… ”

“Baby.” “… ”

“Jane.” “… Yes? What is it?” I snapped out of it when P’Jane touched my left shoulder. He looked into my face.

“Are you that stressed?”

“Yes, very.” I knew I couldn’t hide my expression. I’m the type of person who takes academics extremely seriously. I know I’m not naturally brilliant, so I’ve spent my whole life relying on hard work. I study weeks in advance and only hang out with students who are just as dedicated (I still don’t know how Putt ended up in the group). And since P. E. isn’t usually a difficult subject, I was determined to secure an ‘A’.

“What am I going to do, P’Jane? I still can’t dance it right. If we get lower than a ‘B’, we can’t take Ballroom 2 together.”

“I don’t think we’ll get lower than a B. We’ve gotten A’s all along.”

“But back then I was actually practicing! We practiced for two weeks before the Tango exam. This time, I haven’t practiced at all. This is a whole new routine and the exam is next Monday. The practice rooms are all full… what are we going to do?”

“Calm down. Don’t go tearing your hair out like that.” P’Jane gently pulled my hands away from my head. Despite his soothing tone, I kept a serious face as we walked toward his car, my mind spiraling. I had to practice… but where? I couldn’t spend more than three days on it anyway, because I had to carve out time for my other finals. Stats is notoriously difficult. I wrapped my arms around myself as a whistling wind blew past. I shivered despite my sweater. The air was so cold I could hardly believe this was actually Thailand. We’d finished class at 8: 00 PM and talked to the staff until nearly 9: 00 PM. The later it got, the colder it became. “Cold?” “Yeah, freezing.” My hands were icy and my face was pale. My fingers felt like blocks of ice.

“Let’s hug, then. It’ll be warmer.” P’Jane pulled me into his side. I hugged him back as we walked. It really did help. “P’Jane, you’re so tall.”

“Is it hard to walk?”

“No, I’m just hugging you like this. But isn’t it hard for you? You have to hunch down a bit on this side.”

“Not really.”“ Oh… ”

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, height doesn’t matter when you’re lying down anyway.”“ Pervert!” He laughed so hard I couldn’t help but pinch his side.

He let out an exaggerated cry of pain, and it turned into a playful chase all the way to his car. Once inside, P’Jane took one hand off the steering wheel to hold mine.

“Come on, don’t overthink it. I’m sure a slot in the mirror room will open up. We’ll just grab it as soon as it does.”

“Sigh, I hope so,” I exhaled. “You’re going to be busy this week, too. Will we actually get to practice?” “I’ll handle it. Don’t worry, okay?” I nodded, though I still felt uneasy. P’Jane ruffled my hair playfully until we reached the restaurant. We were spending time together, sure, but we couldn’t practice without a mirror to watch our form. There were so many obstacles.

[Yeah, I’m working today. I didn’t go to the uni. ] “Don’t you have classes?”

[No, I happened to have the day off. ]

“I see… Wait, what was that sound?”

[ Gunshots. ]

[I’m just at the firing range. I came here to discuss some business. Don’t overthink it, Jane. ] “Okay.” I knew that “business” usually involved his “fixer” work helping people.

[And where are you? Who are you with?] “I’m at the Audio-Visual room.

I’m with Putt.” As I spoke, I glanced at Putt. My friend’s face was completely stoic as he read slides on the computer screen. I’d been on the phone with P’Jane for nearly half an hour, and I was fairly certain Putt heard every word since we were sitting right next to each other. God, I had no idea what Putt was thinking.

[Oh, tell Putt I said hello. ] “ Mm-hm, I will.”

[I have to go now. See you tonight. ]

“We might not see each other. I was thinking of going back to sleep at my house. My mom is starting to complain.”

[… Don’t go. Stay with me. ]

“You’re so selfish! I haven’t been home in a long time.”

[Are you going to leave me to sleep alone? Why are you so cruel, darling?]

“Hey, it’s not like that… ”

[It’s exactly like that. ]

“Darling, don’t be fussy. You know that… ” My voice trailed off. My mother really did say she missed me. My dad added that they were starting to forget what their eldest son looked like.

[I don’t care. I’m not letting you go. ]

“Darling! We didn’t agree on this before I moved in!”

[It’s cold lately. If you go, who am I going to cuddle?]

“You’re being dramatic. You slept alone for years when you were in the States.” I bickered playfully with him for a good while before we finally hung up. Once the line went dead, I felt a strange sense of emptiness. Regardless, I really had to go home tonight. I was still my mother and father’s son, after all.

“You love him now, don’t you?” Putt’s voice made me jump. I turned to look at him. He repeated it:“ You love him now, right?” “What?” “P’Jane,” Putt said without looking up from his laptop.

“I asked if you love him now.” “… No. Are you crazy?” “Heh.”

“What? What does that laugh mean?” “I pity you.”

“Are you so happy you forgot why your life ended up like this?””… ”

“Do you really think he loves you?” I choked on my breath. I went silent, feeling as though my voice had vanished, before finally finding it again.

“He’s good to me.”

“Good to you? In what way, exactly?”

“Let’s just say he’s good. Look, how do I explain it? When something is bad, I say it’s bad. When it’s good, I say it’s good. I can’t lie.”

“And? Because of that, you think he loves you? He’s only being good to you to make you drop your guard. He’s probably just messing with your head. Do you really think he’s a predictable person?” “Putt-” “If you think he loves you, then answer me this: what makes you so special that he has to love you? What makes you so different or extraordinary that you could capture his heart? You know you’re just… ordinary.” “… ” Putt’s words felt like a slap to the face. My body went numb. I couldn’t find a single word to say. He’s right… what is so good about me that he would love me? I’m just Jane… just ordinary Jane.

“You’ve slept with him already, haven’t you?” Putt’s tone turned cold and dismissive. He made a scoffing sound. “He’s just keeping you around to satisfy his lust. That’s all.” “Stop it.”

“It saves him the time of flirting, he doesn’t have to pay for it, and there’s no risk of diseases. It’s incredibly convenient.” “Stop it!” But Putt didn’t stop. He continued bitingly.

“He forced you to go back to being his, against your will. Did you forget that? Man, you sure adjust quickly. Or should I say, you’re just ‘easy’?” I stared at him, the words pouring out of me in a rush.

“And what? You want me to keep resisting him forever? Like before? You saw that I tried to run!”

“What you see is just the tip of the iceberg. You have no idea what I’ve been through. I tried, but I found that there was no happiness in doing that. I found that I’m more at peace just accepting it and moving on with my life. I don’t care what his reasons are for keeping me.” Putt let out a dry, harsh laugh that I absolutely hated.

“You can say whatever you want. But I just never thought that even now, knowing the truth about him, you’d still be able to love a guy like that.” Putt pointed his finger at me, circling it in the air.” So the conclusion is, you’re okay with loving someone like him, right?” “A man who is unpredictable, full of secrets, does dirty work, and plays with people’s minds? A total monster. He is everything you said you hated.” Putt sneered.

“You’re really swallowing your own words, aren’t you?” “I don’t love him.” I looked Putt in the eye and said it again. “I don’t love him. Don’t talk nonsense. I’m just like everyone else-I have no choice. I just want to be as happy as possible while I’m here. Is that so wrong?”

“I don’t want to end up in jail like Thee. I don’t want to be destroyed. Yeah, I’m a survivor. I admit it.” Putt took a deep breath. His harsh gaze softened. His demeanor shifted before he whispered: “Are you serious? When you say you don’t love him?”“ I am.” “I don’t love P’Jane. Not at all.” Putt looked back down at his work. I noticed a small smile forming on his face, and his mood seemed to lift. I flipped the page of my study sheet aggressively, staring at the words but feeling like none of the information was entering my brain. I felt like I had spoken the truth… but why did my heart feel so guilty? My vision blurred strangely, as if tears were welling up. I felt like if P’Jane heard those words, he would be heartbroken. But why would he be heartbroken? He doesn’t love me either, right? It’s just like Putt said-we’re only together because of a contract. “Hey, listen.” I looked up, grateful that I’d forced the hot moisture at the corners of my eyes to stay back. Putt didn’t seem to notice.

“As the person closest to P’Jane, do you know any of his deeper secrets?””… I think I know as much as everyone else. What do you want to know?”

“The real reason he got kicked out of Harvard.” “… ”

“He once mentioned that he doesn’t trust anyone because he was betrayed by someone he thought was a friend. Have you heard anything about that?” “Mm-hm.”

“That’s what I want to know. You should find out too. Maybe one day you can use that information as a bargaining chip. Then he might finally give you your freedom.” “Fine… I’ll try asking him. I’m curious too. But whether he’ll tell me is another story. You know if he doesn’t want to talk, I can’t force it out of him.”

“Try to coax it out of him. It might work.” Putt looked happy.” You don’t want to be stuck with him forever, right?” “… Yeah. I don’t.”

“Okay. Once you find out, come tell me. I promise I won’t tell anyone.” I nodded and went back to my books. All the bright happiness I’d felt throughout the day seemed to have vanished into thin air.