Chapter Text
“Please, Mr. Kanaphan! You are wasting a once in a lifetime opportunity to do business with me. Imagine the regions you will land in, the profit you will make!”
“No, sir. The only one at a loss here is you. You need me, and my company. Not the other way around.” His words were smooth and measured. He almost looked bored. The businessman remained on his knees in the meeting room of KP Headquarters, hands pressed together in desperation. He glanced at the businessman, and with a long sigh, he adjusted the cuff of his suit, stood up, and walked out. First Kanaphan did not entertain desperation.
“Khaotung, what’s next on my schedule?” he asked, already stepping out of the building. Right on cue, Khaotung fell into step beside him, tablet in hand, his pace perfectly aligned. “Sir, you have free time until 3 p.m. for lunch before an online meeting with the Korean investors regarding the Busan branch expansion. The revised projections were sent this morning” The black sedan pulled up, and Khaotung opened the door for First before sliding into the passenger seat in front.
First glances at his phone. It was already 2 p.m. “And?”
“I have reviewed it. Their requested 23% margin compromises our long term distribution control. I have prepared a counterproposal at 15%.”
First’s jaw tightened slightly, he looked out the window. “23% is achievable, Khaotung. If we want to impress the investors, we must give them the numbers.”
“It is,” Khaotung agreed calmly, “If we are willing to surrender leverage within two years. It is okay to offer them numbers, but what matters is execution, sir.”
“I don’t like surrendering anything. I will find ways to overcome that eventually.”
“I’m aware. I am also aware that it is a risky surrender and that we would lose the entire branch if something goes wrong.” There was something almost dangerous about the quiet steadiness in Khaotung’s tone. No one ever dares to challenge First, not when he was confident. Especially when he believes that he’s right. Except Khaotung.
First narrowed his eyes slightly. “Send them the 23%.” He said flatly.
“No.” The word landed cleanly between them. Khaotung stares at First through the rearview mirror without even the slightest flinch, challenging him. First stared back at him for a moment and laughed. “Excuse me?”
“I will send the 15% proposal. You can yell at me later if you’d like or if it goes wrong, but I am not allowing you to jeopardise the company’s long-term position and you know that I am right, sir.”
A beat of silence. First stared at him for a long moment before exhaling sharply through his nose. “Fine. You are incredibly irritating, you know that, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And stubborn.”
“Yes, sir. But you would not have survived 5 years without me, and you know it”
A corner of First’s mouth twitched. That was how it always went.
First Kanaphan had been raised with the quiet assumption that authority was natural. At 25, First Kanaphan was the youngest CEO in the family’s history. He had expanded the company into 3 new international markets in under 2 years. He cut contracts without hesitation. He turned negotiations into battlefields and always walked away with the upper hand. Profits rose sharply under his direction, and praise was not foreign to his name.
Brilliant. Calculating. Untouchable.
But he was also very, very, very
Impatient.
Petty.
Stubborn.
Playful
And any other words you would NOT think of when you think of a successful young CEO. Which is, arguably, very bad.
That was until Khaotung came along. He follows First everywhere, is his personal translator, secretary, occasional damage controller, you name it. He is the person who organizes First’s schedule down to the minute, schedules his meetings and manages any crisis, whether big or small. More importantly, he is the only person who can tell First “no”, and still remain employed.
“I have reserved your favorite lunch spot for today,” Khaotung informed. “private room.”
“Good. I don’t feel like being stared at.”
“You are always being stared at.”
“That doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”
“You do.”
First leaned forward slightly, his eyebrow raised. “Are you implying I crave attention?”
“I am stating observable behaviour.”
First scoffed and leaned back dramatically, staring out at the busy streets.
Their lunch unfolded in a private dining room with a spread of food you would never even have heard of, sitting across from each other. While First ate at an unhurried pace, Khaotung reviewed documents across from him, occasionally sliding papers forward for signatures. The efficiency between them was almost mechanical. No instructions were repeated, no reminders necessary.
Halfway through his meal, First placed his chopsticks down abruptly. “I’m not attending the charity gala next week.”
Khaotung didn’t look up from his tablet. “You are.”
“No. It’s boring. Old men talking about world issues while I just stand there agreeing and stun them with my insane looks.”
“It is a networking event.”
“I have enough networks.”
“You don’t have Minister Sapol’s network.”
First clicked his tongue. “I don’t need his network, my network is even bigger. Cancel my attendance now, Khaotung.”
“I cannot.”
“Why not? Can’t you just listen to me?”
“Because you personally confirmed your attendance in front of the board last week after declaring that ‘no one else is handsome enough to represent the company at such events.’”
First froze, his eyes went wide. “…Did I actually say that?”
“Yes.”
He stared at him. “Why do you remember everything?”
“It’s my job. And what you said was kind of unforgettable, you should have seen Mr Chan’s face.”
First leaned back and stabbed his chopsticks into his soy-marinated chicken with unnecessary aggression.
“I don’t want to go.”
“Noted.”
“And?”
“And you are still going.”
Silence. First stared at him. Khaotung calmly sipped his tea.
First rolls his eyes and scoffs. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet I’m still here, sitting across you, and reminding you to do your job properly.”
First muttered something under his breath and angrily chewed on his chicken.
Back at the office after lunch, chaos resumed its normal rhythm.
“Sir, the investors are already on call.”
“Alright, thanks Khaotung.” First adjusted his tie before entering the meeting room. “Also, reserve a table at La Risata at 9 p.m. I have a date.” He smirked.
Khaotung pinched the bridge of his nose. “A date, or another night where you will come to work tomorrow morning drunk and hungover from sex?”
Several junior staff choked on air. Someone stares in horror at Khaotung while pouring coffee, some spilling on the floor. The silence was so loud, you could probably hear the cats meowing from the cat café across the street from the company. First, however, thought it was funny and grinned shamelessly. “You wound me, Khaotung. When do I ever?”
Khaotung stared at him blankly. “I am describing a pattern, sir.”
He pouts. “You’re judging me.”
“I am documenting harmful behavior, sir.”
First leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You know, other employees are afraid of me.”
“Yes, sir.”
First raises an eyebrow. “You’re not.”
“No, sir.”
“Why?”
“Because if you fire me, your company will collapse within 2 hours.”
First stared at him. Then laughed. “You’re confident.”
“I’m correct.”
“Sure.” First said, shaking his head in amusement. “Oh, also, do feel free to head home after your work is done. Today was a long day, don’t need to wait up for me.” He does not wait for Khaotung’s response before entering the meeting room.
By the time First steps out of the meeting room, the sky beyond the office windows had darkened, the clock he sees read 7 p.m and the office was quieter now. He exhales in satisfaction. The meeting was, to him, a success. “Hey, Khaotung, can you help me initiate the drafting for the full Busan proposal?” He calls out casually. Strangely, he receives no response. First stepped closer to Khaotung’s desk, and noticed that the desk light was off, his tablet was gone. Strange.
He checked his phone. No updates. First frowned slightly but dismissed it. Perhaps Khaotung had actually taken his advice and left early. Which, admittedly, was unusual. Khaotung never leaves early, he always stays and waits for First to finish, even when told not to.
Earlier
After the meeting began, Khaotung returned to his desk. He sent the finalized 15% proposal, scheduled the gala, confirmed the restaurant reservation and cancelled one of First’s morning meetings for the following day, replacing it with what he labels conveniently as a “recovery session”.
By evening, the office gradually emptied, and silence started to settle. After organising his colorful sticky notes in his desk drawer, rearranging the files according to color, and flipping the calendar to the following day, he reached into his bag to pull out a white envelope with his name signed beautifully across it.
He stared at it. Not nervously. Not dramatically. He just… stares.
Then he stood, walked into First’s office, and placed it precisely at the center of the desk, straightening it so it aligned perfectly with the edge. And left.
Present
First finally steps into his office with a groan. He loosened his tie and sank into his chair as his computer powered on, the soft hum filling the quiet room. His gaze drifts lazily to his desk and lands on the envelope resting there, staring back at him, as though it has been waiting. He picked it up casually. Thinking that it was probably another document he forgot to sign, or a letter from one of his employees complaining about the wifi problem on the 5th floor again, he tore the envelope open without a single care, unaware of Khaotung’s name portrayed neatly on the back.
He opened it and read the first line.
His brain refused to process it.
He scans the first line again.
And again.
Before finally,
“WHAT? RESIGNATION LETTER?”