Chapter Text
A Morning That Changed Everything
The weather today was beautiful, almost too beautiful. And even Pond Narawit's mood was surprisingly good.
His morning began with a delicious, hot cup of coffee. Sunlight lazily crept through the window, flooding the kitchen with warm gold. He held the steaming mug in his hands, letting the warmth slowly spread through his palms. Everything around him felt wonderfully calm.
His brother sat across from him, quietly eating breakfast, and this ordinary scene suddenly felt like something important—like a brief pause before the world became complicated again.
And then his brother Jeminaj ruined the silence.
"Hey, by the way, I became a candidate for school president," he said with a warm smile, looking at his brother.
Pond didn't like that someone had disrupted his peaceful atmosphere, filled with the aroma of coffee.
"Oh, come on. You ruined such a nice vibe," he said, rolling his eyes at his brother. "Wow, congratulations! This president thing won't interfere with your studies, will it? You won't regret your choice? Don't come crying to me later," he said, genuinely happy for his brother.
Jeminaj rolled his eyes and said:
"If it were that difficult, I wouldn't have applied. And anyway, this isn't just a position—I'll be taking responsibility and looking after the students."
And he began listing all the duties of a school president, which, unfortunately, almost made Pond deaf from his lecture.
"Your lecture about responsibilities could make anyone go deaf," Pond said, frowning, finishing his coffee. "What are you still sitting here for? Go to school, 'Mr. School President,'" he said, laughing.
Jeminaj glanced at the clock and realized that if he didn't hurry, he'd be late. Jeminaj cleared his plate and went to get ready.
Pond also checked the time and realized he needed to head to work too. He worked at his father's company—a place built on discipline, strict rules, and cold decisions. There was no room for morning coziness and peace, which he valued so much.
"Hey, don't forget to eat properly at school," he called toward his brother's room, already pulling on his jacket. "And don't act too important, 'Mr. President.' You're not even one yet."
"Jealous?" came Jeminaj's voice from the room with a light chuckle.
Pond just snorted, grabbing his keys from the table.
"Of course. The dream of my life—watching over students and sorting out their dramas."
He paused for a moment at the door, glancing back at the empty kitchen. The sunlight still softly fell on the table, as if nothing had changed.
But inside, a familiar feeling had already emerged—the day wouldn't be as peaceful as the morning.
"Alright, little one," he said louder. "I'm heading out. Call if you need anything."
"Yeah, bye!" Jeminaj replied.
Pond left the apartment, and the warm coziness stayed behind.
Outside, he was greeted by bright light and the noise of the city. He got into his car, pausing for a moment to look at the steering wheel, as if gathering his thoughts.
Working at his father's company...
or, more precisely, work he couldn't refuse.
---
The office doors slid open quietly, letting him in.
Inside, it was cool and restrained: soft lighting, neat rows of desks, muted voices of employees. Everything was different here—no trace of morning comfort, only the working rhythm and tidy order. His father's company wasn't a huge corporation, but it was well-known. A chain of clothing stores—stylish yet affordable. A place where taste, stability, and reputation were valued.
"Good morning, Mr. Pond," the receptionist greeted him politely.
He gave a short nod, walking past.
Some employees looked up, following him with their gazes.
In their eyes was not just respect—but expectation. Everyone already knew: things were about to change.
Pond's father was gradually stepping back from the business. Age was taking its toll, and the question of who would take his place was no longer a secret. And that "someone" was supposed to be Pond.
"You're early today," a voice came from the side.
It was his father's deputy—the man who practically held everything together when he was absent. Calm, observant, with a sharp gaze.
"Habit," Pond replied shortly.
The man smiled slightly, but something evaluating flickered in his eyes.
"There's a small meeting today. Your father wanted to discuss something important with you."
Pond just nodded, as if he'd expected it.
He walked down the corridor, where the walls were decorated with photos of collections from past years. Each one—a piece of the company's history.
Finally, he stopped at the office door. Heavy, dark, with frosted glass.
He opened it.
The office greeted him with silence.
A large window took up almost the entire wall, letting in light that fell on the massive desk. Everything was neat: folders, documents, a pen lying exactly in the center. No clutter—only control.
This was his father's office.
And soon... his.
Pond slowly walked inside, running his fingers over the desk's surface, as if checking whether this was real.
He sat down in the chair.
For a moment, he closed his eyes.
Silence.
But not like this morning at home.
This silence was different—filled with anticipation, decisions, and responsibility.
He opened his eyes and reached for the first folder.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Pond, without taking his eyes off the store reports, replied.
"Come in," he said coldly, looking up.
The door opened, revealing a figure: a man with neat dark hair and glasses.
Dressed in a black classic suit, white shirt, and black tie. Looking tidy. It was Est. Pond's secretary, and not just a secretary—his best friend from school.
"Hello, Mr. Pond," he entered, closing the door behind him.
"Est, let's skip the formalities. You're the only person I come to work for," Pond said, looking at him with tired eyes.
"You just started working, and you're already feeling tired? If you don't like working here, why not tell your father?" Est asked, approaching the sofa.
"Here you go again... starting up," Pond said, rolling his eyes. "I've told you many times—I don't want to disappoint Father. He's poured his whole life into this company. Besides, he's counting on me to continue it. And first of all, I do like this company... But somehow..."
"You have no interest and no desire to work?"
"Yes... I mean, no!" Pond suddenly stood up from his chair. "Hey! Are you saying I'm lazy?!" he looked at his friend, who was struggling not to laugh.
"I didn't say that!" his friend replied with a smile. "You're not lazy. Well, you are lazy, but not to the point where it matters when it comes to important things. You just lack motivation to work for something meaningful. You work for your father and family, but you lack a higher purpose. I work so that my boyfriend and I can live together in a big house in the future. What do you dream about more, or think about more?"
"I don't even know... Est," Pond leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
"Don't know, don't know. I don't know what's going on in your head either," Est sighed loudly and stood up from the sofa. "Work awaits. Don't forget about that."
Est left the office. Pond remained standing, staring at the ceiling. Soon he snapped out of it and returned to studying the sales reports.
---
School. Noisy hallway. Class would start in a few minutes.
Half the students were already seated, while others were still running late or fooling around in the corridors. At the very first desk sat Jeminaj, right in front of the teacher. He was preparing for the lesson, reviewing today's topic. Then the bell rang. Everyone rushed into the classroom. The teacher entered.
"Hello, everyone. I hope you had a good weekend. Today I'll be calling on those who didn't answer last lesson. So... who's the lucky one..."
Half the class was praying not to be called. The honor students, on the other hand, hoped they would be. Suddenly, by the door, a latecomer appeared.
"S-sorry I'm late," he said breathlessly. "It won't happen again."
The teacher looked at him with a displeased expression.
"Fort! How many times do I have to tell you! Don't be late for class. This isn't the first time. Besides, you don't have a grade yet. Come to the board and explain electromagnetic induction."
Fort panicked. He didn't even know what that was.
"Electromagnetic induction is... uh..." Fort was trying to pull something out of his mind, trying to remember what the teacher had said last lesson. "Damn, I slept through last class... idiot..." he thought.
Jeminaj looked at Fort's flustered face. Decided to help. He thought that if he helped him, Fort would vote for him.
"Electromagnetic induction is when an electric current is generated by a changing magnetic field," he whispered, helping him discreetly.
Fort was surprised that someone had helped him. Especially the class president, who never talked to him anyway.
"It's about how when a magnetic field changes, an electric current is created...?" he answered nervously.
"Hmm, good," the teacher nodded. "Give an example."
"Um, for example... Aah..." Fort looked at Jeminaj, who whispered again: "For example, generators work on this principle."
The teacher praised Fort and let him sit down.
Fort happily sat at his desk. The lesson went on. Boring, as always. And then the bell rang.
Fort immediately went up to Jeminaj.
"Thank you so much! If it weren't for you, my mom would've killed me," he grabbed his hands, wrapping an arm around him. "How can I repay you?"
"Don't mention it," Jeminaj smiled at his reaction. "Well, I don't ask for much... Just vote for me? And maybe convince your friends too. I heard you know half the school."
"Oh, I see. You want more votes for the election," Fort squinted, leaning closer to his face. "Alright, I'll do it."
Fort pulled back slightly but was still standing too close.
"You have my word, Mr. President," he grinned, tilting his head slightly.
Jeminaj froze for a moment, as if just now realizing how close they were standing. But he quickly composed himself and stepped back.
"Of course," he replied calmly. "I'm counting on you."
Fort chuckled and, turning around, slung his backpack over his shoulder.
"Don't worry. If I said it, I'll do it."
He walked off to his friends, while Jeminaj remained standing by the desk, watching him go.
There was something strange about this guy...
And it wasn't just his constant lateness.
---
Meanwhile, at the office.
Pond tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing another report. The numbers were starting to blur into one continuous smudge.
He leaned back in his chair and glanced at his phone. Nothing. No messages, no calls. Silence.
"Boring..." he muttered quietly to himself.
At that moment, a brief knock came at the door.
"Come in."
Est appeared again, but this time his expression was a bit more serious than usual.
"Pond... something strange is going on."
Pond immediately straightened up.
"What now?"
Est closed the door behind him and stepped closer, lowering his voice:
"In one of the stores... money's gone missing. Not a small amount."
Pond frowned.
"A mistake?"
"I thought so too. But... it's not the first time."
Silence in the office grew heavier.
There it was. Something that disrupted the usual order.
Pond slowly rose from his chair.
"Prepare everything related to this for me."
He was already heading for the door but paused for a moment.
And for the first time all day, something more than fatigue appeared in his eyes. Interest.
"Looks like... the day won't be boring after all."
---
The drive didn't take long. The store was in a busy area—window displays, people, city noise. Everything looked absolutely normal. Too normal.
"This is the place?" Pond asked briefly, getting out of the car.
"Yes. The last shortages were from here," Est nodded.
They entered. The employees immediately tensed up at their arrival. A few people quickly busied themselves with "important matters," pretending everything was under control.
Pond scanned the premises with a sharp glance. Clean. Neat. No visible problems.
But that meant nothing.
"Call the manager," he said quietly.
Est was about to step away when Pond suddenly stopped. His gaze caught something through the glass display. Or rather... someone.
Across the street, right opposite the store, there was a small but clearly popular bakery. There was a line at the entrance, and inside, life was bustling.
And amidst all that activity—him.
A guy behind the counter. Dark chestnut hair of medium length, slightly layered, neatly styled, creating a light "airy" look. A gentle smile. Quick, confident movements. He was skillfully packing orders while talking to customers. As if he was exactly where he belonged. As if everything revolved around him.
"Pond?" Est called, noticing he had zoned out.
But Pond didn't respond. He didn't understand why he couldn't look away. Something about this guy... caught his attention.
"Who's that..." he muttered quietly.
"Huh?" Est asked.
Pond narrowed his eyes slightly.
"The bakery across the street. Has it always been there?"
Est looked in that direction.
"Oh, that? Yeah. Pretty well-known place. Always crowded." He paused for a moment. "But who runs it—no idea. I don't go there."
Pond stared through the glass for a few more seconds, as if trying to memorize every detail.
"I see..." he finally said, looking away.
Something inside him stirred—a slight irritation at not understanding why he'd even noticed.
"Never mind. Let's focus on work."
"Already calling the manager," Est nodded.
Pond walked deeper into the store, regaining his usual calm and cold focus.
The manager nervously adjusted his collar, quickly gathering the necessary papers.
"H-here are the reports from the past few weeks... and I'll open the camera access now," he said, avoiding eye contact with Pond.
Pond silently sat down at the nearest table, flipping through the documents. His fingers moved quickly, his eyes scanning the numbers as if searching for something invisible to others.
"Here," he said quietly after a few minutes, tapping his finger on a line. "Write-offs happen at the end of shifts. Almost at the same time."
Est leaned closer.
"Think it's one of the employees?"
"I think someone is very confident they won't get caught," Pond replied calmly.
Meanwhile, the security footage appeared on the screen.
Ordinary days. Customers. Employees. Nothing suspicious...
Until Pond stopped the video.
"Go back," he said shortly.
Est rewound.
"Right here. Zoom in."
On the screen was the store's closing time. One employee stayed longer than the others. Movements too calm.
"Who is this?" Pond asked without looking away.
The manager noticeably grew nervous.
"Th-that's... a new employee. Recently hired."
"Recently—when?" Pond turned to the manager.
The manager swallowed, clearly nervous.
"A-about two months ago... maybe," he answered quickly, avoiding Pond's gaze.
Pond paused for a moment. Two months.
Something clicked in his memory.
Mix.
His rival from school—always loud, always trying to prove he was better. Even now, after all this time, he managed to appear here and there, like an annoying shadow. And his company... had been declining for a while now.
Pond slowly straightened up.
"I see," he said calmly.
But his gaze grew colder. He pulled out his phone.
Pond dialed a number without taking his eyes off the monitor.
Rings. One. Two. Three.
"Hello," a familiar voice answered.
Pond narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Mix," he said shortly. "We need to talk."
There was a brief silence on the phone, then a light chuckle.
"Oh, Pond... already found out?" Mix's voice sounded too calm.
Pond didn't answer right away. His gaze sharpened.
"Your people are in my store."
"My people?" Mix chuckled. "That's too strong a word. Just... a little joke."
Pond slowly tightened his grip on the phone.
"A joke?" he asked coldly.
"Yeah," Mix continued. "I wanted to see how quickly you'd notice. You're the 'company heir' now, right?"
Pond closed his eyes for a moment.
"Get your people out."
"Or what?" mockery crept into Mix's voice.
Pond opened his eyes. Calmly. Coldly.
"Or I'll make sure your company stops being even a joke."
A pause. Mix stopped laughing.
"...alright, alright, I get it."
The call ended. Pond put the phone in his pocket.
"Est," he said calmly. "Strengthen security. And remove all suspicious employees."
He turned to leave. Pond didn't know why he looked toward the bakery again.
This time, the guy was closer to the window. He could see him better now.
He was wearing a light t-shirt and a light blue shirt—simple, yet somehow it looked... right. He was smiling at a customer. Not a fake smile. Easily. As if it were natural to be like that.
Pond frowned. Too... peaceful.
He sharply looked away.
"Let's go," he said shortly, heading for the exit.
But somehow, that image lingered in his mind.
---
This morning, pastry sales were very high. Yesterday, Phuwin had struggled to sell goods, even with his cousin's help. However, he was glad he had prepared thoroughly for today.
Pastries were disappearing quickly from the shop, and the line was considerable. Phuwin was very happy that business was going so well. He smiled sincerely at every customer. But suddenly he felt someone's gaze on him. Looking up, he saw a man getting into a car.
Suddenly, he overheard customers talking:
"Hey, that's the owner of those stores I showed you!"
"Really? He looks good. How do you know it's him?"
"In this town, almost everyone knows him. They even write about him online."
Phuwin was surprised to hear this. He couldn't understand why he hadn't heard about this person before. He became curious about him.
---
The next morning was just as warm. He'd had a lot of work yesterday and decided to stay overnight at the office. Pond's morning no longer seemed peaceful. He stood at the window in his office, holding a cup of coffee that had long gone cold. Below, the city was slowly waking up—cars, people, noise. Everything as usual. Only inside was different. Yesterday's conversation with Mix lingered in his mind. As did... that guy.
Pond quietly exhaled, setting the cup on the table.
"Seriously?..." he muttered under his breath.
He never got distracted by things like this. But now it annoyed him.
"Good morning," Est's voice came as he entered the office.
"Morning," Pond replied shortly, not turning around.
"I checked the employees. Those recently hired have been let go. There won't be any more problems."
Pond nodded.
"Good."
Est paused for a moment, watching him.
"You seem... thoughtful today."
"Work," Pond replied calmly.
Est narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
"I'm going to meet with the suppliers," he added and left.
Pond was alone. Silence.
He tapped his fingers on the desk.
Then suddenly grabbed his keys.
"To hell with it," he said quietly.
He headed for the garage.
---
The bakery door chimed softly as he entered.
Warm air immediately enveloped him—the smell of fresh bread, coffee, sweet pastries. Nothing like his world.
The line moved slowly. People chatted, someone laughed.
Pond stood to the side, watching.
And there he was again. The guy behind the counter. The same one.
Today he looked even more alive. A light smile, quick movements, a confident voice. As if he genuinely enjoyed what he was doing.
"Next!"
Their eyes met. This time not through glass.
Directly. Pond stepped closer.
"What can I get for you?" Phuwin asked calmly, not knowing who was standing in front of him.
Pond paused for a moment.
"Coffee," he replied shortly. "Black."
"No sugar?" Phuwin clarified.
"Yes."
Phuwin nodded and began preparing the order. A few seconds of silence. But it wasn't awkward. Rather, it was strange.
"You're here for the first time," Phuwin suddenly said, not looking up.
Pond slightly raised an eyebrow.
"Noticeable?"
Phuwin chuckled.
"I remember my customers." He handed over the cup. "Here you go."
Pond took the coffee, their fingers touching briefly.
A light, almost imperceptible touch.
"Thank you," he said.
Phuwin nodded.
"Come again," he said politely.
But to Pond, it sounded different.
Pond paused a moment longer.
"Maybe. I'll come again," he said.
He turned and walked out.
Outside, he stopped. Looked at the cup in his hand.
Took a sip. And paused for a moment.
It tasted better.
Than his usual coffee.
Pond chuckled softly.
"Interesting."
He got into the car. But this time, his thoughts weren't about work.
---
At the bakery.
Phuwin watched the departing customer. He stared for a long time. When the silhouette disappeared, he was still standing, looking in that direction. He wondered about how they'd met, and whether it was by chance.
In his thoughts: "After I became curious about you, you show up the next day. This isn't life—it's a lakorn," he chuckled, looking away.
"What are you grinning about?" Fort asked, noticing his cousin smiling.
Phuwin flinched as if pulled from his thoughts and quickly turned away.
"Oh, nothing..." he replied calmly, returning to the counter.
Fort squinted, not quite believing him.
"People don't smile like that over 'nothing,'" he chuckled, leaning on the counter. "Come on, confess."
Phuwin rolled his eyes, grabbing another bag of pastries.
"You think too much."
"No, you're the one being too suspicious," Fort grinned. "I've known you since childhood—I see everything."
Phuwin paused for a moment, then sighed quietly.
"It's just... a customer was strange."
"Strange?" Fort perked up immediately. "Bad strange or... interesting strange?"
Phuwin thought about it.
The image appeared before his eyes again: a calm gaze, strict clothes, restrained movements.
"More like... not from around here," he said quietly.
Fort raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know," Phuwin shrugged. "Like he's from another world."
Fort chuckled.
"Wow, that sounds like the start of a love story."
"Don't be ridiculous," Phuwin cut in, but his voice didn't sound so sure.
Fort only smiled wider.
"Alright, alright. Let's see if he shows up again."
Phuwin rolled his eyes, placing fresh pastries on the shelf. He checked his watch.
"Don't talk to me about love. What love? Go, or you'll be late for class again. Teachers are already complaining about you. You can help later," he said, taking cups from his hands. "Go!"
"Ugh. You don't like it when I help, and you don't like it when I don't," Fort grumbled. "Fine, I'm leaving now."
Phuwin slipped two muffins into his bag, but Fort hadn't noticed. A few minutes later, he left the bakery, carrying his backpack.
---
Jeminaj sat in the school cafeteria, absently poking at his rice with a fork. In front of him lay a list of future campaign promises, but his thoughts kept drifting elsewhere. Perhaps it was the noise around him, or perhaps it was his recent conversation with Fort.
"Hello, Mr. Future President," a familiar voice said.
Fort, without waiting for an invitation, plopped down on the chair opposite. His shirt, as always, was half-tucked, and a light, slightly teasing smile played on his face.
"You're not late today," Jeminaj noted, putting down his pen. "A miracle."
"I'm trying for you," Fort winked, setting his tray on the table. "By the way, about the votes. I talked to the guys. Almost everyone agreed."
"Almost?"
"Well... a couple of people are still thinking. They said they want to see what you're capable of."
Jeminaj nodded, returning his gaze to his notes.
"Thanks. I'll prepare my speech by the end of the week."
Fort tilted his head, studying him.
"Are you always this serious?"
"And are you always this carefree?" Jeminaj retorted without looking up.
"Well, at least I honestly admit I don't like to stress," Fort grinned. "But you... it's like you're always trying to prove something."
Jeminaj frowned but said nothing. There was no point in arguing, and no desire to either. Fort, noticing this, quickly changed the subject.
"Alright, Mr. President. See you after class?"
"Why?"
"Well... help me with physics? You're smart anyway. And I was promised that if I don't have any failing grades, I can go to the city on the weekend."
Jeminaj sighed.
"Fine. But only if you don't get distracted."
"Deal," Fort beamed. "I'll wait for you after fifth period."
He stood up easily and, grabbing an apple from his tray, headed toward his friends. Jeminaj watched him go, feeling that this strange guy raised more questions with each meeting. And perhaps, more than just questions.
---
Meanwhile, at the office, Pond was preparing for a conversation with his father. He ran through possible topics in his head: shortages, Mix, increased security. But his thoughts kept drifting back to yesterday morning. To that guy in the bakery and his smile.
"Pond," a stern voice came.
His father sat across the desk, gray-haired but still an imposing man with a sharp gaze. The same one Pond often noticed in the mirror.
"Yes, Father."
"I reviewed the reports. You handled the store situation quickly."
"Thank you," Pond replied calmly.
His father paused for a moment.
"But that's not all I wanted to talk about. I heard Mix was involved."
"Yes. He admitted it, but I don't think it'll be his last stunt."
His father nodded, leaning back in his chair.
"Mix's company is on the verge of collapse. His father can't handle it, and Mix is too proud to ask for help. Such people are dangerous not because of their power, but because of their desperation."
"I understand," Pond said. "I've tightened security."
His father looked at him intently.
"That's not what I mean. You've always been a good analyst, Pond. But business isn't just numbers. It's also people. Sometimes it's important not to punish, but to understand."
Pond frowned.
"Are you suggesting I pity him?"
"I'm suggesting you broaden your perspective beyond just logic," his father replied calmly. "You have your mother's cold intelligence. But there's something of me in you too."
He paused.
"I'm getting old, Pond. This company will soon rest entirely on your shoulders. I want to be sure you can lead it not only with a clear head, but with wisdom."
Pond slowly exhaled.
"I understand. I'll think about it."
His father smiled slightly.
"Good. Now go. You still have plenty of work."
Pond left the office, feeling two things warring inside him: the familiar desire to control everything, and a strange, new thought—that control wasn't always the answer.
---
Evening descended on the city softly, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Pond found himself in his car again, but this time he chose an unusual route.
He parked near the bakery.
Warm lights glowed outside, and there were still people inside. Pond got out of the car and slowly walked toward the entrance, not fully understanding why he had returned.
The door chimed. Inside, it was warm and almost empty, apart from a couple of customers. Behind the counter stood the same guy, Phuwin, wiping the display case.
"We're closing soon," he began, looking up, but stopped. "Oh... it's you."
"Am I on time?" Pond asked, approaching.
"Almost," Phuwin put down the cloth. "A few more minutes."
Pond glanced at the display case.
"Can I get coffee?"
"Black? No sugar?"
"You remembered."
Phuwin shrugged, but a small smile lingered at the corners of his mouth.
"Good memory for customers."
He quickly prepared the coffee and handed over the cup, this time holding Pond's gaze a little longer, as if trying to read something.
"I heard you own the chain of stores across the street," Phuwin suddenly said.
Pond raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Where did you hear that?"
"Customers told me. You can also find it online."
Pond took a sip.
"And what else do they say?"
"That you're a serious person. And cold."
"Do you believe rumors?" Pond asked.
Phuwin thought for a moment.
"No. I prefer to form my own opinion."
For a moment, silence hung between them. But it wasn't tense—more like a studying silence. Pond felt something about this simplicity drew him in—the absence of pretense and calculation in the eyes before him.
"Then tell me what you think right now," Pond said quietly.
Phuwin tilted his head slightly.
"I think you didn't just come for coffee."
Pond didn't answer. He met his gaze calmly, but inside, something shifted—something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time.
"Perhaps," he said finally. "But the coffee here really is good."
Phuwin smiled.
"Then maybe you'll come again? Tomorrow morning there'll be fresh pastries."
"We'll see," Pond paused for a moment, then turned and walked out.
Outside, he stopped, feeling his heart beating a little faster than usual. And for the first time in a long while, it wasn't related to work.
---
In Pond's apartment, it was quiet. Jeminaj sat at the table, sorting through textbooks. Hearing the door open, he looked up.
"Oh, you're late today."
"Work," Pond replied shortly, hanging up his jacket.
Jeminaj narrowed his eyes.
"You seem... different."
"I'm fine," Pond walked into the kitchen and poured himself some water. "Tell me about your campaign instead."
Jeminaj perked up.
"Fine. One guy promised to help with votes. And not just with votes, I think."
Pond turned around.
"What do you mean?"
Jeminaj looked a little embarrassed.
"Well... he's strange. Always late, loud, but... there's something about him."
Pond chuckled softly.
"Sounds like we both encountered something strange today."
"What do you mean?"
Pond paused.
"Never mind," he said. "Just... noticed something I hadn't before."
The brothers exchanged a glance. Each understood: today had brought them something more than just routine. And perhaps, this was only the beginning.
---
The next morning, Phuwin opened the bakery earlier than usual. The sun was just rising, casting soft light over the street. He was arranging fresh croissants when the door chimed.
"We're not open yet," he began, but turned around and fell silent.
Pond stood in the doorway.
"I know," he said calmly. "But I took a chance."
Phuwin slowly straightened up.
"You're early."
"Today's an important day. I decided to start it right."
"And what does 'right' mean?"
Pond stepped closer.
"Right is where there's good coffee."
He paused for a moment and added:
"And where I can see something else."
Phuwin felt his heart skip a beat.
"What?"
"I'll find out later," Pond replied, taking the offered cup. "If you don't mind."
Phuwin held his gaze.
"I don't mind."
Pond nodded and, turning, headed for the exit.
Phuwin stood there, feeling that this strange, serious man had just taken the first step into his world. And, it seemed, he himself was quite willing to let him in further.