Chapter Text
There were three things Miu Natsha was absolutely certain of.
First, she had spent the last four years surviving on instant noodles and freelance commissions.
Second, if she didn't get this job today, she would probably cry in the BTS station.
Third, the building in front of her was so beautiful it looked expensive enough to reject her automatically.
GBB Intimates towered over Bangkok's business district like it knew it was untouchable.
Twenty-five floors of tinted glass.
Gold lettering.
Minimalist architecture.
The kind of headquarters that screamed We sell luxury, and yes, you probably can't afford it.
Miu smoothed invisible wrinkles from her white-colored blouse before staring at her reflection.
"...Okay," She inhaled. "You studied fashion. You graduated top of your class. You definitely didn't stay awake until three in the morning redesigning your portfolio because your printer exploded."
“...”
"...You've got this," Miu nodded to herself. Then walked directly into the revolving door... the wrong way.
"Miss!"
"Oh!"
She stumbled backward, cheeks instantly burning as the security guard politely redirected her.
"Other direction."
"...Right."
Wonderful.
Thirty seconds inside the building.
Already embarrassing herself.
________________________________________
By the time she entered the lobby properly, Miu had already used up half of her dignity, which was unfortunate because she had brought only a limited amount with her.
The interior of GBB Intimates was even worse than the outside.
Not worse because it was ugly. Worse because it was beautiful.
The lobby looked less like an office and more like a private gallery. Cream marble floors stretched beneath her feet, polished so brightly she could almost see the anxious shape of her own reflection. Soft lighting warmed the walls, where framed sketches of lingerie designs hung like art pieces. Mannequins stood behind glass displays, dressed in creations so delicate and architectural that Miu forgot, for one brief moment, to be intimidated.
Lace curved like calligraphy. Silk draped like water. Boning, seams, embroidery, straps - all of it arranged with a precision that made her fingers itch to touch, study, understand.
This was not just underwear.
This was design.
This was structure.
This was power disguised as softness.
For the first time that morning, Miu felt the smallest flicker of hope.
Then the receptionist smiled at her from behind a curved white desk, and the hope immediately panicked.
“Good morning. Welcome to GBB Intimates.”
“Good morning,” Miu replied, a little too brightly. She approached the desk and tried to look like someone who belonged there. “I’m Miu Natsha. I have an interview for the junior lingerie designer position.”
The receptionist checked her tablet. “Yes, Miss Natsha. You’re scheduled for ten o’clock.”
“Yes.”
“Please proceed to Room Twenty-Seven. Elevator B, eighteenth floor.”
Miu accepted the visitor badge with both hands. “Thank you so much.”
The receptionist’s smile remained professional. “Good luck.”
Miu smiled back, turned, walked confidently toward the elevators, and discovered there were two signs marked Elevator B.
One pointed left.
One pointed right.
She stared at them.
The left hallway looked busy, filled with employees carrying garment bags and tablets. The right hallway looked quieter, sleeker, and much more expensive.
Miu looked at her badge.
It did not help.
She looked back at the receptionist.
The receptionist was already speaking with someone else.
Miu made the kind of decision that had ruined many civilizations before her.
She chose the prettier hallway.
The elevator doors opened soundlessly when she pressed the button. Inside, everything smelled faintly of cedarwood and new leather. There were no fingerprints on the brass panel, which somehow made Miu afraid to touch it. She pressed eighteen, tucked her portfolio more firmly under her arm, and tried not to breathe too loudly.
When the elevator opened again, she stepped into silence.
Not normal office silence. Not the quiet hum of people pretending not to gossip. This was executive silence. The kind of silence maintained by thick carpeting, expensive doors, and people who had assistants to answer unnecessary questions.
Miu frowned.
There were no other applicants.
No chairs.
No printed signs.
No nervous young designers clutching portfolios and looking like they might throw up.
Only a corridor lined with discreet brass plaques.
Executive Office.
Private Studio.
Research Wing.
Authorized Personnel Only.
Miu’s steps slowed.
“Room Twenty-Seven?” she whispered.
There were no numbers anywhere.
She walked farther, hoping the building might suddenly become less cryptic.
It did not.
At the end of the hallway, one door stood slightly ajar. Warm light spilled through the opening, along with the faint scent of something floral and expensive. Miu hesitated in front of it, shifting her portfolio from one arm to the other.
“Hello?” she called softly.
No response.
She leaned closer. “Excuse me? I’m here for an interview?”
Still nothing.
Miu should have turned around. A reasonable person would have turned around, found the receptionist, apologized for being directionally defective, and asked for help.
But Miu had been raised by necessity, not reason.
Necessity said that being late to an interview at the most prestigious lingerie company in Thailand was unacceptable. Necessity said that this room might be the interview room. Necessity said rich companies often had confusing minimalist design because apparently signs were too emotionally revealing.
So Miu pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The first thing she noticed was the sofa.
It was deep green velvet, low and elegant, positioned beneath a wall of framed fashion photographs. The second thing she noticed was the lighting, warm and carefully dimmed, nothing like a normal office. The third thing she noticed was the long display table in the center of the room, arranged with satin gloves, ribbon ties, embroidered masks, sample harnesses, lace bodysuits, silk robes, structured corsets, and several sleek boxed items that looked far too expensive and far too mysterious.
Miu stopped walking.
Her brain, usually dramatic but functional, went completely blank.
“Oh,” she whispered.
Then, after one full second of processing, “Oh no.”
This was not an interview room.
This was not even a normal design room.
This was the sort of room that appeared in magazines with words like private collection, sensual craftsmanship, and adults only printed in small, elegant fonts.
Miu took one step backward and bumped into a mannequin wearing a black lace bodysuit with a structured waist and thin gold chains draped over the hips. The mannequin wobbled. Miu grabbed it by both shoulders like she was rescuing a fainting aristocrat.
“Sorry,” she hissed at it.
Then she realized she had apologized to a mannequin in a forbidden room full of intimate apparel and possibly illegal levels of confidence.
Wonderful.
She turned toward the door.
At that exact moment, it clicked shut.
Miu froze.
The sound was soft. Barely anything.
But in the quiet room, it struck like a verdict.
Slowly, she turned.
A woman stood by the door with one hand still resting on the handle.
Miu’s first thought was that the woman was beautiful.
Her second thought was that this was deeply unfair, because nobody should be allowed to look that composed while Miu was standing beside a half-dressed mannequin and sweating through her blouse.
The stranger was tall, around Miu’s height, but somehow carried herself as if the room adjusted around her. She wore a charcoal suit tailored with merciless precision, the jacket fitted cleanly over her shoulders, the trousers falling in sharp lines. Her dark hair was pulled back neatly, revealing a face that was striking without trying to be soft. Sharp cheekbones. Calm mouth. Deep brown boba eyes that seemed to take in every detail and file it away for later use.
Her gaze moved from Miu’s face to the visitor badge clipped crookedly to her blouse then to the mannequin Miu was still clutching by the shoulders.
A faint smile touched her lips.
Not kind.
Not cruel.
Amused.
“You’re early,” she said.
Miu blinked. “I’m sorry?”
The woman locked the door with an effortless click and walked farther inside, her heels making almost no sound against the carpet.
"My previous meeting finished ahead of schedule," She walked forward with measured confidence.
"So…"
She looked Miu up and down.
"...You're today's tester."
"...Tester?"
"Good. I appreciate punctuality."
"...No, actually-"
"I've read your profile. You seem different."
Miu frowned. "You have?"
"Mm."
The woman stepped closer.
"You look so nervous. I suppose that's normal."
"Wait-"
Before Miu could finish, the stranger gently guided her backward until the back of her knees met the velvet sofa.
She sat down with a startled squeak. "Wh-"
The woman crouched gracefully in front of her. "I won't do anything without consent," Her voice remained calm. "But I do like observing first impressions."
She picked up a sleek prototype from a nearby tray. A polished product made of matte silicone. More industrial design than anything overt. She rolled it thoughtfully between her fingers.
"...," Miu stared. "...What is that?"
The woman smiled.
"Our newest prototype."
She lightly traced the smooth casing - not on Miu herself, but over the fabric of Miu's trouser leg near her ankle, as though demonstrating its ergonomic design rather than using it.
"...," Miu's brain completely stopped functioning. "...WHAT IS HAPPENING?"
A knock interrupted everything.
Three quick taps.
"Miss Schuett?"
Silence.
The woman sighed almost imperceptibly.
"...Come in."
The receptionist opened the door.
Behind her stood another young woman. She wore noticeably bolder makeup and looked equally confused.
"Umm… Miss Schuett," The receptionist blinked between them. "...Your product tester is here."
Miu looked at the newcomer.
The newcomer looked at Miu.
The receptionist looked ready to resign.
Several very awkward seconds passed.
Finally...
Miss Schuett stood. Perfectly composed.
"As expected."
Everyone stared.
"I wanted to compare first impressions."
No one looked convinced.
Miss Schuett reached into a drawer, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to the scheduled tester. "Your transportation allowance and today's session fee. I'm afraid our schedule has changed."
The woman accepted it with wide eyes.
"...Thank you?"
She disappeared almost immediately.
The receptionist slowly closed the door.
"I'll pretend I saw nothing."
Click.
Silence.
________________________________________
Miu exploded first.
"YOU-"
She pointed dramatically.
"I AM HERE FOR A JOB INTERVIEW!"
"..."
Miss Schuett blinked.
"...Oh."
"..."
She blinked again.
"...Oh."
"'OH?'" Miu gasped exasperatedly. "You nearly-"
"I thought you were-"
"You thought wrong!"
Miss Schuett rubbed the bridge of her nose.
"...That explains quite a lot."
"It explains everything!"
"You walked into my private testing suite."
"I WAS LOST!"
"Understandable."
"You LOCKED THE DOOR!"
"I always lock the door."
"WHY?"
Miss Schuett looked genuinely puzzled.
"...Privacy?"
Miu opened her mouth.
Closed it again.
"That's... actually fair."
She hated that it was fair.
________________________________________
Without another word, Miss Schuett walked to her desk, opened a drawer, took out a cheque, signed it, and placed it in front of Miu.
"One hundred fifty thousand baht."
"...What?"
"My apology."
Miu stared.
"You're apologizing... with money?"
"It tends to work."
"It absolutely does not!"
"It statistically has.”
She slid the cheque closer.
"For the misunderstanding."
Miu looked down.
THB 150,000.
Her heartbeat quickened.
That amount would cover months of rent. Food. Her brother's medication.
She clenched her fists.
Then-
Ripped the cheque cleanly in half. Then into quarters. Tiny white pieces fluttered across the carpet like snow.
Miss Schuett watched in silence.
"Interesting."
"You think everyone has a price?"
"No. I think everyone has circumstances."
"I don't want your money."
"I see."
Miss Schuett folded her hands.
"Then perhaps you'd prefer employment."
"Excuse me?"
"You aren't here to test products."
"No."
"But I still find you…," she studied Miu carefully. "...remarkably interesting."
Miu narrowed her eyes. "That's the creepiest compliment I've ever received."
For a split second, silence hung between them.
Then, unexpectedly, a soft laugh slipped past Miss Schuett's lips.
It was quiet - barely more than a breath - but genuine.
The sound seemed to surprise both of them.
Miss Schuett blinked once, almost as if she'd caught herself doing something she wasn't supposed to. The corners of her mouth twitched before settling back into their usual composed line. She cleared her throat softly and looked away for a brief moment, choosing her next words with unusual care.
"I meant..." she began. "You don't react like most people. You speak your mind. You tore up one hundred fifty thousand baht without even hesitating." A faint trace of amusement flickered across her face. "You accidentally wandered into a room that intimidates experienced adults..."
Her eyes drifted over Miu for a heartbeat before meeting her gaze again.
"...and somehow," she said, one eyebrow lifting ever so slightly, "you're still standing here arguing with me."
Another tiny smile threatened to appear, restrained almost immediately.
"You're unusual."
Miu folded her arms tightly across her chest, as though physically shielding herself from the absurdity of the conversation.
"I'm leaving."
She turned toward the door.
"You haven't heard the offer."
Miss Schuett's voice remained even, almost conversational.
Miu didn't slow down.
"I don't want to."
"One million baht."
Her hand froze on the doorknob.
Silence settled over the office.
Miss Schuett simply waited.
Miu remained perfectly still for several long seconds before her shoulders stiffened.
Slowly, almost mechanically, she turned back around.
"...What?"
"Monthly."
The room fell silent again.
Miu blinked once.
Twice.
She stared at the woman, searching for even the slightest hint that this was some elaborate joke.
She found none.
Miss Schuett’s expression remained composed, businesslike, as though she were discussing quarterly revenue projections instead of the most outrageous proposal Miu had ever heard.
"You would enter a confidential Dominant–Submissive contract for product evaluation, modeling, and assisting with prototype feedback under strict professional guidelines," she explained calmly. "Outside those duties, you would also train as a lingerie designer within GBB Intimates."
Miu simply stared.
Her mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
Nothing came out.
The words seemed to ricochet around her brain without finding anywhere sensible to land.
"..."
Miss Schuett waited with remarkable patience.
"...You're insane."
Not even a flicker of offense crossed Miss Schuett's face.
"It's a legitimate department," she replied matter-of-factly, tilting her head slightly.
"You're insane."
"It is fully contractual."
"Pervert."
"There it is."
The corner of Miss Schuett's mouth lifted ever so slightly.
Miu's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Pervert!"
She threw both hands into the air before spinning sharply on her heel. She marched toward the exit, muttering under her breath the entire way.
Just before reaching the door, she stopped long enough to glare over her shoulder.
"And your company is weird!"
With one dramatic shove, she yanked the door open.
A heartbeat later the office door slammed shut behind her.
Silence reclaimed the room.
Miss Schuett remained standing without moving.
For several seconds, she simply listened to the fading sound of Miu's footsteps disappearing down the hallway.
Only then did her gaze drift toward the shredded pieces of the one hundred fifty thousand baht cheque scattered across the floor.
She studied them thoughtfully before a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"Interesting indeed."
________________________________________
By the time Miu stepped out of the executive floor and into the lobby, she was already mentally drafting the most scathing review GBB Intimates had ever received.
One star.
Confusing elevators.
Suspicious CEO.
Needs more signs.
She was halfway to the revolving doors when her phone vibrated in her hand.
The screen displayed the hospital's number.
The irritation evaporated instantly.
A knot formed in her stomach.
She answered on the second ring.
"...Hello?"
There was a brief pause before the doctor's familiar voice came through the speaker.
Gentle.
Careful.
Too careful.
"Miss Natsha..."
Something inside her chest tightened.
The doctor exhaled quietly before continuing.
"I'm afraid your brother's condition has deteriorated."
Everything around her seemed to slow.
The chatter of employees passing through the lobby.
The sound of heels clicking across marble.
Even the traffic outside the glass entrance faded into the background.
Miu felt her knees threaten to give way. She reached for the nearest pillar, gripping it tightly.
"The surgery cannot be delayed much longer," the doctor continued.
His words were calm, professional...
...and devastating.
"Without it..."
A painful silence followed.
"...we may lose the opportunity to save him."
Miu forgot how to breathe. Her lips parted soundlessly.
"No..."
The word escaped as little more than a whisper.
"How..." She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to cooperate. "How much time?"
"We strongly recommend proceeding as soon as possible."
The answer was gentle.
But final.
A few more quiet words followed - recommendations, instructions, promises that the hospital would continue doing everything they could.
Miu barely heard any of them.
The call ended.
Slowly, she lowered the phone from her ear. She stood motionless outside GBB Intimates.
Bangkok carried on as though nothing had happened.
Yet her own world had suddenly frozen.
Her brother's smile flashed across her mind. The way he always teased her for overcooking instant noodles. The afternoons they spent watching movies because he tired too easily to go outside. The promise she'd made to him.
"I'll figure something out."
Then came another memory.
The growing stack of hospital invoices hidden inside the bottom drawer of her apartment. Bills she had carefully folded away so she wouldn't have to look at them every day. Bills she had absolutely no idea how to pay.
One million baht.
Every month.
The number echoed inside her head.
One million.
"..."
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"...Damn it."
The word came out somewhere between a groan and a laugh of complete defeat.
After a long, trembling exhale, she turned around.
Her feet carried her back toward the building before her pride had the chance to stop them.
________________________________________
Fifteen minutes later...
Miu found herself standing outside the same office. Her hand hovered uncertainly in front of the door. She stared at the polished wood for several seconds.
Then, before she could lose her nerve-
Knock.
A calm voice answered from inside.
"Come in."
She pushed the door open.
Miss Schuett looked up from the documents spread neatly across her desk.
For the briefest moment, genuine surprise crossed her otherwise unreadable expression.
"I thought you left."
"I did."
Miss Schuett leaned back slightly in her chair, folding her hands together atop the desk.
"...And?"
Miu hated how dry her throat suddenly felt. She swallowed.
Her pride had never weighed this much before.
For several seconds, she couldn't force the words out.
Then, taking one slow breath, she lifted her head.
"Tell me…” Her voice was quieter than before. Less defiant.
She met Miss Schuett's eyes without looking away.
"...about the contract."
Silence settled over the office.
Miss Schuett studied her carefully.
Not with triumph.
Not with satisfaction.
As though she had noticed something had changed the moment Miu walked through the door.
For the first time that afternoon...
The smile that touched Miss Schuett's lips wasn't teasing.
It wasn't amused.
It was small.
Warm.
Almost impossibly gentle.
She closed the folder in front of her and set it aside.
"Sit down."
There was no pressure in her voice.
No hint of victory.
Only quiet invitation.
Miu hesitated for barely a second.
Then she crossed the room and lowered herself into the chair opposite the desk.
This time...
She sat willingly.
And before either of them realized it...
The decision made in that room would change both of their lives forever.