The next morning, Wut woke up to loud banging in the kitchen.
"Wut! Wake up! I'm starving!"
He groaned and dragged himself out of bed, hair messy and eyes barely open.
When he walked into the kitchen, he stopped.
Three blackened eggs sat in a pan.
Smoke floated lazily toward the ceiling.
Pheet stood proudly beside the stove like a chef presenting a masterpiece.
Wut blinked.
"Do you need a one-way ticket back to the hospital?"
"Ah, no," Pheet replied casually. "Hurry up. I'm hungry."
Wut pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Have you ever tried ordering takeout?"
"I don't want to," Pheet said, shrugging. "Besides… aren't you here?"
Wut sighed.
This guy, seriously…
He grabbed a bowl and started cracking fresh eggs.
While beating them, he glanced at Pheet.
"Oh right. What were you talking about yesterday with Phol? Something about giving you a ride. Are you planning to go somewhere without me?"
Pheet smiled mysteriously.
"It's a secret."
Wut narrowed his eyes.
"But are you free this week?" Pheet continued.
"Yeah. I mean, school is over. All that's left is orientation, and that's still far away. Why?"
"Nothing," Pheet said quickly.
Wut stared at him in disbelief before returning to cooking.
Behind him, Pheet leaned on the counter, watching him quietly.
He looked oddly peaceful, smiling like a kid watching his mom cook his favorite meal.
After breakfast, Wut followed Pheet to the practice room where the band members usually met.
But something felt off.
Pheet kept glancing at his phone, typing messages with unusual focus.
Wut tried to ignore it.
Everyone has their own life, right?
Still, one thought kept circling his mind.
Phol.
The unfinished debt.
The weird encounters.
The silent staring.
Before he realized it, Wut suddenly stood up from his chair.
The sudden movement startled everyone in the room.
Even Wut looked confused by his own reaction.
"Uh… restroom," he mumbled quickly before leaving.
His mind felt messy.
His thoughts kept looping back to the same person.
While staring down at his phone, completely distracted, he walked straight into someone.
Hard.
His forehead hit solid muscle.
His head barely reached under the person's chin.
For a split second, Wut froze.
His brain registered something else.
Wait… are those… abs?
Is this guy shirtless??
Okay, Wut. Time to apologize before you die of embarrassment.
"I—I'm so sorry! Are you oka—"
He stepped back and looked up.
The words slipped out instantly.
"PHOL."
Wut immediately covered his mouth.
Great.
Now I owe him three times.
Is he some kind of parasite? Why do I keep bumping into him?
And what is he even doing here?
"Hiii… Phol," Wut said awkwardly. "Didn't expect to see you here."
He quickly reached forward and awkwardly straightened Phol's slightly wrinkled shirt.
"I'm really sorry. How can I make it up to you?"
Go on. Tell me how many millions you want.
Guess what? I'll just pretend I didn't hear it.
Phol looked down at him calmly.
"Save it," he said.
Then he added, almost lazily,
"Just know you owe me three times now."
Cool.
No money? Perfect.
"Fine then… nice to meet you," Wut said quickly before brushing past him.
Gosh, who does he think he is?
Anyway, hurry up and end this day already. I'm done.
Phol turned slightly, watching Wut walk away.
Then he quietly walked in the opposite direction.
But the moment Wut reached the hallway corner, curiosity attacked him.
Hard.
Who even is this guy?
He quickly pulled out his phone and searched the name.
"Phol."
Dozens of results appeared.
Different faces.
Different people.
Different Phols.
Wut scrolled lazily.
Then suddenly—
He stopped.
One particular photo caught his attention.
It was him.
Phol.
Wearing a perfectly fitted black suit.
Standing in front of cameras like some kind of celebrity.
Wut frowned and tapped the article.
The headline appeared.
PHOL THANAKRIT RATTANAPONG, MULTI-BILLION HEIR, CURRENTLY SERVING AS ACTING CEO OF RATTANAPONG GROUP AFTER THE UNEXPECTED STEP-DOWN OF HIS FATHER, SOMCHAI RATTANAPONG, THE FORMER CHAIRMAN AND CEO.
Wut stared at the screen.
"…Okay. Now this is getting ridiculous."
He kept scrolling.
More photos appeared.
Phol shaking hands with executives.
Standing beside his father.
Attending charity events.
Visiting companies Wut had actually heard of.
Wut's jaw slowly dropped.
No wonder he didn't want my money.
What a narcissist.
He quickly shoved his phone back into his pocket and rushed back toward the practice room.
When he opened the door, the band members were chatting excitedly.
The room smelled strangely like banana pancakes.
The practice room was… weird.
There was a bed in the corner.
And a small kitchen.
Do they live here?
Apparently yes.
They had explained before that sometimes they practiced overnight, so they installed a bed.
And the room already had some kind of kitchen air vacuum thing.
Wut had no idea what it was called.
"Why do you guys look so happy?" Wut asked suspiciously.
One of them turned toward him with a huge grin.
"Oh hey Wut! You missed the best part!"
"What part?"
"Did you see the guy that just passed by?''
Are they talking about Phol? " No, why?''
"Phol just left." Pheet exclaimed.
Wut froze. Knew it!
"And?"
"He's investing in our band."
Silence.
Wut blinked slowly. What a coincidence.
Seriously…
What is wrong with that guy?