"If falling for him is ruin—
Then let me fall beautifully."
—Nil
Inside the car, the silence was almost indulgent, the kind that stretched out slowly like thread unraveling from a spool. The night outside was quiet, and within, the only movement came from the slight shift of headlights sliding over the dashboard as the car turned a corner.
Kao leaned back in his seat, gaze fixed on nothing in particular. His thoughts, however, were far from still.
From the driver's seat, Shian glanced up through the rearview mirror.
"Kao..." he called softly.
No reply.
Shian raised an eyebrow, then tried again—this time with deliberate mischief: "Stranger..."
Kao lifted his eyes, slow and expressionless. That one look could've frozen a room.
"What."
A pause.
"Who is Stranger?"
Shian clicked his tongue, feigning surprise. "Oh? So you don't know him?"
He gave a theatrical sigh. "Alright. Fine. I believe you."
But his eyes lingered in the mirror, catching the faint tension in Kao's brow, the slight twitch of his jaw—small things, but telling. Shian was used to reading shadows beneath sunlight.
"You know," he said casually, "it's strange."
His voice was light, but it threaded with something sharper. "The Kao Neptune I know never lies."
Still no response.
"The one who's always composed. Always so dignified. Straight as an arrow and twice as sharp."
Shian's gaze narrowed. "And yet today... he lied."
Kao's knuckles tensed faintly against his knee, but he said nothing.
Shian smiled faintly. "Lied to an ordinary waiter, no less."
Kao didn't respond, but his eyes had already sharpened. The light in them, usually cold and distant, flickered with something volatile.
Unfazed, Shian continued, voice low, deliberate, as if reciting a truth only one of them was brave enough to say aloud.
"As far as I know, the Kao Neptune I've followed for years has never once needed to lie."
"Always straight. Always confident. Never lowering himself for anyone."
"But today..."
He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Today, he did."
He gave a soft laugh, light as wind brushing against glass. "And not just a lie, mind you. My young master even walked half the city—just to spend a few more moments with someone."
His smile grew sharper. "Afraid that Nil might catch you in that lie, weren't you? Because it wasn't just about the words. You were afraid... that he'd know the truth behind them."
There was a beat of silence. Then—
Thud.
A cushion slammed into the back of Shian's head.
He winced. "Ouch! What the hell was that for?!"
Kao's voice was icy, clipped. "Everything you said is nonsense."
Then, a warning—low and clear, like the edge of a blade held just beneath the skin.
"And if anyone finds out..."
He didn't need to finish. The threat in his tone did it for him.
Shian sighed dramatically, rubbing his head. "Alright, alright." He glanced at Kao through the mirror once more. "Then let me ask you this one thing."
"...Do you like him?"
Kao didn't answer right away.
His hand rose to his forehead, fingers pressing lightly against his temple. Outside the window, the streetlights passed like dying stars, and his reflection stared back at him faintly in the glass—expression unreadable.
"...I don't know," he said at last.
"I just... like spending time with him."
He paused.
"His innocence," he murmured. "His stubborn dreams."
"His ambition... it matters to me."
Shian nodded slowly, the playfulness in his voice now replaced by something gentler.
"Does he know?"
Kao's eyes didn't leave the window. "...I don't think so."
"Then don't rush it," Shian said quietly. "Give it time."
"Let yourself feel it fully."
"And when you're sure—don't hold back. No turning back, no regrets."
A faint smile curved his lips. "And no matter what happens... I'll always be with you."
Kao was silent for a long time.
Then, softly—"Thank you."
The next morning arrived without fanfare.
Kao's day began as it always did—sharp, precise, and already burdened with responsibilities before the first sip of tea could touch his lips.
He sat at his desk, long fingers gliding over crisp paper as he signed each document handed to him. His expression was unreadable, polished into a mask of calm. The morning light slanted across the table, reflecting faintly off the silver pen in his hand.
But amid the endless signatures and corporate tasks, a face flickered in his mind.
Just for a moment.
A certain boy's voice, the clumsy tone of someone trying to sound formal. His wide eyes, honest to a fault. His hands—always slightly trembling when handing over a tray.
Kao's hand paused over a signature. His brows drew together faintly.
"...Nil."
A single thought, uninvited.
But before it could settle, Lava's voice pulled him back.
"You're scheduled to appear at Dream Theater at 6:30 this evening," she said, her tone crisp, professional.
She stood beside his desk, tablet in hand, dressed in a fitted designer ensemble that matched the morning's brightness. Her heels clicked once as she shifted weight from one foot to the other.
"Then, you have a meeting with Mr. Somchai about music licensing rights," she added quickly. "He's also requested that you compose and perform a song for his new company's brand launch."
Kao gave the faintest nod.
Lava continued, "There were two less important meetings today—I've postponed both."
She adjusted the tablet in her arm, clenching it slightly. "After signing these documents, your cars are ready. You'll need to leave for Samut Prakan by noon. The conference starts at three."
Kao said nothing, eyes still on the paper. His fingers moved again—one stroke, then another—signing as if on instinct.
Lava watched him in silence for a moment, her jaw tight.
''He hadn't even looked at her once.''
Her voice faltered slightly, but she kept it hidden behind a perfectly measured breath. ''I wear the best brands, she thought bitterly. My makeup is flawless. I plan everything down to the second...''
She clutched the tablet tighter against her chest, the smooth metal edge pressing into her arms like cold resolve.
''Still, he doesn't see me.''
But her lips curled into a smile—sweet and unshaken, "No matter what... I'll make him love me."
She shifted slightly, one hand brushing against her waist as if adjusting her silhouette, and then said, deliberately,
"Kao... I think my perfume's too strong today."
She tilted her head, lips curved in a calculated smile. "What do you think? Should I change it?"
She fully expected a compliment—something mild, perhaps indifferent, but still something.
But Kao didn't lift his head. His eyes remained on the stack of papers before him, his pen gliding across the page without pause.
"I don't think so," he said flatly.
No hesitation. No interest. Just the barest acknowledgment—crueler than silence.
Lava blinked. Still smiling, she tried again.
"I think this dress is too tight," she said lightly. "I should change, shouldn't I?"
Still, Kao remained focused on the documents in front of him. His silence was clean, effortless. To him, the suggestion may as well not have been made at all.
Lava's fingers curled slightly around the edge of her tablet. Her voice sharpened. "Kao..."
Finally, he spoke.
Without looking up, without the faintest change in tone, he said,
"Then go. Change."
Lava's expression cracked for a moment—barely—but it was there. A slight twitch at the corner of her mouth, as if her smile had been stitched too tightly and something beneath had begun to tear.
She laughed once, quietly, not from amusement but disbelief.
"Kao, you're really something. So thick-skinned."
She crossed her arms, chin lifted with practiced confidence. "I don't know how to pursue someone like you."
Her voice dipped, softer now, like a vow spoken through clenched teeth.
"But no matter how cold your shoulders are to me... my love will only deepen."
She smiled, but her gaze was fierce.
"One day, I'll make you look at me."
The audition for the series Forever Young had been fierce—buzzing with heat, ambition, and the silent weight of unspoken dreams. Among the dozens who had gathered, only a few would be remembered. The rest would vanish with the closing of the studio door.
Nil had stood quietly at the edge of the stage, neither in the center nor forgotten, a shadow waiting for light. He hadn't drawn attention, but his presence was clean, his lines delivered with sincerity unmarred by pretense. It was enough.
When the list was posted and his name appeared among the selected cast—even if only as a side character—his hands trembled. It wasn't a leading role. It wasn't even a speaking part in every episode. But it was something. And for Nil, who had come here from nothing, it was already the beginning of everything.
The production's main roles had already been finalized.
The first lead, Than, was a tall and fresh-faced newcomer. His charm lay in his brightness—like a boy always walking beneath sunlight. It was his debut, but the camera liked him, and so did the staff. That alone was half the war.
The second lead, however, was none other than Boonruang—known on-screen as Boon. He had made his name through two major hits, Everything You and Life After Death, and his reputation followed him like a crown of thorns.
But Boon didn't come to audition. He didn't need to.
Or so he believed.
He arrived two hours late, trailed by three assistants and the cold air of entitlement. His tone was dismissive. His eyes, tired. He spoke to no one, responded to nothing. It was well-known he had been forced into the project—pushed onto Director Kim by the will of a powerful agency.
Still, it was Director Kim who held the true power here.
A veteran of the industry, known not only for the depth of his scripts but the unrelenting weight of his gaze. He could silence a room by simply walking into it. He didn't fear star power. If anything, he dismantled it.
When Boon entered with barely a nod, expecting to be waved through, Director Kim didn't even lift his eyes from the script.
"You haven't auditioned," he said flatly.
Silence spread through the room like water spilled across stone.
Boon's agent opened his mouth to protest, but the director spoke again, voice calm, precise, and unyielding.
"I don't care what name he brings with him. If he wants the role, he'll earn it. Here."
He tossed a script across the table. It landed at Boon's feet.
The actor stared down at it, pride coiled in his throat like a snake.
Than's audition had already ended.
He had stood under the studio lights with nervous eyes but a steady voice, and in that brief moment, something had clicked—an invisible thread tying his presence to the character on the page. His words weren't flawless, but the sincerity was unmistakable. Director Kim had nodded once, and that was that. A silent verdict. Than was chosen.
Now, it was Boonruang's turn.
He walked to the center of the studio like he was stepping onto a red carpet. His shirt was too clean, his expression too practiced, and when he took the script from the assistant's hand, his fingers barely curled around the edge.
The silence that followed wasn't anticipation—it was caution.
Then, he began to recite.
"If loving you means waiting through a thousand winters,
I will stand barefoot in the snow."
"Your smile is the only warmth I've ever believed in."
"Even if you never look back at me,
I will keep calling your name—softly, endlessly—like a prayer without end."
The words fell like petals dipped in water: fragile, decorative, and utterly cold.
Nil, standing near the back wall among the forgotten extras and supporting cast, held his breath. Those lines were beautiful. He had read them before—whispered them under his breath at night, just to feel what they meant.
But from Boon's mouth, they were hollow.
Not a single soul moved. No one felt anything.
Director Kim didn't even bother softening his tone. "Again," he snapped. "With expression."
Boon's brow twitched. "Okay," he said flatly, the forced smile curving his lips like wax beginning to melt.
He tried again.
"Your smile is the only warmth I've ever believed in."
This time, his voice cracked at the wrong place, like a stage curtain falling before the final act. His eyes, fixed and calculated, didn't tremble. His jaw clenched at the end, as if the words were bitter.
Director Kim's voice cracked across the room like thunder.
"Still dead! Why is your face so stiff—are you waiting for the makeup artist to move it for you?"
A few assistants flinched. One even dropped a clipboard. But Boon's expression finally changed—not into the one required by the scene, but into something sharp, offended.
"I don't need to be taught how to act," he spat. "I graduated from Chulalongkorn University with a degree in Arts and Theatre Performance."
The room tensed.
Director Kim rose slowly from his chair. There was nothing theatrical about him—only weight. Presence. He stepped forward, the silence bending around his steps like iron drawn to a magnet.
"And yet," he said, voice calm, "you can't even breathe life into three lines of dialogue."
Boon's pride flared visibly, but he said nothing.
Director Kim turned his back on him. "Education isn't immunity from mediocrity."
The crew, flustered from the confrontation, called for a break. Whispers moved through the studio like smoke.
Nil stood quietly by the wall, unnoticed as always.
But Boon's voice cut through the air, sharp and lazy.
"You. Bring me lemon water."
Nil blinked, startled, then nodded. "Okay."
A moment later, he returned with a glass—cool, fresh, lightly sweetened. He held it out with both hands.
Boon took one sip.
And without warning, threw the entire glass at Nil's chest.
Cold water splashed down his shirt.
"How dare you!" Boon snapped. "Did you put sugar in this?"
His voice rose, indignant. "You want me to get diabetic? Do you know how hard I worked this month?"
He sneered. "You poor."
Nil's shirt clung to his skin, but he didn't flinch. His voice was steady, soft.
"I'm sorry," he said. "But you didn't say how you wanted it. I only used half a cube."
Boon looked ready to explode, chest heaving as he stepped forward—another insult already curling on his tongue.
But before he could speak, his assistant rushed in, pulling gently at his sleeve. "That's enough," he whispered. "You've already damaged too much."
Boon hissed, "Don't touch me."
The assistant lowered his voice further. "I heard Director Kim wants to replace you."
Boon froze. "Let me see him try," he spat. "Call my sugar daddy. Call Phawin."
The assistant stiffened. "I don't think that's a good idea."
Boon narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
A brief pause. Then, the assistant answered, "Neptune Music is one of the main investors on this project."
There was a beat of silence. Then Boon whispered—half a curse, half disbelief—
"...Kao Neptune?"
The assistant nodded. "Mn. He's too thick-skinned. Doesn't listen to anyone."
He hesitated, then added with dry irony, "You became Phawin's sugar baby. Why not aim higher—choose Kao Neptune?"
Boon laughed under his breath, bitter. "I did."
His voice dropped. "But..."
The past was never far from the present.
At a promotional event held within the glittering walls of Sky View's seven-star hotel, the air was thick with ambition, polished smiles, and the faint scent of expensive perfume.
Boon moved through the crowd like a predator, all practiced charm and calculated warmth. He was the star of Everything You, the name whispered with envy and praise in every corner of the industry.
Among the sea of guests, his eyes landed on a figure standing aloof near the bar—Kao Neptune.
Time seemed to still.
Boon's gaze sharpened, tracing the cold lines of Kao's face, the way his expression was carefully blank, like a fortress that none could breach.
With a smooth step, Boon approached.
He introduced himself with a confident smile, hand extended. "I'm Boonruang. But you can call me Boon."
Kao's fingers curled lightly around a wine glass, his gaze never rising. No handshake followed.
Instead, Kao excused himself with a faint, almost dismissive tilt of his head.
Boon's eyes lingered on the retreating figure. A slow smile crept onto his lips, dark and knowing.
"Such handsome," Boon murmured under his breath.
He straightened, voice low but clear enough for the closest to hear.
"No matter how cold you are... you cannot save yourself from me."