Chapter 9.2: Lost in Translation
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The teacher spoke with a weary, drawn-out tone, like he was saying, "Alright… we've worked hard today. Let's do something a little more relaxing."
That line made my chest swell with relief—finally, a break. Maybe we could sit back, rest, even have something delicious to snack on.
But the sweet thought was instantly cut down. Instead, I found myself sitting at a table threading garlands—hands fumbling with tiny flower petals and beads. Sunlight streamed through the open windows, making the dust shimmer in lazy golden specks. I blinked rapidly, thinking to myself… Why the hell am I doing this…?
My eyes flicked toward Thomas, who looked utterly exasperated, teeth clenched, jaw trembling as he tried to string the flowers together. Jan sat nearby, her face perfectly serene, but her eyes gleamed with some silent, calculating thought.
The teacher asked with a gentle, hopeful tone, "Does anyone know how to do this?"
Thomas made the most ridiculous face as he attempted the garland, somehow managing a bit. Jan seemed fairly skilled, hands moving with quiet precision.
And me? I stared at the flowers, the beads, and sighed. Of course… handsome, smart, flawless as I am… naturally… I'm utterly hopeless at this.
I gritted my teeth and tried to string the first garland. It sagged immediately, petals spilling across the table. Yet, inside, I laughed quietly at myself, catching Jan's eye and raising an eyebrow in silent camaraderie. That look said, Yeah… can't compete, huh? Ha-ha-ha.
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The room fell silent. Only the soft strains of Thai classical music floated through the space. The gentle plucking of a ranad (Thai xylophone) blended with the faint, airy sound of a flute, as if a cool breeze had wandered beneath the stilts of the wooden house. The scent of jasmine wafted through the air, mingling with the music—it was calm, tender, and achingly beautiful, reaching right down to the bones.
Every poke of the needle through the delicate jasmine petals sent a subtle fragrance floating around. I blinked rapidly at my uneven, crooked garland, and exhaled a long, defeated sigh.
One more prick and that needle's going to pierce my finger too…
I leaned toward Jan and whispered, "Hey… how the hell are you doing this? We've never made garlands before."
Jan glanced at me, a faint smile tugging at her lips, like she wanted to laugh but restrained herself. She spoke softly, "Maybe it's in the blood… my past life must have made plenty of these."
I furrowed my brow, shaking my head lightly. "Uh, thanks, but I'm not… lucky like that." (I said that in my head, louder than anything I could actually speak.)
Lucky, just you…
My gaze flicked to Thomas and James. The two of them, though clumsy and hesitant, were slowly getting the hang of it—like kids learning to ride bikes without falling. Maria sat upright, poised, her delicate hands arranging flowers in neat order. Her garland looked soft, elegant, as if crafted by a palace artisan.
Cut back to me… my garland looked like a squashed snake—twisted, bent, petals missing, some slightly rotten ones sneaking in. In some spots, the string peeked through. One wrong move and the whole thing would collapse like an old shirt with a thread about to snap.
I clenched my teeth, gripping the thread like it was a lifeline, face taut as if facing some life-or-death trial, while inside I was laughing at myself, thinking, Yeah, let it all go to hell… it's just me.
Jan glanced at my garland, her eyes sparkling as if to say, You're right… before looking away, too shy to laugh aloud.
My frustration grew with every stubborn jasmine blossom. Every time I tried to fix it, it became worse—tangled like a wet cotton ball. It felt like the flowers were mocking me personally. Ugh… just making a simple garland and I can't even get it right.
A gentle breeze drifted in, scattering pikun (a type of Thai flower) petals across the wooden floor. The distant sounds of the traditional Thai orchestra floated through the air, adding a lullaby-like charm.
I focused on my chaotic garland when suddenly, a familiar deep voice spoke, concerned: "Warun… are you alright?"
I looked up. The gaze that met mine felt like a knife to the heart. Damn… mine is a mess—why are you staring like that?
I gritted my teeth, replying shortly, "I'm—"
Before I could finish, the needle pricked my fingertip, drawing a bead of blood. "Damn it…"
And then he appeared, tall and calm, like a dream come to life—P'Theer.
He stepped quietly into the room, yet all eyes turned toward him, surprised no one expected him to appear at this exact moment.
He crouched to my level, our eyes meeting perfectly. In that instant, the surrounding music seemed to fade. Only his gaze remained, soft yet resolute.
"Does it hurt?" His deep, low voice asked gently, as if afraid I felt more pain than necessary.
I… was fine. Just a needle prick, nothing dramatic, but my face flushed anyway… embarrassed.
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His gaze was full of concern, so deep it felt like it could pierce right into my heart. He wasn't just seeing the blood—I swear he could sense every flicker of my emotions too.
P'Theer unfolded a pristine white handkerchief, his large hands cradling my finger as gently as if it were made of glass. He pressed the cloth against the wound with careful precision, lips pressed together, holding back any trace of worry.
"Don't move," he murmured softly, but with an authority that left me frozen in place.
Oh damn, the hero-level scene right there.
He tilted his head slightly, his eyes darting to summon the attendants to fetch the first aid materials, but in a heartbeat, he was back, his gaze fixed on me. Those eyes… they burned with worry.
My heart thumped so hard I felt like it might leap out of my chest. How could I not panic when all eyes in the sala were on P'Theer?
Still, I couldn't look away. His gaze was so gentle it felt like it could wrap me up completely. My heart was pounding so loud I feared it might echo out of my chest. Everything else around me faded until all that remained was his unwavering look.
Then, in a blink, I glanced across the sala—and there sat Khwan-Khao, upright, regal in her traditional Thai dress. Her eyes were sharper than any blade.
That gaze… it wasn't just a look. It was fire. Like a noblewoman from the palace past, jealous and vigilant. Her face was serene, yet her eyes cut with lethal precision, silently declaring, "Don't even think of testing me."
I barely had time to avert my gaze, and yet I couldn't help muttering inside,
Wow… why is she staring like that? I just got pricked, not stealing her curry!
I pressed my lips to stifle a laugh, and in my mind, I continued plotting:
Seriously, one more slip with this mangled garland, and I swear I'll swing it like a drumstick.
But despite that, my eyes drifted back to P'Theer, and I completely forgot about everyone else… including Khwan-Khao, still staring me down with lethal intent.
A servant's voice broke the spell, soft yet clear enough to bring me back to reality:
"Sir… the materials for first aid have arrived, sir."
I turned—and nearly jumped. I thought it would be just some simple first aid kit, but no…
On the polished teak table lay a dark wooden box, carved with intricate vine patterns, its glossy surface gleaming. The lid had a metal lock shaped like a pair of majestic swans. When he opened it, a soft click sounded, like opening a treasure chest.
Inside, compartments were perfectly organized: long glass vials filled with clear liquid and potent spirits, a small bag with pale yellow herbal powder and jelly-like substance wrapped carefully, tiny scissors and tweezers glinting under the lantern light, and finally, a pristine white cloth rolled and tied neatly with a thin cord.
This was way too elegant to just be a first aid kit (an indirect display of wealth, really).
I glanced at P'Theer again. He knelt beside me with effortless grace, his deep voice laced with concern.
"Does it hurt much?"
His gaze, so tender it seemed to emanate from his heart itself, pierced right into me. Honestly, I nearly melted on the spot, yet my lips stiffened.
"No, it's fine," I murmured, my voice barely audible, stealing a glance at him—really, it was just a needle prick, P'Theer, chill…
He handled the handkerchief with meticulous care, his fingertips barely brushing mine. The contact made me jump, heart hammering like the drums at a Thai fair—so embarrassing I wished I could crawl under the floorboards.
As he cleaned the wound carefully, I sat stiff as a board like a student caught by a strict teacher. His eyes were full of attention, but mine… I couldn't help noticing my own finger and thinking,
Damn… I'm sitting here, letting a royal-level handsome guy tend to a wound with a treasure chest of supplies? Am I dying from the blood or from embarrassment first?
When the wound was finally bandaged, his delicate movements hadn't even faded. Then, P'Theer leaned closer and blew lightly across my finger. The warm air brushed my skin, sending shivers down my spine. My heart skipped a beat; I froze for a moment, brain short-circuiting.
"Th-thank—" I hadn't even finished when my stomach let out a loud growl, completely disrespecting the moment.
A soft, suppressed laugh came from behind me. I whipped my head around to see Jan covering her mouth, shoulders shaking as she tried not to burst out. The whole situation made me forget she was even there—like the world had shrunk to just the two of us.
…What am I thinking? Totally cringey. Where did I even get this script from?!
Jan laughed, eyes squinting with amusement, then nudged my back with her elbow and shot me a sly wink, like she was saying, "You're blushing, admit it." Meanwhile, James and the others pretended not to notice, but their shoulders betrayed them, shaking all over. Damn… better watch it or I'll jab them with the thorny flowers!
Another soft laugh emerged—this time from him, the hero himself. His deep, warm chuckle was fleeting but it made my heart race even faster.
What the hell is it about this handsome guy…? My heart's pounding too much.
I wanted to crawl straight through the floor. If the main guy wasn't sitting right there, I would've turned and yelled, Yeah, keep laughing! Let's see who's still laughing when I poke your eyes out!
But instead of me exploding, a low sound slipped from his lips—the man with the sharp, unyielding eyes still locked on me.
"Hmph…"
God… even that short laugh thundered through my chest like a sudden storm. His gaze wasn't mocking at all. It was soft, warm—so warm it stole my breath. What the hell was this? Just one smile and I was melting like ice in fire.
"Uh…" Something stumbled out of my throat, but before I could say anything, footsteps broke in.
"Snacks, as ordered." The same servant bowed low, setting down a polished teak tray on the table. A neat row of desserts gleamed in tiny benjarong bowls (traditional Thai porcelain with five-colored designs). There were thong yip (golden flower-shaped egg yolk dessert), khanom chan (layered pandan jelly), and dok lamduan (shortbread flower cookies). As the lid was lifted, the air filled with a rich, sweet fragrance.
I froze for a moment. That was fast as hell. Like… was this ancient Thai Uber Eats or something?
My friends behind me instantly lit up, their eyes sparkling. Jan nudged Tems, who was trying and failing to hold back his grin. I could only blink dumbly at the desserts, right before I felt a faint nudge from across the table—those sharp, blade-like eyes still hadn't left me.
"Try it." His voice was soft, deep, smooth. And yet those simple words made my heart crash straight through the floor.
Fine! I'll eat it! Just don't look at me like that!
I hesitated only a second before snatching up the nearest dessert. The glossy golden thong yip shimmered so beautifully I almost didn't want to eat it. But with that gaze on me, pressing with every heartbeat, I shoved it into my mouth without thinking.
Sweet. Overwhelmingly sweet, thick with the scent of egg. I almost choked. But heavier than the sugar was… his stare.
Jesus! Why the hell are you staring at me like this?! I'm just eating a snack, not performing some sacred ritual!
"…Too sweet?" His deep voice brushed against me, steady as ever, though his eyes glimmered faintly with amusement—like he was savoring every twitch in my expression.
"I-It's… good," I stammered, turning desperately toward Jan, hoping for backup. But no—she raised her brows, grinning, ready to tease. Tems looked away too late, his cheeks already flushed pink.
Why are you guys blushing?! I'm the one dying here!
Before I could recover, another dessert slid toward me. Long fingers carefully lifted a soft green square of khanom chan from its bowl, as if deliberately slow, teasing. Then his voice came again, calm but commanding—
"Try this one."
Goddamn it, P'Theer, can't you eat it yourself?!
But I… I opened my mouth and let him feed me anyway.
The soft jelly melted on my tongue, sweet with pandan fragrance. But I barely noticed the taste. All I could feel was his gaze, unwavering, fixed solely on me. The corner of his lips tugged slightly, as if laughing silently.
"…." I was about to turn my head away, embarrassed, when suddenly he leaned closer.
A warm fingertip brushed the corner of my mouth, slow and deliberate, wiping away a crumb.
The world around me stilled. The lamp's glow blurred into soft halos. I saw only him—his sharp eyes, too close, his lips curved in a faint, almost secret laugh.
I almost exploded right there. What the hell is this?! Am I suddenly a character in some cheesy romance novel?! Who's writing this script? It's too damn much!
I froze, ears burning, my hand stuck mid-air still holding the dessert bowl. His smile lingered, then his head tilted ever so slightly—asking silently if it still hurt. I dropped my gaze immediately, pretending to pop another thong yip into my mouth, though I couldn't even taste it anymore.
My heart wasn't mine anymore.
Instead of pushing, he reached for the thread and needle. "Try again." His voice dropped to a gentler note. "I'll teach you."
I jerked my head up. "M-Me…?"
"Yes." He let out a soft chuckle in his throat. "Hold it like this."
His long fingers brushed against the back of my hand, adjusting the needle's angle. White jasmine petals lay neatly in the golden tray, their fragrance drifting with the breeze. Every slight touch of his fingers slowed my heartbeat, as if guiding me into rhythm.
"Pierce beneath the petal… don't press too hard." His voice near my ear made goosebumps shoot up my neck. "Leave even spaces… perfect."
Perfect, my ass. My heart's about to drop dead right here!
I tried again, clumsy. The thread pulled too tight. His fingers lightly tapped my hand. "Gently… loosen it."
Second try, the petals twisted awkwardly. He chuckled, a quiet "hmph," leaning closer. "Better now. Beautiful."
Beautiful my ass. But if he says so… maybe it is.
Bit by bit, the first garland slowly took shape under our joined effort. To my surprise, I smiled. He caught it, his gaze steady, yet softened into something that rattled me more than anything else.
"See? You can do it."
"…Yeah." My answer slipped out like I'd just gone through some secret ritual—confused, flushed, exhilarated all at once.
Time blurred until I remembered the real problem. I cleared my throat, turning. "P'Theer, I… need to ask for your help."
He raised a brow, his sharp eyes glinting before softening again.
I explained quickly. "We can't really walk back the way we came. It's too far, too risky… So I was hoping maybe I could catch a ride with you."
He set the garland down with care. For a moment, silence. Then his eyes shifted toward me. "No need for difficulty. If you ask, I'll help with anything."
Shit. My chest tightened so fast I nearly dropped the garland.
Jan quickly jumped in. "What about us? Can we… come too?"
James nodded hard. "If you'd be so kind—"
P'Theer smiled faintly. Polite. Smooth. But there was a clear edge of mischief. "No need to worry. I've already called for a carriage to take you back." He signaled toward the servants.
"What—" The word slipped from me as I gawked.
The entire table froze. Everyone had the same dumbstruck face, mouths open. Fast as lightning. When the hell did he call for backup? Was there some secret ops team waiting under the house?!
As if sensing my confusion, he added calmly, "I arranged another carriage for your friends. You, however… will come with me."
The hell!?
He stood, tall and commanding, placing the garland neatly down before turning back to me. "Come." His voice was steady, but his gaze was a sweet command that couldn't be denied. I started to rise awkwardly, and that's when his hand reached out. "Take it."
Oh God. Can you stop being this damn gallant? My ears burned red as I let my fingers fall into his palm.
We descended the wooden steps together, the cool evening breeze lifting petals into the air. His robe swayed softly beside me until we reached the courtyard. A sleek black car gleamed beneath the shade of trees, headlights blinking once in readiness.
Just before we reached it, the sharp sound of heels echoed against the wooden floor. Thunk. Thunk. The scent of floral perfume grew stronger. Khwan Khao stepped forward, her posture regal like a woman from a painted mural, but her eyes sliced toward me with venom.
"Are you leaving now, P'Theer?"
Her voice was sweet, careful, but the tilt of her words carried a sharp edge. She turned slightly toward him. "May I join you?" Then back at me with a look that screamed, I don't know who you are, but I don't like you.
I smiled politely in return, while screaming inside: Go ahead, girl. Throw your daggers at me. I'll beat you with this crooked garland if I have to.
P'Theer's face didn't shift. He inclined his head just slightly. "I have matters to attend to tonight. I'll send another carriage for you. It will be more convenient."
Smooth. Gentle. But a clean, polite rejection.
Khwan Khao froze for half a beat. Her lips pressed, her eyes flickered once before steadying. She bowed gracefully. "As you wish." She stepped back, poised as ever, though fire lingered in her gaze.
Oof. That's a loss.
I glanced back at Jan and James—both looking like giddy, shocked fans. Jan threw me a thumbs-up, mouthing, Go. Now. James gave a dry grin that said, Good luck, man. Thomas and Maria were still too stunned to move.
Two servants appeared, bowing as they announced the carriage for my friends had just arrived.
Meanwhile, P'Theer reached the car, opening the back door—not for himself, but for me. He leaned slightly, eyes softened in a way that made it impossible to resist. "Mind your head," he murmured.
I froze, then smiled faintly. "Th-Thanks." My legs shook a little as I climbed in. In the reflection of the glass, I saw him glance at me again, lips tugging in that barely-there smile.
Alright. If I die tonight, at least my corpse will be smiling.
He shut the door gently, circled around to the other side, just as my friends' carriage pulled in. Everyone waved goodbye. I waved back, grinning—while Khwan Khao stood still, her sharp eyes following me until the car pulled away.
The engine hummed, smooth and low, as we left the courtyard. Inside, the silence was broken only by the wheels rolling and the soft rhythm of lights flickering past the window.
I sat stiff beside him, the jasmine garland we'd strung together resting on my lap. I held it carefully, afraid to crush it. But really… I wasn't afraid of the flowers. I was afraid of my own heart—it was pounding so hard it felt ready to break free.
His gaze flicked toward me briefly, sideways. Just a glance. But God—my chest seized like I'd been shot. Goosebumps raced down my arms.
Can I just jump out of this car already?
"Warun." His voice filled the space, deep and resonant.
"Y-Yes!" My answer shot out too loud, like a soldier reporting for duty.
He paused, lips curving slightly. His eyes pierced mine without blinking.
"You… are still the same Warun I once knew, aren't you—"