My name's Ming, and my twin brother Khwan and I are close friends with Ung-ing. We've been tight since forever always together. I'll admit it, I had a crush on Ung-ing back in the day, but Ung-ing was head over heels for Phi Fia, the son of a friend of my dad's. From the moment Ung-ing became Phi Fia's boyfriend, even when Phi Fia went single again, Ung-ing never considered me. So, I just gave up on liking him.
Back then, Ung-ing was cute delicate, fair-skinned, slim. But now… well… never mind that. I still worry about him. Watching a friend get their heart broken by the person they loved, someone they'd hoped to marry and grow old with, someone like Phi Fia—the heir to one of the country's largest construction equipment companies is heartbreaking.
The day Phi Fia ran off and married someone else was the ultimate shock for Ung-ing. He was devastated, and it changed him completely. From being that sweet, delicate, clingy guy, he's transformed into this muscular man, still with a gentle, almost Korean-boyish face, but now with a body full of solid muscle. He even got covered in tattoos, which is a shame for that fair, pinkish skin—but yes, it looks ridiculously hot.
Even after all that, Phi Fia didn't come back.
Poor guy. I honestly didn't know how to help my best friend move on… until we ran into this guy.
"Fah-sai, Clean Heart." Yeah, the name's ridiculously cheesy. He's a street-food vendor tucked away in a corner of the capital's slums a sharp contrast between the gritty side of the city and the world of us rich kids who were born into piles of money.
I can handle the difference, but Ung-ing isn't great with people like that. They're loud, rough around the edges, unapologetically themselves, and don't care about appearances. Even hygiene isn't a big deal for them doesn't matter how clean the clothes are or whether they shower it's all about survival.
BANG!! BANG!!
CLANG!!
"Here, your stir-fried basil no spice!"
The "handsome street vendor"? He slammed the plate down on the old table like always. He recognized the twins from the past few days they've been watching him. One of them sat quietly, not touching the food, just staring. The other ate and watched, chatting back and forth, which only annoyed the vendor more.
"Get outta here, you mutt!" the street vendor barked at a stray, still yelling like he always does.
"We've been watching this guy for days. My ears are numb from all the clanging and shouting! I seriously thought this plan wouldn't work he's nothing like the real deal, more like a cheap knockoff. Maybe we should just scrap this whole operation!"
Clang!!
The sound of the pan banging made the younger twin jump, blurting out instinctively,
"Holy crap!"
Two ordinary plates of fried rice with egg, thirty-five baht each—not that they were for two people, since the older twin had doubled up were set down in front of them. Simple plastic plates with a single short spoon. The vendor leaned his head slightly, clicking his tongue like an old-school tough guy, glaring at the two brothers with an annoyingly cocky look.
"What's your problem, huh? You two come here every day, sit around for hours, just staring at me. Don't tell me you're spies thinking I'm dealing drugs!" The vendor jabbed a rough finger back and forth at the twins, muttering his suspicions.
"N-no, n-no, that's not it, sir!" Khwan stammered, shrinking back, too intimidated to meet the vendor's gaze even though if it were handsome, impeccably dressed Fia, he'd probably be complimenting him instead.
"So what's your deal with a simple rice vendor like me? Dressed up nice like that you must be some kind of crook?"
The coarse finger kept pointing at the twins, scrutinizing them. No high-society kid would wander into this area just petty criminals, maybe, who knew every corner of the slum.
"N-no!" Khwan shook his head frantically, denying it.
"I-I just… I like your cooking. I heard this place is going to be cleared out soon. Where will you go to sell next?" The older twin spoke smoothly, trying to ease the tension. Even a small compliment softened the vendor's tough exterior.
Thump!
"How can I sell if I don't have rent money?" The vendor slammed his backside onto a plastic chair across from the twins, staring hard, his eyes sharp and assessing.
"Uh… you're selling well, so why don't you have money? If you don't sell rice, what else would you do for work?" Khwan asked quietly.
"What business of yours is that?!" The vendor snapped, glaring at the younger twin. Khwan flinched, sensing the clash they hadn't touched the food yet, so the vendor's suspicion grew even more.
"Huek!"
"I've got a job I want you to help with. It's really important to us, and honestly, only someone with your look can pull it off," Ming said calmly, trying to sound more mature, giving the pitch another shot.
"You think I grew up in the slums and I'm stupid? I know I'm good-looking, and I've been tricked plenty of times by people who look sharp and dress nice like you. I'm not going to some seminar, I won't invest in anything, and I sure as hell won't act in porn!"
BANG!! The street-food vendor slammed the table for emphasis.
"Bleeeh!" Khwan, the younger twin, yelped and pressed back behind his brother.
"It's not like that… it's more like this," Ming tried to explain.
The street-smart vendor was tough to deal with always suspicious, wary, reading every word with caution, and couldn't understand anything that wasn't said straight up. Explaining things to him was exhausting, and Khwan had to use smelling salts more times than he could count just to survive the conversation. Finally, the vendor seemed to get it and stopped questioning.
"So… you want me to pretend to be rich to hit on your friend?" the vendor blurted after hours of discussion.
"Not really to hit on him seriously. Just to be a friend, someone he can talk to and smile with sometimes," Ming clarified again and again, but the vendor still interpreted it as flirting.
"Talking friend? Around here, you don't talk first you get it over with before you chat, no time to waste."
"Uh…" Ming and Khwan exchanged a look, pausing for a second. In their heads, they imagined this tough slum guy walking up, grabbing their straight-faced friend by the chin, teasing him like some old-school gangster, only to get a kick to the Adam's apple from a high-society friend…
Not exactly romantic, huh?
"How long do I have to do this, and how much money will I get?" the vendor asked.
"The schedule isn't fixed, but you can ask for daily pay. Work that day, you get paid. Don't work, no pay. At first, I hoped you could do it every day," Ming replied, pleased that the tough guy was actually considering the offer.
"Huh~ Sounds easy enough," Fahsai rubbed his chin, running numbers in his head.
"Exactly. It's simple, but my friend he's high-society, so you've got to play the part. I'll write out scripts, plan clothes, style hair, and create a story for you," Ming explained. Even though Fahsai frowned, clearly confused, he still exchanged numbers for the right time to start.
"So… me as high-society… what do I look like?"