Chapter Text
“What do you know about me?” he asked, voice calm, hands folded neatly on the desk, chin resting lightly on top. There was no urgency behind the question. Just curiosity. Like he already knew the answer but wanted to see how Fourth would handle it.
Fourth blinked. His mind blanked completely. Gone was every carefully memorized phrase and bullet point. He had done the prep for the interview. The mission statement, the market trends, the company values, all locked in. He even spent hours reading through employee reviews, trying to understand the culture, picking apart every line like it might be a test question.
But he hadn’t looked into the man sitting right in front of him.
Not even once.
“Fine,” the man chuckled. “Do you at least know my name?”
Fourth's eyes went wide and his lips parted slightly, like he was about to speak but had nothing to give. He didn’t move, didn’t even try to pretend. He looked frozen, stuck in the space between realization and recovery. A few seconds passed in silence that felt louder than anything else.
The man leaned forward just a little, subtle enough to keep things casual, but intentional enough to pull Fourth back into the moment.
“I’m the future successor of this company,” he said, a faint smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “If you’re hoping to be a part of it, you should probably know who’s going to be running it.”
He said it smoothly, with a touch of humor. There was no judgment in his tone. No threat. Just quiet amusement. It felt like he found Fourth’s reaction more interesting than disappointing. Like he had expected it, or maybe even preferred it to a rehearsed answer.
Fourth didn’t respond. The words stayed lodged somewhere inside, and the moment moved forward without him.
The man finally nodded, before reaching for the file in front of him. “No further questions from my end,” he said, flipping the folder open without another glance.
The rest of the interview passed like background noise. Fourth answered what he needed to, kept his posture straight, nodded at the right moments, but the earlier exchange clung to him. It lingered in his thoughts even as the conversation drifted away from it.
When it was finally over, Fourth stood. He smoothed down the front of his pants, mostly to give his hands something to do. They were still slightly unsteady. He glanced at the man again, who was still flipping through papers, then looked toward the other interviewers.
“Thank you for the opportunity,” Fourth said, giving a small bow. “And thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”
The man looked up. He was the only one who answered back. “Thank you,” he said, voice steady and warm. “We’ll be in touch soon.”
//
Fourth stepped out of the building and took a slow, careful look at it. He let out a disappointed sigh, feeling like he’d just flunked the interview. Pulling out his phone, he typed in “heir of GMM” and hit search. The results popped up within seconds.
“Norawit Tit-Carorak? Tita-Caronrak?” he mumbled quietly, scanning the screen. He scrolled down and read more carefully. Fourth skimmed through the brief bio, Norawit, also known as Gemini, had finished his commerce degree and master’s in business management at Cambridge. He had returned to Thailand just two years ago and was now expected to take the lead at GMM soon.
Fourth closed his eyes tightly, replaying the moments from the interview, especially the way Gemini had completely shattered the confidence he’d held onto throughout the session. “I’ll probably get rejected,” he whispered to himself, sliding the phone back into his pocket before heading toward the nearest bus station.
Once on the bus, Fourth settled into a seat by the window, eyes flicking between the passing streets and his phone. He refreshed his email app again and again, waiting for a response from the company. It wasn’t the only interview he’d done recently, but it was the one he really hoped would go his way.
He had packed up and left his hometown for Bangkok just a week ago. With what little he had, he managed to rent a small room, still expensive in his eyes and planned carefully around this interview. If nothing came of it, he told himself he’d find a part-time job to scrape by while waiting for another chance.
He didn’t want to work at GMM just because it had been around for ages or had a strong reputation. That was part of it, sure, but the real reason ran deeper. What really drew him in was Phuwin. A boy from his own neighborhood. Just a couple of years older, from the same kind of background, nothing flashy, nothing handed to him. And yet, somehow, Phuwin had managed to turn his life around.
Fourth had always admired him. He held a quiet respect for him, who walked the same streets he had and still managed to break through. He wanted to follow that path, to prove that someone like him could make it too. Phuwin was proof that background didn’t have to be a barrier.
He remembered the evenings before his high school exams, how the man used to sit with him, patiently explaining formulas and helping him stay focused when his mind kept drifting. Fourth had watched him study late, work hard, disappear into textbooks while others gave up. And then, just like that, Phuwin had left their neighborhood to study accounting at Chulalongkorn University. It was the reason Fourth chose to study accounting there too.
If Phuwin could do it, then maybe he had a shot too. That was the thought he clung to when everything felt stacked against him.
Now, years later, attending the interview at the company where Phuwin worked, Fourth let out a long breath, the kind that carries more weight than it lets on. A trace of disappointment flickered across his face.
“I probably won’t get the job,” he muttered, the words sitting heavy in his heart.
//
It has been two days. Fourth had been sitting on the edge of his bed for what felt like hours, just staring blankly at his phone like it might magically buzz if he looked pitiful enough. He had already refreshed his email at least ten times in the past half hour, each time with a flicker of hope that fizzled out just as fast. His heart was stuck in this loop of anticipation and disappointment, over and over again.
Then, just when he was about to give up and toss his phone aside, it buzzed. A new email. From GMM.
His stomach dropped. He froze, eyes locked on the screen. His thumb trembled a little as he tapped to open it.
The subject line read, “Application Update: GMM.”
He took a breath, held it for a second too long, and finally opened the message.
The first line hit him like a punch and a hug all at once. “Congratulations, you’ve been offered to join us as-”
He didn’t even finish reading. He set the phone down like it had turned hot in his hand. Eyes wide. Lips slightly parted. For a few seconds, he just sat there in stunned silence.
Then slowly, cautiously, he picked the phone back up and reread the email, this time letting the words sink in fully.
“Congratulations, you’ve been offered to join us as a Junior Accountant.”
The words sat quietly on the screen, but they felt massive to him. A small grin tugged at his lips, soft and slow, like it was blooming on its own. His chest felt lighter. His mind, still spinning, started to settle just enough to let the moment land.
He had made it.
//
“Get some good clothes and shoes,” his mom said through the phone, her voice warm and familiar even through the patchy signal. “I’ll send over some money. I heard things in Bangkok are expensive.”
Fourth smiled as he stood in the middle of the men’s clothing clearance section, fingers idly brushing through rows of shirts on hangers. The store was brightly lit, with soft pop music playing somewhere in the background, and everything around him smelled faintly of new fabric.
“No need to send me money,” he said with a quiet chuckle, letting his hand linger on a neatly pressed blazer before moving on. “I’ve saved some.” His tone was light, but there was a hint of pride in it, like he was glad to be able to say that out loud.
He kept skimming through the racks, the phone still tucked between his ear and shoulder. “Take care of yourself, alright? I’ll come visit you soon,” he added, his voice a little softer this time.
His mom told him to eat properly, to stay healthy, to not skip meals just because he was busy or distracted. Fourth smiled at that, fond and a little amused. “I will,” he promised, before ending the call.
After slipping the phone into his pocket, he pulled out a light blue formal shirt from the rack. It was simple, clean, and the kind of thing he imagined someone at a proper office job might wear. He held it up against himself, then stepped toward a nearby mirror.
The shirt looked good. It wasn’t flashy, just neat and presentable, but somehow it felt like a quiet milestone. It was probably a size bigger than he needed, but his mom always bought him larger shirts and shoes, convinced he might grow into them in a few years.
As he adjusted the fabric, his eyes drifted upward, moving slowly from the shirt to his own reflection in the mirror.
His gaze landed on his face, and for a moment, he just looked at himself.
Then, almost without thinking, a small smile appeared. Not wide or loud, just something soft. A little proud. Like he was starting to see the person he’d been working so hard to become.
//
It was his first day of work, and Fourth had woken up earlier than usual, a bit more alert than he expected to be. He ironed his clothes with extra care, smoothing out every crease like his whole career depended on it. He double-checked everything before leaving, shirt tucked properly, shoes polished, hair in place. He wasn’t going to risk showing up looking sloppy.
He caught the train and was pleasantly surprised to find it almost empty. That alone felt like a win. As he grabbed a seat by the window, he glanced down at his watch. He was at least an hour early. A small smile crept onto his face. His heart was thumping like crazy, quick and loud, but not in a bad way. More like excitement that had nowhere else to go. He sat back and watched the city blur past the window, trying to calm the nerves by just taking it all in.
Once he got off at his stop, he took a deep breath as he walked out of the station. The company building stood tall in front of him. He paused for a moment, just looking at it. There was something surreal about seeing it in person after dreaming about it for so long. He closed his eyes for a second and muttered a small prayer under his breath before walking forward.
When he stepped inside, the lobby was cool and quiet. He walked up to the receptionist’s desk, trying to keep his nerves in check.
“I’m the ne…new joiner here. Fourth Nattawat Jirochtikul,” he said, his voice just slightly shaky.
The receptionist looked up and gave him a kind smile, her tone warm and easy. “Welcome, Fourth. This is for your lobby pass.”
She handed him a form and he nodded, filling it out quickly before receiving a temporary pass and directions to the elevator. As he stepped inside and pressed the button for his floor, his brain started running a hundred different versions of how he was going to introduce himself.
“I’m Fourth. Call me Fourth… no, wait.” He shook his head quickly, exhaling through his nose. “Call me Fourth… Fourth Nattawat Jirochtikul from Chiang Mai… no, no.”
He drew in a deep breath, pressing his lips into a small circle as he let it out slow. “Calm down,” he muttered under his breath. His mouth formed another careful o as he exhaled again.
“I’m Fourth,” he said at last, a small smile tugging at his lips. “From Chiang Mai, and I’m looking forward to working with all of you.”
He paused, then nodded once to himself with a little more confidence. “Yeah… that’s better.”
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. He straightened his shoulders, took one more steady breath, and stepped out.
As he walked in, Fourth was immediately greeted by a senior named Joong. The man looked friendly, approachable, and wasted no time getting into things. Joong guided him through the onboarding, patiently pointing out the pantry, the meeting rooms, and the HR desk along the way.
“Your shirt’s too big for you,” Joong remarked offhandedly.
Fourth immediately glanced down at his attire, a flush creeping up his neck as self-consciousness hit. But Joong carried on as if he hadn’t said anything at all.
“You’ll most likely be trained by the lead accountant,” he continued, his tone smooth and easy, as they headed toward the main office space. Then, with the same casualness, he pushed open the door.
“Hi everyone,” he called, before gesturing toward Fourth. “This is our new joiner.”
Fourth gave a small nervous smile, glancing around the room, adjusting his cuff. A few colleagues looked up and smiled back, some gave polite nods, while others didn’t bother to lift their eyes from their laptops. Still, he cleared his throat, tried to ignore the sweaty palms, and gave his best shot.
“Hi,” he began, his voice a little shaky but steadying as he went. “I’m Fourth, junior accountant. From Chiang Mai.” His nerves showed plainly. Sweaty palms, uneven breaths, and a heartbeat thudding too fast for comfort.
He probably didn’t even sound warm or approachable, just someone who wanted to get the introduction over with as quickly as possible.
There was a round of soft claps. A few people gave him welcoming looks, while others remained indifferent. Just as he started to relax, someone called out his name.
“Fourth?”
He turned quickly, trying to locate the voice. A man had just stepped out of a glass cabin. Sharp suit. Straight posture. A familiar face. It was Phuwin, and he was looking at him with a mix of surprise and recognition.
“Fourth Nattawat?” Phuwin repeated, the corners of his mouth curling into a slow, familiar smile.
“Hey, you know our lead accountant?” Joong asked, eyebrows slightly raised.
Fourth glanced at Joong, then nodded quietly.
Phuwin started walking toward him, that smile now growing into a grin. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said. “How are you?” he asked gently.
“I’m doing well. How are you, Phi?” Fourth replied, using the familiar term with ease.
Before Phuwin could say anything else, Joong jumped in. “Wait, how do you two know each other?”
“He’s my junior from university,” Phuwin answered quickly, brushing past the question like it wasn’t worth lingering on. Fourth blinked, caught off guard. He glanced at Phuwin, but the older man wasn’t looking his way. He didn’t mention that they knew each other from childhood, from the same neighborhood. He didn’t bring up the hours of tutoring, or the afternoons spent sitting together on the old bench by the 7-Eleven near their street.
Before Joong could press further, Phuwin shifted gears completely.
“The deadline for the project is approaching. I need the file today. Are you finished with it?,” he asked firmly, his tone changing.
Joong’s smile flattened into a tight line. “Yes, I’m working on it,” he replied, nodding slowly.
Phuwin didn’t say anything more. He just gave Joong a judgemental glance before turning back to Fourth, the intensity in his face softening almost instantly.
“Had your breakfast?” he asked, his voice suddenly quiet, almost caring.
Fourth blinked, caught slightly off guard. “No,” he answered softly, shaking his head.
“Let’s go,” Phuwin said, smiling again. He tilted his head slightly, then turned and walked ahead, expecting Fourth to follow.
//
Fourth followed behind Phuwin as they made their way to the elevator. He stood a little off to the side, his steps slightly behind, not really sure if it was intentional or just out of habit. Phuwin stood in front, tall and composed, his presence somehow sharper now than it ever was back home.
Fourth’s eyes lingered on him. Everything about Phuwin looked tailored, his pants fit just right, his shirt tucked and pressed with not a crease out of place. Even the way he stood, hands tucked neatly into his pockets, looked like something out of a magazine. It wasn’t just clothes. It was how he carried himself. Like he belonged here.
Fourth glanced down at his own shirt, his off-the-rack pants, the slight wrinkle he’d tried to iron out this morning but clearly missed. A tiny flicker of insecurity crept in.
He looked alright, just... not like him.
The elevator hummed as it moved down. Somewhere between the floors, Phuwin finally turned to glance at him.
“So,” he asked casually, “how are things back at home?”
Fourth perked up a little at that. “Good, Phi. I’m planning to go back in a couple of weeks. Visiting my mom.” Phuwin nodded, but there was something unreadable in his face, like his mind was already racing ahead, somewhere beyond what they were saying.
After a moment, he asked softly, “How’s the neighborhood?”
Fourth met his gaze, feeling his expression soften. Phuwin hadn’t set foot there since he graduated. From what Fourth’s mom said, Phuwin only sent money every month without much else, no calls, no visits, just a quiet, steady support from afar. It made Fourth think how different they’d become, even though they came from the same streets.
“Still the same,” Fourth said with a warm, almost nostalgic tone. He pictured the streets, the corners, the familiar sounds that had been a constant in his life. “Satang’s family moved away, actually. They found a new place somewhere else, and there’s a new family living in their old house now.” He looked at Phuwin, curiosity mixing with a hint of sentiment. “Do you remember Satang?”
Phuwin’s brow furrowed slightly, like he was digging through old memories. “Is that the boy who was bad at math?” he asked, sounding almost surprised that the memory was still there. Fourth chuckled, a light laugh that came from a place of fondness.
“Yeah, that’s definitely him,” Fourth said, giggling softly. The thought of Satang struggling through math homework somehow made the past feel more alive, more real.
Then, after a brief pause where the air between them shifted, Phuwin’s tone turned quieter, more serious. “Fourth,” he said carefully, like choosing his words with care, “I think it’s better if the team doesn’t know we were neighbors.” There was weight behind those words, like a boundary was being drawn, unspoken but clear.
Fourth blinked. There was a slight tilt in his brow, confusion flashing briefly, but Phuwin didn’t explain. He just kept his eyes on the elevator door like that was all he had to say.
Before Fourth could even process it, the elevator dinged. The doors slid open and they walked out, headed toward the canteen. The hallway was busy with people walking, with coffee cups and food tray in hand, conversations in mid-flow. Fourth glanced around as they passed, some staff were laughing in little groups, some were scrolling on their phones while eating alone, a few looked just as lost as he felt. It was a whole rhythm, a whole world, and he was just stepping into it.
They reached the stall and joined the queue. It was a little slow. A couple people ahead were still figuring out their orders. Fourth noticed Phuwin shifting his weight slightly, arms crossing, eyes narrowing just a little.
“So slow,” he mumbled under his breath, clearly impatient.
When it was finally his turn, Phuwin stepped forward quickly and pointed to one of the servers. “An Americano,” he said, crisp and clipped. Then he stepped aside without waiting for acknowledgement.
Fourth moved up next, eyes still darting over the menu board as if it would rearrange itself to make the choice easier. “Uh... latte, with some syrup,” he finally said.
The guy behind the counter, a young man with a friendly face and a "Trainee" tag on his shirt, nodded. “How many?”
Fourth blinked. “Sorry?”
“How many pumps of syrup?” the guy repeated, smiling gently like he was used to this question catching people off guard.
Fourth parted his lips, paused, then guessed, “Ummm…two.”
Truth was, he didn’t really know. He wasn’t used to this kind of setup. Back in Chiang Mai, it was simpler. He’d mostly just had coffee at home or the small cart near campus. Even when he lived in Bangkok for university, he stayed on campus most of the time. The city always felt too big, too fast. People didn’t smile the same. Everything moved like clockwork, but nobody looked like they were really living in it.
While he was lost in thought, the young man behind the counter signaled that the drinks were ready. Phuwin walked over, picked up one of the cups, and frowned almost immediately.
“I asked for an Americano,” he said, voice slow and pointed, each word spaced out like he was talking to a child, “This isn’t an Americano.”
Fourth stepped up beside him, and it did look like the orders had gotten mixed up. The trainee’s expression shifted into panic mode. “I’m really sorry,” he said quickly, eyes darting between the two of them. “I’ll fix it right away.”
Fourth glanced at him and the poor guy looked flustered, sweat starting to form near his hairline.
Phuwin let out a soft exhale, sharp around the edges. “You know what,” he said, stepping back, “forget it.” His voice was flat, cold. And just like that, he walked off without the drink.
The trainee called out after him, “Sir, ” but Phuwin was already halfway across the canteen, unmoved.
Fourth looked between them. Then he turned back to the counter.
“I’ll take mine, thank you,” he said softly, giving the young man a small nod before hurrying after Phuwin, the latte warming his hand, and something else, something unsettled, starting to simmer under his skin.
As Fourth sat at the table, he couldn’t help but notice how worked up Phuwin was getting. The man’s frustration was practically vibrating off him.
“Incompetent,” Phuwin muttered, face twisted with disdain. “Why bother being a barista if you can’t even get the coffee order right?”
He kept complaining, his tone sharp, words biting. Fourth wasn’t exactly surprised. Phuwin had always been the kind of person who had zero tolerance for mistakes. Sloppiness, in his book, was almost a crime. But even so, watching him go off on someone who was clearly just trying, probably new, probably nervous, didn’t sit well with Fourth.
“He’s a trainee,” Fourth said, keeping his voice calm, hoping that might ease the tension.
“That’s even worse. What’s he doing at the front counter?” Phuwin shot back immediately.
Fourth didn’t say anything to that. He just blinked, a little thrown by how much energy Phuwin was putting into this. He turned his attention away, taking a slow sip of his coffee, letting the warmth distract him. His gaze wandered, then landed on Phuwin’s wrist. A Rolex. Classic, clean, expensive. The kind of watch that didn’t just tell time but told a story. It probably cost more than what the trainee earned in a year. Fourth found himself wondering what exactly Phuwin did to afford something like that. His eyes lingered for a beat too long.
Then Phuwin’s voice brought him back.
“So, what’s the plan for you today?”
Fourth dabbed at his mouth with a tissue and said, “I’ve got a few meetings lined up. Introduction stuff. Then I’ll meet everyone on the team, get to know who’s who.”
Phuwin didn’t hesitate. “You don’t have to do that.”
Fourth glanced up, surprised.
“There’s no point in meeting them all separately,” Phuwin continued. Then, a little quieter, “They’re not that significant anyway.”
Fourth heard that. The way he said it, offhanded but cutting. It made him pause. He didn’t respond, just gave a small nod, letting the thought sit.
“Get to know the department heads instead,” Phuwin said. “And we’ll start training after lunch.”
Fourth nodded again, more to himself this time, not fully in the moment. His thoughts were still swimming when Phuwin’s eyes turned to him with a curious look.
“How did you apply?” Phuwin asked.
Fourth paused for a moment. He had stalked the company’s careers page every day, waiting for a vacancy to open. “…LinkedIn,” he finally said.
Phuwin nodded. “And who interviewed you?” he asked, a small smile beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth.
Fourth thought carefully. “The finance manager,” he said slowly. “The treasurer… and…” he hesitated, searching his memory before it clicked, “…Gemini.”
At that, something flickered across Phuwin’s face. It wasn’t obvious or dramatic, just the slightest shift, subtle, but noticeable enough to make Fourth wonder.