The café had quieted down. The scent of roasted beans and sugar hung in the air as P' Thira folded his arms, looking between Kawin, Rak, and Beam.
> "Alright," he said finally, his voice steady. "Enough of the teasing . Let's discuss something serious — the company."
Kawin exhaled, shoulders stiff. Beam stopped typing and sat up straight, sensing the shift in the air. Across from them, Rak clasped his hands together, trying to keep his voice calm.
> Win," P' Thira continued gently, " Khun Anurak came all the way from Switzerland. Before the accident… Krit promised him a position in the company."
Kawin's gaze flickered for just a second — the word accident stung like a wound that hadn't healed. He straightened, glanced at Rak, his guard instantly rising again.
> "Uncle Thira, you know I respect you, but this company can't afford new staff right now. We're barely paying our taxes, let alone new salaries. We're not hiring anyone right now. We can't."
> Rak shook his head. "I'm not asking for a salary. I can work without pay for now. I just want to help… keep the promise Krit made." Rak said softly, his voice steady despite his racing heart.
Beam looked between them, curiosity flickering.
> "You'd really work without pay?" Beam asked, his brows furrowed. "Why would you do that, khun Anurak?"
Rak hesitated, eyes lowering. "Because it's not about money. Khun Krit once told me he wanted Chansiri Techworks to bring light to dark places. I'd like to see that happen."
Beam exchanged a quick glance with P' Thira.
For a moment, silence hung between them — thick, heavy, almost fragile.
P' Thira sighed, his voice calm but firm.
> "Win Let him help luuk, sometimes help comes from unexpected people. You remember Krit, right? He always believed in trusting others — giving them a chance. Krit trusted him for a reason."
Beam leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.
> "Yeah, bro. He seems genuine. Look at him — no fancy talk, no conditions. Just give him a chance, na."
Kawin's fingers tightened around his coffee cup. His voice dropped low, trembling slightly under his composure.
> "You think I don't want help? Every night I stay awake, wondering how to save what's left of this company. But I can't let someone walk in and see how broken it is. Not when it's all I have left of him."
Kawin looked away, his jaw tightening. His voice came out cold.
> "We don't need anyone's pity."
> "It's not pity," Rak said softly. "It's responsibility."
"Enough," Kawin interrupted, pushing back his chair and standing. "You don't understand, Mr. Anurak. This company is hanging by a thread. We're not hiring. We're surviving."
He looked at P'Thira apologetically.
> "Uncle, I appreciate your concern, but please don't give them false hope. I can't take responsibility for anyone else right now."
P' Thira's expression turned sad.
Kawin turned and walked toward the company's glass door.
The bell above it jingled — sharp, cutting through the silence.
Beam looked helplessly at P' Thira.
Rak sat there for a moment, his hands trembling slightly, before he finally stood.
> "No. I can't leave it like this."
He followed Kawin through the narrow passage that led to Chansiri Techworks, the old glass door closing softly behind him.
Beam watched him go, chewing his lip.
> "He's either really brave," he muttered, "or really stupid
Art leaned back, grinning faintly.
> "Maybe both," he said. "Rak na… he's quiet, but don't let that fool you, krab. Once he makes up his mind, you can't talk sense into him. stubborn jing-jing."
---
Krit's office:
The air inside Chansiri Techworks felt heavier than before — as if the walls themselves were carrying grief.
Kawin stood near the old desk piled with paperwork, his back turned, staring at the faint reflection of himself in the glass wall.
Rak entered quietly, but his voice was firm.
> "Khun Kawin … please. Listen to me once more."
Kawin didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Only waited — eyes steady, unreadable — for the answer.
Anurak took a slow breath.
> "I was born in Thailand. But I grew up in Switzerland. I've spent my whole life… feeling like I belong nowhere."
Kawin's expression didn't change — but something in his eyes flickered.
Recognition.
Maybe.
Rak continued.
> "My mother always wanted me to learn our roots. Our language. Our culture. I never did. I kept running… because I thought I didn't need it."
"But when I met Khun Krit… he talked about Thailand like it was something alive. Something worth coming back to."
His voice softened — quiet, honest.
> "Krit was sincere. He didn't pretend. He was just… himself."
For a moment, Kawin's composure cracked — just a fracture — before he forced it back.
" Stop," Kawin said sharply, still facing away.
"How can you ask me to stop?" Rak's voice broke slightly. "It was his promise, Khun Kawin. His last one. How can you let that promise die with him?"
Kawin turned suddenly, eyes flashing with something between anger and pain.
"Do you think you are the only one whom he'd make a promise to?"
His voice trembled, but his expression stayed cold. He walked past Rak, heading toward the line of dusty desks — abandoned but untouched.
> "You want to work here ?" Kawin said bitterly. "Then take a look."
He pointed to a chair near the window.
> "Here sat Khun Siwat — our operations manager. Said he needed two days of 'family leave.' Never came back."
He moved to another desk.
> "This one — Khun Meena, She was handling logistics. Told me her mother got sick, packed her bag, and disappeared. Turns out she joined another firm."
Kawin's footsteps echoed through the empty office.
He stopped by a third chair, running his hand across its dusty surface.
> "And here — Khun Tawan, our accountant. Promised to send reports before New Year. Instead, he sent his resignation letter from Phuket."
Kawin gave a short, soft laugh — humorless.
They heard the company is drowning. And no one wants to go down with a sinking ship."
Then Kawin turned to him fully, shoulders squared.
> "So if you came because of a promise Krit made — I'm sorry."
"There is no position here. No salary. No work. Just debt and memories."
Rak opened his mouth — but Kawin cut him off gently.
> "Go back Khun Anurak, the company doesn't owe you anything."
Rak's lips parted, but no words came.
He glanced once more at the chairs — each one a story, a loss, a broken piece of someone's dream — and quietly stepped out of the room.
Outside, the door clicked shut behind him.
Through the glass, Kawin stood motionless in the empty office —
the last captain of a ship he'd already decided to sink