Chapter 1: The Last First Call

Morning in Bangkok always carried the aftertaste of humid heat and the scent of fresh pastries wafting from the Lertchai family kitchen. But for Wat, this morning was special. The first day of 12th grade. The final stretch before life would scatter them to different university campuses.

Wat stood before the mirror, perfectly adjusting the collar of his school shirt. His face, as usual, resembled the calm surface of a lake—not a single stray emotion. He checked his watch.

07:15.

He’ll be here in three minutes, flashed through his mind.

Exactly three minutes later, there was the familiar rattle of the fence, followed by a rhythmic tapping on the panoramic living room window. Wat went downstairs, where his mother, an elegant woman with a flawless hairstyle, was already setting out coffee.

"Wat, Sun is here!" she smiled. "Just like the last thirteen years."

A Solar Vortex

Sun burst into Wat’s house like a warm tropical cyclone. His school uniform sat a bit carelessly on him: the top button undone, and a dog-paw keychain dangling from his backpack.

"Hello, Wong family!" he exclaimed, beaming with his signature smile. "Wat, are you ready? Our last 'first bell' is waiting for us!"

Sun walked up to Wat and, without asking permission, straightened his tie—even though Wat had already tied it perfectly.

"You're so serious again. This is 12th grade, not a funeral for our free time. Although... for you, business electives are entertainment."

"Unlike you, I don't plan on wasting time," Wat replied dryly, but he didn't pull away. He allowed Sun to invade his personal space in a way he allowed no one else in the world. "Did you pack your bag? Or are you going to ask me for a pen in every class again?"

"Oh, Wat-Wat, don't grumble," Sun playfully nudged his shoulder. "My mom sent some syrnyky for you. The real deal! With homemade curd cheese. She said a future businessman needs to fuel his brain."

On the way to school, they walked their usual path. Sun gestured wildly, talking about how he helped his father at the clinic over the summer and how he dreamed of finally getting into veterinary school. Wat listened in silence, watching his neighbor’s every move.

He remembered how, in second grade, a group of boys had cornered him for being "too quiet and rich." Back then, little Sun, who was a head shorter than the bullies, had thrown himself into the fight with a cry Wat still remembered: "Don't touch my Wat!"

That day, Sun went home with a bloody nose, and Wat went home with the realization that behind this smiling boy, he would be behind a stone wall. Now, years later, Wat had grown taller and stronger, but the need to protect Sun—now from the cruel world of adults—had become his internal law.

Near the school entrance, chaos reigned. Seniors were taking photos, and teachers were trying to maintain order.

"Look, there are the guys from the football team," Sun waved to someone. "They promised to throw a party after class today. Should we go?"

Wat stopped and looked intently at Sun.

"We have a mock math test tomorrow. And you know your father expects high scores for your admission."

Sun sighed, his shoulders dropping for a moment.

"You’re always so 'proper.' You shouldn't go into business; you should be a judge."

"I just don't want you crying later because you didn't get a scholarship," Wat’s voice softened by only an octave—unnoticeable to bystanders, but to Sun, it meant the highest degree of care.

Sun suddenly stopped, grabbed the edge of Wat’s blazer, and whispered in Ukrainian, just as his mother had taught him:

"Ти зануда, Вате. Але я тебе за це і люблю." (You're a bore, Wat. But I love you for it.)

Wat froze for a second. He didn't know Ukrainian perfectly, but the word "love" was heard often in that household. He quickly looked away so Sun wouldn't notice something far too revealing flickering in his usually cold eyes.

"Just go to your biology room, 'doctor'," Wat tossed back, heading toward the entrance first.

He knew this year would change everything.

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