Chapter Text
THAME
The high-powered lighting rigs whizzed overhead as they flooded the studio in white antiseptic brightness. To others, it might be too much, but for Thame, the scene was familiar. Along with the well-lit room are assistants darting past with clipboards, stylists tugging at hems of their hangered clothes, and photographers barking shutter commands. Along with everything is the smell of hairspray clinging to his lungs that is strong enough to make him cough from the discomfort—but he didn’t.
After all, this was just another shoot and another set of eyes trained to drill on them.
For him and for MARS, this was routine.
This is essentially their life, and this is how every single day goes by.
“Cut! That’s a wrap on the group shot!” the director announced and clapped his hands in satisfaction. Instantly, relief rippled through him and probably the others, too—judging by their expressions.
Although Jun groaned on the side as the other rubbed the back of his head in exhaustion. Dylan rotated his shoulder like an old man. Pepper joked about them sounding like uncles, and Nano cracked a bottle of water with a boyish bravado. The boys' laughter mingled as they bowed their gratitude and appreciation to the crew with as they always did. Even if they were tired, he would always make sure that they acknowledged anyone and everyone.
Because in this line of work, they weren't the only ones who were tired. Every staff member, every director, writer, and even the guards around the place probably come earlier than they do and leave earlier than any single one of them. And so it became a habit.
That's why when the director and staff started voicing out their farewells to MARS, he followed suit and expressed his words in gratitude, “Thank you for having us." Those words repeated more than his fingers on both hands could count—the same way the other boys did behind him. Other than that, he also made sure to never forget the rules. Be courteous, don't be too cold, always be professional, and most of all, when others’ smiles reach their eyes, theirs must remain gauged and distant.
It wasn't because they needed to be above everyone else, but because it serves as a wall of protection, and they had already learned it the hard way.
And maybe that's why he always stood a step behind as he watched more than he joined. Because watching exits, watching movements, and memorizing faces without meaning to was a way for him to gather information without needing to make other people uncomfortable. If he sees something he doesn't like or if he sees something unfavorable, then it'd be easier to make choices quietly without other people knowing.
Maybe that's why it became a habit now, and he intends to retain the same habit for as long as he's working in the industry.
"Thame, come on," Pepper called.
That's when his deep thoughts resurfaced. When he looked outside the studio, dusk already painted Thailand's sky into gold, a color too soft for the impending nerves in his head. But when the van door opened, P’Ming, their manager, looked at him with a smile and ushered them inside. And safe to say that the ride was filled with chatter that he almost forgot whatever he was worrying about in the first place.
Dylan’s sarcasm, Nano’s banter, Jun’s dramatic threats, and Pepper’s easy laughter. All of those revolved in the car as he sat with phone in hand, scrolling without seeing whatever it was the screen was offering him. It was seldom that he joined the conversation; the boys were loud enough that he never felt the need to do so. And years of working with the boys, every single one of them has grown to understand that he was not being rude or individualistic. He was just.....being him.
Because these days? Silence was easier. And he cannot thank his four members enough for their understanding.
"Alright, we're almost there. Get your things, boys."
When the van slowed in a familiar street, pulling into the discreet establishment of a Chinese restaurant, everyone started to put their phones in their bag to prepare to go out for dinner. It was a safe choice with the private rooms, closed doors, and no possible cameras being brought inside. Rather, the place's warm scent of broth greeted them, the owner bowing as if they were esteemed guests—a treatment that they don't usually receive.
"Good Evening, please, this way."
And so they greeted back as the staff guided them inside.
Then again, everything was already a habit for them. Being in the industry at such a young age, he made sure that the whole group knew how to pay respect, and so far, every single one in MARS presumably has that trait engraved in them. As they settled into the room, for the first time all day, the pressure lifted slightly from his shoulders with the served soup, dumplings, and the delicate pocket of calm—everyone's shoulders loosened as the laughter returned not long after.
He sipped his tea, let the heat gnaw him, and said nothing as the others talked.
"That was so tiring, I can't believe I did two whole ass photoshoots today," Jun said as he took a sip of the soup at the table.
"That stylist kept poking my head with the end of the comb," Nano, the youngest, mumbled on the side while scratching his head. "I wish I could poke their heads too one day."
On the side, Pepper lets out a laugh. "It's because you always move every 2 seconds."
"I don't!"
"Yes, you do," Pepper added before shoving a piece of mushroom into the younger's mouth.
"I don't mo—"
Dylan's hand extended from the other side of the table as he spoke, "Can someone pass me the chilies?"
Everyone quieted down, and Nano looked at the table for someone to side with him, but everyone was already laughing. Until Ming’s phone buzzed. Once and twice. Then again, a string of alerts breaks the fragile tranquility of the room. The man excused himself without any words, and he might not have said anything, but he knows, and his members most probably understand it too.
As easy as that, the normalcy that they were all trying to forge was easily broken again. This almost felt like last week if he was being honest. They were eating at a Korean restaurant, two streets away from their dorm, until their manager got a call from the company that directors and producers filed complaints against them. Now, he can't help but think about that situation all over again.
The studio bustled with urgency the moment MARS stepped through the glass doors.
Production assistants adjusted call sheets, stylists scurried with last-minute steamers, and a lighting technician shouted for filters. But even in the mild chaos, there was a noticeable shift when they entered. If he would describe it, its almost feels like the world tilted on the side, the cameras lowered and heads turned—and all for the wrong reasons that made the hairs in his body rise.
Still, he led the group with a faux relaxed posture, as if he’d done this a thousand times. Which he truly had. Behind him, Jun offered a polite bow to the crews, greeting familiar faces with a brief smile that was kind and real. Pepper gave an enthusiastic hand wave to the makeup team who smile back at him. Nano spun playfully in the rotating makeup chair as the others laughed, while Dylan kept to himself with an undying politeness everytime someone greets him.
The energy changed not because they demanded it, but because they didn’t. There were no haughty attitudes, no diva complaints. The members moved to their stations quietly, slipping into wardrobe with casual grace and adjusting to instructions with little to no friction. Stylists dabbed at their faces and patted down collars with routined hands, and no one said anything or complained. When a new intern dropped a garment bag, he watched Jun knelt to help her. And he also noticed Dylan's silent help by taking the other garment bags on his own, but said nothing and just offered the intern a water bottle during their first break.
It wasn't a show for them, that's how they usually go around when they're at the waiting room.
For the real shoot, things clicked into place like clockwork. When he was placed in the middle of the studui, his expression softened exactly when needed, becoming warmth in one frame and winter in the next. The photographer didn’t need to over-direct. Everything was placed in just well, Jun offered subtle cues when the younger members were out in positioning. When Nano threw in playful chaos between takes, the older members were there to calm him down. Still, the youngest was pulling genuine smiles from everyone that would later look perfect in the campaign's behind-the-scenes reel.
At one side, everything was going good, extremely well if he was being honest.
Although the shoot took longer than scheduled due to a malfunction in the set lighting, which is an issue completely unrelated to the group, none of them complained. Because it was out of hand and they never really minded it because it was their last schedule. A few more minutes of their time isn't that big of an issue. They waited on folding chairs, eating from small bento boxes while reviewing the mood board to adjust their energy for the second half of the shoot.
Pepper jokingly offered his leftover shrimp to the prop stylist.
Dylan was caught dozing off briefly, head resting against Nano’s shoulder.
Even he, typically focused, allowed himself to stretch and laugh at a joke someone cracked about the brand’s overly poetic tagline.
When they wrapped up, the members bowed deeply in gratitude, thanked every crew member, and offered to stay longer if reshoots were needed. No one took them up on it because by then, everyone agreed. For him, the group had been nothing short of professional, kind, and easy to work with.
Which made the scandal that arrived only hours later not just a lie—but a betrayal.
And something that he could never forget. Just how easy people skew things in their own narrative, and just how easy their company lets it happen.
When their manager walked back inside the room, all of them dropped their utensils on their plate, and Jun put his chopsticks down.
“Phi? You alright? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
Ming hesitated, then let out a drag. “There’s.....another complaint.”
The whole room hushed to nothing, and from the side, Nano’s expression soured. “You’re joking.”
“I wish I were....but....”
Pepper lowered his gaze from Ming as the man gave them a concerned and sad look. And as the leader, he had no choice but to ask. “What is it this time?”
“The brand we just shot for,” Ming sat back down. “They sent feedback through their PR team. They said you were.....” he glanced down at his phone, “.....‘uncooperative, aloof, cold,’ and—” he swallowed, “—‘emotionally difficult to work with.’”
Dylan’s laugh was dry and bitter, save for his expressionless face; the man reeked of attitude that would surely get them in trouble if shown in public. “I literally helped tape the backdrops because it was half-assedly done, I even held the filter because there were not enough staff....And now they're accusing us of being uncooperative? What? Are they just reporting random things now for the sake of documentation?”
Their manager made himself small on the corner of the table and folded under Dylan's cold look, “......T-hey said y-you were tw-twenty min—"
"BULLSHIT! How are we late when we arrived early, and they were the ones who kept us longer than necessary—"
"Jun." His best friend stopped shouting and looked at him. Then, the man took a deep sigh before continuing. "Thame, we arrived thirty minutes early....this...they can't just report lies."
He looked at his friend and offered the man a cup of water, "I know, Jun. But I need you to calm down." Then Jun took it and gulped everything down before the glass hit the table with a loud thud.
“We were already ready to shoot ten minutes from the supposed time, P'Ming. If anything, we suffered there, not them; we should have been compensated for that, not reported.” Nano said and put down his chopsticks with a sigh.
“They said Thame refused direction.”
The room's attention was redirected to him. Everyone looked at him, and he sat completely still, trying to think of how the staff could have said that. His eyes then caught sight of the soup....His soup had gone cold already, which sucked. Because he wanted to have it while it was still scalding hot.
“They’re lying,” he said.
“I know, we know....you're not like that,” Jun said, already putting his hands on his shoulders despite being angry himself. "You can't be that rude, you're literally a baby in an adult's body. Don't mind it....they're doing this again, for publicity or probably just for compensation from ONER."
“We all know that Jun, that they're making this all up, but that doesn't erase the fact that this is the fifth one this month,” Pepper added and messed with his hair on the side in frustration.
“I know.” Their manager said, already messaging the ONER's PR and legal team.
Then, Nano slumped on their table like a little kid. “We smiled through everything. We did everything they asked—I hopped there like a rabbit. We even helped around, and that's beyond our job description already! I can't believe they're doing this again.”
“I didn’t even complain when they pushed past lunch hour,” Pepper added.
“They even asked Jun to redo his solo shot four times, who does that? Jun? Repeating solo shots? He's as narcissistic as he could be; he always does one shots, once.” Dylan muttered.
Jun scowled. “Well, I did. Also, please stop talking as if it doesn't save us time. I try to finish it in one go because I want us to rest, and it's not my fault that I'm good with it.”
And that, at least, made the table lighter as Nano and Pepper laughed a bit. But still, his eyes remained staring at the edge of the wooden table, counting the number of grains on the wood, whether or not it was real or synthetic. In the middle of being lost in his own mind, his phone buzzed on the table, and when he opened it, an article headline flashed across the screen.
“MARS Strikes Again—Idol Group Caught in Another Alleged Attitude Scandal.”
His thumb hovered above it for a few seconds, but he didn't bother opening it anymore. Knowing that he'd be reading the same thing from the past news articles journalists had made of them for the last few months. At one point, Dylan sarcastically said that the journalists were just feeding AI of their previously written headlines about MARS, only to rewrite them with different subjects and dates. He would have agreed with the man if he had read the headlines, but since the third one that they got, which was months ago, he stopped checking and reading them altogether.
He locked his phone once and put it down on the table, screen facing the table top.
“I’m getting tired,” he said quietly, particularly to no one.
“Of what?” Jun asked, watching him as his best friend continued eating.
“Of being called rude for staying silent. Of working our asses off and still being branded spoiled. Of watching our names being dragged for existing. And most of all, with the company that doesn't do anything even if our name and reputation are clearly wronged.”
Utensils stopped hitting the plate, the low conversations over the dinner ceased, and everyone's eyes remained on him with a certain understanding that everyone shared. Because none of them could disagree, as a leader, he knew better than every single one of them. With him being the bridge between ONER and MARS, he knew better than anyone else how weak the power they had over themselves and their careers, even their security and safety.
But he didn't want the silence to become like this.....it was almost too unbearable. Thankfully enough, Ming's phone rang, shattering the quietness that formed because of his words that were too honest for their table to swallow entirely.
Although when their manager's phone pinged continuously, it only meant one thing. It must be urgent, and that sent a lot of red warning all over his mind and body. He already saw this happen; he already watched this unfold. He only prayed that this time, the messages on Ming's phone weren't from ONER, but his personal contacts.
P’Ming’s phone rang again. Louder this time. Their manager looked at them before answering with a frown.
“Yes, Khun......Yes, we just finished late lunch. Yes—” his eyes darted to the boys. “Now?”
Ah. It's ONER. And they're being called to the company. When his eyes met Dylan's, the man gazed at him for a few seconds before sighing in defeat and throwing his chopsticks on the table slightly, shocking the other members. Dylan must have already caught up. Indeed, he wasn't wrong. ONER was asking for their presence for a meeting. Again.
The manager hung up the phone and turned back to the table. “Pack it up, guys. We’re heading to the company building. The directors want an emergency meeting.”
Nano's eyes widened, and he took a sip of his milkshake before groaning, “What, now? Tell them we need to breathe, too, P'Ming. I haven't even eaten half of what I deserve today.”
“It’s already late,” Pepper added. “We just finished shooting.”
“They said it’s urgent,” P’Ming said. “High-level. Legal involved.”
The room was silent again, the same one that he had caused, which made everyone, and him, in particular, fully uncomfortable.
But that doesn't change the fact that they were being summoned and they were nothing but puppets of ONER, so he didn’t ask questions anymore and stood up. He just pulled on his jacket and said,
“Let’s go.”
Jun then groaned before pulling his arms, "Wait, it's supposed to be our rest—"
He didn't let his best friend finish, "Do you want this to drag on until night? Or do you want to go home early? Pick."
"....." Jun glared at him in annoyance before clicking his tongue and standing up on his own. "You're cooking me food when we get home, Thame."
"Yeah, I'm ordering us food. Don't worry." Then, he walked out, and the others followed. Not that they have much of a choice, after all, he leads MARS, even their manager on the back. And it wasn't out of the names or positions, it was out of respect. The respect that he earned by leading them through years of being their leader under ONER's shitty management.
PO
On the other side of the city, in Hanve Law Group, the stillness wasn’t accidental—it was contrived the way he wanted it to be. The upper floors were a sanctuary of muted systems that he forged by his own standards, where soft lighting slopped across polished wood and glass walls, and the air smelled faintly of espresso and expensive paper that every single employee used. Voices rarely rose in this place, but when they did, it was either a contract being set on fire or a company crumbling into ashes.
Nevertheless, he extremely liked how even footsteps were swallowed by the thick carpet he used in his office.
People would say that it's too cold, too minimal, too proper, too professional, too bland, or even boring. That's how people would describe the place—all negative and unlikable, but for him, for Attorney Po Pawat Nuenganan, it was everything that brought peace to his working space. An office where sounds of pen scratching steadily over the margins of a contract were heard.
Specifically, a contract of two rival technological firms that both had tried to outmaneuver each other with hidden clauses. As per his job description and his client's words, his task was to slice through the opponent side's tricks by finding wholes in their contract. And he saw it many times already; at this point, finding gaps in both sides was just child's play at this point. But of course, there was no need to reveal his client's weaknesses if it wasn't really a point of discussion at the table. If anything, he'd like to keep some gaps to himself just to make everything easier to handle—and not that it would be hard to solve, but he'd like to save more time for other cases that needed his attention.
But despite how easy some cases are, he trusted no one with the matters that came into his department. After all, with the new quarter and new people in his team—many of whom are still under training, and no one is yet capable enough to hold this contract. Hence, him working on a case that should be done by a paralegal with little to no guidance from junior partners.
Although that didn't matter anymore as he turned a page on the side and as the intercom clicked to life.
“Khun Po,” his assistant’s voice came, “Director Jeong would like to see you in his office.”
Well, that was unexpected. He looked at the phone and then replied, "Alright. I'll be right there."
Despite the weirdness, he simply capped his pen, straightened his cuffs, and rose. One last adjustment of his maroon silk tie in the mirror, which was a ritual more than vanity, he stepped into the firm’s hushed corridors with a weight that always made other people look at him. Not that he wanted it, but people did tell him that he always walked like he was out to kill or end someone. Paralegals and even Junior Partners changed their ways when he walked on the same path, while interns lowered their voices as he passed. He wasn't sure why people do that, but he even overheard a pair of associates whispering by the water cooler, not realizing he could hear every word.
“—it’s about MARS again. ONER’s in deep trouble."
“—five scandals in three weeks? That’s a PR nightmare.”
“—they’re sending someone in, aren’t they?”
"—I think they are, Hanve's recent legal counsel apparently quit..."
"—it must have been hard, who do you think will go?"
"—as long as its not me."
He didn’t slow his stride, even with the gossip in the hallway. Because the moment he heard what few words were spoken, he already knew why he was called into the office. And also, the rumors had circled long enough; it was only a matter of time before the storm found his door.
And he was not wrong.
When he reached the said office, Director Jeong’s office displayed a panorama of power. From floor-to-ceiling windows spilling over the city's urban skyline, a leather chair turned half toward the view, with untouched espresso cooling on the desk. Even the classical strings that drifted faintly from hidden speakers that no normal rooms had; it was a personification of prestige in the building.
“Po,” Jeong greeted, gesturing to the seat across from him. “Come in, take a seat.”
"Good Afternoon, Director."
He inclined his head as a greeting and sat, then folded his hands neatly.
Then the man asked, “How are you? I heard you took over the two technical firms? How's the silly contract treating you?"
"Great." He answered. "It's.......occupying my time."
With his answer, the Director looked at him and laughed. “Then again, what did I expect. You always do everything with efficiency and greatness. I won't expect less than that.....But today isn’t about that. Today’s about the id—”
“The idol group. ONER. MARS.”
A hint of surprise scratched the Director's face.
“You heard?”
“I listened,” he corrected plainly. “There’s a difference.” That drew the faintest smile from the man in front of him.
“Then I’ll be blunt. You know MARS?”
“I’ve read their press a few months ago, when Hanve took over—they have five members. Streaming numbers in the millions. Rising global profile, but has more public controversies than award nominations this quarter.” The Director set his cup down with a sigh, rubbing his temple, finally showing his real sentiments over the situation.
Which made him think, why is the director of Hanve involved in some idol group?
“Right. Of course, you know. Now, I'm not gonna lie to you. I'm gonna be frank, I personally got contacted by their CEO, in need of help. ONER needs someone to contain this before it burns their company. Not just legal paperwork—embedded counsel. Someone inside that company who is visible and unshaken by celebrity drama or PR firestorms. Someone they’ll have to answer to.”
He anticipated this already. The moment he heard that conversation in the hallway, and when the director mentioned ONER, he didn't need to think twice to figure out why he was called here.
“You want me to babysit idols.”
“No, but I want you to keep a multimillion-dollar brand from imploding,” He corrected.
Same difference. In his brain, babysitting children and saving the company were the same thing.
".....And why would you think that I would agree to this?"
The director then pulled out a blank paper with his signature, possibly a blank letter where he could write anything to his own turn. “Because if you do this, then you can write your own favor. Bangsi International lawsuit? Yours. Your own team, your own building? I’ll sign it off. Immediately. But finish this. Cut-clean. Then I'll be giving this to you. As easy as that.”
And he may have shown no reaction, but inside, he measured the significance of the offer. Favors like that weren’t promises—they were currency.
It was bankable and weaponizable.
Still, he asked the only question that counted. “Why me?”
Jeong leaned forward. “Because you don’t spring around power. And because those boys don’t need another yes-man. They need an on-looker and action-maker before they tear themselves apart.”
With those words, he studied the skyline beyond the window. Where gray towers blurred by afternoon haze. Thinking of it, idols had never interested him. In his eyes, they were too much. Too much performance. Too much noise. Too planned and systematized. But, still, even with that, scandals were structured, and lies could be dissected. Somehow, for him, it was a weird combination of something trivial and complicated.
In the entertainment industry, chaos could be turned into leverage. And he worked long enough in the industry to know that.
That, he understood.
That, he thrived on.
That, he took on.
So he only had a few things in mind to accept the offer. And first—“You’ll give me full authority?”
The director's face lit up into a smile, “Complete. Report only to me. No board interference. You have the upper hand over ONER, you are under me, and I have a direct connection to the CEO.”
And that was all that he needed. He rose from the couch and adjusted his suit and slacks. “Done. I’ll take it.”
Relief slipped from the director's shoulders. “Good, that's good. Their executive team is waiting. You’ll meet them today.”
He checked the time on his watch and thought of his schedule, which was luckily free over the afternoon and evening. “I’ll arrive within the hour. Please inform them.” Then walked away before bowing over the man.
“Excellent. And Po—” The voice made him pause at the door. “This group isn’t what they seem,” he said, softer now. “Not all of it’s their fault. Keep that in mind. Be kind and be smart, don't let people's words get into you, and at the same time don't let them blind you.”
He only nodded his head and said nothing. Because the man's advice never mattered to him in the first place. In his work, fault didn’t matter. Only results did. And so, as soon as he reached his office, he dropped everything and cut straight for the parking garage—pausing only to leave a note for his assistant, who probably excused herself to the washroom.
When he reached his car, he drove like a man who always arrived exactly when he intended to.
The glossy black Genesis G90 slid through Bangkok’s afternoon traffic like ink over parchment—sleek and unmistakably expensive. It wasn’t ostentatious, not the way celebrities flaunted status. No decals or custom plates. Just lustrous elegance, tinted windows for privacy, that are as dapper as his tailored suits.
Just like him.
And for years, he couldn't believe that finally, a Po Pawat Nuenganan was going to be involved in something big again. It's been years since he took this kind of job. After all, his name was a name that never trended, but whose decisions bent courtrooms and ended corporate wars before they began. Born into old money from a Thai-Korean lineage, he hadn’t inherited power so much as he refined it. Still, he was known to be educated abroad, trained in international and national law, notorious for winning even the ugliest cases with ease. And that he moved through elite circles like a ghost dressed in Armani and Ralph Lauren.
No social media presence.
No leaked scandals.
No candid paparazzi shots.
Every appearance was estimated down to the crease of his collar. People said his words could cut steel, and his eyes could unmake grown CEOs in boardrooms. But it wasn’t cruelty that made them fear—it was clarity. He always made sure that he didn’t waste time on flattery or posturing. He didn’t argue unless he already knew he would win.
And he always won.
That was why Director Jeong had probably called him. And that was also the reason why he was now en route to ONER Entertainment—to meet the country’s most volatile idol group, MARS, and decide whether their reputation was overblown rumor.....or prophecy waiting to collapse.
And as he drove, he slowed at a red light. The afternoon sun filtered through the windshield, gilding the sharp line of his windows against the watch on his wrist. Inside the car, silence reigned, as usual. No music. No voice assistant. Just the clean circulation of his own thoughts. The director just sent him some information about the idol group, and he read everything. He couldn't help but think about their standing in the industry.
Five scandals in a single month. No consistent legal follow-through.
In his eyes and even to normal people in the crowd, this wasn’t the idols’ failure. It was ONER’s. Protecting talent was the company’s first duty, and yet when he checked ONER's page and accounts, he hadn’t seen a single competent statement in weeks. That alone would be enough to be discussed at the table. As the car stopped, he reached for the folder in the passenger seat—a slim dossier stamped with ONER’s logo. A non-disclosure agreement. A preliminary talent rights contract and talking points for the emergency meeting that the director personally prepared himself.
He skimmed the documents with one hand, flipping each page as smoothly as one hand remained on the wheel. His expression never shifted, though his brow lifted slightly when he reached the final page. A psychological evaluation, buried for internal use only.
Under Leadership Observation, read a single note—
“Thame, group leader, demonstrates effective composure under public pressure but is consistently undermined by weak internal management. Prone to carrying PR fallout alone when company response is delayed or inadequate. Loyal and stabilizing, but vulnerable to overextension due to lack of organizational support.”
His eyes read those lines a few times. And then—
Ah. So the problem might have a face after all.
The light turned green. He closed the files and drove on in silence again.
THAME
The van ride home was nothing but harrowing.
There was no music or chatter like it usually did, only the gnawing void that pierced his ears with an endless ring. The only evident sounds that he heard were the casual movements of the other members in the car, or the car's engine, or sometimes the cars from outside the streets. And all of that as he sat in the car's solo seat with eyes closed. He wasn’t thinking about the traffic or the headlines that would appear tomorrow, or the ones that appeared not hours before. He was thinking about the emptiness of the van and how unnatural it was for all of them.
Nano, usually a burst of sound in any space, had been quiet the entire way. Pepper kept his headphones around his neck, not even bothering to pretend he wanted music. Dylan sat with his arms folded close as if every streetlamp outside was something he needed to endure. And Jun stared at his phone, as if the unchanging color of bright light was enough to fool everyone that he was looking at something.
And as a leader, he knew that their silence wasn’t exhaustion. Even when they reached the dorm, no one moved quickly the way they did when the day reached the night. Instead, bags were dropped by the door, and shoes were nudged aside without care. And he took note of everything that happened, how everyone scattered in the whole dorm but never their own rooms. As if they were all scared that being alone would allow their own thoughts to destroy their night without mercy. And he understood that very well, that's why he did the same.
He set his jacket over the back of a chair and didn’t bother doing anything else. They all gravitated to the kitchen without discussion. Jun reheated the leftover pork belly, face blank, but movements less anxious. Pepper dug out old kimchi fried rice and threw it into a bowl to reheat it. While Nano set out soup, fumbling with lids and mismatched bowls as his clumsy hands moved automatically. Dylan fetched chopsticks, cups, and side dishes for dinner. And he watched them, not as a leader ot the one expected to break the faux peace but just as their brother, their friend who was left with nothing to do.
He couldn't ignore the slump of their shoulders, the pang of guilt in the way Jun stirred food without humming like he usually did. The fatigue in Dylan's whole body even when he was just sitting. The way Nano’s face looked like he was dealing with something too complicated for his age. And then there's Pepper, who always displays a fake smile on his face even when everything's not okay. They didn’t need to talk about it, at least he knew that.
All the boys needed was the familiarity and warmth of their own presence, the pork belly reheated in a pan, the kimchi fried rice, soup, and those bowls that never matched. The things that reminded them they were still people and not just their company's slaves. That they were still the same old noisy boys sharing a dorm, not just idols that those vile people in ONER were juicing money for.
As they sat around the table, their shoulders brushed, and their knees bumped. The room quickly turned into something more manageable. There were no words or conversation, not because there was nothing to say, but because this quiet table, this food, this closeness was the only answer that counted tonight.
The fact that his members were safe beside him was already a great feat. At least, on the first occurrence of many days, he didn’t feel like they were just waiting for the next blow. And though he didn’t say it out loud, he was sure that the others felt it too; they all knew that every single one of them shared the same sentiments. That this is only one of the many days that they will feel this type of peace.
Thankfully enough, everyone settled into casual chatter. Nano and Pepper were debating choreographies, Dylan and Jun were talking about comeback preparations while he listened on the side, and then they somehow shifted to the meeting earlier.
“That guy’s not what I expected.”
Jun glanced up and then asked, “Oh, that—what was his name?”
"Khun Po," Dylan said on his side.
Nano nodded, “Yeah. The lawyer. I thought he’d be like.....all talk, like the last one, but he wasn’t.” The younger said with enthusiasm that he hadn't heard from the younger when they got the past two legal counsels from ONER.
“I thought he was just bluffing, but he's....something,” Pepper mummbled as the man chewed slowly.
“Did you hear the way he shut down the PR and legal team? He didn’t even blink.” Nano added with a delighted laugh, and all while he was seated at the head of the table. Of course, he hadn’t spoken at all; he just listened to his members' musings while he ate his own food in silence.
“He called them out, the last two counsels never had the guts to call ONER out, ” Jun said after a pause.
And Pepper hesitatingly added, "It's all nice, but....don't you guys think that he'd get in trouble for that?"
“Why would he get in trouble? He was right, and he was just telling the truth.” When those words left his mouth, everyone looked at him in surprise. That, he understands. Because he really never involves himself too much with such conversation, but he just felt the need to say that, and so he did.
“No one’s ever said that before,” he continued. “The last two legal counsels from Hanve sure did their job, but they never told off ONER the way the new one did."
And then silence.
Until Jun broke it. “You thinking about something? You've been so quiet ever since that meeting.” And didn’t answer at first, he just reached for the soy sauce and drizzled a little on his rice before his best friend kicked his feet under the table, urging him to speak.
"What?" He looked at Jun in annoyance.
"What's with you?"
"....."
"Thame, you can—"
“Just.....wondering how different things would’ve been if someone like him had been here from the start.”
And that's when the others stopped moving and looked at him. That was the exact reason why he didn't want to voice it out in the first place. Now, their smiles and the sense of normalcy were once again pulled away. All because of Jun's nosy ass.
“Well, he’s here now. We can only hope for the best.” Jun said, as he tried to bring back the atmosphere before he spoke out of the topic.
And thankfully, everyone continued eating after that, but the sudden ping from Jun's phone pulled that down a bit. Jun glanced down at his phone, and the man's expression changed instantly, and it told him everything that he needed to know....it was probably from ONER.
“It’s from ONER’s media department,” Jun said, just like what he anticipated. He watched every head turn, and their faces looked constipated, as if everyone—including him—was already anticipating another rumor about them on the news. He didn't desire anything better than a silly news headline anymore. He watched as Jun’s thumb floated over the screen, and with a grim look on his face, he said.
"What the....."
Okay, that's new, he thought.
"Why? Another rumor?" Dylan asked in boredom.
“No. It’s an official and legal statement......from ONER. They posted it on all verified platforms.”
"What?!"
"Official statement?! Since when?!"
"Oh my gosh....the world is ending."
ONER never released an official statement about them regarding the rumors; they only ever did when it had passed, but the rumor is still on at the moment.
As the atmosphere thickened, everyone put down their cultries. Dylan straightened in his seat. Pepper set down his spoon. And Nano leaned in to Jun, “That’s a first. They used to dump things on X about our schedules when rumors comes out.”
Their youngest's words were factual. Indeed, ONER never really bothered cleaning up MARS's name. Be it a big or small rumor, they usually deal with it when it has passed, when the damage is already done. This....at this time....it's new. A good type of new, but still, it's new.
“What does it say?” He asked.
Jun read it out loud.
Official Statement from ONER Entertainment
Issued by the Legal Division
In light of the recent circulation of defamatory claims against ONER Entertainment's artist group MARS, we wish to clarify that an internal review has found no merit to these allegations. These claims are false, unsubstantiated, and appears to be made with the intent to damage the reputation and personal dignity of our artists. Accordingly, ONER Entertainment has initiated formal legal proceedings against the original sources and distributors of these false statements. This includes individual users and anonymous accounts responsible for the targeted spread of harmful content via digital platforms (X/Twitter).
As of this release, complaints have been filed against the following accounts under applicable defamation and cyber-libel laws—@jdiiimarsboo, @marsfake332, @jundevil399, and @thamejerkiiid.
We are working in partnership with Hanve Law Firm, represented by Attorney Po Pawat Nuenganan, to ensure all legal actions are pursued with the utmost diligence and in full accordance with the law. This response marks a shift in ONER Entertainment’s policy toward malicious digital behavior. While we have previously exercised restraint in addressing baseless rumors, the volume and persistence of these attacks now require formal and consistent intervention.
We ask the public, press, and fans to remain mindful of the accuracy of the information they share. Moving forward, any individual or entity found spreading harmful misinformation against our artists may be subjected to similar legal consequences as protecting the rights and well-being of our artists remains a top priority.
We thank those who continue to support MARS with integrity and respect.
ONER Entertainment
Legal Division & Hanve Law Firm
Po Pawat Nuenganan of Hanve Law Firm & ONER's legal division
And the silence followed.
“.......Holy fuck,” Pepper whispered.
“Did the company really do this?" Nano asked.
"That's Khun Po, look at the bottom of the announcement," Dylan said and then picked up his spoon and continued eating.
"Oh....oh! It's really Khun Po!" Nano exclaimed and pointed at Jun's phone.
That's when Jun locked his phone and picked up his own spoon to continue eating. “They didn’t even try to soften it....to think that ONER would sue people.”
"Again, it's Khun Po, not ONER," Dylan said as a matter of fact.
"I know, but it's his first day....It's kind of weird." Jun argued.
And as the whole table talked about the official statement, he only stared forward as his fingers lightly coiled around the base of the glass. At this point, he was trying to mask the storm forming in his brain, but as time goes by, as the thought of counsel's swift action settles in his head, the harder it gets to pretend that nothing big was happening.
Because of that tone and the structure of writing? Every line was written in utmost exactitude that it was impossible to deny the legitimacy of its consequences. And of course, it was Po’s. Of course, it was the new guy, ONER would never do something like that.
The new legal counsel said it himself in that boardroom. 'The public doesn’t believe in explanations anymore. They believe in action.'
And here it was, this was the action that Po was talking about, and he wasn't sure if he was liking it or not.
"Wow..." When he looked up, he saw Pepper already scrolling through X. “Oh my God, look at these comments, the fans are crying. Like, actually saying thank you. People are saying it’s the first time ONER sounded like they gave a damn.”
Jun read over his shoulder.
@starlight4mars: I cried reading this. For once they’re protected.
@coldbutgold: That ‘not a warning’ line? Sent chills.
@marsrules: Who the hell wrote this and can I marry them?!??!!?!?!?
@marshammer: Whoever ONER just hired, keep them. Forever. PLEASE NEVER LET THEM GO!
@cutiethameteema: Finally. Someone said f*ck around and find out. WHO IS THIS HANVE?!
Pepper sat back, mouth open in awe. “I-I feel like we’ve just been handed a shield.”
He stood fast and left the table, carrying his empty plate to the sink. He washed it quietly as he listened to the conversation of mostly Nano and Pepper gushing over the fact that ONER and that new legal counsel are doing something now. But still, he can't help the feeling of uneasiness about the situation.
Then, Jun suddenly appeared from behind him. “You okay, Thame?”
He didn’t turn around and continued washing the dishes on the counter. “Yeah.” As the water hissed down the drain and the clink of ceramic echoed in the kitchen, Jun leaned over their countertop on his side.
"You're not."
"Why ask if you're gonna say something else?"
"Because I'm not blind," Jun answered swiftly.
"....."
"What's wrong?" Jun asked again.
And it might have taken him a long time to answer, but once he was done and wiping his hands dry with a towel, that's when he talked. “It's just, no one listened to or answered us for a very long time, and we were told to just smile through it. But this......" He pointed at the two boys piling up on the table as they read fans' comments, "This was the first time it felt like someone saw through our struggles, and it feels......”
"Weird? And you're not used to being protected like this." Jun continued for him, and he couldn't do anything but nod in agreement as he crossed his arms and leaned on the countertop beside his best friend as they watched the two members smile and laugh in contentment.
“It's been hard on you. I know you've been talking to the legal and PR team for months now.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I was—god—I was trying so hard to talk to them, but—they—no one really paid me attention. Well, until.......this. Until that guy...and I didn't even have to talk to him before he took action. And now I feel weird. I feel heard, but at the same time I feel like I didn't do enough.”
"Your job is to lead the group, as a leader. It's not your job to protect us, Thame." Jun said and put his arms on his shoulders.
"I know, but still, I want—"
"You know, and that's it." Jun cut him off, again, before pulling him closer and almost choking him with his arms. "Now that we have a new legal counsel who actually does his job, stop acting like a lawyer on our behalf. You need to rest, too."
"But—"
"I'm older than you, stop talking, Thame."
"....."
"....."
"You're older by how many mon—"
"Still, older. Shut up, kiddo."
"....."
"....."
"You're pathetic."
"And you're miserable."
And they laughed as the conversation easily ended there. On the other hand, despite the chaos of their day, despite the bitter meetings and exhausted nerves, a strange sense of warmth formed in his chest with a side of helplessness and guilt. But there was this kind of safety too. That night, in their living room, all the boys decided to have a small sleepover on the floor. Jun fell asleep with his phone still open, messages from their fan accounts flooding in with relief and celebration. Pepper with his earbuds in as he smiled at the ceiling. Nano, falling asleep while cuddling the pillows that were given to him by a fan. And Dylan is on his back on the floor beside him, muttering, “Finally. Sleep.”
And him?
He lay awake for a long time at the edge of the mattress beside Dylan with his Eyes open in the dark while still feeling the significance of the legal counsel's statement and that handshake from the meeting room. All while hearing the confident cadence of his voice, and still imagining what it means to have someone like...him on their corner now.
Would it be a blessing?
Or just a blessing in disguise?
PO
The soft click of the apartment marked the end of his long day. As he stepped inside, he loosened the knot of his tie easily and took off his blazer to feel the cool, conditioned air of his penthouse apartment. When the lights were turned open, his windows showed the city lights along the line of Bangkok's urban area. While the dark hardwood floors reflected the low ambient lights, he kept on in the evenings to ensure that the light wasn't overpowering when he was working or resting.
For him, the emptiness of his apartment was something he felt comfortable with. The fact that his home didn't feel like one was a good indication that he won't have unnecessary emotions attached to it in case he needed to leave it due to unexpected reasons. That's why he kept it clean and almost empty. His friend, Daou, even mentioned that it was like a model house—not really lived in, just kept for the sake of aesthetics.
He might agree with that, but it didn't matter too much to him. As long as he has a place to sleep and work on, then it's fine. And so, he shrugged off his coat and hung it by the pole at the door. The blazer he wore beneath followed. Then his wristwatch. Then the leather case of documents he'd brought home. All were placed in their respective places in his apartment.
And the hush that followed was supposed to be comforting, but it only reminded him that he was working for ten hours straight and hadn't had the time to rest or even grab something to eat. With a tired grunt, he made his way to the living room, collapsed onto the edge of his gray couch, and grabbed the remote. The TV blinked to life, and a cooking program flashed to life in the middle of a host speaking.
He left it running in the background as he opened his phone.
First, he checked his emails. There were three flagged ones, one pending review, and two marked for early morning. He pushed them aside for now and opened the news on his Google account.
The ONER statement sat on the front page of multiple industry trackers. Headlines ranged from 'ONER Draws Legal Line' to 'Rumor Accounts Named in Aggressive Legal Pivot'. Every single article included a quote or a full screenshot of the official statement. Specifically, the one he’d finalized that evening when he got back from the meeting with ONER and MARS.
He opened the full post.
Official Statement from ONER Entertainment
His own words, now with thousands of reposts and quote responses, and he scrolled through some of them for the sake of checking the feedback. After all, this was also a part of his job—monitoring the public's response.
It’s about damn time that ONER did this >.<
Legal team came out swinging. Y’all better be careful! FUCKING FINALLY!!
Finally, they’re not letting these trolls ruin MARS, ONER finally did something...
Thame and the boys has suffered for YEARS. Thank god someone stepped in.
Sue all of them. I’m so tired of the lies.
The comments poured like a waterfall. It was a mixture of anger, happiness, and relief. A strange cocktail of public sentiment of fans who were exhausted, hopeful, and with suspicious ones, but most... grateful. And he blinked at the screen a few times before sinking away and letting his head fall against the couch's soft cushions.
It wasn’t pride that he felt upon seeing those comments. It was the quelled feeling of things falling into place after that severe discussion with ONER.
And that, alone, was satisfying.
That satisfaction, however, didn't stem from the fact that he did his clients a good thing. He didn’t know them enough to care about them personally. As of now, all he saw were tired children being forced to work for their dreams in exchange for happiness and success. Instead, he was satisfied with trashing those incompetent people who keep on acting like they know every single thing in their line of work, when clearly, they're just raw-dogging their way through it.
He really hates it when people act above their capabilities—maybe that's the limb of his satisfaction tonight.
Still, he didn't ponder too much about it and let the TV play in the background, barely hearing the sizzle of garlic on-screen. Eventually, he stood, rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, and went about the quiet tasks of the evening. He reheated a bowl of leftover gyudon, topped it with a poached egg, and ate in silence at the kitchen island, flipping through tomorrow’s case files on a tablet beside his plate.
Next, he loaded the dishwasher. Checked on his dry cleaning. And took fifteen minutes to stretch out the tension in his shoulders and neck which he figured out, helps in keeping him from stiff necks and sore shoulders.
By the time he was in the bedroom, brushing his teeth, the city outside had completely darkened into a random arrangement of lights, the skyscrapers blinking like watchful eyes on whatever he was doing in his own bathroom. Then, he changed into gray cotton pajamas, drew the blackout curtains halfway, and set his phone on the charger. He paused and stared at it a little longer than necessary, then picked it back up.
He found himself scrolling through his contacts until he found the number of Thanawit, the senior liaison between ONER's legal department and the artist division of Hanve. A capable and loyal man whom Hanve had injected into ONER not too long ago. The man may be a little too excited at times, but he was not too stupid.
The call rang twice before it picked up.
“Attorney Po?” Thanawit sounded startled and a little wary, "I wasn't informed that you would ring me today, only that you were meeting MARS."
“I apologize.....it won’t take long."
"Ah, please, be my guest."
“Effective tomorrow, assign one shadow staffer to MARS’ daily schedules. Every appointment, shoot, rehearsal, and live event. I'll be informing my assistant to send an email to the company and the manager of the group to let the assigned fellow work as a normal staff member around them.”
There was silence on the line. “A.......shadow?”
“Yes,” Po said. “They won’t intervene. They just need to observe and document. They only answer to me and will report everything to my office. Any mistreatment, slander, conflict, or suspicious behavior gets logged within the hour through this them, and they will only act through my words.”
“I—yes, sir. I understand.” Thanawit hesitated. “May I ask the reason for....this?”
Po walked back to the bed, sat down at the edge, and sighed in mild vexation. “ONER has been reactive for too long; there is a high chance that no one in that company won't be reporting to me at the level that I want to be informed. And I want full situational awareness from now on....and currently, MARS's manager proves to be incapable of doing so."
Thanawit’s realization ended the conversation smoothly. “Understood, Khun. I’ll assign someone by 6 am sharp.”
“Good, send me their name and daily reports by the end of the business day tomorrow."
"Understood, Khun, have a nice evening."
The line disconnected shortly after, and he set the phone down on the table. Then turned off the bedside lamp and let the quiet settle again. In the muddy road of his brain, there were no thoughts of anyone, and no daydreams about handshakes or rude and scared stares.
Only the knowledge that his job had just begun, and the remaining truth that he always finished what he started.
And tomorrow or the next day, ONER would unveil its circus once again, and he would be nothing but patiently watching on the sides, ready to tear through their poorly made walls of defense.