Carta Visa Chapter 6

I’ve made some major changes due to suggestions from a kind user. Unless you’ve gone back to read chapter 3 recently, Elder Brother Pun has now been changed to P’Pun.

P' is the Thai honorific used to refer to a senior, the equivalent of senpai. p.r.o.nounced 'Phee' with a soft P sound rather than an F. This way the sentences flows better.

English is not my first language, suggestions welcome!

Bold: The characters are speaking in English.

"Take responsibility for what you've done to my BMW. Or else… I will kill you."

These words lingered in my thoughts, unable to shake them away. I hastily got out of bed despite feeling a sharp pain with every step I took. But the fact that my life was in danger was a more pressing issue than my sore hips. Glancing at the clock, I would be late if I stalled any longer. To tell you the truth, I had no clue why I had to be so afraid of Alexey. Yet, when I think to his menacing eyes, the full back tattoo, not to mention how he said in a half-joking, half-serious manner that he was actually the mafia made me uneasy.

Getting up, I leaned against the wall with my hand, feeling my way to the bathroom like a blind person. The reason for this is because… my heart was in shock!! There were traces of blood on my mattress and blanket, not to mention it was mixed with something white and sticky which hadn’t yet dried. Turning back to look at this scene, I felt my cheeks grow hot as if someone took a clothes iron to my face. Certainly that blood isn’t the blood of a chicken or duck which was butchered as an offering to some deity, but rather the result of ‘something’ which needs no recapping. This life, the next life, and the life after next… there is no way I could forget.

How could I ever forget when it was that s.e.xy…that pa.s.sionate… If it were an erotic film, the audience would all be experiencing severe nosebleeds! And for the love of G.o.d, why was I on the receiving end?

My phone rang and I hurriedly reached for it. A string of Russian spewed out of the speaker without any indication of pausing to take a breath. I listened but was stunned. “Ha-ha-hallo… soree miss– I don’t understand.”

“Mr. Alexander Nazarbayev told me to meet you.” The lady on the other end of the line switched to English immediately. “He told me that you were having trouble with the doc.u.ments for your visa application. I’m currently waiting in the lobby of the condomiunium, I can only spare you fifteen minutes.”

I was stunned for another two seconds by the manner of speaking which was forceful and threatening, likewise to a certain someone else. “Ah… I…”

“Mr. Phachara come down in five minutes or forget about your visa. Your decision.”

Is your mom a military instructor? Talk about brutal. But this was my last opportunity so I hurriedly grabbed it. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m coming downstairs right this moment. I’ll be there in three minutes even, feel free time me.” I quickly ended the call and began to run, hips protesting with a sharp pain to the point where my tears started to fall. But I’m not giving up woi! I’ll fight for my life to get this visa! And when I have it in my hands I’ll step on that hottie’s face and give him a crooked nose, just you wait!

…

Madam Yelena left, leaving my unconscious body still in shock on the lobby sofa.

‘None of your doc.u.ments are sorted…’ She said. ‘…You’re missing important papers too, no wonder Alexey was frustrated.’

‘Alexey? Frustrated?’ I asked, voice weak.

‘Actually, frustrated is an understatement…’ Madam Yelena supplied in an indifferent tone, her eyes a.s.sessing me from head to toe. I couldn’t help but smile dryly. Yet I was more curious as to how that guy knew that it was me who vandalized his BMW. I made sure to survey the surrounding area multiple times, seeing if there were any security cameras or paparazzis around. Or were his policemen/bodyguards hiding nearby hoping to catch me red-handed? Regardless of how much I pondered it over, I was unable to come up with a sound explanation. Alexey is probably livid…

‘But I’m curious. Visa applications are not in Alexey’s line of responsibility and yet he ended up calling me’. Her large green eyes glared at me ferociously, making my already deflated heart drop out of my chest. ‘In any case, I’ll get my secretary to follow-up on the invitation letter. She will be contacting you later.’ That said, she reached for her Marc Jacobs leather bag and slung it over her shoulder.

‘Wait, wait, wait, but n.o.body is inviting me. I’m going by myself.’

Madam Yelena paused before looking at me with pity. ‘There is no chance of entering Kazakhstan unless you have an invitation letter. Although Alexey could ask the amba.s.sador to process a visa specifically for you, if any problem should arise then he will be the one to bear responsibility. I doubt that Alexey is that stupid. Hopefully you can sympathize. Instead, my secretary will sort it out for you.

I was shocked.

He’s arrogant!

That hottie is too arrogant! I’m going to have a word with him the next time we meet. Does he think that I’m going digging for uranium and oil in his backyard or something? And even if I was planning to for real, wouldn’t I contract cancer before getting my hands on said uranium? Digging for uranium isn’t as easy as ‘digging your own grave’ you know.

‘Please be on standby to pick up the call Mr. Petch.’

I thanked Madam Yelena two to three more times complete with a pair of imploring eyes; somebody please save me. She nodded her head in farewell and walked away, trailing behind the ‘tok tok’ sound of her stiletto heels as it hit the s.h.i.+ny polished floor.

What to do… Should I change my plans from Uzbekistan-Kazakhstan-Kirghistan to Russia-Uzbekistan-and the Tran-Siberian Network instead?

And what if I’m forced by that hottie to cover the costs of the paint job? I’ll really become penniless, my vacation thrown out the window too. To lose my virginity but also my wallet to a single man, I can’t let that happen!

Turning left and right, I couldn’t think properly so I called P’Pun instead. As it happens, he was with his girlfriend NuDaeng… but they were in the middle of an argument. “Hey, what’s up Petch?”

I smiled dryly. “It’s a long story P’Pun.”

“If its long then tell me the short version– NuDaeng can you give ten minutes to deal with this call?”

“Hua, P’Pun resolve your problem with NuDaeng first, my issue can wait, it’s not a big one.” Actually it’s kind of big. But to say that it is small, that is also partly true. Now that I mention it, I wonder which is more pressing? My loss of virginity or the cost of the car paint job; that hottie is definitely going to suck my blood dry.

NuDaeng’s voice traveled through the phone. “P’Pun, our conversation isn’t finished yet, is talking to P’Petch more important than me? It’s been like this so many times already, I can’t stand it any longer.”

“It’s not just Petch, NuDaeng!  Be it work, eating, travelling, or the editor, all of these things are more important if you don’t quit being so selfish.”

I rubbed my nose, P’Pun really is too much. When it comes to being impatient, no one else can compare. “I’ll call you back later.”

So here I was, sitting and taking in deep breaths. This was my problem so I should be the one to fix it. Calling P’Pun was the equivalent of throwing my burdens onto him. Although I may be thick-skinned in some cases, it is not to the extent of a certain man eating up my taxes, sitting arms crossed, not willing to concede, resign, or acknowledge his mistakes. He was getting older and older by the day, choosing to stay locked up his home and raise cats without a care for the Thai people which were killing each other off. It is said that humans can overcome all sorts of obstacles unless they are met with a shameless person. This is a saying in which Thai’s across the nation have proven correct many times. Enough, enough, I delved too far into politics again. It looks like the author who’s writing about this foolish life of mine is about to get deported.

…

P’Pun called me back fifteen minutes later, his voice exhausted. “Sorry about earlier Petch.”

“Hua, it’s alright, I managed to solve my problem already.” I replied while ruffling my hair with a towel, it was almost dry. My mouth held onto a slice of toast as I pressed the power b.u.t.ton on the T.V. remote. Once my hair was dry, I grabbed the s.h.i.+rt which was hanging in my closet to wear. Don’t even think to scrunch your nose because something smells off.  One advantage that I had over the typical unruly photographer was that I was not as filthy. I wash and iron my own clothes. Not to brag but they’re extremely clean too. ‘Breeze Excel’ when are you going to sponsor me? (TN: Thai was.h.i.+ng detergent guaranteed to wash stains dating back to your grandma’s decade)

Before becoming a freelancer, I worked as a journalist covering politics for nearly two years. However, my editor at the time saw that I was unsuitable for the job. She said that I was clueless, often falling behind others. To be a journalist in the field of politics one must excel at speaking with a ‘hidden meaning’, as well as have connections to those in the government. In spite of it all, this career did make me pick up one good habit. As I had regular contact with high profile figures, and given that I cared about my looks and enjoyed fas.h.i.+on to some extent, I became the only person who dressed presentably among my colleagues in the same profession.

(TN: Speaking with a hidden meaning – Thailand is underpinned by the Lèse-majesté law as such journalists are required to ‘talk around’ sensitive subjects.)

After not experiencing any success in the field of politics, I was redirected to work in social news with a fellow senior reporter. This was especially nice. Although I had to juggle several tasks at once, the work wasn’t particularly hard; girls love getting their photos taken after all. My seniors even teased me about how some celebrities normally regarded as ‘rarely smiling tigers’ agreed to all my requests without fuss.

Luck was on my side when I became acquainted to a certain editor from a famous high-end fas.h.i.+on magazine. As such, I transferred from being a social news photographer to being a fas.h.i.+on photographer. I gradually became more well-known after taking photos for some famous names, be it stars or highly professional models. Whoever was popular at the time, I also accrued a portion of their fame. Work was busy to the point where my mother asked whether I was renting an apartment for a ghost settle down in.

Yet, it was still curious that over the course of this past year and a half since fortunately landing this job, I had not once been invited overseas for work.

Nonetheless, life has its ups and downs. Having to travel here and there as part of my job made me yearn for a stable workplace. I was becoming slightly mental due to the perpetual fear of waking up late for work. My health was also deteriorating due to alcohol. After finis.h.i.+ng a night out with one group, I would repeat this process the next day with a different group. However, the turning point occurred recently when I was hired as a photographer for a foreign male model. He was the lover of a well-known celebrity, but given his age he could have been her son. Recalling that night, me and him (I can’t remember his name) went drinking just the two of us. I glugged down white wine, gla.s.s after gla.s.s till I became extremely drunk. With no idea of how I returned to the hotel, I could only remember sleeping uncomfortably due to a bear-buffalo creature lying on top of my body all night long. I woke up later to discover that there was trouble at the set. The forty-year old lady had gone on a rampage, hitting and slapping her young lover, in turn causing a huge ruckus. She pointed at me all of sudden and started to curse viciously, voice peaking at 180 decibels as she accused me of stealing and eating up her ‘kid’. Only a small amount of my ego remained intact. Although I felt resentful, I was forced to endure it. Getting more involved with this lady would only mean further loss of my reputation, as well as being officially branded as a foreigner stealer. Sorry but I don’t really like eating ‘foreigners’. They don’t taste good, especially the one I had last night, that was particularly bad-tasting.

(TN: Eating ‘Foreigners’ – The Thai word ‘Farang’ has double meaning, it can refer to either a foreigner or the Guava fruit.)

After losing to alcohol, losing my job, losing friends.h.i.+ps and losing money in that fiasco… I decided to ‘revolutionize’ myself, this being to only accept jobs which required no significant human interaction.

It was at this moment in which the same editor offered me a hand once more. I was entrusted to the oh-so-hardcore editor Chid from a separate major publis.h.i.+ng house as a freelance photographer regularly dealing with columns about food, drinks, shopping and travel for nearly ten other magazines. She then entrusted me to P’Pun who would initially help organize my work schedule. In a way, P’Pun was also placed in my care, I aided him during the particular cases in which he starts to lose his mind.

Although we worked in different fields, we became very close. It was to the point where several people often asked whether I was secretly P’Pun’s mistress. And why do I have to be the mistress? Does no one ever a.s.sume that I might be the sugar daddy? Who the h.e.l.l knows. My figure may not be cut out for the role but my heart is all for it.

Fortunately, during this period I had ama.s.sed quite a sum of money and therefore wasn’t in any difficult position. Yet I swore to myself then and there that… that what? Have a guess? That I would quit drinking? Ho, I’m not ‘that’ brave. You shouldn’t judge me so highly.

I just… quit drinking the cheap knockoffs. From now on I’ll only drink brand-name alcohols! Hu hu hu.

“Hey Petch, are you going anywhere today?”

I answered P’Pun that I was going to go to the emba.s.sy, then during the afternoon I had photography work at a practice graduation ceremony for a certain billionaire’s daughter. For the cost of half a day’s work, ten-thousand or so baht was more than worth it for a freelancer like me.

“Is that so? Uh, nevermind then. I was initially going to invite you out for a drink.”

Uuk!! From just that one word, last night’s incident returned to my thoughts in disconnected scenes, especially the moment in which x.x.xx– Ugh I don’t want to describe, it’s embarra.s.sing.

“P’Pun, I can’t drink right now, it’s Buddhist Lent.” I’ll truly have to refrain from alcohol this time. Although it might be a little late, it’s better than having P’Pun follow after that hottie’s footsteps. I rather not have two husbands thank you very much, this isn’t something to joke about. Thinking about it makes me depressed. If that hottie’s key card console stays broken for another two weeks, he’ll be setting up camp in my room indefinitely. It’s comparable to the time when the Yellow s.h.i.+rts moved to occupy the government house. The only difference between the two cases being that the Yellow s.h.i.+rts aren’t one to ‘a.s.sault’ people. In contrast, that hottie captured me and made me his wife dear readers.

How is he going to make me pay for his car? I’m scared to find out. Just imagining the possibilities is giving me gooseb.u.mps.

“What the h.e.l.l Petch, weren’t you drunk just the other day at Thonglor?” P’Pun trapped me with his words, his voice was weirdly strained. “Just go… celebrate with me for becoming single.”

“Hua!!!” I shouted by accident. “You must be kidding!”

“I’m as single as I can ever be. It’s time to celebrate.”

“Weren’t you dating NuDaeng for over two years? How come you broke it off with her so easily?”

“Who’s this NuDaeng person? I don’t know them.”

P’Pun was overcome with Alzheimer’s all of a sudden. I scratched my head, eyes glancing at the time. I had an hour, hopefully I’ll make it in time. That hottie is waiting for me…

“I can’t drink but I can accompany you to dinner, are you interested? How about Phra Nakorn Bar around Rajad.a.m.nern?”

“…Mmm, I’m interested. I’m interested but I have to go catch an interview with the prime minister first. I tried calling the Uzbek emba.s.sy but no one was willing to cooperate. They’re so reluctant, it’s not as if I’m asking for a free plane ticket you know?”

I laughed ‘ha ha’, but then thought of how if it was the handsome and kind Sasha, he definitely wouldn’t reject P’Pun’s request. “I have something good to give you, are you interested?  It’ll guarantee you an interview with the prime minister, but before that I need you to promise me two things.”

“Tell me.”

“Number one, you have to quit drinking with me until Buddhist Lent ends.” Going on strike by yourself is difficult, a friend is needed in order to share the suffering and achieve the end goal. “Number two, please treat me to free food at Phra Nakorn Bar tonight senior~”

P’Pun stilled before beginning to complain as if a bus ran over his foot. Regardless, he then let out a long sigh. “Okay okay, if it was somebody other than you I would have kicked them off their high horse already.”

“See you at 8pm senior~”

“Okay so how about that number, who am I calling?”

“Thank you~❤️️❤️️❤️️” I grinned…hu hu hu…although that hottie may force me to pay for the car paint job, I’m getting a free dinner tonight. I survived another day woi!

“I’ll think of it as charity work for the stray dogs and cats then.” P’Pun interjected languidly. “Stop playing around and give me the number already you cheeky pup.”

Aow… I’m about to reconsider and hand you the number of a certain (alpha) dog hottie instead.

…

Thump thump… thump thump… the fifth floor.

Thump thump thump… thump thump thump… the eighth floor.

Thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump… the fourteenth floor.

The elevator doors opened up to a large 1.5 meter walkway covered by a red carpet stretching out in front of me towards h.e.l.l– Hua! I mean towards the hottie’s emba.s.sy. My heart pulsed violently as if ready to burst out of my chest.

‘Take responsibility for what you've done to my BMW. Or else… I will kill you.‘

The closer I got, the more unnerved I became. I felt the traces of an oncoming stomach ache. Why is it that every time I visit this emba.s.sy, I feel dizzy like I’m about to faint.

Today was Wednesday, the visa section was open and there were several people waiting as usual. Every one of them looked defeated. The same frustrated tomboy girl was here along with the short j.a.panese man. The beautiful Vietnamese-looking girl was clinging to the arm of her European lover while speaking in a flirty manner. I licked my parched lips. Why does my heart feel so heavy despite not having done anything wrong?

I pa.s.sed by the gla.s.s part.i.tion which had an extremely Russian-looking guy fussing over the person applying for a visa. Behind was a tall lady with golden hair, arms crossed and sipping at her coffee while making small conversation. I looked at my wrist.w.a.tch. When do I go in? Also, should I apologize to that hottie? What do I do?

‘Knock knock knock’. Suddenly, the person behind the gla.s.s part.i.tion tapped on its surface and waved me over amidst the confused eyes of ten other people queuing in line. “Are you calling me?”

The man behind the counter beckoned with his finger. “Mr. Phachara, come in.”

The automatic lock unbolted and I waddled into the gla.s.s room anxiously (I feel like a penguin). The staff behind the counter pointed to a particular door. “Wait in the room over there.”

I lurched my head, peering into the room. The lights were dim and the entire room had nothing except for a long rectangular table, two chairs and a hanging lamp. The gla.s.s slot on the door had a metal sheet which you could slide open and close. This was clearly an interrogation room. I swiveled back to question the man with my eyes but he simply nodded back as if there wasn’t anything wrong with this situation. “Alexander will arrive in ten minutes… Ah… he’s finished with the meeting.”

I followed the man’s line of sight, incidentally making eye contact with a pair of cold grey eyes. Alexey made an upset face and stared pointedly at the entrance of the room which was wide open. I hurriedly backed into the room and awaited my execution.

Is this hottie going to kill me? Butcher me alive? Oh father… mother… Eh!? I paused. Is G.o.d punis.h.i.+ng me for not having paid the overdue one hundred boiled eggs and two packets of instant noodles?

The large figure stepped into the room and silently pulled the door shut. Sliding the metal sheet over the transparent window of the door, he then dragged a chair to sit opposite me. The chair which sc.r.a.ped against the floor made a screeching sound. It increasingly felt like I was being accused for murder.

“Was it fun?”

The tone was serious and frigid, making me waver. My heart dropped and fell to the floor, nearly unable to pick it back up in time. Come on Petch, what to do…

Alexey slammed against the table with a resounding bang. “Answer me!”

I flinched with every fiber of my body and sat up straight. My heart which was gathered up from the floor a moment ago tumbled away somewhere again. I was terrified.

“Do you any idea what you’ve done? Why are you silent, answer me!!”

“I didn’t do anything!!” Forcing me to speak… fine I’ll speak. But it looks as if this was more like adding fuel to the fire. Alexey was on the verge of climbing over the table and breaking my neck. I retreated back up to the wall, a.s.suming a guarding stance in the same style as Somjit during the match which won him a gold medal at the Olympics. “Don’t start accusing me so carelessly.”

(TN: Somjit Jongjohor – Thai professional boxer who won a gold medal in the 2008 Beijing Olympics)

Alexey flung the chair, the object hitting the wall with a loud crash. He then proceeded to remove his suit jacket, loosen his necktie, and adjust his s.h.i.+rt collar slightly… I began to hallucinate and see him as an opponent boxer. If this guy was wearing boxing gloves, I would have already p.i.s.sed myself due to fright.

“Don’t come any closer. Don’t come closer than a meter of me woi.”

The pair of cold grey eyes flashed immense fury. “What are you going to do about it? File a lawsuit? Do you have enough money to hire a lawyer yet?”

Look at him! I’m already scared to death of getting my neck broken. “What evidence do you have to suggest that I was the perpetrator? I already told you that I know nothing about the car marks.”

“If I ever decide to trust you, I might as well go raise water buffaloes instead.” (TN: Water buffaloes – The ‘unofficial’ national animal of Thailand, widely used to insult someone as an idiot.)

This foreigner’s mouth was truly feisty. To add, the more afraid I became, the more he a.s.sumed a bloodthirsty aura. I lowered my guard and made a solemn face. “Does your car not have insurance? Why don’t you let them pay for it?”

“The issue isn’t about the payment but how this morning I had important business with a certain figure… except what idiotic thing did you do, ha!?”

“Bring me the security camera recording, if I was really the person who ruined your car I promise to take full responsibility.” I challenged him. When I was marking his car I made sure to look left and right so that I wasn’t in the vicinity of any security cameras; if this wasn’t the case then who would be brave enough to do such a daring act?

The hottie yanked my s.h.i.+rt collar till my body floated in midair. I shut my eyes tight and struggled desperately. “Let me go, let me go! If you don’t I’m suing you for physical abuse, sending death threats–what else–doing obscene things with another man, stealing virginity and nailing and bailing.”

“What are you raving on about, I’m the one who should sue you for drawing a lame-a.s.s caterpillar on my BMW.”

Hmph! This hottie may have eyes but he lacks appreciation for art. I glared in retaliation, this is clearly a direct insult.

“Like h.e.l.l is it a caterpillar, it’s a crocodile!”

Alexey paused, then bared his fangs with a deep voice. “There it is. If it’s not you then who would know whether it’s a caterpillar or crocodile?”

“Okay, I admit that I was the one who did it, but is that a problem!? I even put captions on the bottom and yet you still read it as ‘caterpillar’. It’s also your own bad luck that you had to go meet the amba.s.sador!” I wrenched his hand away, placed a hand on my hip and continued rambling. “You’re annoying and I hate your face so I felt like doing it, is that so wrong?”

“What kind of crocodile…”

“It’s a c.o.c.k-co-die. Did your grade 4 teacher back home not teach you? ‘Crocodile’ in English is called c.o.c.k-CO-DIE, remember it well Alexey.”

“How did you even graduate from preschool? What country spells it like that?”

“I guess there are no crocodiles in Kazakh, that’s why you thought it was a caterpillar. As expected of an underdeveloped nation.”

Alexey raised his hand as if to slap me for being impudent but I hastily reached for the chair, using it as self-defense. In that moment I had no idea where I mustered the strength from, raising the chair above my head and proceeding to run away. “Stop Petch, or else you’re going to get it.”

“Try it if you can, I’m going to sue you as well! What kind of pervert tricks a drunk guy into getting f.u.c.ked!” And then the game of tag around the table began. When Alexey moved left, I moved to the right. When Alexey moved right, I moved in the opposite direction. He made it seem as if he was about to climb on top of the table. I raised my chair up to intimidate him. If this guy actually tries to traverse over the length of the table, I swear I’m going to dent his face with my chair. In truth, I was dead tired of having to run around while heaving a chair along. Certainly it wasn’t light like carrying an Olympics torch. Yet I wasn’t going to give up here.

After ten minutes pa.s.sed, I made an offer. “Give me my visa first, then we can talk about the rest.”

“Visa?” Alexey laughed in his throat. “You must be crazy.”

“I’m here to see you about the visa, not about the car. If you want reparations that badly then go ahead, sue and demand for it yourself!” I finally set the chair down. Panting heavily and drenched in sweat, I squat down to the floor with exhaustion. G.o.d help me, being hired to stalk a Korean idol wasn’t even as exhausting as this.

“Do you admit now that you’re the one who put those marks on my car?”

“Yeah.”

“If I filed a lawsuit do you have the money to hire a defense lawyer?”

“No, I already spent the remaining amount on my plane ticket.”

Alexey had started to calm down somewhat. He grabbed the same chair which he thew at the wall to sit legs crossed on directly in front of me. The polished black pair of shoes swayed left and right like a footballer preparing to aim a penalty kick.

“And what if I decide to not give you a visa.”

These words tore my remaining patience into pieces. I swung an uppercut at the spot underneath his chin but was suddenly met with an opposing force. It made contact right in the center of my stomach. I fell backwards, tumbling down to the floor, my body bent like a shrimp due to the pain.

The hottie laughed in his throat ‘hu hu’ as if satisfied. “Are you done being arrogant? I’ve let you off too many times haven’t I, Petch?”

#$%^&*^%$# I wanted to curse him but had no strength to do so. I flipped my head to the other side, resenting myself for always losing to this guy no matter what tactic I tried to use.

“You act in a way that makes it easy to be angry at. After meeting you three days ago my life has been nothing but one misfortune after another.

“I’m the one who’s unfortunate to have met you. The most damaging misfortune was last night, I never should have let you step a foot into my room. My life is in chaos.”

“How biased towards yourself. Your personality is day-by-day gradually becoming like the mayor.”

Cursing like this was too vulgar. I hastily got up and shook his collar. “Speak nicely.”

“You’re nice except for that mouth of yours, did you know that?” This guy twisted my words back at me, making me increasingly frustrated. I had to defend myself.

“If I’m not skillful with my mouth then why did you kiss me over and over again yesterday?”

In less than a second, his warm lips stole a kiss from mine, playfully biting them as well. I could only fall into a state of shock, at a loss of what to say. “You!!!”

“You’re not skilled enough Petch.”

My cheeks felt blazing hot. This crazy b.a.s.t.a.r.d, what kind of joke is this? “What are you doing?”

The hottie grabbed his suit jacket to wear and adjusted his necktie properly like before, leaving behind one final sentence amidst my confusion and heart beat which was pulsating like a gatling gun. The memory which was still fresh from last night trickled back in scenes.

“If you improve your kissing skills then I’ll give you a visa… You’re currently an amateur but hope to seduce an employee? Think again kiddo.

You’re looking down on me way too much. I’ll become the number one kissing champion, just you wait Alexey, you idiot!!!

The chapters are getting progressively longer and longer. Shall I go protest to the Thai politicians as well?