Chapter Text
The stage lights bathed NuNew in a soft golden glow, the kind that made his skin look almost ethereal. The crowd in the concert hall was already alive — fans waving banners with his name, holding glowing lightsticks that turned the entire place into a sea of white and gold.
As the music began, the noise faded into quiet awe. NuNew stepped closer to the microphone, his delicate features calm yet focused. Then he sang.
“And it took me some time to find my way back here.” His voice flowed through the hall — smooth, warm, and almost gentle, like it carried a piece of everyone’s heart in it. The notes wrapped around the listeners, soft but powerful. Some fans teared up as they swayed, mouthing every word along with him.
When the final note lingered, silence filled the air for a heartbeat — and then applause exploded.
“That’s my boy!” someone shouted near the front row, laughing through tears.
“He’s perfect!” another cried, and soon the entire hall echoed with chants of “NuNew! NuNew!”
Backstage, his manager, Mr. Tuk, was already beaming. “That voice could melt even the coldest critic,” he said proudly, wiping sweat from his forehead. “No wonder every brand wants you, and every show wants you booked!”
NuNew laughed softly, his chest still rising and falling from the performance. “They only love me when the lights are on,” he said lightly, though something in his eyes gave away a trace of loneliness.
“Don’t say that,” Mr. Tuk replied, adjusting his earpiece. “You’re not just another idol — you’re the trendsetter. Every outfit you wear goes viral within hours. You’re the fresh face that even the senator’s people are proud of.”
“Yeah,” NuNew murmured with a faint smile, glancing at the screens showing live comments streaming in from fans all over the region — hearts, emojis, declarations of love.
But as he watched himself on the monitor, surrounded by makeup artists and flashing lights, he couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was real. Was it the voice they loved — or the name Chawarin that came with it?
Just as he was lost in thought, a sudden notification popped up on his phone: “Security notice – Temporary reassignment of personal protection team effective immediately.”
Mr. Tuk frowned behind him. “Another change? Your father’s office is being too cautious again.”
NuNew sighed and set his phone down. “It’s fine, as long as Mr. Jim will stay my side.” he said, unaware that the next time he left this hall, a man named Zee would walk into his life — a man who wouldn’t bow to fame, wealth, or charm, and who would turn his glittering world upside down
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Zee sat quietly in the corner of the agency’s briefing room, the sound of laughter echoing faintly from a nearby hallway where young artists were rehearsing. On the screen in front of him was a live performance video — a slender figure under soft lights, singing with raw emotion that silenced even the noisiest crowd.
“That’s NuNew Chawarin,” the officer beside him said. “Singer, actor, influencer — and yes, the senator’s only son. You’ll be assigned to him starting tonight.”
Zee watched the screen closely. NuNew’s voice was gentle yet strong, the kind that carried feelings instead of just notes. His smile, bright and natural, made the crowd cheer like they were under a spell. Zee wasn’t easily impressed, but even he found himself pausing for a brief second.
“He’s talented,” Zee said finally, his tone calm, almost unreadable.
“Talented, yes,” the officer replied with a mix of admiration and worry. “But also reckless. Gets caught in bars, surrounded by paparazzi, refuses to stay under protection. The senator’s team wants you to make sure nothing — nothing — happens before the campaign season.”
Zee leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “So I’m guarding a singer with a habit of finding trouble.”
“Not just a singer,” the officer corrected. “A star. Every movement he makes trends online. Every word he says can affect his father’s reputation. You’ll need to control him without being seen.”
On the monitor, the camera zoomed in on NuNew’s face as he waved to his fans, his laughter pure and full of life. For a moment, the screen froze — that perfect smile captured mid‑motion.
“He looks harmless,” Zee muttered.
The officer chuckled. “That’s what everyone thinks — until they try to tell him what to do.”
Zee turned off the screen and stood, gathering the mission folder with quiet precision. Inside was NuNew’s photo, a list of schedules, and a thick file of past “incidents.”
As he scanned the pages, one phrase appeared repeatedly: ‘Refuses to follow rules.’
Zee closed the folder and exhaled slowly. “Rules are meant to be followed,” he said under his breath. “Let’s see if he can learn that.”
Outside the briefing room, NuNew’s music was still playing faintly through a speaker — smooth, emotional, and full of light. For Zee, it was the sound of chaos waiting to happen. For fate, it was the moment two very different worlds began to collide.
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NuNew smiled at every single fan before he stepped into his car. He had just finished his concert performance at the location, and his fans had been camping outside for hours, just to catch a glimpse of him. They waved, shouted his name, held up lightsticks and phones, and he waved back with that practiced, warm smile he always showed on camera.
As he slid into the back seat of the van, he noticed something felt off. NuNew was sensitive to smells, and the inside of the car had changed—too clean, sharper, like metal and gun oil instead of the usual perfume and cologne. Something was not in order.
“Where is Mr. Jim?” he demanded, his eyes wide. He quickly covered his mouth, afraid that the fans outside might hear him screaming.
He turned to Mr. Wan, his long‑time driver, and gestured urgently for him to move. Mr. Wan gave a small nod and started the engine. NuNew leaned back, heart pounding, then froze when he saw the passenger seat more clearly.
There sat a man he had never seen before.
The man wore all‑black tactical gear—the kind worn by special forces. A fitted combat uniform hugged his broad frame, and a tactical vest was strapped across his chest. A backpack was secured behind him, and black gloves covered his hands as he carefully held a rifle, checking it with calm focus. The soft golden lights from the nearby building reflected off the metal of the weapon and the edges of his gear, giving him a quiet but intimidating presence.
I need Mr. Jim! NuNew screamed inside his head. This can’t be happening.
“What’s going on here?! Where’s Mr. Jim?!”
NuNew’s voice trembled, panic already creeping into his chest. His mind raced. Did his father find out that he used to sneak out with Mr. Jim for late‑night parties? Or worse, that he had punched a rude man at the bar? But how could his father know? He had paid that man to stay quiet.
“Mr. Jim has gone back to your agency, Sir,” Mr. Wan said calmly, glancing at the rearview mirror. He saw the young master in the back seat, his usual calm mask slipping for the first time, his posture tense and ready to explode.
“Your father is preparing to run for a higher government position,” Mr. Wan continued gently. “He ordered A—“ the driver cleared his throat, “He ordered Zee to take care of you.”
“But I don’t want him!” NuNew snapped, crossing his arms and letting out a sharp pout. His eyes flashed with anger and hurt. “I want Mr. Jim back!”
Zee, seated in the front passenger seat, smirked and turned his head slightly. “You think I want to be here?” he asked coolly. His voice was low and controlled, like a blade wrapped in silk. “I’m trained for counter‑terrorism, hostage rescue, and high‑risk missions—not to babysit a spoiled teenager who only knows how to complain. So trust me, Mr. Chawarin, I don’t want this either.”
NuNew flinched, stung. He hated being treated like a child. “I’m not a teenager, I’m twenty‑four,” he shot back.
“Doesn’t matter,” Zee replied, eyes still fixed on the road ahead. “The briefing said ‘unruly idol and trouble magnet,’ so that’s what I’m expecting. Just don’t make my job harder than it already is.”
NuNew crossed his arms, glaring at the back of Zee’s head. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” he muttered, though his words lacked power. Zee wasn’t like his usual bodyguards—those men were quick to flatter or bend under pressure. This one felt different. Dangerous, calm, unshakable. And annoyingly handsome. No, he shouldn’t even think that this man is attractive? Like hell, no!
“If you cause any trouble, I’ll make sure to tell my father,” NuNew warned, lifting his chin with practiced arrogance—the same look he used for cameras and red carpets.
Zee scoffed. “Go ahead. Your father already knows I don’t play nice.” He turned back to face the front, ending the conversation. The car rolled forward, cutting through the glowing city lights of Bangkok at midnight.
Mr. Wan sighed from the driver’s seat, already sensing the storm that was about to erupt. He had worked with Zee before—disciplined, loyal, but sometimes too direct for his own good. And NuNew, despite his soft smile and delicately styled hair, was as stubborn as his father, Senator Chawarin, who was preparing to run for one of the highest offices in the country.
The ride to the mansion was filled with uneasy silence. NuNew pulled out his phone, immediately opening his group chat with his bandmates and a few close influencers. Photos of rehearsals, event invites, and gossip flooded the screen. With one quick message, he texted: “They replaced Mr. Jim with some ex‑soldier. Total nightmare.” His friends’ laughing emojis came in seconds.
Zee noticed. Even without looking back, he felt the shift—the small smirk on NuNew’s lips as he typed, the defiance in his posture. He knew what this was. The file had mentioned everything: late‑night bar fights, ignoring curfews, relying on his father’s name to clean up scandals. But this time, it wouldn’t be so easy for the idol son of a politician to do as he pleased.
Outside, camera flashes briefly lit the street as the car slowed near the Chawarin estate. Paparazzi were always on watch—political scandal met showbiz allure in the form of one charming, unpredictable boy. Zee’s jaw tightened. This wasn’t just another mission. It was a battlefield of fame, secrets, and temptation.
NuNew looked out the window, lost in thought. His reflection met Zee’s in the glass, and for a short moment, their eyes locked—one filled with pride, the other with discipline.
The moment the car rolled through the gates of the Chawarin mansion, flashes exploded from behind the fence. Reporters shouted NuNew’s name, their cameras clicking endlessly. Even through the tinted glass, their voices were sharp.
“NuNew! What can you say about your father’s candidacy?!”
“Are the rumors about your nightclub fight real?!”
NuNew tilted his chin proudly, pretending not to hear. Fame was a mask he wore well — the charming smile, the effortless wave, the idol who could shine even under pressure. But inside, he was already irritated. He hated being followed, judged, and treated like a political symbol instead of just himself. He is always a shadow of his father.
“Stay down,” Zee ordered softly, catching NuNew’s glance through the mirror. His tone left no room for argument. “You don’t want your face in tomorrow’s headlines again.”
“They already have my face everywhere,” NuNew shot back. “I’m an idol, not a secret agent.”
“You’re also the son of a senator who’s running for higher office,” Zee replied flatly. “Which means one mistake from you becomes tomorrow’s scandal. I’m here to prevent that.”
NuNew found Zee’s sarcastic tone unacceptable and deeply offended by Zee’s audacity to engage in such a conversation.
The car stopped. Mr. Wan stepped out to open the door, but before NuNew could move, Zee stood and blocked him gently with his arm. “Wait here. I’ll check the perimeter first.”
NuNew frowned. “You’re overreacting. It’s just my house.”
“It’s not just your house anymore,” Zee muttered before stepping out. “It’s a target.”
Through the half-open door, NuNew watched him — tall, confident, clearly used to danger. He hated how composed Zee looked.
Minutes later, when Zee finally let him out of the car, NuNew had no idea how the man managed to clear the crowd of paparazzi from the estate gate. But he didn’t bother to ask. In his mind, that was Zee’s job anyway—he was being paid to handle that kind of chaos. So instead of thinking too much about it, NuNew flipped his hair, pulled out his phone, and went live on social media as if nothing had happened. Within seconds, thousands of fans flooded the chat room, their comments flying faster than he could read.
“Hi, babies!” NuNew greeted brightly, flashing his perfect smile at the camera. “I just got home. Don’t worry, I’m okay!”
A few steps behind him, Zee’s expression hardened. “Put that down,” he said quietly. “You can’t stream from this location. It’s a security risk.”
NuNew turned halfway, his smile fading though the camera still pointed at his face. “And why not? This is my work,” he said impatiently. “People love me because I’m real—someone they can relate to, someone who gives them hope. Not because I hide like some secret agent.”
Zee scoffed. “Relate to you? Stop fooling yourself. Your life is nothing like theirs. You live behind walls of privilege and politics—you don’t even share the same world.”
The words hit harder than NuNew expected. Anger burned beneath his chest. How could he talk like that? How could he question the one thing NuNew was proud of—the way he used his fame to make people smile?
Zee continued, his voice low but steady. “And remember this—people can destroy you with the same love you depend on. One wrong word, one photo out of context, and your father’s campaign falls apart with you.”
NuNew hesitated. The live chat was exploding—hearts, questions, endless comments scrolling so fast he couldn’t read them anymore. His throat tightened. Without another word, he ended the stream and slipped the phone into his pocket.
“You sound just like them,” he muttered coldly. “Everyone who only sees me as part of his image.”
Zee’s jaw tightened. “Then stop giving them reasons to see you like that.”
The space between them grew thick with silence. Outside, the press shouted questions about Senator Chawarin’s campaign, their camera flashes slicing through the dark.
NuNew finally walked past Zee, his scent lingering faintly in the air. Without looking back, he whispered, “You can guard my life, but don’t act like you own it.”
Zee said nothing. He only watched the idol’s retreating figure disappear into the grand hallway lined with portraits of power and legacy. For the first time in years, the disciplined agent felt unsettled. Protecting the senator’s son wasn’t going to be just another assignment—it was going to be a war between rules and rebellion.