로그인Pakin’s P.O.V
The first few hours back in the palace were a blur of sterile white corridors and the rhythmic, oppressive clicking of polished shoes on marble. The moment the heavy gates had closed behind me, the air seemed to thicken, turning into a viscous syrup that made every breath feel like a chore.
I wasn't Pakin the racer anymore. I wasn't the man who had felt the wind whip against his face at two hundred kilometers per hour, or the man who had felt
Pakin’s P.O.VThe moment the doors swung open, the world ceased to be a place of silence and structure. It became a chaotic storm of strobe lights and noise. The flashes were so rapid they felt like physical blows, searing white images into my retinas.I had spent weeks avoiding the press, hiding behind the anonymity of a racing helmet or the walls of a garage, but now, there was nowhere to hide. I was the center of the universe, and the universe was hungry for a scandal."Your Royal Highness! Prince Pakin!"The voices surged forward, a cacophony of desperation and greed. The reporters didn't wait for us to reach the safety of the ballroom; they pressed against the velvet ropes, their microphones thrust forward like spears."Prince Pakin, is it true that you've been involved in illegal street racing?""Your Highness, can you confirm the rumors regarding your relationship with the racer Sean?""Are you experiment
Pakin’s P.O.VThe first thing I became aware of wasn't the light, but the sound.Usually, the palace mornings were characterized by a sterile, curated silence, broken only by the distant, rhythmic footsteps of the Royal Guard. But today, the air itself seemed to vibrate. Even through the heavy, sound-dampening mahogany doors of my bedroom, I could hear the distant roar—a low, humming drone that sounded like a swarm of insects.I shifted under my sheets, the memory of Sean’s voice from the night before still echoing in my mind. ‘I’ll make everything alright’. I clung to that promise like a lifeline as I slowly opened my eyes.The sunlight filtered through the sheer gold curtains, casting a pale, ethereal glow over the room. I expected to see the usual stony-faced palace attendants, the ones who treated me like a piece of fragile porcelain that they were tasked with dusting but never touching. In
Pakin’s P.O.VThe silk sheets beneath me felt like cold water, slick and oppressive. My bed was an island of luxury—massive, ornate, and utterly lonely. I tossed and turned, the fabric rustling with a sound that seemed deafening in the oppressive silence of my bedroom.Every time I closed my eyes, I didn't see the darkness; I saw the flashing bulbs of a hundred cameras. I saw the sneering faces of the nobility, the tight-lipped judgment of the generals, and the predatory glint in the eyes of people like Nobleman Ratchasakun.Tomorrow was the Charity Ball. To the world, it would be a night of elegance, philanthropy, and the glittering announcement of P’Dew’s engagement. To me, it felt like a walk toward a gallows.I felt suffocated. The very air in the palace seemed to have thickened, turning into a heavy shroud that pressed against my chest, making it hard to breathe. I could already hear the whispers—the sha
Pakin’s P.O.VThe air in the grand living area was thick, heavy with the scent of aged sandalwood and the suffocating pressure of centuries of expectation. Looking down at the polished marble floor felt like I was wading through deep water, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.My father, King Suriyatep, was here. Actually here, standing right in front of me. The confrontation I had been dreading all this time was finally happening.He stood by the tall, arched windows, his silhouette framed by the golden light of the waning afternoon. He didn't say anything immediately, and that silence—that absolute, crushing void of sound—was more terrifying than any shout.Beside me, P’Dew shifted slightly, his expression a mask of royal composure, though I could see the tension in the set of his jaw. My mother stood on my other side, her presence a quiet, comforting warmth, yet even she seemed diminished in the shadow of the King’s mood.As my father finally turned to face us, t
Sean’s P.O.VThe garage was a symphony of controlled chaos—the high-pitched whine of pneumatic drills, the heavy thud of tires being swapped, and the constant, rhythmic chatter of the mechanics. Usually, this was my sanctuary. The smell of grease, burnt rubber, and high-octane fuel acted like a sedative for my mind, focusing everything into a single point of intensity.But for the last week, the symphony had sounded like noise.I was leaning against the workbench, a wrench in my hand that I hadn't actually used in ten minutes. My eyes were glued to the screen of my phone, which was resting on a smudge-covered rag.I was waiting. Waiting for a vibration, a ping, a single word from Pakin.Every time the screen stayed dark, a knot of anxiety tightened in my chest. I knew he was trapped in that gilded cage, suffocating under the weight of protocol and his father’s shadow, but the distance felt like a physical wound.It didn't matter that he was only a few kilometers away in the palace; it
Pakin’s P.O.VThe first few hours back in the palace were a blur of sterile white corridors and the rhythmic, oppressive clicking of polished shoes on marble. The moment the heavy gates had closed behind me, the air seemed to thicken, turning into a viscous syrup that made every breath feel like a chore.I wasn't Pakin the racer anymore. I wasn't the man who had felt the wind whip against his face at two hundred kilometers per hour, or the man who had felt Sean’s calloused hand gripping mine in the dark.I was Prince Pakin, a disgraced ornament of the monarchy, and my life had suddenly become a series of checkboxes and timed intervals.I had forgotten how loud silence could be.The palace wasn't noisy. Quite the opposite, actually. Every hallway was immaculate, every servant moved with quiet efficiency, every guard stood as still as a statue. Nothing was out of place.Nothing was ever out of place.And som
Pakin’s P.O.VThe next day, I went to college, doing my best to act like everything was normal. It was a relatively easy thing to do as long as I kept my head down, but I knew that it would all fall apart once I saw my friends, especially Tew.I walked through
Pakin’s P.O.VI woke to the dull light of morning filtering through cheap blinds, the rays cutting across the dim, cramped motel room. My head throbbed faintly, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure where I was.Then the memories hit me like a freight train. All at once, without mercy.Cship hia laew! (H
Pakin’s P.O.VDon’t ask me how we got here because I have no fucking clue. I could not even remember when or how we stumbled into a random motel in the middle of the night. I did not drink a single sip of alcohol, but everything was a blur.I think I was high on lust.I don’t remember us getting a r
Pakin’s P.O.VMy heart was still pounding in my chest as I gripped the wheel of my Valkyrie, the echoes of the race still fresh in my mind and in the way I breathed deeply.After that performance, I should’ve stayed at the track to soak in the crowd’s awe, to let my ego bask in that glory and solidi







