TAMING THE DEVIL ~(Dewtee)+(Netjj)~

Chapter 2

Dew glanced down at the boy, whose small fingers still clutched the fabric of Tee’s shirt. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel something he had long buried—a strange, protective warmth toward this child who reminded him of what he had lost.

“Stay close to me,” Dew said, voice low, firm, like the command of a man who didn’t ask. Thanapon nodded, voice trembling. “Who… who are you?” he asked, looking up at the dark figure towering above him.

“I am Jirawat Sutivanichsak,” Dew said simply. There was no warmth in the words, but the boy seemed to understand the authority in them, nodding slightly. Dew’s hands gently but firmly took Thanapon’s small hand and led him toward the car.

The drive home was quiet. Dew didn’t speak, his focus absolute, while Tee remained unconscious, and Thanapon pressed close, refusing to let go. The mansion was imposing, the guards stepping aside without question as Dew entered.

Inside, a doctor was already waiting. He examined Tee quickly, murmuring, “Concussion, bruises. He’ll be alright. Just rest.”

Thanapon refused to leave Tee’s side for a single second. He pressed his forehead against Tee’s chest, still holding the fabric of his shirt, unwilling to let him go. Dew observed silently, then knelt and spread his hand toward Thanapon. The boy froze.

“Who… who are you?” Thanapon asked again, voice small.

“I am Jirawat Sutivanichsak,” Dew repeated, calmer this time. “Come with me.”

The mansion was quiet in a way that felt heavy, almost sacred. Dew led Thanapon down polished corridors, the boy’s small hand tucked firmly into his own. Every shadow seemed to bend around Dew as if the walls themselves recognized his authority. The boy’s eyes, wide and uncertain, flickered toward him again and again, trust mingled with awe.

They entered a room adorned with photographs—images of men in suits, family gatherings, smiling faces, and one photograph that made Thanapon stop mid-step. His gaze fell on his father’s face, and his small shoulders slumped, sorrow pressing down like a weight he had never been prepared to carry.

Dew knelt beside him, tall, dark, and still unnervingly imposing, but softer in this moment. “Do not cry, little one,” he murmured, brushing a loose lock of hair from Thanapon’s face. “Your father… he would not want this. Come, look at me.”

Thanapon sniffled, his tears still brimming, but Dew had already started to coax a smile out of him, subtle jokes, gentle nudges, and soft encouragement. A quiet giggle escaped the boy, and for a fleeting moment, the storm of the airport, the chaos, the fear—all of it—dropped away. Dew allowed himself to linger in that rare pause, watching the light return to the boy’s eyes.

Once Thanapon’s shoulders relaxed, Dew led him to the dining table. “Eat,” he commanded softly. “You need strength.” The boy hesitated, unsure, but Dew’s presence was an unspoken reassurance. The first few bites were slow, hesitant, but eventually he began to eat more steadily, still glancing up at the towering man beside him.

It was then that Khun Sutivanichsak, Dew’s father, entered. The large man’s eyes immediately found Thanapon, and for the first time in ten years, the stern lines of his face softened. His breath caught as he stepped forward, reaching out instinctively. “My grandson…” he whispered, voice heavy with longing and emotion. Before Thanapon could even react, he was lifted into his grandfather’s arms, held tightly, the warmth of family pressing against him.

Thanapon buried his face into the older man’s chest, feeling a strange mixture of comfort and confusion. He had never known this man, yet instinctively he felt the protection radiating off him, a lifeline amidst a world he barely understood.