Malai was working when she ran out of white paint.
She could go through six tubes of white paint in the time she went through one tube of black, it was simply tiring.
She had gotten a request from a random person to paint their grandmother who had died. The bitch had tried to scope a free painting, but the two eventually caught a deal.
It had been two weeks since she met Ten, Byungchul quickly realizing what was going on within the three. He complained saying he didn't have anything to prove. He bursted our and said that he loved Malai, and knew it was her the moment they met.
Malai, not knowing what else to say, said it back. But she instantly regretted it. Why didn't she feel the same? She felt as if she was simply in this relationship for Byunchul's own pleasure, but he wasn't using her. He couldn't be. She'd never told him of her family.
Sure they were famous and known across Asia, but some parts such as Korea they weren't name famous. Their company would be known, but the names of the owners went unknown to most people. This was why they were trying to strike up that deal with Taeyong's family.
Malai was now walking through the streets of Seoul, the sights of the city never failing to impress her. She didn't regret for one minute leaving Bangkok.
Of course her parents continuously tried to reach her, but with no prevail. Her brother said how she was filed for missing, but the police later found evidence of the plane tickets' receipts. Of course Malai wasn't stupid. She booked a 2 stop flight. The first stop landed in Hong Kong. Malai bought the South Korea tickets later.
Prasong of course kept her updated on it. The missing files were dropped of course once it was clarified that she had been texting her brother. Her parents were livid and had taken away his phone trying to find where she was, but of course Prasong was smart and had deleted the texts showing where she was.
Malai continuously got more and more nervous each update. She was free, but why did it still feel like the threat of her parents finding her was still out there.
She walked into the nearest art store and went to the paint section. For Malai, she was never picky of what type of paint she used, just as long as it was more thin and pigmented. She grabbed two tubes of white paint and headed out, until she ran into a small group of girls.
"He's really young for a teacher I heard," a teenager said as walked.
Malai wanted nothing more than to just step around them, but unfortunately, they were taking up the whole sidewalk.
Pushing through Malai pleaded her apologies, their grunts of annoyance bothering her.
She had just gotten through when she looked up and saw a person rushing out of the dance school she was passing. Unfortunately, they came rushing straight into her.
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