A game of persistence
The restaurant was breathtaking.
Everything screamed wealth—the golden chandeliers, the fine china, the soft classical music playing in the background. The guests were dressed in high-end designer brands, their jewelry shimmering under the warm glow of the lights.
Lingling felt out of place.
She looked down at herself—just a simple t-shirt and jeans, completely unremarkable compared to the polished socialites around her.
She stole a glance at Orm.
Unlike her, Orm belonged here.
The way she walked—confident, effortless, like she owned the place. The way she commanded the staff without hesitation, ordering dishes Lingling had never even heard of. The way the waiters scrambled to serve her with precision and respect.
When they were led to a private dining area, just for the two of them, Lingling hesitated for a second before following Orm inside.
She sat down cautiously, still struggling to believe she was in a place this extravagant. And not just that—she was having dinner with Orm Sethratanapong, one of the richest people in Thailand.
It felt… surreal.
Orm barely seemed to notice her discomfort. She effortlessly ordered a meal that probably cost more than Lingling’s entire rent. Steak, wine—everything the finest.
Lingling watched, silently amazed.
Is this how rich people order food?
She kept her face neutral, but in her head, she was overwhelmed. The place was too exclusive, too expensive, too much.
Orm leaned back in her seat, her sharp eyes studying Lingling.
“Do you like the place?” she asked, shrugging off her suit jacket.
She was now in a crisp white long-sleeve shirt, the fabric perfectly tailored to her. As she folded her sleeves up to her elbows, every movement was effortless yet refined.
Lingling gulped, then quickly grabbed her water glass to take a sip.
“The place is… okay,” she muttered. Then, without thinking, she added, “Full of rich people. Your people.”
Orm smirked.
“Impressed?” she asked, resting her chin on her hand.
Lingling scoffed, shaking her head. “No. Why would I be? This isn’t my scene.”
Orm tilted her head, intrigued.
“Then how can I impress you?”
Lingling chuckled, shaking her head again. “You can’t impress me. I already know the kind of person you are.”
Orm hummed in amusement.
“And what kind of person am I?” she asked.
Before Lingling could answer, the waiters arrived with their food, placing their expensive dishes in front of them.
For a moment, they both fell silent.
The moment the waiters left, they both dug into their steak. Lingling hesitated at first, unsure of which utensils to use. Orm noticed immediately and, with a smirk, effortlessly demonstrated how to cut the steak properly. Lingling observed for a moment before following her lead, determined not to embarrass herself.
As they ate, Orm leaned back slightly, watching Lingling with curiosity. “So,” she said casually, “what kind of person do you think I am?”
Lingling barely paused, slicing another piece of steak. “You’re the kind of person who thinks they can get anything they want,” she replied.
Orm stopped mid-bite, then chuckled. “You’re not wrong,” she admitted. “If you have the opportunity to get what you want, why not take it? That’s why you work hard, right? To afford the things you need. Unlike you, I don’t have to wait. I can get everything in an instant.”
Lingling scoffed, rolling her eyes as she chewed. “Do rich people always think like that? So arrogant.”
Orm tilted her head, studying her. “You know what? I like how you think.” She took a slow sip of her wine before continuing. “Why don’t you work for me instead? I’ll triple whatever you’re getting from cleaning at the airport.”
Lingling froze for a moment, her fork still in her mouth. She slowly pulled it out, chewing thoughtfully before letting out a dry laugh. “You’re joking, right?”
Orm smirked. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
Lingling shook her head in disbelief. “So you think you can just throw money at me and expect me to say yes?”
Orm leaned forward slightly, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “That’s how the world works, isn’t it? Money makes things move. And I have a lot of it.”
Lingling stabbed another piece of steak. “Then I guess I’m not part of your world. Because I’m not for sale.”
Orm raised an eyebrow, intrigued. She had expected Lingling to jump at the opportunity—triple her salary, an easier job, no more scrubbing floors. But instead, she was met with defiance.
She rested her chin on her hand, watching Lingling eat, completely unfazed by her presence.
“You’re an interesting one, Lingling.”
Lingling sighed, putting down her fork. “Look, I get it. You’re rich, powerful, and used to getting your way. But I’m not interested in being one of your little projects. I have my own life to live.”
Orm smirked. “So you’d rather spend your days scrubbing floors and serving food to people who don’t even bother looking at you?”
Lingling crossed her arms. “At least I earn it. Every baht I make, I worked for it. Can you say the same?”
For the first time, Orm hesitated.
No one had ever questioned her like that.
She let out a soft laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”
Lingling shrugged. “And you’re persistent.”
Orm raised her glass in a toast. “That, I am.”
Lingling sighed, sipping her water. “Are we done? I agreed to one dinner, and I’m pretty sure we’re past that.”
Orm smiled, swirling her wine.
“Not even close.”
Lingling sighed in frustration, placing her fork down with a soft clink. “You really don’t know how to take no for an answer, do you?”
Orm leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her eyes locked onto Lingling’s with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. “I told you, I always get what I want,” she said with a confident smirk. “And I think you’d be a fool to turn down my offer.”
Lingling let out a dry laugh. “Oh, so now I’m a fool?”
Orm shrugged, swirling the last of her wine in her glass. “Just saying, you’re working yourself to exhaustion for scraps when you could be making triple—no, quadruple—with me. And for what? Pride?”
Lingling’s jaw tightened. “Some people don’t measure everything in money, Orm.”
Orm studied her for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle. “You’re really something else.”
Lingling rolled her eyes. “You keep saying that like it means something.”
“It does.” Orm leaned back, crossing her legs. “Because you’re the first person in a long time who doesn’t seem to care about who I am. And that… is interesting.”
Lingling exhaled sharply, pushing her chair back. “Well, glad to entertain you, Princess. But I have an early shift tomorrow, so this dinner is officially over.”
Orm watched as Lingling grabbed her bag and stood up, ready to leave without a second glance.
But just as Lingling turned her back, Orm’s voice called out—smooth, confident, and unwavering.
“I’ll see you again, Lingling.”
Lingling paused for the briefest moment before scoffing and walking away.
Orm smirked, sipping the last of her wine.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.”