Chapter 2

    The next morning, the bathroom mirror reflected the youthful, delicate face of a twenty-three-year-old man on the cusp of turning twenty-four.

    Seecha’s bangs were tied up into a small, fountain-like tuft with a few strands fanning out. His smooth, narrow forehead gleamed under the bathroom light, shining brightly.

    The mirror revealed a single father standing there in a white T-shirt layered under a green jacket, paired with ripped, faded jeans. His appearance was spry and pleasing to the eye, a stark contrast to his earlier struggles to fit into such snug pants. However, not long after giving birth to Little Shark, he could wear these pants again. He even developed a newfound curve to his hips and a firmer rear that surprised even himself.

    He turned left and right, admiring his reflection, marveling aloud, “Looking great.”

    Today was a good day—it marked his first day back at work after taking a three-month hiatus. Surviving on nothing but instant noodles and boiled eggs during his recovery had drained not only his energy but also his wallet.

    Thinking of the money he so desperately needed, Seecha took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and muttered repeatedly, “You can do this, you can do this…”

    He shook his small fist lightly a few times to rally his spirits, then opened his eyes, determination blazing in them.

    “For my child’s tuition, the debt, and food—don’t forget it, Seecha!”

    He nodded to himself, slapped his cheeks until they turned red, and darted into the kitchen with renewed vigor. Quickly, he gathered a few essential bottles of milk and water into a tote bag. Stepping out into the center of the room, the sight before him made him break into an even wider smile.

    Wriggle.

    Little Shark was squirming adorably in his own battle-ready outfit. While his face remained somewhat blank, his movements showed he was ready to face anything.

    Today, Little Shark wore a light-colored long-sleeve shirt and pants. His overwhelming cuteness came from the ensemble Seecha himself had lovingly put together!

    Puffing his chest with pride at his handiwork, Seecha adjusted the tote bag filled with bottles, then slung on a kangaroo-style baby carrier. With a determined stride, he picked up his chubby son and lifted him high into the air, mimicking Simba from The Lion King.

    “All right. Ready to go make snack money with Dad?!”

    Little Shark, delighted by his elevated position, swung his tiny arms forward and displayed a fierce expression of determination.

    The powdered milk warrior let out a cry:

    “Ahh!”

    “Oh!”

    The small motorcycle roared onto the morning streets. The clear, open sky overhead gave the impression of an ocean blanketing the city.

    Puffs of smoke billowed from the old exhaust, while the second-hand engine sputtered with a rhythmic clatter as it sped forward.

    Seecha had managed to snag this motorcycle at an incredibly cheap price, though he had no idea when it might finally give up on him. For now, it had served him faithfully for an entire year and still packed a punch. He washed and wiped the motorcycle down two or three times a week, treating it like his second child. The thought of it breaking down and leaving him would have been heartbreaking.

    A name badge was pinned on the left of his chest, showing number 11410 Seecha Runcharoen, Secondary Gender: Omega (?), which swayed lightly with the movement of the motorcycle.

    “...”

    The wind whipped against the helmet, creating a soft rattling noise as it clashed with the oncoming gusts, producing a flapping, whistling sound.

    The road ahead bustled with vehicles, resembling a school of fish darting to and fro. Seecha glanced down at his chest, where a tiny helmet perched on the head of his son, who sat snugly in a blue kangaroo-style baby carrier.

    A small smile tugged at Seecha’s lips. He briefly let go of one handlebar, flipping up the visor of his helmet to reveal Little Shark’s wide-eyed, fascinated expression.

    Seeing his son’s face, Seecha teased,

    “Little Shark, don’t open your mouth too wide, or your gums might dry out.”

    He raised his voice slightly, and in response, Little Shark gurgled nonsensically, clearly enjoying himself. Of course, he didn’t understand his father’s warning because he was already doing exactly that—mouth wide open, gulping air like he couldn’t stop, and his gums stuck when he closed his mouth.

    Seecha caught a glimpse of his son’s reflection in the rearview mirror and let out a chuckle. He steered steadily with one hand while using the other to gently close Little Shark’s mouth.

    He raised his voice more as he laughed, “See? I told you so.”

    As Seecha lowered the visor again, peace returned to Little Shark’s view. For a moment, the baby puckered his lips, clearly displeased, as if ready to protest. However, his attention was quickly diverted by the life teeming around him.

    Quietly fascinated, Little Shark took in the wide world with curiosity.

    “Good boy. Stay calm and behave,”

    Seecha praised his son as he accelerated slightly.

    Ding!

    [Status: Ready for Delivery]

    Switching to a different map section, the next destination wasn’t far—less than an hour away.

    At a sandy beach, waves crashed against rocks, carrying the salty scent of the sea. Fishing boats were scattered across the horizon, slowly making their way to shore.

    A wide shot revealed the back of a mysterious man standing with his hands on his hips, looking solemn.

    Though young, the man carried himself with a presence that demanded respect. Dressed simply in a white T-shirt layered under a Hawaiian shirt, paired with shorts and flip-flops, his stoic expression added an air of credibility far beyond his years.

    One fisherman jumped off a small boat and approached the younger man barefoot, his feet were pale and waterlogged. He stopped before his boss with visible respect.

    “It’s back again, sir. We don’t know where it came from, but it’s been tangling up our nets and causing chaos,”

    He reported, pointing toward the damage. Other fishermen unfolded the nets to inspect them, their faces weary. The large, gaping holes were extensive, rendering more than half of the nets unusable. This wasn’t unusual—it happened almost every day, especially during this season.

    Without even exchanging glances, Tithnuea, shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand, scanning the area with sharp eyes. Though young, he didn’t lack experience.

    “How many fish got away?”

    “All of them, sir. We just managed to pull out that white shark a moment ago.”

    Lately, the white shark had been lingering around, causing no small amount of trouble each time.

    Tithnuea sighed heavily. “Never mind. Next time, we’ll relocate to that area over there,” he said. “Most of the time, it sticks around here and doesn’t bother the waters behind the rocks.”

    This juvenile shark seemed to be exploring the world for the first time, wreaking havoc wherever it went.

    Tithnuea remarked briefly, “It’s still young. Once it grows, it’ll move on.”

    The fisherman chuckled wryly, half-joking as he replied, “I’m afraid it’ll bring its friends next time, sir. By then, we might have to relocate our entire operation.” Scratching his head, the fisherman walked off, hollering orders to his crew as they scrambled to salvage what they could.

    Tithnuea’s dark eyes lingered on the plump man for a moment before shifting to the waves. A large wave rolled forward, rising high before crashing ashore, soaking the sand, which dried quickly under the sun.

    Not far from the shore, a medium-sized creature swam leisurely, its tail moving gently as if it had no care in the world. It seemed utterly unbothered by the chaos it had caused.

    “Should we catch it and fillet it?” Tithnuea shook his head wearily. “What a troublemaker.”

    With nothing else to oversee, he prepared to return to his office. The frozen seafood facility was only a five-minute walk from the beach.

    But just as he was about to take his first step, his gaze still fixed on the waves, a deep, familiar voice called out from the distance.

    Tithnuea turned to look.

    “Nuea! Hey, Nuea! Over here!”

    A booming voice echoed before the figure came into view, as if amplified by a megaphone.

    The image revealed a strikingly handsome young man of mixed heritage, waving enthusiastically with one hand while clutching a bag of deep-fried bananas in the other. As he ran and hopped along, the bag swung wildly with his movements.

    The man wore an official badge pinned to his black uniform, and his strong legs beneath skinny-fit trousers propelled him forward with an exuberance that matched the bright, sunny expression on his face—a second sun, almost.

    Tithnuea squinted, shielding his eyes with one hand, his brows furrowing. With a hand on his hip, he muttered under his breath,

    “What’s his deal?”