In this world, a beautiful facade is often nothing more than a mask for secrets.
At the Witchakorn Mansion, afternoon sunlight streamed through the glass ceiling of a European-style conservatory set in the garden. Soft murmurs of conversation from distinguished guests, business leaders, politicians, and diplomats drifted through the air. Waitstaff in formal attire poured champagne into crystal flutes and served hors d'oeuvres with practiced ease. Live jazz played softly in the background, adding a layer of calm sophistication to the atmosphere, until the emcee's voice came through the microphone.
"Please welcome our wildlife conservation angel, Khun Fah, or as many of you know her, Khun Rafah Witchakornin, Director of International Communication Strategy for the Suphakiat Wildlife Foundation."
In an instant, silence fell over the room. All eyes turned toward the stage, as everyone waited for the appearance of the evening's central figure.
Rafah Witchakornin.
She stepped onto the stage with effortless elegance. Her off-shoulder white dress accentuated her luminous skin, while her long black hair flowed naturally, complementing her tall, graceful figure and commanding every gaze in the room. Altogether, she looked like a woman sculpted into perfection, almost like a celestial being brought to life.
"I'm Rafah Witchakornin. On behalf of the Suphakiat Wildlife Foundation, founded by my mother, I'm truly honored to welcome all of you tonight.
Over the past decade, the wounds caused by the hunting of endangered wildlife in Thailand have yet to fade. Whether driven by profit on the black market or by personal gratification, we continue to witness these losses again and again. One notable example is the black panther poaching case in a wildlife sanctuary in 2018, which once made national headlines. The person responsible was a high-ranking executive of a major corporation and served only a few years in prison. Yet our country lost a rare and endangered animal... forever.
The question is, are we going to read stories like this with sympathy and sorrow, then let them become just another forgotten page in history... or are we going to choose to be part of the change and help make sure tragedies like this never happen again?
The Suphakiat Wildlife Foundation does not merely save wildlife. We are fighting against the very systems that allow such acts to occur. We work closely with field officers, government agencies, and international partners to address these issues on multiple levels, from supporting on-the-ground operations to advocating for sustainable coexistence between humans and wildlife.
Tonight, you all have a chance to be part of that change, whether through our foundation's support programs or the fundraising activities we've prepared for the next portion of the evening. I sincerely hope that your decisions tonight will help create genuine, lasting change. Thank you."
The moment Rafah finished speaking, applause erupted throughout the venue. The audience looked at her with admiration.
In that instant, Petra finally understood why the media had given Rafah the title of "wildlife conservation angel." Her beauty was every bit as captivating and intoxicating as the rumors claimed.
Petra Jirathawin.
A young woman with soft, delicate features. Her dark brown hair fell smoothly down to the middle of her back. Her large, dark eyes shimmered with quiet intensity, and the slight stubborn lift of her nose hinted at a willful nature beneath her gentle appearance. Her soft pink lips looked unbearably kissable.
Now twenty-six, Petra worked as an independent documentary producer and content creator. She had previously produced content for environmental conservation organizations and regional documentary projects.
Tonight, she was at the Witchakorn Mansion as part of the behind-the-scenes team hired by the foundation to produce content specifically for the event.
In truth, Petra had seen Rafah countless times before through articles and viral clips on social media. She had often admired Rafah's talent and public image. But seeing her in person for the first time tonight, Petra finally understood what it meant when people said someone was so beautiful they almost didn't feel real.
But to Petra, a star that shone so brightly in the sky, a star as far out of reach as Rafah, was meant to be admired from a distance.
Nothing more.
...
After Rafah's opening speech came to an end, Petra began doing her job.
Camera in hand, she moved through the venue, working diligently to capture the atmosphere of the event. Yet her finger, which should have been pressing the shutter, suddenly went still. Her gaze had been caught by someone across the room.
Rafah was speaking with a stunning young woman in a sexy, flame-red dress.
Petra recognized her at once. It was Naphatsorn Sivakan, nicknamed Phat, the heiress of a famous former minister and a woman who seemed to make front-page society news almost every year. But instead of turning her camera toward Naphatsorn, a well-known figure who should have been worth capturing, Petra found her eyes lingering on Rafah for far longer than they should have.
Then, a familiar voice came from beside her.
"You're staring at Khun Rafah so hard your eyes are about to fall out, girl."
Tharin, her best friend and work partner, looked up from the video camera and gave her a teasing smile.
"She's that stunning, right? I was stunned too when I first met Khun Rafah," Tharin said, leaning closer before lowering her voice to a whisper. "No wonder people call her the wildlife conservation angel. Honestly, I want to take her face to a plastic surgeon and use it as a reference. But I'm scared the doctor would take one look at me and say I'd be better off dying and being reborn."
Petra let out a soft laugh at her best friend's joke.
But only a moment later, the sound of her stomach growling in protest interrupted them so abruptly that Tharin snapped her head toward her.
"Was that your stomach? Wait, have you eaten anything since we got here?"
Petra could only give her an awkward smile.
"Not yet…"
"Oh my God, Petra! Why didn't you eat before coming here? You're gonna faint in the middle of the gala at this rate. Don't tell me you were editing that video project all day and forgot to eat."
Petra gave her a sheepish little smile, and Tharin could only sigh.
"Fine. Go find something to eat and sit down for a bit. I'll handle the rest of the stills for you."
After parting ways with Tharin, Petra drifted away from the main event without any real destination in mind. Eventually, she stopped in front of a room inside the Witchakorn Mansion, its door left slightly ajar as if inviting her in. When she peeked inside and saw no one, Petra took the liberty of slipping in quietly and sitting down on the soft sofa to rest. She pulled out the bread she had brought in her bag to stave off her hunger and ate it in silence. But once her stomach was full, her exhausted body gave in. She leaned back against the sofa and, before she knew it, fell asleep.
Petra had no idea how long she had been out. The next thing she knew, she heard footsteps approaching from outside. The sound drew closer and closer. She sprang up in alarm, terrified of being caught hiding in the room without permission. In a panic, she backed away and hid behind the long curtains, squeezing her eyes shut when she heard the door being pushed open.
The first woman to step into the room was Naphatsorn, dressed in that flame-red gown. She was the woman who had been speaking with Rafah earlier.
And the next person who came in was Rafah.
The door was shut and locked behind them at once. Rafah walked in with a glass of wine in her hand and sat down on the sofa, crossing one leg over the other, while Naphatsorn stood in front of her with a seductive smile.
Then Rafah's voice cut through the room.
"Take your dress off."
Naphatsorn immediately slipped the straps of her dress down from her shoulders. The flame-red fabric slid down and pooled around her ankles, revealing her naked body beneath the soft light. Hidden behind the curtain, Petra held her breath, her entire body going rigid as if she had been pinned in place.
"Kneel... then crawl to me. Slowly."
Rafah gave the order again, her voice calm yet filled with authority.
Petra swallowed without realizing it. She watched as Naphatsorn slowly lowered herself onto the carpet, then began crawling toward Rafah exactly as commanded. When she stopped at Rafah's feet, Rafah reached out and lifted her chin. Her long, slender fingers traced along the line of Naphatsorn's face with possessive ease. Naphatsorn tilted her face into Rafah's palm, her eyes glistening.
"Show me how you touch yourself when you think of me."
And in the very next second, Petra almost forgot how to breathe.
She watched a woman of high social standing strip away every trace of dignity and begin touching her own body without a hint of shame.
"This is how I touch myself when I think of you, Khun Rafah."
Petra could hardly believe her eyes. She saw Rafah sitting on the sofa, a satisfied smile curving her lips, as if she were savoring a private performance staged to perfection by the beautiful woman before her.
Petra instinctively took a step back in shock.
But the hem of her skirt caught on the long curtain.
Rip!
The sound of tearing fabric rang through the room. The entire curtain came crashing down, along with Petra as she fell hard onto the floor.
Naphatsorn screamed. She hurriedly snatched up her dress to cover herself in a panic. Petra had not even managed to get up when heavy footsteps approached her.
Rafah stood before her, tall and elegant, her sharp eyes fixed on Petra without blinking.
"Who are you? How the hell did you get in here?"
Petra froze. Then she forced herself to answer, stumbling over her words.
"I... I'm sorry. I got lost. I'll leave right now."
She quickly pushed herself up and tried to slip away, but before she could take even a step past Rafah, Rafah reached out and seized her wrist in a firm grip.
Petra stopped dead, her heart pounding wildly.
Rafah simply stared at her face in silence for a moment before asking, "What's your name?"
"P-Petra."
Rafah merely smiled faintly, her sharp gaze still holding Petra in place.
"Petra. You and I need to have a talk."
.
.
Hojicha Writer
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