The press room buzzed with flashing cameras and shouted questions, but Chaiwat barely listened. Sweat still clung to his skin from the fight, his body aching, his mind steady. Then, in the sea of faces, his gaze caught on one. A boy sat among the crowd, not scribbling notes or snapping photos — just staring at him. Not with the usual admiration, but with something sharper, deeper. For a moment, Chaiwat forgot the noise around him. He couldn’t look away. its you whos looking at Chaiwat
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