Ever heard the saying "have father when you're ready"? Yeah well… try being me, and you'll understand just how ironic that sounds.
Welcome to S.SongSamSi Gym named after its four co-owners. Yes, four. Yes, all uncles. And no, I don't understand them either because they're literally from another prehistoric era compared to kids like me.
They're all pushing forty, led by none other than Sorapong Sae-Li my dad.
He's Chinese but obsessed with Muay Thai, changed his legal name to something super Thai, married a Thai woman, and voilà produced me, a Thai-Chinese hybrid who somehow ended up tiny and cute instead of buff and macho. I'm Tee Saree Sae-Li, nineteen years old, and small enough that I look like a lost puppy every time I take a group photo with the fighters.
The other three uncles? Their nicknames are literally Two, Three, and Four. No, they're not brothers. No, I don't know why destiny thought that was funny either.
Their personalities? Let's just say only people who share the same brain cells as my dad can get along with my dad. I don't bother trying. Whenever they come over, it's always "let's drink and talk business" which turns into off-key karaoke and me wanting to evaporate from existence.
They're also champion-level freeloaders. The moment the ice runs out or the soda's gone, suddenly everyone's yelling my name like I'm their personal butler and if I don't tip them in snacks, they refuse to move.
Dad had me when he was twenty, still basically a kid himself, zero emotional maturity. So of course everything fell on my mom. She was five years older and pretty much the real head of the household without even realizing she was sick the entire time. Something about her white blood cells…
She passed away when I was seventeen.
Dad never really grew up after that except maybe when it comes to running the boxing gym. But honestly, I can't tell if he's the serious one or if his friends are just worse.
Anyway, because I don't box, all the chores fell on me. I told Dad from day one i hate violence, I hate fighting, and I hate anything that requires throwing punches. So naturally, I ended up doing everything else around here.
Congratulations to me, the heir of a famous boxing gym… who can't throw a punch to save his life.
What do you expect? I just don't like it.
.
.
1:00 AM
"Cheers~~!"
Farmer's House~ Farm House~~~ (yes, that ancient karaoke song )
Ughhh! My eardrums are dying. Seriously.
Old song, off-key voice, and these uncles just REFUSE to go to sleep. What kind of boxers drink like… every damn night?!
"Muay, the snacks are gone."
A heavy hand suddenly landed on my shoulder so heavy that my entire side dipped with it.
I was sitting on a little plastic chair, playing a zombie game with headphones on, so I didn't notice until someone practically poked me from behind. And of course, the giant didn't consider that his hand and my tiny shoulder belong to two entirely different species.
And the way he called me yeah, I didn't even have to look to know who it was…
Uncle See.
The one person I least want to deal with because he's basically the perfect combination of gangster haircut + delinquent aura + walking red flag all packed in one.
He's always hovering around me.
Muay this, Muay that.
Muay, get this.
Muay, hold that.
He says it so often I'm starting to suspect my actual name is Muay.
Sure, Uncle See happens to be the most attractive of the four dinosaurs, But that doesn't make him any less terrifying.
His teenage legend, according to Dad, is nowhere near normal. Dad met him during their vocational school days and apparently these uncles grew up thinking the world was ruled by street thugs. Always fighting, always brawling, always in trouble.
And just look at his face tell me that's not the face of someone who solves every problem with violence. I hate that type the most.
"Uncle See, it's already one in the morning. When are you guys gonna stop drinking?"
I glared up at the drunken giant, annoyance written all over my face.
I was wearing short shorts normal shorts but when I sat down they rode up to my thighs. That was apparently enough to make Uncle See narrow his eyes like I'd committed some kind of dress code violation.
A huge hand suddenly yanked my shorts down, nearly tipping my tiny body right into my game table.
FWIP!
"Hey! Uncle See! Your hands are way too heavy if you're drunk, just go sleep!"
I jumped up from the chair, glaring straight at him… except I still had to tilt my head back because the man was even taller than Dad.
"Your shorts are too short. Why don't you change? There are so many people here."
He said it completely serious, stern even, like I was some kid who refused to study.
I sighed dramatically. He always got chatty when drunk, and always about my clothes. Like, seriously? It's just a loose T-shirt and some comfy shorts. Chill.
"Huh? What, I need long pants just to sleep now? You're ridiculous."
"You're still arguing? This place is full of men. You should be careful."
"But I AM a guy, Uncle. I don't even have boobs."
"Yes, you do. Look—they're pale and pink, too. Can you at least wear something with a higher neckline? I can almost see your belly button from up here."
He even pointed at my chest my completely normal flat chest—and somehow acted like I was flashing him on purpose.