Goddess Bless You From Death

Case File 41.

"Huh! HAHAHA! Go ahead, shoot! If you're any slower, she'll kill someone!"

"Darin, put down what you are holding!" Mek looked up before locking the handcuffs onto Bom's hands. "Singh, do something!"

Singha looked at Darin, who tilted her head and smiled at him. His sharp eyes glanced at Isoon before pointing the gun at his forehead.

"Summon your ghost out!"

"No!! HAHAHA! How's that? What can you do now?!! Even if this ritual fails, there will be another chance. Whether inside or outside of prison, nothing can stop me."

Thup noticed that his big brother was slipping his finger into the trigger guard. The young man stepped in and grabbed Singha's arm.

"P'Singh."

"Where's your Buddha amulet?" Singha asked without taking his eyes off the person in front of him.

"It should be around where the others are tied up. I threw it at her earlier."

"Go get it." Thup nodded, looking past Darin to Mek, who was guarding him, before running off to find the amulet as Singha ordered

Singha's blood-and mud-stained shoes, now barely functional, walked towards the altar. He looked at it impassively before turning to Isoon, who was already staring at him.

"Do all shamans have things like this?" The gun's barrel touched a misshapen clay doll, similar to the seven dolls from this case. "Are these the things you worship so devoutly? What happens if they're gone?"

"What are you doing? Those are sacred-"

Bang!!!

Before he could finish, the young inspector swept everything off the table with his foot. Skulls, incense, candles, and offerings all crashed to the ground. Singha then sat in their place.

"What have you done!!!" The former abbot's sanity snapped instantly; his previous mocking demeanour vanished, replaced by a furious face.

"When you became the abbot here, did you ever think about doing this again?"

"I'll kill you! I'll make you suffer the most!" Isoon's face trembled with rage, his eyes bloodshot.

"I guess you used connections to find out about old Khen's gambling and recent prison release. With nowhere to go, you persuaded him to become the temple manager. So when the deed was done, the scapegoat would be ready, right?"

"I'll gouge out your eyes and cut you into pieces!"

"The way you choose victims is probably the same as five and ten years ago when you were a monk elsewhere. Pretending to be a virtuous monk, alleviating villagers' suffering, when in fact, you're just a perverted old man with a stupid idea about prolonging life." Singha propped his elbows on his knees. He needed to keep the bastard's attention so that Thup could find the amulet safely. "Which method was it?"

"You will become a ghost for me to use!"

"Observing people making merit at the temple? Those who recently lost someone important? Those with troubled minds? Those seeking help? Hmm, or those who donate on their birthday?" Singha raised an eyebrow. Seeing the other man silent, he chuckled, "Looks like since you started twenty-five years ago, you‘ve become quite skilled. Before, you just buried bodies under the dining table."

"What did you do... what did you do? Wh-What did you do?"

"Oh, want to know?" Singha smiled before standing up, feeling pain from his waist wound. The anaesthetic was wearing off. He dragged his feet along the inscriptions on the floor, smearing them beyond recognition. "I wrecked everything like I'm doing now; I wrecked it until I saw what was underneath."

"Y-You broke the talismans?"

"Destroyed." Singha turned to Isoon with a grin like the one Isoon used to wear.

Without talismans, there is no confinement. Without confinement, accumulated resentment is unleashed.

Thup, still searching for his amulet, had to feel around in the dark. The light from the candles was gone, plunging the area back into darkness. Only the candles surrounding the ritual site remained, but their light didn't reach here.

"Where are you? Where are you?" Thup looked around, worried about everyone else, Darin, and Singha.

‘Thup.'

"Mom? Mom, is that you?" A faint voice called from behind a pillar.

'Don't come closer, my child. You'll be scared."

"I'm... I'm not scared. I'm not scared anymore."

‘I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I'm sorry, this is all I can do.'

"Mom."

'You've grown up so well'

Thup felt his eyes burn with tears. The voice was filled with sobs. He had once been terrified of the ghostly figure in front of him, but now he walked towards her without fear.

"Can you talk to me, Mom? I've never seen you up close, never talked to you... never called you Mom."

“That's the amulet you're looking for."

Thup turned to look at his Buddha amulet lying under the rope. When he looked back behind the pillar, he found only emptiness. The shaman had told him that the spirit following him wasn't out to take his life, wasn't haunting him, and didn't want him to be engulfed in fear.

Instead, it was a spirit watching over him with concern. That spirit... was his mother.

"Darin, it's me, Mek! Can you hear me? It's Mek, the one you always scold!" Mek tried to coax Darin into setting down the glass shards in her hand. He was confused by the situation but had to do his duty. Both as a policeman and a friend

"No Darin! No Darin!!!"

"What do you mean, no, Darin?! Are you lost? If you're not Darin, who are you!!" Mek shouted in frustration, pointing at the person approaching him, his expression confused. "We're about to die, and you're still messing around!!"

"Die."

"Don't repeat my words!!"

"Die." This time, Mek had to quickly retreat as Darin lunged at him with the sharp glass shard raised. "Die! Die! Die! Die! Die!"

"Damn it!" Mek couldn't shoot back or hit her. He was too ashamed to hurt a woman. He dodged and weaved, but the person in front of him seemed unnaturally fast. His fine clothes started to tear, and blood seeped from his wounds. Distracted by cursing and dodging the attacks, Mek didn't see behind him. He tripped over King and fell flat on his back.

"Is this my fate? Working comfortably at a desk with air conditioning wasn't enough?!"

As the sharp glass shard was about to stab him, Thup ran up behind Darin, slipping the amulet around her neck and pulling her away from the others.

"P'Darin! Listen to me! This isn't you! You're kind-hearted and would never hurt your friends, no matter how scared you are," Thup pleaded, dodging the sharp glass shards in her small hand. "And you, you have no right to be in this body, no right to harm the living!"

Thup grabbed Darin's neck, tightening the necklace around her throat. The choking sounds she made were a good sign; a spirit in a human body is no different from a person. If the body dies, the spirit can't remain. He had to take the risk.

"Yaneetha Bhutani Samakatani Bhummani Wayaniwa Antalikke Sappae Wabhuta Sumana Bhavamtu Athopi Sakkacha Sunantu Bhasitang."

Thup recited the Ratana Sutta that Luang Pu had taught him when he was young. Even though it was a shortened version, its power to ward off spirits remained potent.

Aaaaaahhhh!'

A final scream echoed before Darin collapsed onto Thup's chest. He quickly loosened his grip to lay her down flat and checked her chest for movement. Thup licked his dry lips and turned to Mek for help.

"She's not breathing! 'Darin's not breathing!"

"Oh sh*t!" Mek muttered, rushing over to check her pulse before starting CPR. "Wake up, Rin! You owe me a new outfit!!"

Meanwhile, Singha was in a tense standoff. The more the young inspector pressured and taunted him, the closer the former abbot Isoon was to breaking down.

"What now, Abbot? No, I mean Mr Isoon. The ritual's a failure. Your son is handcuffed and barely conscious, and you're in no better shape. Let's end this now."

"If my son and I don't make it out of here..." Isoon used his bound hands to pick up a knife from the floor and stab his own arm. Blood dripped onto a broken-neck doll, and eight of the nine candles slowly extinguished, leaving only one glowing in the darkness. Singha squinted, realising Isoon was no longer alone. A charred girl ghost with burnt, cracked skin revealing red flesh and bulging eyes stood on his shoulder, staring at Singha. "No one will survive."

The candle flickered out, plunging them into darkness. Singha raised his gun and focused. Before the light was out, he was sure that Thup was approaching this way. He couldn't let the kid encounter the crazy monk with a knife in his hand.

Click!

The sound of the handcuffs being unlocked echoed through the silence, making Singha curse under his breath. He tried to move as quietly as possible, fearing that any noise might give away his position to the assailant. He knew that the kid was probably doing the same.

Thup also tried to be as quiet as possible because he didn't want to make another mistake that could hurt Singha again. As he was sweeping his hand through the darkness, a cold hand suddenly grasped his. It wasn't Singha's hand, nor the villain's, nor a living human's. Judging by the gentle way it guided him through the darkness, he guessed that this pair of hands could belong to nobody else.

"P'Singh."

Thup's chest bumped into someone's back. Having been together for a while, he immediately knew who it was in front of him.

"Quiet." Thup sighed in relief before grabbing the back of the older brother's shirt to keep from getting separated again. He wanted to hug him, but after what they had been through, he knew that the Singha was already covered in wounds. He wouldn't do anything that could cause the person in front of him any more pain.

"Find a match! I saw it drop around here somewhere."

Thup nodded, even though the older brother couldn't see him. He crouched down slowly and started feeling around on the ground. He didn't want to think too much about what he might be touching.

"Here.”

The familiar voice and the matchbox in his hand made Thup smile. He stood upright once more and struck a match. The small light allowed them to see a short distance, but it was enough—enough to see dozens of ghosts standing around them.

Judging by their appearance, none of them was spirits that died on time or followed the cycle of life. They were all vengeful spirits bound by the father and son for their use. Each one looked hungry, in pain, and suffering, whether from the remaining desires or by straying from their true path.

"P'Singh, do you trust me?"

"What are you planning?" The match flame dimmed, and darkness returned. Singha shielded Thup, knowing the light had given away their position.

"Please trust me."

"Alright, tell me what to do." Singha felt the arms wrapped around his chest and the warm breath on his neck. It didn't make him pull away; instead, he focused on listening to what the kid behind him was about to say.

"Repeat after me: Namo Tassa Bhagavato Arahato

Sammasambuddhassa."

"...Namo Tassa Bhagavato Arahato Sammasambuddhassa."

"Namo Tassa Bhagavato Arahato Sammasambuddhassa."

"Itipiso Bhagawa Yammarachano Thao Wessuwanno."

"Maranang Sukang Ahang Sugato Namo Buddhaya."

"Don't shoot."

Singha frowned slightly, not understanding what the young man behind him was trying to convey. It wasn't until Thup struck another match that everything became clear to Singha. The ghosts that had surrounded them earlier were gone, leaving only Isoon, who was brandishing a knife above his head and running towards them.

"Thup!" Singha called out, aiming his gun forward. If he didn't shoot now, they were dead for sure.

"When he starts everything, he must end everything he has done." Thup pulled a glass bottle from the pocket of his hoodie and hurled it at Isoon with all his strength.

"Ji Jeruni, Jittang Jetisikan Roopang Nibbanang, Thapanamataychodhatu Teekang Vakasachapha Akachami."

As soon as the bottle shattered, the smell of blood filled the area. The candlelight brightened once more, and Isoon's body was drenched in thick blood, flowing from his head down to his face. Thup pulled Singha away from the scene. He hadn't intended to resort to this because it would have been harmful to everyone. That bottle had been acquired at the cost of his own blood from the home of a shaman, and that chant was obtained from a forbidden book of Luang Pu when he visited the temple. It is the same chant that all the victims had recited to summon spirits into their homes. All of this was done to deliver retribution to a single person.

"Wh-what is this!? What's going on?"

"Period blood."

"What!!? NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!" Isoon tried to wipe the blood off his face, inadvertently dropping the knife in his hand.

"You took their lives," Thup said, biting his lip and looking ahead—the spirits of those who had been killed surrounded Isoon with unforgiving expressions. With the weakening of the black magic, there was nothing left to protect him. "They will take your life in return."

"No! No! No! Aaaaahhh!!"

Thup turned away from the scene. Singha watched Isoon running around as if fleeing from something invisible. He stumbled over ceremonial items and fell to the ground. The man, desperately crawling away, was pulled back to his original spot. His body began to show severe lacerations. His eyes gradually bulged out as if being gouged by unseen hands.

Red threads stitched across his lips, silencing his painful screams that echoed throughout the mill. Soon, his lips were silent, leaving only a gurgling sound in his throat. His eyes, once seeing, were torn out and fell to the floor. The last thing Isoon saw was the furious spirits of the lives he had taken. The pain and suffering his victims had endured returned to him in equal measure. Red threads pierced through his skin all over, covering almost his entire body, with blood pouring out like the blood of animals used in rituals. Isoon writhed until his last breath. A final breath worth nothing to anyone.

Singha lightly stroked the arm, hugging himself before resting his head wearily on Thup's shoulder. The long case that had taken countless lives was finally over. Now he could sleep soundly. As he walked towards Isoon's lifeless body to ensure he was truly dead, the sound of distant sirens made him turn with relief.

"Thup, take Darin out. Mek, take King out. I'll handle the rest."

"Fine, you jerk! I'm hurt, and now I have to carry people too," Mek grumbled out of habit.

"P'Singh, wear this in case any spirits I summoned are still lingering," Thup said, approaching his big brother and putting the Buddhist amulet around his neck.

"You wear it."

"Return it to me later, please."

"Alright, alright."

"Thank you for helping me... and all of us."

"Mm," Singha responded briefly. He looked at Thup and walked closer, wrapping his strong arms around the younger man's neck and gently stroking his soft brown hair.

"I heard you call out for Mom."

"..Yes."

"I'm sorry."

Thup paused before carefully hugging Singha back. There were no words, only a warm embrace that spoke for them at this moment.

Singha watched the backs of Thup and Mek as they carried Darin and King out. Both were in bad shape, especially Darin. Leaving her here wouldn't be a good idea. Once everyone had left, the young inspector surveyed the damage, including the lifeless body of his loyal subordinate.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Khem." Singha sighed and then thought of something. He turned to look at Isoon's corpse again and saw that it was still there. It still existed...

The handcuffs were still on. So the ones that came off were...

"Because... of you." A faint, sobbing voice made Singha look up.

"Because of you."

Bom, standing near a haystack by the wall, spoke with tears streaming down his face. One hand held a lighter, and the other had a gallon of gasoline. He poured the gas out, letting it flow onto his father's corpse, then threw the lighter down, igniting everything in flames.