Plan B to U

Chapter 4 - Hunt, Dare, You

 

A new morning arrived with sunlight stabbing at my eyes. I cracked them open, sat up, and gave a lazy little stretch. My head was still pounding. I'd just realised I'd passed out on the sofa instead of dragging myself upstairs to bed. Luckily, it was a Sunday, so there wasn't much of a rush, though I still had to dig myself up and shower.

 

The cold water did its job, and freshness returned. I padded downstairs, and that's when my eyes caught the beer-box cardboard, ripped to pieces on the floor. I stepped closer for a look, and an unforgivably terrible spelling job stared back at me.

 

FRAWDSTUR my ass! It's FRAUD' genius. Can a person really get that dumb when they're drunk?

 

Too mortified to keep looking at it, I flipped the cardboard over, fished around for a pen, and bent down to write something new.

 

'House for sale. Interested? Call 087-xxxxxxx."

 

Once that was done, I carried it out and hung it in front of the house, snapped a photo, and uploaded it to a real estate buy-and-sell group — desperately hoping someone would bite.

 

Plan one of the new mornings: done. I headed back inside for plan two: preparing offerings for the monks. Not like I'd been racking up merit points this lifetime either.

 

Usually, I'm busier stacking up bad karma, so I figured I'd better do something to balance the scales a little.

 

The housing office had announced that monks would be doing their alms round in the morning out in front of the estate a fair distance from my place. Too lazy to walk, so I hopped on the motorbike and buzzed over to save time. I stood there with my offerings, and the monks arrived right on time.

 

"Ayu vanno sukham balam."

 

Kneeling, I pressed my palms together in a wai to receive the blessing, and while I was at it, I silently prayed that Mom and Dad would be at peace in whatever universe they were in now.

 

"Sadhu~"

 

Just as I moved to sit under a tree to pour the dedication water, a corner of my eye caught a familiar figure half-jogging out of the clubhouse in workout gear. My target had shown up and practically delivered himself to me. I grabbed the motorbike and scooter-pushed it straight toward him. Krich turned and looked startled. I seized the moment and got a few choice sarcastic words in.

 

"How annoying. I go to all the trouble of making merit thinking I'd run into something good, and instead I end up seeing..." I squinted at him, going for the psychological warfare angle.

 

"Then the merit's clearly working because I am the good thing you're talking about." He actually fought back. Annoyingly quick with the comebacks.

 

"Excuse me while I throw up."

 

Krich didn't even flinch. He kept walking along the footpath, though he slowed his pace. I pushed the unstarted bike alongside him, keeping close. "Can I ask something, old man? How come you haven't been ordering food lately?"

 

"Miss me?" He gave me these flirty eyes. Dangerous, honestly.

 

"Yeah. Life's been too quiet. No one to yell at." 

 

If I hadn't gotten blackout drunk last night and showed up at his doorstep, I probably wouldn't have seen him at all, even though I'd signed up for literally every food delivery apP just to intercept him.

 

"Sorry to hear that. You won't be getting the chance to yell at me for a while. I've been learning to cook for myself lately."

 

"No way."

 

"Way"

 

"What if I became your personal cook? You wouldn't have to tire yourself out in the kitchen. I guarantee full effort, and my rates are pretty reasonable too."

 

"Save the shallow scheme for someone else." 

 

He turned to look at me as he said it, and then that handsome face of his moved in too close, forcing me to lean back a little.

 

"People like you are painfully easy to read. Right now you're in your head cooking up some revenge plan against me."

 

Says who. I'm a very complex person, for your information.

 

"You're way too cynical. I'm just trying to be nice and helpful."

 

"Don't need it."

 

"I ran into your parents last night. Do they drop by often?" The personal-cook angle wasn't going to work. Better to fish for private info instead. Maybe that way I'd stop accidentally going after the son and running into his parents. I was sick of being dragged off for attitude adjustments.

 

"None of your business."

 

"How do you usually clean the house? It's a big place."

 

"Thinking about applying to be my cleaning man now? Hard pass."

 

"What about a driver? Do you have one?"

 

"I drive myself."

 

"A gardener then? I study digital media — but I trim trees beautifully."

 

"What does that have to do with your major?"

 

"Some people are just gifted." Full marks for logic, right? But I still didn't have enough intel on this guy, so I kept gently probing. "What do you do for work, anyway?"

 

"Don't go quiet on me, that's just rude." I faked a sad face. I still hadn't found this guy's weak spot. But if I at least knew where he worked, a lot of things would get easier, like blasting his fraud scheme to his whole office, reporting to his boss that there was a dishonest, deceitful, shady employee in the company, and arguing that keeping him on staff would only damage the organisation.

 

My head was spinning with schemes. The only thing missing was information.

 

"Going by current visual evidence, handsome, cool, big house, flashy car, if I had to guess, I'd say... mafia."

 

Krich stopped walking. I stopped pushing the bike. We locked eyes. A beat of dead air hung between us. Wait, was the reason he looked so stunned because I'd actually guessed right?

 

"You've been watching too many dramas."

 

Phew. That possibility was eliminated on the spot. If he actually were mafia, I'd definitely be near the top of the hit list.

 

"Well, I can't guess right, so just tell me."

 

"Give it up. It's not going to work."

 

"Okay, okay, after a lot of sitting-around thinking, lying-down thinking, feet-on-forehead thinking, I've concluded I've probably been messing with you too much." 

 

Krich narrowed his eyes like he was calculating what angle I was coming from next.

 

"Look, all you need to do is give me the contact number for the aunt's daughter. I'll handle everything else myself."

 

"I already told you, she moved abroad. She's barely keeping it together after losing her mother. She's not going to have the bandwidth to deal with messy business back in Thailand."

 

"But I just lost my dad too. You think I'm not heartbroken?"

 

Just me, alone. Struggling alone. And right now, completely at a loss about how to handle any of this. Partly my own fault for not doing my homework. I wanted a house; I decided fast; I made no backup plan. Now the money's gone, work is grinding, next term I have to do an internship, and on top of all that, the weird stuff in the house won't stop haunting me.

 

Sometimes I think - just run from every problem, get wasted at 'Boo's bar from morning to night, let myself completely fall apart. Might be easier.

 

"Can I ask, setting aside the ghost thing, why did you decide to buy the house in the first place?"

 

Such a simple question...

 

"Because it was my dream home."

 

"Wouldn't you regret giving it back?"

 

Of course I'd regret it. But what could I do? I wanted a home that wasn't just beautiful but peaceful, somewhere to rest on exhausting days, somewhere I could eat well and actually sleep, and, if I was ever hurting, a safe space to hide away from the outside world.

 

All those answers went around in my head, but in the end I didn't say any of them. Even so, he seemed to see right through me.

 

"Are you free tomorrow night?"

 

"Huh?"

 

"Are you free or not? Let's prove once and for all whether the house is actually haunted or whether it's all in your head."

 

"Why can't it be tonight?"

 

"I have work."

 

"It's Monday, then. You better not bail."

 

"Mm."

 

"Pinky promise first, then." Without waiting, I stuck out my pinky like a little kid. That made Krich freeze. He didn't move, just stared at me. 

 

"Come on, old man, my hand is getting tired."

 

In the end, he couldn't refuse. He gave in and reached out to hook his pinky with mine.

 

"Happy now?"

 

"Extremely. So that's a yes. What time should we meet?"

 

"Time doesn't exist, yet we can control it."

 

"Oh, come on!!"

 

He'd definitely been watching too many films.

 

"Your views are absolutely dead, man. I've been dropping the link everywhere, sharing it in like ten other groups; nothing's working."

 

"I've made my peace with it."

 

Em was hunched over his phone checking feedback on the ghost-story podcast, eyebrows knotted together. The three of us leaned against the railing on the Fine Arts building balcony, gazing down at the flow of people below. Some faces were beaming, some animated with fun, some looked half-asleep like they'd been running on no sleep for ages. Me? I was drowning in it.

 

"Have you called into 'Job's show again? Just lie and say it's a sequel."

 

"Agreed. You get it, right? Creaking sounds and the lights going out aren't spicy enough to go mass. You need to go full dramatic, like the aunt's ghost showed up, tongue out and eyes rolling, coming for your life. The more over-the-top, the better." 

 

And there was Nikm, the ever-enthusiastic story scriptwriter.

 

"That won't work. I'd probably end up getting sued by the owner's kid."

 

"So have you actually found any of this Krich guy's weak spots yet?"

 

"Nope." Zero leverage. Can't take legal action. Can't even annoy him effectively. Since nothing's working, all I want at this point is for us to go down in flames together.

 

"You know, now that I think about it, he has a point. Ghosts can't be proven. Maybe you're just psyching yourself out."

 

"Hey, are you taking his side now, Em?"

 

"I'm not. Just raising the question." He was trying to find reasons to be rational. I used to think positively too that there was probably nothing until a full combo of mind-messing events left me completely shaken.

 

"When my dad passed, he literally possessed you two."

 

"That was me acting, though."

 

"Ugh."

 

"Sleeping that paranoid, is your body even holding up?"

 

"It's holding. Just tired from jolting awake in the middle of the night."

 

"Well, while the house situation is still unresolved, I'd recommend finding a partner to sleep with you for company" 

 

Easy advice to give. Absolute nightmare to actually do.

 

"I thought I was dumb, but apparently there's someone dumber. If dating someone were that easy, would I still be single? Having you two come sleep over and ghost-hunt with me would be easier than that."

 

"I'd love to, but you've got to stand on your own two feet, man." Em slapped my shoulder with this smug little grin.

 

He was obviously scared of ghosts, his head practically shrinking into his neck. All talk, this one.

 

"Can't rely on either of you; forget it. At least tonight I won't be lonely by myself, because the old man is coming over to ghost-hunt with me"

 

"Who's the 'old man'?"

 

"Krich."

 

"Good luck. May you find no ghosts. May your love last forever."

 

I wanted to roll my eyes so hard. These two got worse every day.

 

Class ended at five in the evening. Life's schedule ran on. But I'd barely gotten through two part-time delivery orders when a Line notification from Krich came in; he'd set the ghost-hunt for seven PM. So I headed straight home, as quickly as I could.

 

Rain had started sprinkling since early evening. Once home, I rushed to shower and change, then waited for my adversary to arrive.

 

With the rain still coming down, I moved to the sofa to wait for the old man. The more I looked out the window, the less peaceful it felt,  just this hollow sensation. So this is loneliness, huh...

 

I used to think that once I had my own place, I'd soak up happiness. Curled up in the living room reading, watching the view outside, watching movies late at night with a big bag of popcorn, making simple food when I got hungry, filming vlogs to make my friends jealous every day.

 

But reality turned out to be completely different. I barely spent any time at home except to crash and sleep. On a normal day, part-time work already wore me out. But even when I wasn't working, I'd rather be at uni anyway.

 

The reason was simple: there were people there. Here, there was no one. There was one thing, though, that made the loneliness fade and left me feeling a little better. It was when I got to be properly pissed off at someone. And that someone was Krich.

 

How long I sat sinking into the emptiness, I couldn't say. What pulled me back to the present was the doorbell, the signal that my enemy had arrived.

 

I bounced off the sofa and dashed to open the gate. When I saw the tall figure standing there holding an umbrella, I greeted him in my usual way, the middle finger.

 

"Damn little brat."

 

He said this while parking the umbrella in the carport, then walked straight into the house without waiting to be invited. On top of that, he was carrying bags of food and headed directly to the kitchen with the ease of someone who lived there. Whose house was this, exactly?

 

"Just finished work? How'd you get here?"

 

"Rode over on the security guard's bicycle."

 

"You didn't drive your own car?"

 

"Too risky. Scared you'd key it"

 

"Who would actually do something that awful?"

 

(I had, in fact, had that exact plan. But why would I admit it?) Smoothly changing subjects. 

 

"What's all that you're carrying?"

 

"Dinner. Want to eat together?"

 

"No. And this is my house; if I don't give permission, you can't eat here."

 

"Okay." Like we were speaking different languages.

 

He never listened; he was already pulling out plates, bowls and cutlery without asking me a single thing. This comfortable in someone else's kitchen? Maybe he should move in, and I'll move to his place.

 

"Rude. I say we hurry up and do the ghost-hunting."

 

"It's barely evening. If there really is a ghost, do you think they'd bother appearing right now?" 

 

I had no comeback. Fair point.

 

"Then go back home first. Come back when it's late."

 

"This spot is a favourite of mine. The aunt used to cook in here, and I'd stand and watch. The uncle liked gardening. Even though the kids were all grown and didn't visit often, trust me, those two were happy."

 

I was starting to clock his pattern. Krich always used the same move: whenever he didn't want to argue, he'd switch topics with a straight face and leave you floundering until you completely forgot what you'd even been discussing.

 

Was he a debater in school or something? Way too slick for his own good.

 

"And the uncle you mentioned, where did he go?"

 

"He passed less than two years before my aunt."

 

Fantastic. This house might actually have more than one ghost.

 

I edged closer to the tall figure with my heart pounding. He was plating the food he'd brought, and the aroma was already drifting over and hitting my nose. Oh wow, an absolute spread of good stuff: giant king prawns, crispy pork belly, saucy chicken, every dish calling out to my appetite.

 

"You're going to eat all that alone?" I probed.

 

"Hence the invitation. So, eating or not?"

 

"Fine, only because you asked." Taking back what I said earlier about not eating. I shouldn't have blurted that out in the first place.

 

We set the table and sat across from each other, eating and talking. I'd naturally sworn to myself about a hundred times already that I wouldn't soften toward my enemy's persuasions. Because whenever the chance came, I had to mess with him.

 

"Your place barely has any stuff in it."

 

"I sold everything before I moved."

 

As he spoke, his eyes were still fixed on the big grilled prawn, already making his move with the fork. Turned out we had the same thought: he went for the head with his fork while I stabbed the tail.

 

"If you wanted the tail, you should've said so." 

 

He then cut the prawn with the serving spoon and divided it up.

 

Summary: I got only the tail. He ate the whole body. Absolute demon behaviour.

 

"From what I remember, you're in your fourth year, right?"

 

"Mm."

 

"Use a proper sentence."

 

I looked up a little, giving him a flat, unimpressed look, while my hands kept darting in to grab the good stuff.

 

"Mm, sir."

 

Under the table, it was a full-blown war. We were both kicking each other back and forth. Nobody was sitting in peace; that was certain.

 

"People your age are usually still in the trial-and-error phase. You don't often meet someone who's already planning to buy a house and put down roots."

 

"My life has always been rental rooms. I just wanted a home to call my own."

 

"You said your dad's insurance money all went into this house. What's your backup plan?"

 

"What backup plan?"

 

"For when an emergency comes, and you need money."

 

"There isn't one."

 

Both hands kept moving, scooping rice into my mouth without a care, leaving the bag, setting off an alarm for the person across from me.

 

"If you don't have a full-time job because you haven't graduated yet, what part-time work are you doing?"

 

"Right now I'm only a food delivery rider, so I can keep harassing you."

 

"Doesn't that wear you out? Riding in the heat, and motorbikes are dangerous."

 

"It does. But with the tips customers give, it's worth it." I wiggled my eyebrows with a self-satisfied grin, puffing out my chest with pride. 

 

"Luckily I'm good-looking, so I make a living off my face."

 

Krich pulled a face. The kind that made me want to smack him with a chicken drumstick.

 

After that he asked me a lot of questions, something he'd never shown any inclination to do before. Meanwhile, I knew basically nothing about him, except that I'd met his parents and been summoned for an attitude adjustment the week before.

 

"So what do you actually do for work, old man?"

 

"Do you genuinely want to know?"

 

"Yeah, I do."

 

"Look me in the eye."

 

"Stop deflecting."

 

Krich showed no sign of caving. He shifted his attention to the food on his plate, and the conversation stalled. Silence settled between us for a stretch. After a while, the low voice finally came.

 

"Would you believe me if I told you that actually I'm..."

 

".." And the answer that followed made my eyes go wide in shock.

 

"Mafia."

 

I froze.

 

One answer and everything stopped. I accidentally dropped my spoon. Then the fork. And then myself.

 

CRASH!!

 

"Why did you turn the lights off?"

 

"If all the lights are blazing, do you think a ghost would actually show up?"

 

"I'm just... scared..."

 

The ghost-hunting mission kicked off at around nine PM. The whole house was pitch-black, with only the flashlights on our phones to keep us from walking into things.

 

Krich led while I followed behind, on edge. Our destination was the second floor, the source of one of the main problems. But as we passed the landing, I immediately grabbed the back of his shirt as hard as I could. Ugh… I really don't do well in the dark.

 

"You've stretched out my whole shirt. Stay still and tell me where it feels off."

 

"Right here. Cold spot, the coldest point in the house." I pointed to the landing. Krich looked left, looked right, scanned top to bottom, sweeping his flashlight around, searching for anything unusual.

 

"I found it."

 

"A ghost?! Buddho, Dhammo, Sangho!!"

 

No time to hesitate. I lunged and clung onto him.

 

Good thing he didn't kick me down the stairs; he just stood there letting me hold on, waiting until the panic faded before he explained.

 

"The large window, the frame's solid wood. When the wood contracts, gaps open up and wind and rain pass right through, making it colder than usual. Also, the morning sun faces this side, so it doesn't heat up as much as the other half of the house."

 

['A Pali Buddhist recitation invoking the Triple Gem: the Buddha, the Dhamma (teaching), and the Sangha (monastic community). Commonly chanted in Thailand as a protective phrase when frightened.]

 

 

Full rational theory delivered. I listened without arguing, half-convinced, half-sceptical.

 

"That sounds reasonable, but there's something even more supernatural than that." 

 

I slowly pointed up toward the upstairs bathroom, the creepy spot that had been welcoming me since move-in day.

 

The tall figure led the way. I still refused to let go, just migrated from gripping his shirt to gripping the waistband of his jeans. Krich turned and swatted my hand away, but I wasn't letting go no matter what. He let out a heavy sigh and walked to the bathroom.

 

The moment he pushed the door wide open, a sharp cold rush hit us both in the face.

 

"I hear weird sounds coming from in here up every night; it's gotten to where I'm scared to shower." 

 

When I did shower, it had to be before it got too late, or I'd do it at full speed, basically what could only be described as 'running through water.?

 

"Pass me a ladder."

 

"I don't have one. Will a chair work?"

 

"Not tall enough."

 

"You're nearly 190 cm tall, and a chair still isn't enough for you?"

 

"The ceiling is high, and I also need to lean out through the ventilation window to see. Otherwise, I won't know what's on the other side." 

 

I believed him instantly. He was a master persuader. Everything he said came out sounding so reasonable I couldn't find a counter-argument.

 

"Okay. So what do I have to do?" We locked eyes. A moment of heavy silence...

 

I should never have asked—big mistake. I could've just run over to the neighbour's house and borrowed a ladder, but no, I had to go and trust this guy's silver tongue. By the time I realised what was happening, I'd already sold my body and soul to someone like him.

 

"Shift left a bit."

 

"Ow, you're massive, you're heavy!"

 

"Now right. Hold on properly; if I fall, it's on you." 

 

I should've just let the ghost haunt me rather than letting this old man step on my shoulders and scale the wall.

 

My arms were screaming because the ventilation opening was so high up, ridiculous enough that we had to risk our lives to look.

 

"Can you climb instead? I'm dying here; the earth's literally about to swallow me." 

 

If I didn't die from this, I'd definitely never grow. It felt like several tons of dead weight had collapsed onto me.

 

"I asked earlier if you wanted to climb, and you just kept saying you were scared. Little more to the left."

 

"Urghhh..."

 

"Got it, got it."

 

"Hurry and look." My eyes were actually tearing up when I said it. Both legs shaking, hands gripping his ankles so hard they were cramping. He went quiet for a long time; I assumed he was scanning for something unusual.

 

"Oh, for goodness' sake — a bird's made a nest in there."

 

"What? Just a bird?"

 

I looked up to ask. The only view from where I was standing was between his legs. Absolute xx!!

 

"There's also something in the eaves..."

 

Krich said that much and stopped. Fear surged through me instantly. My mind started conjuring all kinds of things because I had no idea what was on the other side of that window.

 

"What is it, old man? Just tell me, I'm about to pee myself."

 

"There's a litter of kittens, five or six by the look of it. All black. Let me take a photo for you."

 

Oh my god. Why didn't he say so right away?! Just left me terrified like that. 

 

He spent a bit more time snapping photos of his discovery before telling me to let him down. Once the crushing weight was off me, I collapsed flat on the floor, breathing in short gasps, trying to get oxygen back into my lungs.

 

Krich crouched down and held up his phone, showing the photo of the litter of kittens. No wonder I'd never spotted them: their black fur blended right into the dark. If you didn't notice the rows of little round eyes staring out, you'd miss them completely.

 

"Do you believe now that there's no ghost in this house?"

 

"But the entire house went dark once, and when I ran outside, the whole alley was pitch black like a ghost town."

 

"Was that a couple of weeks ago?" I nodded quickly.

 

"A car hit a utility pole. The housing office announced it through the estate app; didn't you see it?"

 

Honest answer: I'd never read it.

 

"What about things falling in the house all the time? That's definitely poltergeist activity"

 

"What kind of things?"

 

"Towel rack."

 

He let out a sigh. His handsome face showed a look of quiet despair.

 

"I'm not talking to a dumb kid."

 

"Old man~ there's also the TV turning on by itself. If I didn't turn it on, then who did?"

 

"Did you leave the TV timer setting on?" ...Oh.

 

"You can do that?" That was the first time I'd seen genuine hopelessness clearly written on his face. At the same time, I was so embarrassed I couldn't say anything, just pressed my lips together tightly.

 

He stood up to his full height and stepped out of the bathroom, heading toward the main bedroom.

 

"Old man! Wait"

 

I followed so close I was practically grafted to the back of his neck. Krich swept his flashlight around, revealing glass doors that opened onto a balcony, still closed. The rain was coming down harder than before. Periodic thunder rumbled, turning the whole atmosphere into something straight out of a horror film.

 

I backed away to the desk, putting some distance between me and the balcony, just in case of an emergency and I needed to bolt.

 

"You said you can't sleep properly because of the sounds?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"My guess is it's the kittens. With rain today, they can't wander around outside. In summary, everything you've experienced, none of it is a ghost. So I'll be heading home now."

 

"If you're just going to dictate all this to yourself, nobody's going to buy it. If you're so sure, stay and prove it with me until morning." 

 

I was making excuses, so scared I might actually get a fever. Better to live by the saying: one head rolls, two friends die together. Ghost or no ghost, at least I'd feel safer with company.

 

But he still looked uncertain. So I pulled out my secret weapon: being cute about it.

 

"Come on, old man~"

 

"That grates on my ears."

 

"P'Krich." I choked it out through sheer embarrassment, and used the last of the day's dignity to finish the sentence.

 

"Just keep me company for a bit."

 

The most shameless tone of voice I'd ever used in my life.

 

"You're something else, aren't you?" The next sentence from his mouth made it clear he'd softened, and I let myself grin. "Rain's this heavy, I'd have to wait anyway before going back to get my things."

 

"No worries — use mine."

 

With that settled, I turned on all the lights and dug out some sleepwear. We went our separate ways for personal business.

 

I did a lightning-speed rinse and fled downstairs to turn on the TV and wait. Twenty minutes later Krich appeared in piggy-print pyjamas that weren't quite the right fit, the trouser legs far too short.

 

"Your body has thoroughly betrayed those pyjamas," I teased.

 

"If you've got time to mess around, you're obviously not scared of ghosts anymore."

 

"You're the one who said there's nothing here. Why would I be scared? Amateur."

 

CRACK!!

"AAAaaaah—!!!" A crack of thunder shook the house before every light went out composure: gone. One cocky sentence and it was over. 

 

"Uncle, Auntie, I'm so sorry."

 

Not just words, I pressed my palms together in a proper wai, begging for mercy. But then, a split second later, someone else's warm hands grabbed my face. Which somehow made it worse, not better, because I couldn't see anything.

 

"Nile! It's me!"

 

"Who are you?"

 

"Krich."

 

"I don't believe you."

 

I'd rather just faint. I don't want to deal with any of this.

 

In a long dream, I was running in circles through a maze of absolute darkness. As I searched for a way out I ran into every kind of obstacle, ghosts, monsters, venomous creatures, vengeful spirits.

 

I ran until I forgot how to stop, panting until my body gave out and I crumpled to the ground. Knees torn open, hurt enough to make me cry. Then I jolted awake, eyes flying open, I wasn't in the maze. I was lying somewhere flat in the dark. But one thing I knew: someone was sitting beside me, slowly running a hand through my hair.

 

"Where am I?"

 

A flashlight from/a phone clicked on, helping me make out the surroundings a little.

 

"You're in hospital after sleeping for a full four years."

 

Call me unhinged but he's no better. Come on, old man.

 

"Not taking jokes right now. Not in the mood."

 

"I'll say it again: this house has no ghosts. You don't need to be scared. The lights went out because of the heavy rain, nothing more."

 

"What a relief." 

 

I looked up at the person sitting above me. In a romance film this would be the classic lap-pillow moment, but we were enemies. The fact that he'd even carried me to the sofa was already a minor miracle. 

 

"You know, I used to be scared of my dad's ghost too. Scared enough that I got an amulet necklace to wear."

 

"Did you do something bad to him that you'd be scared of him?"

 

"No. My dad had been bedridden from a stroke for years. I'd prepared myself, honestly. We'd said our goodbyes so many times I'd lost count, but when it actually happened... no one can ever really accept it. I was scared of having to say goodbye again. Scared of having to cry again."

 

Even in dreams, if I could help it, I never wanted another farewell.

 

The things locked away inside slowly poured out. I wasn't even afraid of him mocking me or looking down on my weakness, because at that moment all I needed was someone. Not sympathy. Not advice, not comfort. Just... someone.

 

"We weren't a wealthy family, but as far as I can remember it was so warm when we were all together. Mom had a dream home in mind. Dad wanted to expand. We hoped that someday we'd have enough money to buy a place of our own."

 

".."

 

"Turns out we got the house sooner than we expected and the money came from my dad's life insurance." Krich listened in complete silence. So I had to probe. "Are you not going to say something comforting?"

 

"I don't know that comforting would help, but I'm happy to listen."

 

That. That was exactly what I needed.

 

"Just listen?"

 

"Mm. Just listen." The low, soft voice steadied the turbulence inside me. His hand kept moving slowly through my hair. "The night's still long. Whatever you want to get off your chest, just say it."

 

Sometimes I wanted to hate him. But here he was, in one of my most vulnerable moments. I couldn't even remember everything I shared with him. There was too much going on in my life; one story might drift into another without warning. And yet he didn't complain once. He just kept making space for me to talk until my eyelids grew heavy, and I drifted off to sleep.

 

After sleeping on the sofa all night my body was seriously aching. Pretty sure my back had snapped in half. No idea when Krich had left, but it didn't matter, because I had to focus on getting myself together and heading to uni.

 

As I rode out of the estate, my traitor eyes spotted a familiar car parked by the footpath near the exit. Split-second decision: I swerved over to park alongside it, and there was old man Krich, standing in front of the hood looking extremely annoyed.

 

"Oh, familiar face, feels like we've met in hell

before." I greeted him first.

 

"Mouth's working fine the moment the sun rises, I see."

 

"Just a little. What happened?"

 

"Car broke down."

 

"Oh nooo!" I pressed a hand to my chest, ten out of ten performance. But seeing him urgently tapping at his phone made my nosiness kick in. "Are you calling insurance? Or a car to work?"

 

He waved me away, but from the brief glimpse of his screen it looked like a rideshare app.

 

"By the time the car arrives you might be late to work. Besides, I'm heading to class right now, I can drop you off." I made the offer. He didn't say a word. "Think fast — playing hard to get isn't a good look."

 

"And where would I even sit?"

 

Sharp eyes flicked over the bike. Right, almost forgot: the delivery box was locked onto the back seat. Nowhere to move it. But that wasn't a problem; I could just kick down the stand and get off.

 

"Plenty of room — you get on first." I gestured for Krich to climb on, then I'd get on after.

 

He hesitated at first, but eventually climbed on, and I took up my role as chauffeur and buzzed us cheerfully through the city smog toward the destination.

 

Me driving, him on the back, a delivery box behind us, it had the vibe of a happy little family making their living together.

 

"You look so stiff back there." Checking the wing mirror, I nearly burst out laughing at the sight of the tall figure sitting bolt upright, barely moving.

 

"Your head stinks."

 

Wow, what a thing to say. Wearing a helmet and still picking fights. Insufferable.

 

"So where am I dropping you?"

 

"Just head straight for now, I'll tell you when." 

 

Transformed into a rider, just swapped food delivery for person delivery. I weaved the old bike through the gaps, cut through morning traffic, picked up speed into the cool wind following his directions, until we finally arrived at a place tucked away in a side street.

 

Rabbit Hole.

 

A massive sign stood bold and unmissable. If I remembered right, this was an indie music label packed with well-known artists.

 

Krich got off, handed back the helmet, looking a little flustered. he'd revealed too much to me.

 

"Thanks a lot. How much?"

 

"No need. Happy to help... P'Krich."

 

I smiled with deliberate meaning, watching that broad back walk away until it disappeared from sight.

 

Time moved on into October. Life was basically a rollercoaster, all the way up, all the way down, flinging through loops. But today was a day the world would have to take note of.

 

Me, Nikm, and Em, all in our student uniforms, were sitting in an interview room. Across from us, a Rabbit Hole Studio staff member was flipping through our portfolios with a serious expression.

 

"Go ahead and introduce yourself."

 

She looked up at me.

 

"Hello everyone, my name is Narakorn Sirisuknirun, from the Faculty of Fine and Applied Arts, Multimedia. I'm here to intern as a Creative Intern."

 

After this — you're done, Krich.

You. Are. Mine.