The Crow Club: Over My Dead Body

Chapter 2.

"Why are you standing there looking so stunned? Sit down," Linda said with a cold smile. She gestured with her hand, while Van continued to blink in confusion, like a robot with a low battery standing in front of the door. The young customer continued to stare at him silently, as if waiting for an answer.

 

"I love you too?"

 

Is it like this? But Van isn't gay. Is it really okay to say that?

 

"Yes?" The young customer frowned. He turned to look at Linda as if needing help.

 

"His name is Rakkun," the Empress glared at Van, who had suddenly become a clueless idiot, spouting nonsense in front of his employer. Linda thought Van was clever. The most popular guy in the club, but sometimes incredibly stupid. "Sit down. Don't make me angry."

 

"Ah!" Van snapped his fingers, and suddenly a lightbulb seemed to flash in his head. "So that's the name. It's 'Love You'."

 

"Yes..." Rakkun gave a weak smile before slowly turning back to sit normally. Van walked over and sat down in the empty chair to the right of the table, feeling relieved. Many haven't just been confessed to by a client who is also an old adversary.

 

"I thought it was going to be love at first sight, like I'd see your face and accidentally confess my love," Van said, laughing casually without any embarrassment. So, I misunderstood and just told the customer I love them back.

 

"Don't say anything," Linda turned to Van. She gave a strained smile, clearly uncomfortable, while the culprit sat there, hands in his pockets, completely at ease. Without showing the slightest hesitation, he said, "I apologise to him.”

 

"I'm sorry, I know you don't love me."

 

"That Van"

 

"No...it's alright," Rakkun quickly raised his hand to stop him. It wasn't because he wanted to protect or defend Van, but because watching them argue made him even more awkward. "My name often confuses people. I'm used to it."

 

"Believe it or not, your parents thought this through. They knew that naming you like this would be fun."

 

Normally, Linda would have leapt across the table and smacked Van on the head, but because they were in front of clients, the Empress could only send a murderous glare that Van knew she would give. It's a good thing that from now on, he's the one who'll have the most fun.

 

"I'm really sorry," Linda said apologetically, professionally masking her anger with a smile. Rakkhun shook his head, indicating it was truly alright. Although Linda's staff seemed unconvinced, he hadn't expected such a typical situation here. 

 

"Normally, customers wouldn't have to watch me being so nice to the staff, but this was an urgent case, so we had to cut things short." 

 

Linda explained, "The truth is, usually clients contact the club, and I handle everything myself. I select tasks I think someone else can handle, contact the client to get the details and scope of work as thoroughly as possible, and then discuss internally who will take on the job. If everything is agreed upon, I contact the client to confirm. Only then will the employer and employee meet. However, in urgent cases where the client wants the work to start as quickly as possible, Linda will speed things up and bring both of them together."

 

The parties met on the day the project was finalised, just like they are doing now.

 

"This is fine," Rakkun smiled, trying to ignore the silver-haired young man sitting next to him, who was now sliding the paperweight across the table pretending to be a race car driver, oblivious to everything else. "My work is really urgent; I can't wait any longer."

 

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"Club Crows" was created for the second group (the counterculture) who are trying to be the first group (the mainstream), or at least. Eventually, it led a group of people to believe that. Some people are born different, while others are shaped by society to be different. Either way, there's no right or wrong; what matters is the society that they grow up in, and the extent to which they are prepared to cope with that difference. In the case of this small flock of crows, they were all losers in their old flocks and were taken in by Linda to be raised together; whether this was accidental or intentional cannot be clearly determined.

 

Linda is a woman in her early fifties, but her appearance doesn't match the typical image of someone her age. She's beautiful and tall, with a toned, muscular physique. The children in the house agree that she's as stunning as Aunt May in the Tom Holland version of Spider-Man, or perhaps even like Metinee Lukgade. They often whisper amongst themselves, concerned that Linda never seems to date anyone, even though she always attracts the attention of both young and older men (in fact, even women like her). The only thing they know for sure is that Linda is firmly determined not to date anyone again.

 

Of course, her use of the word "again" suggests she's not a typical teen girl, but rather someone who has lost faith in love. The kids are guessing it's like that.

 

The children in the Crow Club come from all walks of life. They each have their own stories, but they share one thing in common: most of them aren't. Understanding their ways, Linda was perhaps one of the first to understand, or maybe she wanted to understand them better. She provided them with both a place to sleep and work, with a share of the profits from each job as rent and a "protection money" (Linda preferred the term; she disliked the word "protection money" because it sounded like mafia nonsense). Even though the work and conditions were bizarre, often causing problems with filling out paperwork, the little crows chose to live in this house, under the care of the most fabulous aunt they had ever met.

 

Van was one of them. He was the latest crow to swoop down and perch on the roof of this dilapidated building about six months ago. Sounds like it was a huge, foolish, and risky change. Leaving the home where he'd grown up for twenty-five years to live with strangers seemed like the beginning of many horror stories. But for Van, it wasn't as scary as he thought. He fit in with the existing residents surprisingly well, even with Patee, whom everyone in the house unanimously agreed was "unreachable." Van found Patee easy to get to know. Perhaps it was because there was something here that the outside world lacked. Van called it "a place where everything is normal."

 

There's nothing strange about the Crow Club. Because of that, they felt "normal" in a way they had never felt before. Van grew up with the same understanding of careers as other children. He knew that being a doctor was a respected profession with good income (perhaps not the richest, but certainly not poor). He especially liked his parents and grandparents because no other profession would benefit the family as much as government service, which provided a pension in old age and eliminated the fear of unemployment. No matter how serious the crime, as long as he didn't go to jail, he would still have a job; he just had to transfer to another location.

 

Van's mother had hinted since he was a child that it would be great if he grew up to be a doctor, given his exceptionally intelligent mind. Becoming a doctor would be within his reach, and their previously lower-middle-class status could easily move them into the upper-middle class. But Van dashed his mother's hopes. Before she even started saying, "I'm going to build a robot."

 

Van has been talked about among mothers since he was a child who was beyond control. You could even call him disobedient. Van won't just do something because someone else tells him to. He's the type of kid who needs a reason for everything, even if that reason sounds illogical to others. But if Van thinks it's awesome, he'll do it no matter what.

 

His mother had taken Van to see a child psychiatrist since he was in elementary school. She suspected her son might have ADHD or something similar. He looks like an adult trapped in a child's body (Conan 2). Van started speaking earlier than most children, and his periods of slurred speech were very short. He learned difficult vocabulary faster than others; for example, while other children called unfamiliar structures "giant mushrooms," Van could already call them mosques. Going to school wasn't a problem for Van. He never cried and was always excited to go because he enjoyed exploring new things and meeting new people. He especially liked knowing that people would be teaching him different things at school. However, Van often complained to his mother, "The teachers only teach things I already know."

 

In short, the doctor said Van doesn't have any illness; he's just a smart kid. From a young age, the only thing that could keep Van still for long periods of time was anything related to "robots." 

 

Ninety per cent of the time, at home, Van played with robots (another ten per cent were dinosaurs), but he wasn't interested in robots like most boys—the kind that transform and fight villains (though he did play with those sometimes). He was interested in robots as a science. He wanted to understand how they worked, to know how real robots could be built, and what they could become. And that wasn't just a fleeting childhood fascination; it was a major driving force that led Van to apply to robotics engineering school.

 

Although his mother didn't get the doctor son she had dreamed of, Van didn't disappoint his parents. Being an engineer wasn't something to be ashamed of in their eyes. His parents, on the other hand, found it incredibly rewarding to tell relatives and neighbours that their son was studying engineering at a prestigious university. Van's grades were excellent, so good that his father wanted to frame his transcripts and hang them on the wall, but Van forbade it. It was one of the few things he thought, if it actually happened, he'd probably want to cover his head with a bucket when he had to go outside.

 

His parents' dream seemed to align with Van's dream. It was as if his family shared the same dream, but in reality, it's nowhere near that. His parents wanted a son who would be an engineer, but Van just wanted to build robots. He didn't care what others called him, engineer or "that Van"; it made no difference to him. And because of that, his parents' dreams can no longer coexist with his. He's no longer an engineer at a prestigious company, and, more unfortunately, he hasn't even built a single robot yet.

 

Van's current job is freelance work. You might think he tutors high schoolers or delivers food, which are typical jobs. But Van, that ungrateful son of a bitch doesn't do those kinds of jobs. He gets hired to go to concerts with strangers, to argue with people on dating apps, to eat barbecue with lonely people, to be a patient for a psychiatrist intern, to attend funerals, to have dinner with someone's mother, to be a graduation date, or even to pick up things from an ex's apartment.

 

No matter how hard you try, you can't find any connection between these freelance jobs because they're not related at all. Van's work isn't specific to any one category; it's any job the average person wouldn't take on, and that's the main purpose of the Crow Club. Everyone in this house is part of a club. They all earn their money by taking on bizarre jobs that even their employers would be ashamed to admit they pay for. But for them, it's the money, a place to sleep, and a sanctuary that keeps them from feeling like losers all the time.

 

On the days when Van isn't an engineer and hasn't built a single robot, at least he has a home, can support himself, and has the shameful job his father gave him. Mom can't brag about it to anyone anymore.

 

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"No."

 

Linda's office fell silent after Van rejected Rakkun's job without even hearing the details. Linda's face was tense, while Rakkun was still unsure how to feel: shocked, surprised, disappointed, angry, or humiliated? He was processing the situation in a bewildered manner.

 

"Listen to the job description first," Linda said seriously. "You haven't even found out what you're going to do yet. Why are you rushing to refuse?"

 

"I don't even need to listen to know it's nonsense," Van shrugged, his voice laced with undisguised contempt. By the time you got to Donny Love You, you could already tell he was probably furious. Ultimately, this white-haired guy spoke without any regard for anyone's feelings. 

 

“I understand you want me to take this job because you think I'm not afraid of ghosts, but you're slightly mistaken. It's not that I'm not afraid; I don't believe in them. So hiring me to talk to ghosts is like hiring me to talk to thin air.'"

 

"Van," Linda said, gritting her teeth. She glanced at Rakkhun hesitantly, afraid of angering him and causing trouble instead of getting the money. He might end up being the replacement boxer. "It's his belief. If you don't believe it, then don't say anything."

 

"Oh, so he can talk about his beliefs, but I'm not allowed to talk about what I don't believe in?"

 

"If you want to speak, speak properly."

 

"Why don't you believe in ghosts?" Rakkhun interrupted Linda. At first, he thought he'd let it go, assuming Van was the type of person who had no filter, but when he heard him make that sarcastic remark, Rakkhun realised that what Van said wasn't entirely wrong. He had substance (though perhaps lacked manners); he wasn't just spouting nonsense.

 

Van stared at Rakkhun’s face, blinking repeatedly. He seemed confused, partly because he'd been suddenly bombarded with that question, and partly because I Love You, I call him "P' (older brother), not "Khun" (you/sir/madam) as I used to when we were stuck in the elevator together.

 

"Because it can't be proven," Van replied casually, as if it were obvious. "There's no evidence that ghosts exist, so how can you believe it?"

 

"And what about those places where lots of people see ghosts?"

 

"A statement doesn't count as evidence."

 

"But if several people come forward and tell the same story, are you going to say there's no basis for it at all?" He continued to ask Khun Van without backing down. He wasn't usually like that. He didn't like arguing with anyone because it unnecessarily made him angry, but with this person, Loving You felt like being drawn into a frustrating puzzle game. If he didn't understand, he would be the one to die of frustration first. "Even a crime needs witnesses," he thought.

 

"But without evidence, you can't prosecute anyone. People can say whatever they want. Even if ghosts existed, which they definitely don't, Van crossed his index and middle fingers, a gesture confirming his strong disbelief in ghosts and spirits. Saying ghosts existed was merely a hypothetical argument. 

 

"I mean, even if they did exist and I saw them with my own eyes, I didn't want to lose to you. I could say I didn't see them, right?"

 

"Who could be incapable of losing?"

 

"It's me, dear," Van flashed a sweet smile, but in Rakkhun's eyes, it was a terrifying grin. "My dear, go find someone else. Time is money; I don't have time to go hunting."

 

"I'm challenging ghosts to be your friend."

 

As soon as he finished speaking, Van immediately stood up from his chair. Linda glared at him, signalling for Van to sit back down, but of course, if Van were to obey easily, he might not get his chance today.

 

"You don't even know how much I'm going to pay you yet," Rakkhun said, standing up and turning to Van, who was standing at the door. Linda looked at the scene before her, confused. This was probably the first time a client meeting had been this stressful. "How do you know it won't be worth it?"

 

"Aren't you a student?" Van turned to look at Rakkhun, his gaze sweeping from head to toe. His eyes reflected a clear judgment.

 

"A student hired someone to talk to a ghost because he wanted his girlfriend back?" Van chuckled softly. That kind of behaviour from the other person only made Love more displeased.

 

"Doing so won't help you get to Japan any faster. I'll pass, thank you."

 

The white-haired young man opened the door and walked out of the room, leaving Linda sitting with her head in her hands, and Rakkhun standing there, glaring at the door with simmering anger. He should be angry. Van gave more than that, but for some reason, even though Van has left, you still see the glimmer of hope shining in your heart, and perhaps it's even brighter than before. Perhaps this is the kind of person who can help him. But come to think of it, that sarcastic tone and way of speaking... Rakkhun thinks he's heard it somewhere before. Where could it be?

 

In short, Van didn't do anything today. He had no pending work and no new assignments. He went up to his room to read and finished watching the anime he'd been watching. Van went down and ate two plates of curry rice that tasted just like Linda's panang curry, and then he intended to go back up to his room to continue reading, but he was stopped before he could by the Empress's will.

 

"Go help out at the bar. Exams are coming up, and a lot of the kids are absent."

 

Van desperately wanted to refuse, but if it weren't for the fact that he had already offended her once during the day, he would have answered "No" without hesitation. Still, he knew his limits regarding how much trouble he could cause each day and night, even if it didn't mean he'd be kicked out of the house.

 

Finally, Van found himself hanging out at the bar. It was 8:30 p.m., and there weren't many customers, so he just sat with his chin resting on his hand, watching the young people milling around doing this and that. Only two customers were seated at the bar. The bartender was keeping himself busy so he wouldn't have to engage the lonely young man in conversation. 

 

On a low stage nearby, Patee was testing the system and tuning his guitar. His chair was placed in the centre front of the stage, and the microphone stand was further back. Elsewhere, this might seem like the equipment was misplaced, but it was correct here, because Patee never looked ahead. He always sang and played his guitar with his back to the audience. That weirdo is totally crazy. Van loves it.

 

At 9:30 PM, customers began to trickle in. It wasn't crowded, but it wasn't deserted either. The Crow Club is what Thais like to call a "chill-out" bar. Most of the customers are working adults who come to have a drink, perhaps to let go of the less-than-bright adult lives they'd like to leave behind. They offer a wide variety of Thai and imported liquors, and have skilled bartenders who recently went viral on TikTok after a celebrity reviewed their local drink menu. The next day, liquor enthusiasts started waiting even before the bar opened.

 

Van wasn't a drinker, so he didn't know the difference between local and other liquors. But from what Talay told him, Linda tried to gather local liquor from various provinces. She had the bartenders create special drinks to pair with each type of liquor, attracting customers who appreciated Thai spirits. Many of these were hard to find elsewhere. Some names Van recognised, like "Kind Dog" from Chiang Mai and "Sangwian" from Suphan Buri, while others he'd never heard before, such as "Chalong Bay" from Phuket, "Onzon" from Sakon Nakhon, "Khao Hom" from Chaiyaphum, or "Kilo Spirit" from Krabi. 

 

Talay described their unique flavours and aromas so vividly that Van wanted to try them all. But every time he drank (mostly on special occasions), Van would get incredibly drunk after just a few glasses and wouldn't remember anything the next morning. The throbbing headache and nauseating taste made Van reluctant to touch alcoholic beverages. He could only continue to fantasise about them. This caution often led to him being teased by the regular drinkers, Talay and Nae, who would pretend to make him a little kid whenever he said he wanted a drink. 

 

"Make some milk for the little rascal; he's thirsty," Nae would say.

 

He's not a wimp at all. Van is a health-conscious guy with a huge... well, you know.

 

Van's main duties are serving, taking orders, and handling unexpected issues during busy periods. Tonight, the student gang is absent from the club. Lots of people were taking the exams, and everyone from the club had disappeared. No one knows where they went. So, it was just the regular staff, plus the extras Van and Patee, who played music on stage (that guy hardly ever helps out at the bar anyway; if he's not playing music, he hardly ever comes down to help).

 

"The green table at the very back," the bartender said quickly to Van, nodding towards a table in a small corner on the inner side of the bar. It was a small, round green table that seats no more than three people. Everyone working in the bar calls it the "green table" because there are only two green tables in the whole bar: the one at the very back and the one next to the lamp (it's near the strange-looking lamp in front of the bar). Van carried the tray, weaving through the crowd until he reached his target table. At the table sat a young customer, his head down, engrossed in his phone.

 

Van walked in, saying, "Excuse me," softly and respectfully, as Linda had taught him (cursing). He picked up a brightly colored cocktail glass from the tray and was about to place it on the table when suddenly the lonely young man looked up.

love you

 

This wasn't a declaration of love, but the lonely young man sitting huddled in the corner at the green table was Rakkhun, the customer Van had just rejected earlier that day. The other man didn't seem surprised to see Van; Rakkhun had probably already seen him. But it was Van who paused for a moment, not expecting to see him again at this time and in this place.

 

Van should have said, "Your drinks are ready," as per Madame Linda's etiquette, but, seeing the customer's face, whom he'd just had a run-in with, he was speechless. Van placed the cloudy, blue-and-white cocktails on the table without saying a word. He thought he'd controlled his expression fairly well—not sour, not rude (or so he thought). At least it was good enough to shut the possessed young man up and prevent him from going to complain to Linda and getting scolded again.

 

"Can you sit with me?" Rakkhun asked. His voice stopped Van in his tracks. He sighed before turning back to look at the stubborn customer.

 

"I'm tired of this. 'Sitting alone is lonely.'"

 

"Not alone. Right next to you," Van nodded towards the empty chair beside him. Rakkhun, hearing this, widened his eyes. He straightened up and sat down. He stared intently at Van, his eyes looking like they were about to pop out of their sockets.

 

"Brother...did you see it?"

 

"Yeah, he's been sitting there keeping you company from the start."

 

"Xie...xie...xie." His whole body started trembling. His neck stiffened, and he refused to turn towards the chair where Van said someone was sitting. "What should we do, brother...? What do I do...? Tell him to leave..."

 

"Seriously, kid?" Van sighed, looking at Rakkhun with a speechless expression. "Do you really believe that?"

 

"Hey! Are you lying?"

 

"Yeah," Van said, chuckling. "Ghosts and stuff... if they were real and could sit here watching you drink like this, you should make friends with them when you grow up."

 

"Friends aren't always free to sit with you, so you know."

 

"You know I'm scared!" Rakkhun yelled, but the music and the noise of the people in the shop overshadowed his voice. His face was flushed, Van thought. He looks ruggedly handsome when he's angry, although he seems quite naive when he's scared. "This isn't a joke," he says.

 

"Why can't I speak?"

 

"He said he was very scary."

 

"If he actually shows up, I'll be speechless," Rakkhun said, his eyes darting left and right like someone overly anxious. "There are so many people..."

 

"Come on. I've never shut my mouth in my life," Van shrugged indifferently. "If you come out, even better if you can help serve. I'm being used."

 

There are already too many free labourers. This old woman needs to be dealt with by the Ministry of Labour someday."

 

"Brother! Don't speak!"

 

"Oh! If it were that haunted, it would have snapped my neck in broad daylight!" Van started to get a little irritated. It was his nature to get annoyed by cowards, especially those who believed in such nonsensical things. Rakkhun's frantic expression involuntarily reminded Van of the time they were stuck together in the elevator.

 

Speaking of which... he really doesn't remember him at all, does he?

 

"He might be giving you a chance."

 

"So kind, too. Isn't he beautiful?"

 

"Brother Van," Rakkhun spoke in a firm voice this time. His challenging gaze made Van want to pick a fight, but the fact that Rakkhun called him by his first name...

 

"Well... I don't know. Van thought he might agree this time. 'Sit with me for a while.'"

 

"Why? I have to work."

 

"How much are you getting paid? I'll pay you," Rakkhun said with a serious expression. It seemed he was ready to use money to solve any problem, especially his own superstitious tendencies. Van initially considered refusing, but when asked about payment, he remembered he hadn't received a single penny for helping out at the bar. With that thought, Van immediately placed the tray on the table and sat down next to Rakkhun.

 

"Can I have some French fries?"

 

"Okay, order whatever you want."

 

"This is so sweet, isn't it, bro?"

 

After that, Van ordered a lot of snacks without any hesitation. He never cared about being considerate of anyone, as long as he calculated that it was worth it, and it wasn't. Van was willing to accept any profit that came his way, even if it meant coercion or intimidation. Within minutes, Rakkhun's table was overflowing with fried food, cocktails, and soft drinks—ninety per cent of what Van had ordered. And of course, he wasn't that heartless; Van shared some with the table's occupant.

 

"Are you really not going to accept my job?" Rakkhun said, after trying to hold back for half an hour. Van knew that sooner or later, Rak would have to bring this up.

 

"No," Van replied almost without thinking. He picked up a potato chip and munched on it casually.

 

"Why?"

 

"Do I still need to explain this?"

 

"Okay, I know you don't believe in ghosts. You don't have to. Just accept the job and do as I tell you."

 

"Are you asking me to talk to thin air in exchange for money?"

 

"So, you can't?" Rakkhun showed no sign of giving up. His voice and gaze were determined and increasingly annoying, like a direct salesperson. Van thought this guy would be perfect for network marketing or something similar. His handsome yet innocent looks would probably charm many older women. "It's an easy job. Just come and be with me often. If nothing happens and you still don't see anything after a while, the job is done. You collect the money easily."

 

"And what if I find out?"

 

"Didn't you say you didn't believe me?" Rakkhun narrowed his eyes playfully.

 

"It's a hypothesis," Van replied with a straight face. "I'm a science student, kid."

 

"If you see him, you have to talk to him. Tell him to stop interfering with the people around."

 

"Seriously, why would a ghost bother you with who you date or talk to? It's none of their business!"

 

"That's my job!" Rakkhun's voice grew louder with enthusiasm. Van glanced at the young man out of the corner of his eye before lightly flicking his ear. He felt like his eardrums had been slightly damaged by the possessed young man's excitement. Love You chuckled, realising he'd accidentally yelled into Van's ear, "Sorry, I got excited."

 

"It's alright, but buy me a new eardrum to replace the old one."

 

"I just wanted to say that the reason I hired you is because of this. I can't see ghosts, I can't communicate with them, so I don't know what they want."

 

"How did you know I would see?"

 

"If you keep hanging around me often, you'll see it soon enough."

 

"Is it that easy?"

 

"I'm so haunted I don't even have anyone to hang out with anymore," Rakkhun sighed. His expression immediately clouded over, surprising Van. It's unbelievable how much a person can believe in something to the point of suffering. "Even my girlfriend... She couldn't bear it anymore."

 

There you go, triggering a sad mood in someone.

 

"Do you want her back that much? This girlfriend of yours?"

 

"I want to. Because I'm in love." The heartbroken person took a sip of the cocktail, pretending it was a strong drink to numb the pain, when in reality it was just fruit juice.

 

"I came alone and didn't want to get too drunk; otherwise I wouldn't be able to get home." "She's perfect in every way, the best to me."

 

"But she abandoned you. Is that really a good thing?"

 

"She didn't want to leave, but she couldn't take it anymore. I told you the ghost was bothering her so much. She almost died recently," Van said, his face contorted. This conversation seemed unreal—a college student sitting dejectedly, tears streaming down his face, dumped by his girlfriend because she claimed a ghost was haunting her. This is a prank! Is this some comedy show?

 

"Don't you think she just wanted to break up and was using ghosts as an excuse?" Van said, popping another potato chip into his mouth. 

 

"Because she's scared of ghosts."

 

"That's the kind of brain they use to scare people with ghost stories."

 

She wasn't lying. Gand wouldn't do that."

 

"How can you be so sure? You can't even see ghosts, and you'll still get tricked, kid."

 

"I didn't see it, but everyone else did," Rakkhun argued firmly, his gaze even more menacing than when they argued in Linda's office. "I thought everything would get better after escaping from Lamphun, but it's no different. It's still the same. Everyone distances themselves from me; they're afraid of me, even though I've never told anyone about this. Everyone experienced it themselves, and they all say the same thing. What am I supposed to think?"

 

"I think Thai people should see a doctor."

 

"Brother Van"

 

"Seriously, you often see things that don't exist. Before you get scared of ghosts, you should see a doctor first."

 

"Are you saying everyone gets sick the moment they enter my life?"

 

"Between coming here and getting sick, and coming here and encountering ghosts, which would you be more comfortable with?"

 

"Brother Van-"

 

"Okay, okay, dear, I know," Van drawled wearily. He felt like he was talking to a two-year-old with only a few words in their head who kept repeating the same thing over and over. Van wished his parents well, as he had a large vocabulary from a young age, so they didn't get stuck in a rut.

 

This is so frustrating! "Ghosts are ghosts, after all."

 

"Do you believe in love now?" Rakkhun asked with sparkling eyes.

 

"Love?"

 

"I," the person addressed quickly corrected himself when he realised he had accidentally referred to himself by his name. "I love you" usually refers to himself that way when talking to older people, more than he thought, and it was obvious he wasn't close to Van at all. "Now you believe me, right?"

 

"It's better to refer to yourself as 'love'."

 

"If you call me 'love,' will you accept the job?"

 

"No, I just like it. It's pleasing to the ear," Van gestured like a conductor leading an orchestra, even though the only sound in the shop was the guitar.

 

Patee, the handsome singer with the striking back from The Crow Club, is currently singing Soul After Chick's "Kon Hin La Mer" (Dreaming Stone). One of the reasons Van liked to hang out at the bar was to listen to Patee's voice, because, besides the fact that he usually wouldn't open his mouth, he was even quieter when Patee wasn't around.

 

On stage, Patee never sang for anyone, even though he loved singing so much. His voice was so soft and gentle that every note seemed to stimulate the senses in an almost unsettling way. Van couldn't understand why Patee was so protective of his voice. It wasn't as if his singing were a golden flower.

 

"Brother Van," Love You called Van in a firm voice when the white-haired man seemed to be enjoying the music and had ignored him. 

 

"Please."

 

"No"

 

"I'm really begging you."

 

"No."

 

"Please, there's no other way," the persistent customer finally agreed to use the name Van had suggested. "Van, you're not afraid of ghosts, are you? I know you're Van..."

 

"No, no, no, no no, please, no way, my dear, no way, alright, alright, alright," Van swayed to the rhythm of the music, refusing in every way imaginable, his facial expressions and demeanour incredibly cheeky in Rakkhun's eyes. But he tried to ignore it, because right now, Rakkhun needed this man's craziness the most.

 

"Brother Van"

 

"Call me Mom Van."

 

"Mom Van," Love spoke obediently, "Do you agree yet?"

 

"No."

 

"Hia Van"

 

"Hey! I was born first!"

 

"Larn Nueng"

 

"What?" Van looked at him with a soft chuckle.

 

"I will hire you for a million baht."

 

Van, who used to sway like a blade of grass in the wind, froze. His eyes darted around nervously. Love thought he had a brain with more wrinkles than the average person. Van's thoughts were processing at an unimaginable speed. He placed his hands on his lap, turned to look him in the face, and in a split second, it was as if a laser beam had pierced his body. Love sat upright, anticipating Van's answer.

 

"I don't believe it. You're lying." When the processing was complete, Van displayed a bored expression and a tone that indicated he didn't believe what Rakkhun was saying. Not even a little bit

 

"Seriously! I'm serious."

 

"You haven't even finished school yet, and you said you were from out of town?"

 

"What's your opinion of people from the provinces?" Rakkhun frowned, tilting his head to look at Van. "Poor?"

 

"I haven't said anything yet!"

 

"But I don't believe in Love having a dunk."

 

"Okay, no arguing back, because I can't win the argument," Van pointed his finger, feigning anger to escape the blame for judging people based on his own biases. Others left without manners.

 

Rakkhun shook his head wearily but let it go. He knew he shouldn't pay too much attention to a strange person like Van, a country boy. He picked up his cell phone, unlocked it, scrolled and tapped for a few moments, then turned the screen toward Van's face, which lit up brightly.

 

Van squinted at the bright light for a moment. A second later, his eyes widened almost twice as much as they had, as he looked back and forth between the phone screen and the face. He looked at it many times before the white-haired young man's gaze gradually changed in a wondrous way.

 

"Oh...why didn't you tell me sooner, boss?" Van said, smiling sweetly and massaging Rakkhun's shoulders like a subordinate to a big boss, all in the blink of an eye. The handsome, bad-boy type has transformed into a worldly monkey. It seems the numbers in one's bank account really do affect the behaviour of those around them.

 

"Hey, brother?"

 

"I call anyone rich 'Hia' (a term of respect for an older brother/senior).

 

"Just a moment ago, he was yelling because someone called him 'that bastard'."

 

"You can call me a dog, sir," Van said with a flattering smile, then continued massaging his beloved.

 

"Don't overreact, Van," Rakkhun pushed Van's hand away hesitantly. "So, are you taking the job or not?"

 

"Yes, I accept."

 

"Really?" Rakkhun asked in surprise. He had intended to use money to lure Van, but he didn't expect the person who had always been so stubborn to change his tune so quickly. It's a lizard this size.

 

"Yes, sir. I'm happy to kick dogs or insult old people if you want me to."

 

It's true, Linda said they were short of money. Love you (thinking to myself).

 

"Please, don't do anything so terrible."

 

"Understood, boss," Van said, giving a precise gesture.

 

"Lek, call me 'Brother'."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Bastard"

 

"Yes, sir."

 

The next morning, Van woke up, quickly showered and dressed, and rushed to the hair salon early. He spent about three hours there before returning home looking brighter than before. Taengmo looked at Van as he walked into the living room, trying to spot any change in his robot-loving friend, but couldn't find any. He only knew that he looked a little more handsome. Meanwhile, Talay glanced at him briefly and immediately spoke up.

 

"Did you get a new hairstyle?" Talay asked Van while stirring matcha in his cup until it was frothy.

 

"That's the colour of a man who cares," Van gave a thumbs-up to Talay, taking another bite of the banana in his hand while secretly giving Taengmo a slight disapproving look.

 

"Become my wife," but the one being reprimanded remained unfazed. Taengmo shrugged, then dodged Van's banana peel with ease. It's like something straight out of The Matrix.

 

"The Battle of Yutthahatthi was a long time ago, my friend," Van patted Taengmo's shoulder, shaking his head slowly, feigning regret. "But if you're ready for love, I'm happy to take a battle break."

 

"Disgusting! You bastard! Your elephant's trunk is as small as a bean sprout!"

 

Van grinned mischievously, delighted that he could still tease Taengmo as usual. The athletic young man gave Van a long middle finger before stomping out with his protein shake. Just then, Mimi walked in and slipped on a banana peel lying on the floor. The beautiful woman in a clean white dress fell backwards, completely out of shape. Luckily, Talay, who was standing nearby, rushed to grab her arm in time; otherwise, a comical incident would have occurred early in the morning.

 

"Dressed up so nicely, but then slipped on a banana."

 

"Almost," Talay said jokingly after helping Mimi regain her balance. He bent down, picked up a banana peel, and tossed it into the trash can.

 

"Pretty?" Mimi smiled broadly at the compliment, completely forgetting that she had just narrowly escaped death from a banana peel. "A new outfit."

 

"I know, that's why I said you're beautiful."

 

"Brother Le, please marry me."

 

Talay laughed. He lightly kissed Mimi's head and returned his attention to his ceremonial matcha equipment, which was a clear way of rejecting her. And it was the most considerate move by the charming young man, as evidenced by Mimi's still beaming face despite the rejection. It seemed that the little kiss had helped to soothe her feelings considerably.

 

"Van, do I look pretty?" Mimi turned to ask Van, who was unwrapping crackers after finishing a banana. Her tone of voice when speaking to Van was completely different from when she spoke to Talay.

 

"Just like yesterday's outfit," Van said expressionlessly. He didn't seem to have even looked at Mimi's clothes.

 

"Yesterday I wore a long-sleeved shirt, and it was pink."

 

"Even if you wear nothing at all, you'll still be the same in my eyes."

 

There are two types of men in this world: one like Talay, and the other like Van.

 

"Did you go hiking in the mud?" Mimi gave up on her male friend's silliness, walked over to the refrigerator, took out a carton of milk, and sat down at the dining table. Van, who was sitting next to her, seemed to be grabbing everything in sight and stuffing it into his mouth as if he hadn't eaten for days.

 

"That's right," Van replied with his mouth full of snacks. "And trimmed and styled a little too."

 

"He's handsome."

 

"I understand."

 

Mimi rolled her eyes. She thought she'd gotten used to Van's annoying, deadpan personality by now, but maybe not.

 

"I've never seen you with black hair," Mimi said.

 

"He's just this handsome, with black hair."

 

"The more I talk to you, the more I understand why P'Le has girls hitting on him every day, while you're sitting there eating until crumbs are stuck in the middle of your head," Mimi shook her head wearily. She was annoyed, but even so, she reached out and brushed the cracker crumbs off the silver-blonde hair. It might seem caring, but honestly, she couldn't bear to watch.

 

"And you, sit here and brush off the crumbs for me. You're so hot."

 

"I get a lot of guys trying to flirt with me."

 

"So what? Are you brave enough to talk to him?"

 

Mimi glared at being retorted to. In her head, she was thinking about poking out the eyes or slitting the throat of that white-haired guy, so he'd choke to death on his snacks, and she wouldn't have to keep poking him. How can someone be so heartless towards others? If being stared at by strangers was as easy as living with the scum in this house, Mimi thought, maybe she didn't need to come at all.

You can stay here.

 

"At least someone likes me," Mimi said, lifting her chin. "I'm not hiding from people all day like you."

 

"Phu is living a normal life. Other people are the ones who are having problems with me."

 

"It's your face."

 

"I'm quite handsome."

 

"Begging for mercy," she said, making a face, "And your mouth too."

 

"I speak only the truth."

 

"Some things are unnecessary."

 

"Everything's necessary for me."

 

Mimi sighed, looking at her white-haired male friend as if she were looking at a creature of a different, incomprehensible species.

 

"Don't you get stressed at all when people don't like you?"

 

"No," Van shrugged casually, grabbing Mimi's milk carton and nonchalantly poking a hole in it and taking a sip. "I don't care."

 

"There must be someone you don't want to hate you," Van pondered for a moment before replying, "No."

 

"How did you do that?"

 

"It's just..." The white-haired boy placed the empty milk carton on the table before spreading both hands out as if running towards freedom, "Screw it!" Mimi looked at Van, nodding resignedly, knowing that no matter how hard she tried, she could never get close to the point where everything was zero. With this friend, only special people like Van get that privilege.

 

"I wish I could do what you do."

 

"You can't do it," Van shook his head, waving his index finger back and forth. 

 

"You care too much."

 

"Sometimes you don't care enough."

 

"That's why I said we're living in different times."

 

That's probably true. Mimi has accepted for a while now that her biggest problem is that she'll never be Van. She's terrified of being stared at. She didn't know him. Unlike Van, he didn't mind being stared at; he didn't care. That was his unique strength, one that not everyone could imitate.

 

"I heard Auntie said you have a date today, Van," Talay said, walking over to sit with him after the sacred tea ceremony was over.

 

"Oh... so that's why you went for a makeover?" Mimi glanced at Van, smiling mischievously. "Didn't you say you didn't care?"

 

"I don't care about other people, but I care about myself," Van replied. "And it's not a date either. I'm going to work."

 

"Working as a date," Talay sipped his matcha, winked, and gave Mimi a knowing smile.

 

"Wrong. I work as an interpreter for ghost languages."

 

"Auntie said ghosts only haunt people who are romantically involved, right?"

 

"Didn't you say work matters were confidential? I don't see anything secret about it. Everyone in the house knows."

 

"Well, you're so nice to Auntie Lan at home," Talay said, chuckling.

 

"You weren't even there that day, P'Le."

 

"But I was there!" Mimi proudly raised her hands above her head. "Talay and Nae were there too. They all heard everything!"

 

"This house is totally encroaching on private property." Van shook his head, got up, and walked away from the increasingly uninteresting (and annoying) conversation. Mimi and Talay watched Van leave, grinning widely. What's more fun than annoying someone who makes annoying others their daily job?

 

"Ask me anything!" Talay shouted after him. "Especially about girls!"

 

"Choose!" the victim yelled back, his voice booming like a ship's whistle. The two pranksters bumped fists, giggling gleefully as Van was about to head back up to his room. He then ran into Nae, who was coming down. The stern-faced woman was dressed impeccably from head to toe, like an idol. Escaping the paparazzi, Van guessed that Nae would have another exciting day at work. He was about to speak, but Nae interrupted him first.

 

"Are you going to wear this outfit on a date?"

 

"I'm going to change!"

 

Van changed his mind about asking any questions about her well-being. He stomped his foot and walked up the stairs, leaving Nae looking after him with a bewildered expression.

════[changbins_delulu_wife]════

 

The meeting place (not a date) for today was Hua Lamphong MRT station. Van thought he'd arrive early, but it turned out Rak had arrived even earlier. Rak was wearing a brown-and-cream striped t-shirt, dark, loose-fitting jeans, original black Converse sneakers, and a crumpled leather messenger bag. His hair looked better than the first time they met—by Van, at his condo—and actually better than when he and Van argued at the Crows Club. It was clear Rak had prepared himself to some extent, which reassured Van a little, knowing he wasn't the only one dressed up so handsomely.

 

The weather today is favourable. The overcast sky keeps it from getting too hot, and luckily, it hasn't rained heavily yet. Van hopes it stays this gloomy all day because, honestly, he usually turns into a different person in hot weather. He's already in enough trouble normally, and if it's hot, too, he'll probably never get any work done today.

 

Today's main mission is for Van and Rak to spend time together, because Rak says that the ghost that has been following him from Lamphun only appears when Rak starts a close relationship with someone. Sometimes it's not even a romantic relationship, just becoming a close friend. That jealous ghost will show itself to that person, haunting and terrifying them until it finally flees from Rak's life. Van thinks this might be why he sees loneliness lingering in Rak's eyes almost constantly, even when his mouth is moving to speak or when he's smiling. Rak's eyes don't seem to match the rest of his face when he's expressing emotion.

 

This was probably the first time Van had gone out with a man alone. Even his few college friends used to go out in groups of at least three. Since starting work at the Crow Club, Van had never accepted a job going out with a man. As expected, he wasn't really the type of guy he was into. Actually, women didn't really like him either. It seemed like what people said was true. Who likes me anyway? Because of that, Van was initially a little apprehensive that this would be an awkward time together, the kind where either they would constantly want to go home. He even considered the possibility that he might realise today that hiring him was a mistake and miss out on a million dollars. But in reality, it wasn't as bad as he thought.

 

As they walked from the station through the Talat Noi area, Rak chatted casually with Van, asking about the Red Hot Chilli Peppers t-shirt he was wearing. Today, Rak seemed to be trying to find common ground with him in their shared passions, but unfortunately, they found nothing. They listened to different genres of music; Rak liked the band Pause. Van thought maybe Rak should have more to talk to Patee about. Perhaps Patee was the right choice, because he himself couldn't imagine that emotionless man jumping up in fright or screaming in terror at the sight of a ghost. But then again, the conversation might have kept going because they didn't have much in common, and partly because of Van. He keeps saying annoying things that make me want to insult him every ten steps.

 

Rak and Van visited a few galleries on Charoen Krung Road, all of which Rak had researched. Van's job was to follow along. Some artworks were beautiful at first glance, while others left them staring for minutes without understanding. Van, not particularly knowledgeable about art, didn't have much to say. He mostly asked Rak, an architecture student who seemed to understand art better, for his opinions. Rak explained what he understood (which was much better than Van's explanation), concluding with, "Architecture and fine arts are not the same thing."

 

"I don't see any ghosts," Van whispered to Rak as they paused to gaze at the pile of stones stacked on the bare cement floor. Van's first thought was, "Kick them all out." But it wasn't difficult to suppress that reckless thought. He intended to wait for Rak to review the work and explain it to him. The silence, however, reminded him of his true goal for the day. "We've been together for hours now."

 

"Even a dog could tell we're not close," Rak said listlessly, his gaze still fixed on the artwork that was beyond his reach. He understood Van's point of view."This is so difficult!"

 

Love sighed. He himself hadn't expected a ghost to appear today. This was only the first day they'd gone on a trip together, just the two of them. He's taking even longer to confront that love-struck ghost, and Van's constant pressure to get it out soon is giving him a headache. They went for lunch together at a famous barbecued pork noodle shop. The seating was typical street-food style: tables on the street in a small alley, as if they were secretly eating next to someone's house. Restaurant staff rushed across the street carrying huge trays to serve them. The aroma was enticing, with large slices of barbecued pork and thin noodles. From the first bite, it was clear why people would sit and eat on the street without fear. Rak and Van devoured the food like a storm. This first meal together taught Van that Rak was a fast eater, and Rak learned that Van ate a lot.

 

After lunch, we had some egg tarts from a street vendor. Love wiggled his nose as he walked by, so Van stopped and bought a big set. Love walked away, hugging the bag. He casually ate the egg tarts while casually handing some to Van, as if he owned them. Van didn't mind (just teased him a little), and he even took many photos of them, both intentional poses and ones he secretly took himself. Because Talay had secretly told him that when going on a date, you should take candid photos of your partner (he'd said it fifteen times already – it wasn't a date!).

 

They spent a while longer in the record store. This was where Van felt he understood and was more involved than at Aard Gallery. There were records from various bands. As he liked them so much, he bought two records: one by Nirvana and, of course, the band featured on his shirt today, Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Love seemed to be enjoying it too; he was interested in several bands because of their unusual cover art. So Van took the opportunity to play the role of the expert, explaining things to him, at least in exchange for Love's incessant questions while browsing the art.

 

"I want to stop by this shop," Rak said, pointing to a jewellery shop they were about to pass. "Can we?"

 

"No," Van replied expressionlessly.

 

"Just stopping by."

 

As soon as he finished speaking, Rak opened the door and went into the shop immediately, which was exactly what Van had expected. He had just refused, knowing full well that Rak wasn't interested in listening anyway. He was already there, and Love should know very well that there wasn't much truth in his words. Almost 100% of the jewellery in the store is sterling silver, including necklaces, bracelets, rings, brooches, and other unique items. Van also liked wearing silver jewellery, but he had only a few pieces, which he rotated with every outfit without much thought. This was unlike Rak, who seemed to have a special fondness for it. His eyes lit up at several bracelets, which he kept trying on and taking off.

 

"Isn't this pretty?" Rak showed Van his wrist, which was adorned with a necklace featuring an eye-shaped pendant.

 

"You're beautiful, dear," Van replied the same way for the fourth time, and this time he got punched in the arm. "Nothing I say pleases you," Van said, rubbing his arm and smiling at the shop owner who was watching from a distance. He saw her secretly laughing when he got punched.

 

"This one's so cute," Rak said, picking up a bracelet with a small, square stainless steel charm, similar to the necklaces worn by American soldiers. "It's just like Kan's."

 

"Your ex-girlfriend?" Van asked.

 

"Yes, Kan has a similar one."

 

"Just like the men's."

 

"Because Kan is a man," Rak turned to look at Van, his eyebrows furrowed so tightly they almost merged into a single line.

 

"Really?" Van asked. "I thought it was a woman."

 

"Didn't you hear what I said?"

 

"I admit that I listened sometimes and not others."

 

Love shook his head, sighed, but didn't say anything more. He turned to the shop owner and pointed to a bracelet with a star charm, saying, "I'll take this one."

 

"Yes," Rak said, even though there were many things he wanted. He explained that he usually bought only one luxury item from each store because it was more economical (Van was a little surprised by this; Rak was so rich that he didn't think he would be so careful with money) and because it allowed him to get things he was sure he really liked. Van, in turn, found the concept interesting.

 

"You like it that much?" Van asked, noticing that Rak had been checking his wrist repeatedly ever since they left the silver shop. The new bracelet fit perfectly on Love's wrist.

 

"I love it," Rak replied with a smile. "Maybe I picked it up from my mom. She also loves silver. She lives up to her reputation as a girl from the North."

 

"It's good that you remembered that I'm from the North."

 

"The city is cursed to that extent."

 

"Huh?" The young man from the North widened his eyes. "Is it that clear?"

 

"So much so, I thought you were speaking Northern Thai all the time."

 

"Hey! Are you serious?"

 

"Huh? That's not true."

 

"You're something else, Van."

 

"You don't need to call me 'brother' anymore," Van said, chuckling. "I overheard you talking on the phone with Mom. So cool!"

 

"That's how we talk at home," Rak replied calmly, his face slightly flushed; whether from walking a long distance or from embarrassment at being teased about his city accent was unclear.

 

"It's cute."

 

"No need."

 

"Seriously!" Van insisted. "But I couldn't really understand it. It was an unfamiliar northern dialect."

 

Regarding the "Lamphun accent," Rak says, "They say it has a Yong accent; it sounds abrupt."

 

"What is 'young'?"

 

"You're really not listening at all."

 

"I'm sorry, Van," the older man said with an awkward smile, respectfully bowing his head. Rak pouted in annoyance, but agreed to explain. He felt it was his responsibility to spread the culture of his homeland whenever he had the chance.

 

"The Tai Yong people, an ethnic group in the Lamphun area, speak the Yong language."

 

"Oh! I think I've heard that before," Van nodded. "Does that mean my little brother can speak 'Yong' too?"

 

"Hmph."

 

"Okay!"

 

"I can only understand some of it. I've heard my mom talking to the old people in the neighbourhood, but I haven't talked to her, so I can't speak it fluently. I've only picked up a little bit of the accent and some vocabulary. Words I often hear my mother say."

 

"And during the spirit-feeding ceremony, did he speak Yong?" Van asked, though he wasn't particularly interested in the details. Love told him about his family background. There weren't many memories, but one thing he vividly remembered was the spirit-feeding ceremony they performed annually at home. He was certain that the spirits haunting and harassing the people around him were his ancestors' ghosts. Everyone who had seen them consistently described them as female, wearing traditional Lanna-style clothing (he guessed it was a Tai Yong dress), speaking a language he couldn't understand, though sometimes it sounded like a Northern Thai accent similar to modern Thai.

 

"They do speak it, but it's very advanced, very difficult to understand."

 

"How are you so afraid of ghosts, even though you keep ghosts as pets at home? How do you even live like that?"

 

"It's like I'm getting used to it, but I'm still scared. At home, they call him a ghost, but they see him as a family member because he's really just a spirit watching over them. Protect us, ward off evil."

 

Rak told Van about the belief in spirits, explaining that a spirit protects everyone from birth and is passed down through female descendants. For example, Rak's father and his mother were protected by his grandmother's spirit. When his mother had children, including Rak, Rak would also be protected by his mother's spirit. And if Rak married and had children in the future, those children would be protected by their wife's spirit, and so on, like an unending bond.

 

"So, my dear, don't you think your boyfriend is evil? That's why the ghosts are chasing him away."

 

"Karn is a good person," Rak said firmly, his face immediately becoming stern when Van criticised his lover.

 

"How can you be so sure?"

 

"I love and know Kan well."

 

"Maybe ghosts know better," Van shrugged, ignoring Rak's displeased look. "They might see things you don't."

 

"Didn't you say you didn't believe in ghosts?"

 

"I'm trying to understand you, dear."

 

"It's not necessary."

 

"For the money."

 

He gets annoyed when Van acts like he knows everything, and it makes him not want to argue and get upset, because he knows that as long as the other person doesn't back down...A competitive person like Van would never stop, so he sneered and ended the conversation there. There was no reason to prolong the argument with someone whose heart was locked away like this white-haired man.

 

"Actually, all you need to do is get over your ex-husband."

 

"I'm not cutting it."

 

"Finish"

 

The day ended without a single ghost appearing. They took the same train back, Love getting off first. He waved goodbye to Van casually, and he didn't even turn around to look. Love's frustrated expression made Van lose his footing. He felt like he had accomplished a mission even though he had accomplished almost nothing today. Before they even reached the next station, Van's cell phone rang with a notification.

 

Loveyou: How much are the noodles and the egg tarts? I will transfer it.

Van: No problem.

Loveyou: No

Loveyou: I hired you.

Van: Well, it's already included in the wages.

Loveyou: I don't want to be indebted.

Van: How about you try to get over your ex-husband instead?

Loveyou: No. I love my ex-husband.

Van: 75 baht. Sent a photo. Transfer the money and be done with it.

Loveyou: I thought you were going to be a real gentleman.

Van: Not with your ex-husband's lover.

Loveyou: Acting like he's going to be her new husband.

Van: I'd even take a 15 baht egg cake. Do you want me?

Loveyou: Sent a photo. Let's just end it here.

Van: I'll transfer the money back when you stop loving your ex-husband.

Loveyou: 75 baht. Keep it to yourself, Van.

 

Van almost died from trying to suppress his laughter on the train. One hand gripped the handrail to prevent himself from falling, the other frantically typing on his chat. He was thinking that maybe this job was more worthwhile than he thought, because he didn't have to do anything but annoy his boss, a love-struck, sharp-tongued architecture student. The younger Van would never believe it if he told him, "By the age of twenty-five, you won't have built a robot, but you'll have made a million dollars just for annoying people all day long." That old Van would be so proud of this Van.

 

Less than a minute later, the notification sound rang again.

 

Loveyou: sent a photo. 

Van: is???

Loveyou: to?

Van: wear it with your ex-husband.

 

Rak read the chat and remained silent for several minutes. That silence began to make Van think that he might have angered Rak. Actually, maybe buying a bracelet similar to the one his ex gave him was crossing the line, or might just reopen old wounds and make him feel uncomfortable. Oh no! My million baht

 

Loveyou: You bastard

Van: If you don't want me to buy it for you. Just keep the things. Then transfer it back. 1390

Van: I don't want to wear matching clothes with your beloved husband.

Loveyou: How did you manage to put that in my bag? Since when?

Van: A moment ago. Drop it in when it's crowded.

 

Love went again. Van started to think that the kid was deliberately messing with him. This is what they mean by "fighting fire with fire." Once you taste it yourself, it is really frustrating. Even after Van got home, showered, ate, and went back to his room to relax, his chat with Rak was still stuck in the same place. It showed "read," but there was no reply. Kids these days have no manners.

 

Van threw aside the petty thoughts. He flopped face down on the bed with his trusty iPad, put on Radiohead's "Creep," and listened while solving a tough physics problem he had just found on the internet. While Van was intently considering the problem, a message popped up at the top of his iPad screen. Van read it from the notification. Instead of clicking into the chat room this month,

 

Loveyou: No transfer

Loveyou: 75 can be transferred to 1390 baht.

Loveyou: Serves you right.

 

Van burst into laughter, picked up his phone, opened a chat app, and took a picture of himself in a flirtatious pose, shoulders shrugged, then winked at someone.

His employer.