The Crow Club: Over My Dead Body

Chapter 2.

Talay means the sea/sea

Taengmo translates as watermelon.

Karn is Kant. ( I just don't have the time to go and correct each ‘Karn’ 🙈😂)

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“Why are you standing there looking so smart? Sit down,” Linda said with a cold smile, her eyes gesturing instead of her hands, while Van still stood blinking like a robot with a low battery at the door.

 

The young customer continued to stare at him silently, as if waiting for an answer.

 

"Love...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 Rakkhun," the Empress glared at Van, who had suddenly become a clueless idiot, spouting nonsense in front of his employer. Linda had always thought Van was the smartest person in the club, but sometimes he was incredibly stupid. "Sit down. Don't make me angry."

 

“Ah!” Van snapped his fingers, and suddenly a lightbulb went off in his head. “So that’s the name. It’s ‘Love You’.”

 

"Yes..." Rakkhun gave a strained 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 greatly relieved that he hadn't just been confessed to by a customer who also happened to be his ex-nemesis.

 

"I thought it was going to be love at first sight, like I'd see someone and accidentally confess my love," Van said, chuckling casually, not at all embarrassed that he had misunderstood and confessed his love to a customer just now.

 

“Don’t say anything,” Linda turned to Van. She gave a strained smile, clearly uncomfortable, but the culprit sat calmly, hands in his pockets, completely unconcerned. “Apologise to him.”

 

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

 

"Ai Van"

 

"No...it's alright." Rakkhun 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 feel 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 give him a murderous glare that Van knew perfectly well meant he was the one who would be having the most fun after that.

 

"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 seemed disbelieving, she hadn't expected to witness anything so typical here. "Normally, customers wouldn't have to watch me argue with a kid like this, but this was an urgent case, so we had to cut it 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, I contact the client to get the details and scope of work as thoroughly as possible, then they discuss internally who will take on the job. If everything is agreed upon, I contact the client again to confirm. Only then will the employer and employee meet. But in urgent cases where the client wants the work to start as soon as possible, Linda will streamline the process and bring both parties together on the day of the job, as I'm doing now."

 

"This is fine," Rakkhun smiled, trying to ignore the silver-haired young man sitting beside him, who was now playfully pushing Linda's paperweight around like a race car, completely oblivious to everything else. "My work is really urgent. I can't wait any longer."

 

The "Crows Club" was created for the counterculture (the second group) who are trying to become the mainstream (the first group), or at least to make the mainstream believe that.

 

Some people are born different, while others are shaped differently by society. Neither is right or wrong; what matters is how well the society they grew up in is prepared to accept that difference. In the case of this small flock of crows, they were all losers in their old flocks. They were taken in and raised together by Linda; whether by accident or intentionally is impossible to say definitively.

 

Linda is a woman in her early fifties, but her appearance doesn't resemble that of a typical fifty-year-old. 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, worried that Linda never seems to date anyone, even though she always attracts the attention of both young and old 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" means she's not a naive girl but rather one who has lost faith in love. That's what the kids guessed.

 

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 people don't understand their way of life. Linda might be one of the first to understand, or perhaps she wants to understand them better. She provides them with both a place to live and work, with a share of the profits from each job as rent and a "protection money" (Linda likes to call it that; she dislikes the term "protection money" because it sounds like mafia stuff). Even though the nature of the work and the conditions are bizarre, often causing problems with filling out paperwork because people's choices aren't equal, these little crows choose to live in this house, under the care of the most sassy aunt they've 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. It sounded like a foolish and risky big change, leaving the home he had grown up in for twenty-five years to live with strangers, like the beginning of a horror story. But for Van, it wasn't as scary as he thought. He got along surprisingly well with the existing residents, even Patee, whom everyone in the house unanimously agreed was "inaccessible." Van found the clumsy one not difficult to get to know. Perhaps it was because there was something here that the outside world lacked. Van called it "a space 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 a good income (perhaps not the richest, but certainly not impoverished). 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 could just be transferred 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 wouldn't be out of reach, and their previously lower-middle-class status could easily move them up to the upper-middle class. But Van dashed his mother's hopes before he even began by saying, "I'm going to build robots."

 

Mothers have described Van as completely out of control since he was a child. You could even call him stubborn, because he won't do things just because others tell him to. Van is the type of child 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.

 

Van's mother took him to a child psychiatrist when he was in elementary school. She suspected her son might have ADHD or something that made him seem like an adult trapped in a child's body (like Conan?). Van started speaking earlier than other children, and his periods of speech impediment 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 toys in his house were robots (the other ten per cent were dinosaurs). But Van wasn't interested in robots like most boys – the kind that transform and fight villains (though he did play with those sometimes). Instead, he liked 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 obsession; 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 shameful in his parents' eyes at all. It made his parents beam with pride whenever they told relatives or neighbours that their son was studying engineering at a prestigious university. Van's grades were excellent, just what his father wanted—to print out his transcripts, frame them, and hang them on the wall. But Van forbade it, because that was one of the few things he thought, if it actually happened, he'd have to cover his head with a bucket whenever he had to go outside.

 

His parents' dreams seemed to align with Van's. It was as if their family shared the same dream. But in reality, they were far from it. His parents wanted a son who would be an engineer, while Van 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 could no longer coexist in the shadow of his. He wasn't an engineer at a prestigious company anymore, and, more unfortunately, he hadn't even built a single robot.

 

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 his parents, 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 gift, 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 that ordinary people wouldn't take. 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 are 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 day Van isn't an engineer and doesn't build a single robot, at least he has a home, can support himself, and has a job that his parents can't brag about to anyone anymore.

 

"I don't want it."

 

Linda's office fell silent after Van rejected Rakkhun's job without even hearing the details. Linda's face tensed, while Rakkhun 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 now, Rakkhun could tell he was probably the most furious. This white-haired guy had no regard for anyone's feelings. "I understand that you want me to take this job because you think I'm not afraid of ghosts, but you're slightly mistaken. I'm not afraid, but 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 a fight, potentially turning the money into something worse. 

 

"That'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; don't speak rudely."

 

“Why don’t you believe in ghosts?” Rakkhun interrupted Linda. At first, he thought he’d let it go, assuming Van was just the type to have a loose tongue. But after hearing his sarcastic remark, Rakkhun realised Van wasn’t entirely wrong. He had substance (though perhaps lacked manners), and 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 Rakkhun called him "P'i" (older brother), not "Khun" (you) as he used to when they 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 it exists, so how can you believe it?"

 

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

 

"Anecdotal evidence is not considered proof."

 

“But if several people come out and say the same thing, are you going to say there’s no basis for it at all?” Rakkun continued relentlessly. Normally, he wasn't like this. He didn't like arguing with people because it unnecessarily made him angry. But with this person, Rakkun felt as if he were being drawn into a frustrating puzzle. If he didn't understand, he…"You're the one who'll die of a heart attack first! Even a criminal investigation needs witnesses!"

 

“But without evidence, you can't prosecute anyone. People can say whatever they want. Even if ghosts exist, 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, so I could just say I didn't see them, right?”

 

"Who could be that incapable of losing?"

 

"No," Van said, flashing a sweet smile, but in Rak's eyes, it was a terrifying grin. "My dear, go find someone else. Time is money; I don't have time to go ghost hunting with you."

 

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 had been so obedient, he might not be here 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 with confusion. This was probably the first time a business meeting with a client had been so tense. “How do you know it won’t be worth it?”

 

"Aren't you a student?" Van turned to look at Rakkun, his gaze sweeping from head to toe. His eyes reflected a clear judgment. "A student hiring someone to talk to a ghost because she wants her boyfriend back?"

 

Van chuckled softly. That kind of behaviour from the other person only made Love more displeased.

 

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

 

The white-haired young man opened the door and walked out of the room, leaving Linda sitting with her head in her hands and Rakkun standing there, glaring at the door with simmering anger. He should have been angrier at Van, but for some reason, even after Van had left, Rakkun still saw a glimmer of hope, and perhaps it was 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- do you think he's heard it somewhere before?

 

Where?

 

In short, Van didn't do anything today. He had no pending work and no new assignments. He went upstairs to read, finished watching the anime he'd been watching, came down to eat two bowls of curry rice that tasted just like Linda's panang curry, and intended to go back upstairs to read more, but was interrupted 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'd already offended his master once that day, he would have said "No" without hesitation. He was stubborn, yes, but he knew his limits – how much he could be annoying each day without being 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 pretended to be busy so he wouldn't have to engage the lonely young man in conversation. On a low stage not far away, Patee was testing the system and tuning his guitar. His usual chair was placed at the centre front of the stage, with the microphone stand farther in. Elsewhere, this might seem like the equipment was misplaced, but it was correct here, because Patee never looked ahead. He always sang and played 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 unwind from their less-than-bright adult lives. They offer a wide variety of Thai and imported liquors, and have skilled bartenders who recently went viral on TikTok last week after a celebrity reviewed their local liquor menu. The next day, liquor enthusiasts started waiting before the bar even 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 menus to pair with each type of liquor, attracting customers who appreciated Thai spirits, many of which 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. Thale 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 couldn't remember anything the next morning. The throbbing pain in his head and the lingering taste...

 

The nausea in his mouth made Van reluctant to touch any alcoholic beverages, so he continued to fantasise. This cautiousness, however, drew him into the eyes of other drinkers. The kids at home, like Talay and Nene, often tease him, saying he's a little brat. They like to make gestures of wanting a drink of milk whenever he says he wants some. 

 

"Make me a little less milk; I'm thirsty," Nene always says.

 

He's not a doer at all; Van is a health-conscious man with impressive poses.

 

Van's main duties are serving, taking orders, and handling unexpected situations during busy periods. Tonight, many of the student group members are off studying, and most of the club staff are gone—no one knows where they went. So, it's just the regular staff, plus Van and Patee who play music on stage (he rarely 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 small curve in the corner on the inner side of the bar. It was a small, round green table that could seat no more than three people. Everyone working at the bar called it the green table because there were only two of them in the whole bar: the one at the very back and the one next to the lamp (it was near a strange-looking lamp).

 

Van carried the tray, weaving through the crowd until he reached his target table. A young customer sat at the table, engrossed in his mobile phone. Van approached, saying softly and respectfully, "Excuse me," as Linda had taught him. He picked up a brightly colored cocktail glass from the tray, 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 Rak Khun, the customer Van had just rejected earlier that day. The other man didn't seem surprised to see Van; Rak Khun probably had seen him already. 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 actually said, "Your drinks are ready," as per Linda's protocol, but seeing the face of the customer he'd just had a run-in with, he was speechless. Van placed the cloudy blue-and-white cocktails on the table without a word. He thought he'd managed to control his expression fairly well—not sour, and not rude (or so he thought). At least, it was good enough to keep the young man quiet and prevent him from going to Linda and getting himself in trouble again.

 

"I'm lonely," Rak Khun said, his voice making Van stop in his tracks. He sighed before turning back to look at the stubborn customer with a weary expression. "Sit alone."

 

“You’re not alone. There he is,” Van nodded, gesturing towards the empty chair next to him. Rakkun, hearing this, widened his eyes. He straightened his back, staring at Van as if his eyeballs were about to pop out of their sockets.

 

“Brother, did you see that?

 

"Yes, that's good. He's been sitting there keeping you company from the start."

 

"Go away, brother. Stop spreading the germs," ​​Rak Khun started trembling all over. His neck was stiff, and he refused to turn towards the chair that Van said someone was sitting in. 

 

"What do I do, brother? What do I do... tell him..."

 

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

 

"Hey! Are you lying?"

 

"Yeah," Van said, chuckling. "Ghosts and stuff... if they were real and they were sitting here watching us drink like this, then we should make friends with them. When you grow up, you won't have friends to sit with you all the time, I'm telling you."

 

“You know I’m scared,” Rakkun yelled, but the music and the noise of the people in the bar overshadowed his voice. His face was flushed. Van thought he looked ruggedly handsome when he was angry, though he looked incredibly timid when he was scared. “This isn’t a joke!”

 

“Why can't I speak?”

 

"If he actually shows up, I'll be speechless." Rak Khun's eyes darted left and right, like someone overly anxious. "Everyone says he's terrifying."

 

"Mati, I've never shut my mouth since you were born," Van shrugged indifferently. "If you come out and help with serving, that would be even better. I've been exploited for free labour too much already. With that old woman around, she's going to get in trouble with the Ministry of Labour someday."

 

"Elder sibling! Don't speak.

 

"Oh! If it were that desperate, it would have come to break my neck in broad daylight!" Van was getting slightly irritated. It was his nature to get annoyed when he encountered cowards, especially those who believed in nonsense until their brains were numb. Rak Khun'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."

 

"And he's kind too. Isn't he beautiful?"

 

"Brother Van," this time Rakkun spoke in a firm voice. His challenging gaze made Van want to pick a fight, but the fact that Rakkun called him by that name... well, Van thought he might tolerate it this time. 

 

"Sit with me for a while."

 

"Why? I have to work."

 

"How much are you getting paid? I'll pay you," Rak Khun 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 placed the tray on the table and sat down next to Rak Khun immediately.

 

"Can I have some French fries?"

 

“Okay, order whatever you want."

 

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

 

After that, Van ordered a ton of snacks without hesitation. He never cared about being considerate of anyone, as long as it was worth it and he wasn't forcing or coercing anyone. Van was happy to accept any profit that came his way. Within minutes, Rak Khun's table was full of fried food, cocktails, and soft drinks ninety per cent of which 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?" Rak Khun asked, after trying to hold back for half an hour. Van knew that sooner or later, Rak Khun would give 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?" Rak Khun 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 face would probably charm many older women. "It's an easy job. Just come and be with me often. If nothing happens and, after a while, you still don't see anything, the job's done. You take the money, easy peasy."

 

"And what if I find out?"

 

"Didn't you say you didn't believe me?" Rak Khun 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 me."

 

"Seriously, why would a ghost bother my brother? Who he dates or talks to is none of its business!"

 

“That’s my job!” Rak Khun’s voice rose with enthusiasm. Van glanced at the young man out of the corner of his eye before lightly scratching his ear. He felt like his eardrums had been slightly damaged by the possessed young man’s excitement. Rak Khun chuckled, realising he had accidentally shouted into Van’s ear. “Sorry, I was 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 at my breaking point. I don't even have anyone to date anymore," he sighed, his eyes instantly clouded with sadness, surprising Van. He couldn't believe someone could believe in something to the point of causing themselves so much suffering. "Even my girlfriend... I can't handle it anymore."

 

There you go, you've triggered a sad feeling in someone.

 

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

 

"I want to criticise, but I still love her." The heartbroken man took a sip of his cocktail, pretending it was a strong drink to numb his pain, when in reality it was just fruit juice with an alcoholic scent. His loved one said he came alone and didn't want to get too drunk, or he wouldn't be able to get home. "He's perfect in every way. He's the best to me."

 

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

 

"He didn't want to leave, but he couldn't bear it anymore. I told you the ghosts were bothering him so much. He almost died the last time."

 

Van's face showed that this conversation seemed completely unreal. A college student sitting there crying because his girlfriend dumped him for being scared of a ghost? Is this some kind of gossip show or something?

 

"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 you're terrified of ghosts, that's why she's using ghost stories to scare you."

 

"He didn't deceive me. Kant wouldn't do that."

 

"How can you be so sure? Even if you can't see it, you can still get fooled."

 

"I didn't see it, but everyone else did," Rak Khun 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."

 

"P'Van

 

"Seriously, if you frequently see things that don't exist, and you're afraid of ghosts, you should see a doctor first."

 

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

 

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

 

"P'Van

 

“Okay, okay, I know,” Van drawled, bored. He felt like he was talking to a two-year-old with only a few words in his head who kept repeating the same thing over and over. Van wished his parents had a large vocabulary from a young age, so they didn't have to get stuck in this frustrating cycle. “Fine, I know.”

 

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

 

"Love?"

 

"I," the person addressed quickly corrected himself, realising he had accidentally used his name. Rak Khun usually did that when talking to older people he was close to, 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 I 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 club was the guitar of Patee, the singer's father, the owner of the handsome back who was the resident heartthrob of The Crow Club, who was currently singing Soul After Six's "Kon Hin La Mer" (Dreaming Stone).

 

One of the reasons Van liked to hang out at the bar was to hear Patee's voice. Besides usually refusing to speak, Patee never sang for anyone unless he was on stage, even though he loved to sing. His voice was so soft and melodious, it could send shivers down your spine. Van couldn't understand why Patee was so protective of his voice. It wasn't like his singing was made of golden nectar.

 

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

 

“Really please.”

 

"Come on, there's no other way," the gossipy customer finally agreed to use the name Van had suggested. "Van, you're not afraid of ghosts, are you? I know you can do it."

 

"No, no, no, no, no, no, please, my dear, no way ...

 

"P'Van"

 

“Call Mom Van.

 

"Mom Van," you love her, you speak obediently, "Do you agree yet?"

 

No.

 

“Damn Van.

 

"Hey! I was born first!"

 

"One side"

 

“What?” Van narrowed his eyes at you, then chuckled softly.

 

“Hire a million.

 

Van, who had been swaying like a blade of grass in the wind, froze. His eyes darted around nervously. Rakkun thought Van's more complex brain was processing information at an unimaginably rapid pace. Van placed his hands on his lap, turned to stare at him. For a split second, it was as if a laser beam had pierced his body. Rakkun sat upright, anxiously awaiting Van's answer.

 

"I don't believe it, Mai," Van said, his face showing boredom and a tone that clearly indicated he didn't believe Rak Khun's words at all.

 

“Oh! Speak the truth."

 

"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?" Rak Khun 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," Van pointed his finger, feigning anger to escape the blame for carelessly judging others based on his own biases.

 

Rak Khun shook his head wearily but let it go. He knew he shouldn't pay too much attention to a strange person like Van. The country boy picked up his cell phone, unlocked it, scrolled and tapped for a few moments, before turning the screen to light up in Van's face.

 

Van squinted at the bright light for a moment. The next second, his eyes widened almost twice as much as he glanced back and forth between the phone screen and Rak Khun's face.

 

Once, before the white-haired young man's gaze began to change in a wondrous way...

 

"Oh...why didn't you tell me earlier, did you?" Van said, smiling sweetly while massaging Rak Khun's shoulders like a servant to a big boss. In the blink of an eye, the handsome young man with the slender figure had transformed into a greedy monkey.

 

It seems the numbers in one's bank account really do affect the behaviour of those around one.

 

“Hi?”

 

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

 

"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, and continued to give his beloved a massage to please him.

 

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

 

"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 mind so quickly.

 

"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 saluted.

 

"Stop calling."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Protect"

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

[I have left the above conversations with he/she boyfriend/girlfriend because Rak later tells Van that his ex is a boy]

 

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 entered the living room, trying to spot any change in his robot-loving friend, but couldn't think of anything. He only knew that he looked a little more handsome. Meanwhile, Talay glanced at him briefly and immediately commented.

 

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

 

"That's a really thoughtful guy." Van gave Talay a thumbs up, taking another bite of the banana in his hand while secretly giving Taengmo a disapproving look.

 

The Matrix: "Become my wife!" But the one being reprimanded remained unfazed. Taengmo shrugged, then dodged Van's banana peel with a flurry of movements, as if she'd stepped straight out of a movie.

 

"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 call a truce."

 

"Disgusting! That's an elephant's trunk the size of a bean sprout!"

 

Van grinned mischievously, delighted that he could still tease Watermelon as usual. The athletic young man gave her two long middle fingers before walking away with a cup of protein shake. Just then, Mimi walked in and slipped on a banana peel lying on the floor. The pretty girl in a clean white dress fell backwards, completely dishevelled. Luckily, Tale, who was standing nearby, rushed to grab her arm in time; otherwise, a hilarious incident would have occurred early in the morning.

 

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

 

"So pretty, but slippery like a banana."

 

"Pretty?" She smiled broadly at the compliment, completely forgetting that she had just been through a life-threatening accident because of a banana peel. "A new outfit."

 

"That's why I said you're beautiful."

 

"Brother Le, please marry me."

 

The sea chuckled. He gently patted Mimi's head and returned his attention to his ceremonial matcha utensils, which was the clearest and most considerate way the charming young man refused. Judging from Mimi's still contented expression despite the rejection, that light touch seemed to have been very helpful in preserving her feelings.

 

"Nuan, my outfit looks beautiful again," Mimi asked Van, who was unwrapping a pack of crackers after finishing a banana. Her tone when speaking to Van was drastically different from when she spoke to Talay.

 

"The same one as yesterday," Van replied expressionlessly. He didn't seem to have even looked at Mee's outfit.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

"Did you get your ice cream cone refilled?" Mimi gave up on her male friend's silliness, walked to the refrigerator, grabbed a carton of milk, and sat down at the dining table next to Van, who seemed to be grabbing everything in sight and shoving it into his mouth as if he hadn't eaten for days.

 

"That's right," Van replied with her mouth full of snacks. "Fully styled too."

 

“Handsome.”

 

"I know."

 

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

 

"I've never seen him 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 all over your head," Mimi shook her head wearily, but still reached out to brush the cracker crumbs from his silver-blonde hair. It might seem like she was being considerate, but honestly, she just couldn't stand watching it.

 

"And then he even came and brushed off the crumbs for me. So hot!"

 

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

 

"So what happened next? How did you dare to talk to him?"

 

Mimi glared at the retort, mentally debating whether she should gouge out the eyes or chop off the throat of that white-haired guy so he'd choke to death on his snacks and wouldn't have to be so heartless towards others anymore.

 

If being stared at by strangers were as easy as living with these losers in this house, Mimi thought maybe she wouldn't need to be here at all.

 

"At least someone likes me," Mimi said, lifting her chin. "I'm not just dodging kicks all day like you."

 

"I'm living my life normally. Other people are the ones who come and have problems with me."

 

"It's your face."

 

“Handsome and usable.

 

"Begging for attention," Mimi made a face. "And being sassy too."

 

"Speak only the truth"

 

"Some things are not necessary"

 

"Everything's necessary for me."

 

Mimi sighed, looking at her white-haired friend as if she were gazing 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 for."

 

Van pondered for a moment before replying, "No."

 

"How can you do it?"

 

“It’s just…” The white-haired guy placed the empty milk carton on the table, then spread 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, like her friend. Only special people like Van had that privilege.

 

"I wish I could do that too."

 

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

 

"Sometimes, we don't care enough."

 

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

 

That's probably true. Mimi has admitted for a while now that her biggest problem is that she can never be Van. She's terrified of being stared at by people she doesn't know. Unlike Van, Daek doesn't enjoy being stared at; he just doesn't care. And that's his unique strength, something not everyone can replicate.

 

"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. "Tang and Nen were there too. They all heard everything!"

 

"This house is a total invasion of privacy."

 

Van shook his head and got up, leaving the increasingly uninteresting (and annoying) conversation. Mimi and Talay watched Van leave, grinning from ear to ear. Nothing was more fun than teasing someone who made teasing others their daily job.

 

"Ask me anything!" Talay shouted after her. "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 ran into Nae, who was coming down. The stern-faced woman was dressed impeccably from head to toe, like an idol trying to avoid paparazzi. Van guessed Nae probably had another exciting event today. He was about to greet her, but Nae spoke first.

 

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

 

“I'm going to change.

 

Van changed his mind about asking how she was doing. He stomped his foot and walked up the stairs, leaving Nem looking after him with a bewildered expression.

 

The meeting place (not usually) for today was NR at Hua Lamphong Station. Van thought he'd arrive early, but it turned out Rak was already there. Rak was wearing a brown and cream striped t-shirt with dark, loose-fitting jeans, black Converse Vintage sneakers, and a leather crossbody bag. He looked better than the first time they met—meaning at his condo—and actually better than their argument at the club. Clearly, Rak was prepared to some extent, which reassured Van a little, knowing he wasn't the only one dressed up so nicely.

 

The weather today is favourable. The clear sky keeps it from getting too hot, and luckily it hasn't rained yet. Van hopes it stays cloudy and rainy like this all day, because she tends to transform into a different person in hot weather. Normally, she's already prone to being woken up, and if it's hot too, she probably won't get any work done today.

 

Today's main mission was for Van and Rak to spend time together, because Rak said that the entity that had been following him from Lamphun would only appear when Rak started a close relationship with someone. Sometimes it wasn't romantic; just becoming close friends would trigger that jealous entity to surface, haunting and harassing the person until they were afraid and finally fled from Rak's life. Van thought this might be why he saw loneliness lingering in Rak's eyes almost constantly, even when his own mouth was moving, or he was smiling. Rak's eyes didn't seem to match the rest of his face when 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 taken on any dates or gone out with men. As expected, he wasn't really the type of guy he usually dated. Actually, he didn't really date women either.

 

It seems what they said might be true.

 

Who likes me?

 

Because of that, Van was initially a little apprehensive that this would be an awkward time together, the kind where either he 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 band t-shirt he was wearing that day. Rak seemed to be trying to find common ground between them in their shared passion, but unfortunately, they found nothing. They listened to different genres of music; Rak preferred the band Pause. Van thought maybe Rak should have more to talk about with Patee, and perhaps Patee would be the right choice, because he himself couldn't imagine that emotionless man jumping in surprise or screaming in terror from being afraid of ghosts.

 

But then again, the reason the conversation kept going might be because they didn't have much in common, and partly because Van kept teasing Love every ten steps.

 

Rak and Van visited a few galleries on Charoen Krung Road, all of which Rak had researched. Van's job was simply 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, had little to comment on. He mostly asked Rak questions, an architecture student who seemed to understand art better. Rak explained what he understood (which was much more insightful than Van's), concluding with, "Architecture and art are not the same thing."

 

“I don’t see any ghosts,” Van whispered softly to Rak as they stopped to admire the pile of stones arranged on the bare cement floor. Honestly, the first thought in Van’s head was, “Let’s just destroy them all!” But it wasn’t difficult to suppress that mischievous urge. He intended to wait for Rak to look at the work and explain it to him. The only problem was that the silence reminded him of the day's real purpose. “We’ve been together for hours now.”

 

"Even a dog could tell we're not close," Rak replied listlessly, his gaze still fixed on the artwork that was beyond Van's understanding.

 

"It's so difficult.

 

Love sighed. He himself hadn't expected the ghost to appear today. This was only the first day they'd gone on a trip together, just the two of them. Even his girlfriend took a long time to get along.

 

He was getting a headache from dealing with that evil spirit of love, and Van's constant pressure to get it out sooner was making it hard for him.

 

They went to have lunch together at a famous barbecued pork noodle shop. The seating was typical street-food style, with tables set up on the street in a small alley, and it felt like they were sneaking in for a seat to eat.

 

Next door to someone's house, a restaurant worker hurried across the street carrying a huge tray to serve us. The aroma was amazing: large slices of roast pork and thin noodles. From the first bite, we understood why people would sit and eat by the roadside without fear of death. Rak and Van devoured the food like a storm. This first meal they shared taught Van that Rak was a fast eater, and Rak learned that Van ate a lot.

 

Dessert after lunch was a cart selling egg tarts. Love wiggled her nose as we walked past, so Van stopped and bought a big set. Love walked along, hugging the bag of tarts, happily eating them while occasionally handing some to Van as if he owned them. Van didn't mind (just teased him a little), and he even took several photos of Love, both pictures of him posing and ones he secretly took because Talay had told him that when going on a date, you should include photos (he'd said it for the fifteenth time – this wasn't a date!).

 

The two spent another considerable amount of time in the record store. This was where Van felt more connected and involved than in an art gallery. There were many records by famous bands he liked, so he bought two: Nirvana and, of course, the band featured on his shirt today, Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Rak seemed to be enjoying it as well. He was interested in several bands because of their unusual album covers, so Van took the opportunity to act as the knowledgeable one, explaining things to them—at least in exchange for Rak's incessant questions while he browsed the artwork.

 

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

 

"No," Van replied expressionlessly.

 

“Stop by anyway.”

 

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 to him anyway. And Rak probably knew very well that there wasn't much truth in his words.

 

Almost all the jewellery in the shop was sterling silver. There were necklaces, bracelets, rings, brooches, and other items that looked unusual to Van. He himself liked wearing silver jewellery, but he had only a few pieces he wore with every outfit without much thought. Unlike Rak, who seemed to have a particular fondness for it. His eyes lit up at several bracelets, and he tried them on and took them off repeatedly.

 

"Isn't this pretty?" Rak showed Van his wrist, which was wearing a necklace with 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 stood rubbing his arm, then turned to smile at the shop owner who was watching from a distance. He saw her secretly laughing when he got punched.

 

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

 

"Your ex-girlfriend?" Van asked.

 

"Yes, Karn has a similar one."

 

"Just like a man's."

 

"Because Karn 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 all along."

 

"Didn't you listen when I was telling you?"

 

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

 

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

 

Although there were many bracelets he wanted, Rak said he usually only bought one luxury item per shop. The reason was that it was more economical (Van was a little surprised by this; Rak was incredibly wealthy, and he didn't think he would be so careful about money) and it allowed him to get things he was sure he really liked. Van, in turn, found it an interesting concept.

 

"You like it that much?" Van asked, noticing that Rak had been looking at her wrist repeatedly ever since they left the silver shop—that new bracelet.

 

It fit perfectly on my beloved'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 that big.”

 

"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."

 

"Hoy! Seriously?”

 

"Oh, 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, her face slightly flushed; whether from walking a long distance or embarrassment at being teased about her city accent was unclear.

 

"Cute."

 

"You don't have to."

 

"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 a stag?"

 

"You're really not listening at all."

 

"I'm sorry, Van," the older one said with an awkward smile, respectfully bowing. Rak clicked his tongue in annoyance, but nevertheless agreed to explain. He felt it was his responsibility to share his family's culture 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 vigorously. "Does that mean my little brother can speak 'Yong' too?"

 

"Huh"

 

"Ah!"

 

"Often," "I can only understand some of it. I've heard my mother 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 words I've heard my mother use."

 

"And during the spirit-feeding ceremony, did they speak Yong?" Van asked. Although he hadn't paid much attention to the details of Rak's stories about his family's background, one thing he remembered vividly was the annual spirit-feeding ceremony Rak mentioned. Rak was certain that the spirit haunting those around him was his ancestor's. Everyone who had seen it described the spirit as a woman in traditional Lanna-style clothing (Rak guessed it was a Tai Yong dress), speaking a language he couldn't understand, though at times it sounded like a Northern Thai accent similar to modern Thai.

 

"Yes, they do speak it, but it's very advanced, really hard to understand."

 

"How is it that you're so afraid of ghosts, even though you keep ghosts 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 it a ghost, but they see it as a family member because, in reality, it's a spirit that protects and watches over us."

 

Keeping away evil things"

 

Rak told Van about the belief in spirits, explaining that everyone is born with a spirit protecting them, passed down through female descendants. For example, Rak's father was protected by his grandmother's spirit, and his mother 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 were to marry and have 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 sure?”

 

"I love and know Karn well."

 

"Maybe the ghost felt that," Van shrugged, ignoring Rak's displeased gaze. "he might have seen something that you didn't see."

 

"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 was irritated when Van acted like he knew everything, which made him not want to argue or get upset. He knew that as long as the other person wouldn't back down, a win-or-death obsession like Van's would never stop. So he chose to just pout and leave the conversation there. There was no reason to prolong the argument with someone whose heart was so closed off, like this white-haired man.

 

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

 

"I won't cut it."

 

"Finish"

 

The day ended without a single ghost appearing. They took the same train back, Rak getting off first. He waved goodbye to Van casually and didn't even turn back to look. Rak's frustrated expression made Van chuckle. He felt like he had completed a mission, even though he had accomplished almost nothing today.

 

Before they even reached the next station, Van's cell phone rang.

 

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 a chat app. He was thinking that maybe this job was more worthwhile than he thought, because he didn't have to do anything but constantly annoy his boss, a love-struck, sharp-tongued architecture student. The younger Van probably wouldn't believe it if he told him, "At twenty-five, even if I haven't built a robot yet, if I've made a million dollars just by annoying people all day long, that old Van would be incredibly 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 message and then fell silent, not replying for several minutes. That silence began to make Van think that he might have really angered Rak. Perhaps buying him a bracelet similar to his ex-boyfriend's was crossing the line, or maybe he had touched on a past wound, which made Rak dislike it.

 

Woe is gone. 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.

 

Then Love disappeared again. Van started to think that kid was deliberately messing with him. This is what they mean by "fighting fire with fire." Once you taste it yourself, you're really getting your fill. Van got home, showered, ate, and then went back to his room to relax, but his chat with Love was still showing as "read" with no reply.

 

Kids these days are so ill-mannered.

 

Van threw off the trivial thoughts. He flopped face down on the bed with his trusty iPad, put on Radiohead's "Creep," and listened while solving a difficult physics problem he'd 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 as a notification outside of the chat, rather than clicking into the chat room.

Loveyou: No transfer

Loveyou: 75 can be transferred to 1390 baht.

Loveyou: Serves you right.

Van laughed uncontrollably, picked up his phone, opened the chat app, took a picture of himself in a flirtatious pose, shoulders shrugged, and winked at his boss.