The Crow Club: Over My Dead Body

Chapter 5.

“Why are you only showing up now?”

 

There was no reply.

 

She stared down at Van with a hard, resentful gaze, as though she’d hated him since a previous lifetime. Her face was as pale as paper. Her lips were so dark they were almost black. Her jet-black hair was tied into a high bun. Her slender body was wrapped in three pieces of cloth, one bound tightly across her chest, another draped from her waist to her ankles, and the last resting over her shoulders.

 

An icy chill radiated from her body, cold enough to seep into Van’s skin as she straddled him.

 

“Honestly, I’m glad you finally showed up,” Van said, refusing to stop talking even though she remained silent. She stood over him while he lay stiff on the bed beneath her. 

 

Dim light filtered through the gaps in the curtains, allowing him to see her face clearly. The woman who had appeared in his dreams night after night.

 

“The outfit may be old-fashioned, but your attitude is giving major agency queen vibes.”

 

She remained silent.

 

“So… are we just going to stay like this all night?”

 

Her eyes widened ever so slightly.

 

“Leave.”

 

The first word she spoke was as cold as ice. Her voice was clear, yet filled with resentment. Like the cool water of a crystal-clear waterfall that instantly turned into a pool of blood the moment you stepped into it. She spoke a language he understood, but with an unfamiliar accent. It sounded somewhat like a northern dialect, yet not any northern dialect he recognised.

 

“Leave?” Van raised an eyebrow. “You mean me?”

 

“You… leave.”

 

“Go where?”

 

“Go die somewhere else, for all I care.”

 

Now Van understood what Love had meant when he said this ghost hated everyone.

 

She wasn’t friendly in the slightest.

She didn’t introduce herself.

She didn’t ask who he was.

 

After invading his dreams night after night, the very first thing she did was appear straddling him and tell him to leave—Even though she was the one trespassing in someone else’s home.

 

“How about we start by introducing ourselves?” Van smiled and extended his hand, hoping for a polite handshake. But judging by the look in her eyes, he figured she’d rather shake his head off than shake his hand, so he awkwardly withdrew it.

 

“I’m Van. What’s your name, miss?”

 

Silence.

 

Maybe she’s an introvert.

 

Trying to talk to someone who had no interest in talking to you felt like having your head forced underwater. It was suffocating. The more you struggled, the more water you swallowed.

 

Van had never had trouble talking to people before. Whether they were introverted or unbelievably rude, he’d dealt with all kinds, and no one had ever left him feeling this helpless. So this woman wouldn’t be any different.

 

“If you tell me your name, I might just do what you asked.”

 

“You really don’t fear me at all, do you?”

 

“…What does that mean?” Van blinked.

 

He’d always thought he understood northern dialects fairly well.

 

Apparently not.

 

If spoken language were music, then the way she talked was like twisting the melody of a familiar song until it became something completely foreign. On top of that, she spoke so quickly he could barely keep up. He’d always assumed people from the north spoke slowly.

 

“Could you slow down a little? Honestly, I don’t really understand your dialect.”

 

The ghost woman said nothing.

 

Bang!

 

However, her slender hand shot straight for Van’s throat. Though it was only one hand, it was enough to freeze him in place.

 

Her ice-cold skin clamped around his neck with terrifying strength. It felt as though an iron vice had locked around his throat, crushing it tighter and tighter. Pain shot up into his head.

 

Instinctively, Van opened his mouth, desperately trying to drag air into his lungs. But the air remained trapped inside his mouth. It wouldn’t pass down his windpipe. He began to suffocate. He felt as if he were thrashing wildly, clawing for freedom. Yet in reality, it was like watching an entirely different movie. His body lay rigid beneath the much smaller woman, unable to move.

 

“What language do you want to hear?” she hissed through gritted teeth.

 

She spoke his language now—perfect Standard Thai, as though she belonged to the modern era.

 

“I can speak every language. If you want me to use your stupid language, I’ll do that too.”

 

Van wanted to answer. But he couldn’t even breathe anymore. His body trembled violently, beginning to convulse from lack of oxygen. His consciousness slowly blurred. Yet somehow, her voice pierced straight into his mind.

 

“Stay away from Rak Khun.”

 

The words were painfully clear.

 

It felt as though she were carving them into his flesh, just like Umbridge’s cursed quill engraving “I must not tell lies” onto Harry Potter’s arm.

 

Except Van’s sentence was different.

 

“Before I kill you.”

 

A brilliant white light began to bloom before his eyes. Van reached toward it. He couldn’t touch it. He tried to chase after it—At least with what little consciousness he had left. Or perhaps it was his soul being forced out of his frail body.

 

His body convulsed uncontrollably, completely defenceless. His eyes rolled back. His tongue lolled grotesquely from his mouth.

 

“Remember my name.”

 

In his final moment, she answered the question he had asked earlier.

 

“Tell him… Kahla is going to kill you.”

 

Then everything dissolved into nothingness. Air rushed violently back into his lungs. His body stopped convulsing. The blinding light vanished. Only Van remained, lying on the bed, coughing violently.

 

“Would you like some milk?”

 

“No, thank you.”

 

“Warm milk helps you sleep better.”

 

Rak hesitated at the tempting suggestion. Right now, getting a good night’s sleep seemed like the hardest thing in the world.

 

“I’ll warm some up for you,” Talay said with an easy smile.

 

In the end, Rak couldn’t bring himself to refuse his older brother’s kindness. He nodded.

 

“Good.”

 

Talay’s smile widened.

 

Just as Van had said, Talay genuinely enjoyed taking care of other people. Rak had noticed it the very first time they’d shared dinner together.

 

He was straightforward—the kind of person who seemed capable of smoothing out any problem as effortlessly as flattening a sheet of paper.

 

Calm.

Steady.

 

Rak couldn’t imagine anything, or anyone, that could ever make him lose his temper. His eyes wandered around Talay's room. It was completely different from Van’s. It felt much more spacious, perhaps because of its simple, uncluttered design. There wasn’t even a bed. Talay slept on a mattress laid against the innermost wall. Several potted plants sat nearby. Every piece of furniture was made of wood, rough and unpolished, as though handcrafted. Perhaps he had built them himself.

 

Rak found himself thinking Talay could probably work as a carpenter. Van had mentioned that he loved art. Woodworking is art too, isn’t it?

 

The room looked less like a bedroom and more like the modest studio of an amateur craftsman.

 

“Do you like Bangkok?” the room’s owner asked while warming the milk. Rak figured Talay wanted to break the silence and distract him from everything that had happened, because the question seemed to come out of nowhere.

 

“Van said you’re from Lamphun.”

 

“Uh… It’s nice,” Rak replied uncertainly.

 

“Honestly… just getting away from home was enough for me.”

 

“When I was a kid, I was the same way,” Talay said.

 

Rak felt relieved that Talay didn’t press him for an explanation. Only then did he realise how much his answer had invited awkward questions.

 

“I couldn’t wait to grow up so I could leave home. When I got to university and saw my friends crying because they missed their families, I was honestly a little shocked.”

 

Rak looked at Talay and began to understand why someone like him was called Talay—the sea.

 

“Why did you want to leave home, P’Talay?”

 

Talay turned and smiled. The moment he did, Rak realised, once again, that his mouth had moved faster than his brain. He’d asked the kind of question he himself hated answering, to someone he’d only just met.

 

“I wasn’t very fond of my father,” Talay replied as though it were the simplest thing in the world. Maybe it really was that simple for him. Everything seemed effortless. Even admitting so casually, with a laugh, that his family had fallen apart.

 

“I tried living with him for eighteen years, and it just didn’t work. So in the nineteenth year, I gave up. People have to move on eventually, right?”

 

Rak didn’t know what to say. He felt that only the person living through a miserable life had the right to laugh about it. Maybe Talay truly didn’t mind anymore. Or maybe he was joking because he wanted Rak to laugh with him. But Rak wasn’t sure he was in any position to laugh at someone else’s life. He wasn’t even sure whether his own life was miserable enough to earn that privilege.

 

“So… have you managed to move on now?” Rak asked.

 

“I guess so.” Talay nodded slowly and carefully handed him a mug of warm milk.

 

“Blow on it first. It’s hot.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Rak gently blew across the surface. Warm steam drifted up and brushed against his face, relaxing him before he’d even taken a sip.

 

“It’s been over ten years now. If I still hadn’t moved on by this point, that’d be pretty pathetic.”

 

“It’s really been that long?” Rak asked in surprise.

 

“How old do you think I am?” Talay laughed. “In this house, only Aunt Da is older than me.”

 

“I thought you were only a year or two older than P’Van.”

 

“Wow… that makes me happy.”

 

“You’re not?”

 

“I turn thirty next month.”

 

Smiling, Talay lightly swung his feet before pushing himself up to sit on the long wooden table against the wall.

 

“So I’m basically an older youth now.”

 

“…Right?”

 

“You don’t look like someone who’s almost thirty.”

 

“Is that because I look young, or because I’m still here?”

 

Rak froze.

It felt like being hit with a baseball bat wrapped in cotton. It didn’t hurt, but he still felt the impact.

 

If there had been resentment or some hidden meaning in Talay's gaze, Rak would have felt uneasy. But because Talay looked completely sincere, he knew it was nothing more than a harmless joke—one that Talay hoped would loosen the stiffness in his neck and ease the tension.

 

“Because you look young,” Rak answered confidently.

 

It was probably the first time he’d felt this relaxed since stepping into Talay's room.

 

“You don’t look any different from everyone else.”

 

“Hearing you say that makes me want you to stay here for a long time. Want to move in and replace Van?”

 

“If you ever decide to kick P’Van out, give me a call.”

 

Talay burst into laughter. Rak felt oddly proud that he’d managed to joke back. Even if he was still a little nervous inside, getting close to someone had never been easy for him. Even with Karn, it had taken quite a while before Rak could laugh freely in front of him.

 

Come to think of it, the only person he’d ever been able to banter with almost from the very beginning was Van. Then again, comparing Van to ordinary people wasn’t exactly fair.

 

“You’re the first person who’s ever said they wanted to live here,” Talay said.

 

“Why?” Rak asked. “I think this place seems pretty nice.”

 

“You haven’t even spent one full night here yet. You don’t know.”

 

“Does that mean… you’re not happy living here, P’Talay?”

 

“Oh, not at all. I’m happy.”

 

There wasn’t the slightest trace of pretence in his smile. That only made Rak more confused. Talay spoke about this house as though it were a depressing place—a prison, or a home ruled by a cruel stepmother. Yet he looked genuinely happy to be here.

 

“I live here with people who are like me. There’s nowhere more comfortable than this.”

 

“What do you mean by ‘people like you’?”

 

“What kind of person do you think Van is?”

 

Weird. Strange. Annoying. Overly competitive. Sarcastic. Cocky. Snarky. Shameless. Sharp-tongued. Obsessive. A complete goofball. Loud.

 

Rak could have gone on listing traits forever, but not a single one seemed to describe Talay.

 

“Smart?”

 

He chose an answer that hadn’t even been on his list, simply because it sounded like the safest one. Talay smiled as if he knew Rak was trying to be polite.

 

Tilting his head, he said,

“Out of place.”

 

Rak couldn’t help wondering whether Talay's definition of out of place was the same as weird or strange. If it were, then he’d actually guessed correctly—he just hadn’t had the nerve to say it out loud. Even so, it still didn’t make sense to him.

 

Talay and Van…They weren’t alike in the slightest.

 

A message notification chimed.

 

Van: It’s dealt with.

 

Rak glanced between the message and the mug of warm milk in his hands. He’d only managed to drink a little under half of it.

 

“You can take it back to your room and finish it there,” Talay said with a smile, as though he knew exactly what was going through Rak’s mind. “Just wash the mug and bring it back. It’s my favourite one.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Rak nodded and headed for the door.

 

“For warming the milk… and… for letting me hide here from the ghost.”

 

“No problem.”

 

“P’Van…”

 

Rak cracked Van’s bedroom door open and poked his head inside while the rest of his body remained outside. For no particular reason, he stood on tiptoe, cautiously peering into the dark room.

 

“Come in already. What are you peeking at?”

 

Van’s faint voice drifted over from the bed. It seemed he hadn’t moved an inch since Rak had left, which only made Rak even more uneasy.

 

Why are you still lying there? Don’t tell me the ghost’s still here…

 

“It’s gone. Come on in,” Van said again, as though he’d read Rak’s mind.

 

Even so, Rak couldn’t shake the feeling that something strange still lingered in the room. The lights remained off. Van was still lying motionless on the bed. And then there was his voice.

 

It sounded like Van’s…

Yet at the same time, it didn’t.

 

It was far too weak and hoarse to belong to someone who was normally so talkative.

 

Rak stepped into the room cautiously and reached over to switch on the light. As the darkness disappeared, he finally felt like he could breathe again.

 

Everything in the room looked normal. Nothing had been disturbed. The air conditioner was still blowing cold air; everything was exactly where it had been before—including the owner of the room, who lay in bed with the blanket pulled up to his neck.

 

Rak couldn’t believe that after such a horrifying experience, Van could still lie there so calmly. He was convinced now—this man truly didn’t know what fear was.

 

“How are you?” Rak asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What happened? Did you talk to her?”

 

Van blinked at him, as though he wanted to say something, but he never opened his mouth.

 

“P’Van.”

 

Rak’s voice grew firmer when he noticed how strangely Van was behaving.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“We’ll… talk tomorrow.”

 

His voice was quieter than a whisper. That only made Rak more certain that something was wrong.

 

First, this was someone who never shut up. Van couldn't be this quiet after finally meeting the ghost he’d been provoking for nearly a month. He should have been excited—or at least shaken.

 

Second…

That wasn’t his voice.

 

“P’Van.”

 

“Tomorrow…”

 

Whoosh!

 

Rak’s patience snapped.

 

He stood up, yanked the blanket away, and what Van had been hiding was finally exposed. Van instinctively shrank his neck and tried to pull up his collar to cover it, but that only made Rak notice it even more.

 

Rak reached over, pulled Van’s hand away, and held it firmly. With nothing left to hide it… The marks were laid bare.

 

“What happened to your neck…?”

 

Rak stared in disbelief. He couldn’t believe the deep purple-red bruises stretched across Van’s throat were real. He had never seen bruises that looked so terrifying. Van didn’t answer. He merely shrugged lightly, looking guilty and embarrassed at the same time.

 

“Did… she do this?”

 

Van slowly nodded.

 

Guilt crashed over Rak in an instant. He slowly released Van’s hand and sank back down onto the bed, as though all the strength had suddenly drained from his body. Van pushed himself upright.

 

He looked like he had countless things he wanted to say, but Rak knew that even speaking a single word would send pain shooting through his throat.

 

“She’s never done anything like this before… not even the first time,” Rak murmured, rubbing his face. His hands suddenly felt awkward, as though they were just in the way.

 

“She never did this to Karn either. She’d play rough, but she’d always make it look like an accident. She never attacked someone directly like this.”

 

Van sighed, but even then, he smiled.

 

“Was she… really that angry?”

 

This time Van paused to think for a moment before casually rocking his hand back and forth, as if to say, Not that much.

 

“If she wasn’t that angry, why would she choke you like this?” Rak asked. “Did you go and provoke her again?”

 

Van pursed his lips.

 

That expression alone told Rak that Van had definitely stirred up plenty of trouble. But the moment Rak’s eyes drifted down from Van’s face to the bruises around his neck, he immediately regretted asking.

 

“I’m sorry…” Rak spoke softly, lowering his head because he couldn’t bring himself to meet Van’s eyes.

 

“This isn’t your fault. She had no right to do that.”

 

Ever since he was little, his mother had always told him,

 

“Ghosts aren’t something to fear. Ghosts are people too. They’re family members who still love us and worry about us.”

 

Rak believed she said that because she didn’t want him to run off and hide in the shrine room every time the family held a spirit ceremony. She wanted him to stay with the adults, sitting in the circle, helping prepare the offerings, joining in the prayers spoken in the old Yong language—a language he couldn’t speak or even understand. But he couldn’t.

 

He could never convince himself that ghosts and living people were the same. Because people never treated ghosts the way they treated one another.

 

You didn’t need a spirit medium to talk to another person. You didn’t have to prepare a boiled chicken’s head, elaborate trays of food, liquor, flowers, candles, and incense to keep someone happy. And most importantly… No matter how ugly a person was, they were still a person.

 

A ghost, on the other hand… No matter how beautiful they were—even if they looked like an angel—in the end, they were still ghosts.

 

On the first day he left home, Rak had thought he was beginning a new life—one free from the ghosts and spirit beliefs that had always haunted his family. But it didn’t take long for him to realise that people and their beliefs could never be completely separated.

 

He still caught the scent of incense drifting through the gaps in the wooden floorboards. He still heard Grandma’s voice leading the household’s prayers to the ancestral spirits. He still saw his father cutting bamboo and palm leaves to build spirit shrines. And he still saw the fearful expressions on the faces of the people around him…

 

People who, before long, would quietly distance themselves from him, whether they gave him a reason or not. But it had never been him who witnessed it with his own eyes.

 

The chilling terror that made your hair stand on end… the nightmares that made it impossible to sleep… the “accidents” that everyone knew weren’t accidents… None of those things had ever happened to Rak. Instead, they always happened to the people he cared about.

 

Aside from his parents and a few close relatives, almost no one escaped her. She had been with Rak since the day he was born. Yet only today did he finally learn that she had a name.

 

Kahala.

 

If it hadn’t been for Van, Rak would never have known. 

 

Van’s index finger lightly tapped the back of Rak’s hand. Rak looked up and found himself watching a short silent performance—a mime meant to build diplomatic relations between a ghost and a human.

 

Van pointed at his own bruised throat, then casually waved his hand as if to say, It’s nothing. Doesn’t hurt at all.

 

Next, he raised both hands beside his head like horns, stuck out his tongue, then repeated his confident little wave. This part Rak could understand.

 

Ghosts aren’t that scary.

 

Then Van reached out and poked Rak’s forehead with his finger. After that, he crossed both index fingers into an X. Finally, he made a fist with his right hand, lifted it to his temple, tilted his head dramatically, and put on an exaggerated expression that said, What a shame…

 

It took Rak a while to figure out what Van meant.

 

“This isn’t your fault.”

 

Rak thought that was what Van was trying to tell him.

 

“If it’s not my fault, then whose fault is it?” Rak asked. He felt a little better after playing this game of charades with the washed-up actor.

 

“She’s my ghost.”

 

Van slowly mouthed the words without making a sound.

 

“The ghost’s fault.”

 

“I already knew what she doesn’t like,” Rak said quietly. “But I still did it anyway. Doesn’t that make it my fault?”

 

Van nodded firmly. Then he reached over, gently took Rak’s arm, and began tracing letters across his forearm with his fingertip.

 

At first Rak didn’t understand. But after a moment of concentration, he realised what Van was doing.

 

“He… wrote… ‘Do.’”

 

Van was writing words on his arm.

 

“‘T-A-M…’” Rak slowly sounded out each letter Van traced.

 

“‘Tam?’”

 

Van nodded. Rak guessed what the next word would be before Van finished writing it, and he couldn’t help smiling when he realised he’d guessed correctly.

 

“‘Jai.’”

Tam jai.

Do as your heart wishes.

 

“You’re telling me to do what I want?” Rak asked.

 

Van nodded.

 

“…Whose heart?”

 

The voiceless young man poked Rak’s forehead again. This time, Rak could almost hear Van’s voice inside his head, even though not a single sound escaped his lips.

 

“Your heart.”

 

Rak was certain that was what Van meant.

 

“If I do what I want… then what? What does that have to do with anything?”

 

Van lowered his head and began writing again.

This time it was a much longer sentence. Rak watched carefully, memorising every movement of the fingertip gliding across his skin.

 

He knew Van could type everything into his phone’s Notes app, but somehow this way felt more meaningful.

 

“…D-o… w-h-a-t… y-o-u… w-a-n-t…”

 

Rak read along until the final word.

 

When he looked up, Van was already meeting his eyes.

 

For the first time, Rak noticed how swollen and red Van’s eyes were. Guilt washed over him once again, even though Van had been trying so hard to convince him none of this was his fault.

 

“Do whatever you want. I’ll handle talking to the ghost for you.”

 

That was the message Van had painstakingly written across Rak’s arm.

 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You’re really enjoying this.”

 

The moment you came along, you made my heart race. The more I see you, the more I like you. And the more I like you, the more scared I get, you know, my dear…

 

Rak rested his chin on his hand as he watched Karn jumping around on the gymnasium bleachers. He’d lost count of how many times Karn had sung that song already. Even without a microphone, his voice rang clearly over the music playing through the speakers. (Though maybe that was because the volume wasn’t turned up very high.) A bright smile never left his face, despite being soaked in sweat like a puppy caught in the rain. Singing and dancing on the bleachers inside the sweltering gym wasn’t exactly fun. Rak felt grateful that none of his scenes required anything that exhausting.

 

“Don’t make me fall for you…
 Before I know it, I’ll be hopelessly in love.
 My heart’s already been pierced—
 No matter how hard I try,
 I can’t pull it free.”

 

But for Karn, it probably wasn’t difficult at all.

He was good at this sort of thing. Rak couldn’t help wondering why he’d chosen to study architecture when he could have enrolled in performing arts instead, joined every activity imaginable, and waited for talent scouts to snatch him up.

 

Of course, Rak didn’t think becoming an actor was easy. If it were, everyone would choose that path. But reality was nothing like that.

Not everyone was born with both good looks and talent. And even if someone had both, that still didn’t mean people would love them.

 

Rak had seen plenty of celebrities with little talent who became daily targets of online ridicule. On the other hand, only a select few seemed born to captivate people’s hearts. That wasn’t a skill you could learn.

 

You either had it…

or you didn’t.

 

It was unfair.

But what could anyone do about it?

 

Rak thought Karn was one of those people. The kind who could do whatever was asked of him and shine so brightly that everyone stopped to look. He would become the kind of actor loved both on and off the screen. 

 

Beneath that handsome face, he was unbelievably kind. Sometimes Rak thought… If I looked like Karn, I’d probably be ten times more arrogant than he is.

 

“Pretty entertaining, isn’t it?”

 

Rak flinched, snapping out of his thoughts. When had Maew come to sit beside him? He was starting to worry about how easily he drifted off into his own world.

 

“Hm?” Rak asked, confused.

 

“Him.” Maew tilted her chin toward the bleachers, where Karn was now talking with the director’s team. He was panting heavily but still listened attentively to every instruction.

 

“Watching our leading man sing, flashing that dazzling smile… It’s entertaining enough that I want to grab some popcorn.”

 

Rak chuckled.

 

“It is fun to watch. Karn has a really nice voice.”

 

“And he dances well.”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“And he’s handsome.”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“So… getting back together?”

 

Rak whipped his head toward her. Meanwhile, the instigator merely giggled. Maew was one of the actresses in the production, playing the girl Rak’s character secretly liked. Because of that, they’d spent quite a lot of time together. At first, they’d barely known each other, exchanging only a few words here and there. But now they joked around comfortably.

 

Well…

Mostly it was Maew teasing Rak.

 

Especially whenever it came to Rak and Karn.

Even so, Rak still wasn’t entirely sure whether they could already call each other friends.

 

“Cut it out.” Rak shook his head, though at the same time he tried—and failed—to stop the corners of his lips from curling upward.

 

“Oh? Your mouth says ‘stop,’ but you’re smiling.”

 

“That’s because you keep shipping us like this.”

 

“Hey! I’m only calling it as I see it.”

 

Maemiao shrugged, her naturally curly auburn hair bouncing against her shoulders. Rak loved her hair. It made her look like the heroine from a ‘90s romantic comedy. She almost hadn’t gotten the role at all. Some people on the casting team had said she didn’t fit the beauty standard for the school’s popular girl. But thanks to her fearless, take-no-prisoners attitude, she ended up landing the part—and acting opposite Rak.

 

Rak considered that a stroke of luck. Maemiao was confident, genuine, and easy to befriend. He honestly couldn’t understand how anyone could say she wasn’t pretty. If the reason was simply because of her curly hair, then Rak thought the problem clearly wasn’t with Maemiao.

 

“What ‘seeing it like it is’?” Rak sighed.

 

“I’m talking about what these eyes of mine see.” Maemiao pointed two fingers at her eyes before turning them toward Rak. “You’re still in love with Karn.”

 

“That’s true.”

 

“There! Case closed. Get back together already.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Why not?!”

 

Maemiao shouted so loudly that everyone rehearsing the bleacher scene turned to look. The loudmouth grinned sheepishly and raised a hand in apology. The others soon went back to their serious discussion with the director. Only Karn kept looking over. He gave a small wave along with a faint smile before finally turning back.

 

“See? See?” Maemiao whispered excitedly once he wasn’t looking anymore. “Karn’s still in love with you too.”

 

“Probably.”

 

“Then what’s the problem?”

 

“I’m the problem.”

 

“Let me guess.” Maemiao rolled her eyes and wiggled her fingers like puppets, mocking him. 

‘I’m not good enough. I’ll only make him unhappy. If we get back together, I’ll just hurt him again.’ Blah, blah, blah.” She pouted. “I know your lines better than the script.”

 

“It’s not just making him unhappy,” Rak replied tiredly. “I cause trouble for him.”

 

“What kind of trouble? Seriously, I’ve been wondering forever.” Maemiao planted her hands on her hips. “What are you, the son of some mafia boss? Is that why Karn gets dragged into your problems?”

 

“No…” Rak sighed. Secretly, he thought that would actually be easier. “You wouldn’t understand.”

 

“How could I? You never tell anyone anything. If I understood anyway, I’d be smarter than my mom.”

 

That was probably his biggest flaw. Or maybe everyone in Rak’s life had secretly gotten together and decided to hammer the same words into his head.

 

“Why don’t you just say it?”

 

“If something’s wrong, talk about it.”

 

“How is anyone supposed to know if you never tell them?”

 

He’d heard those words hundreds of times. He knew his habit was incredibly frustrating. He knew he was the problem. And he knew that if he could just be a little braver… Maybe his life wouldn’t have turned out to be such a mess.

 

But how? How was he supposed to say what he felt? How could he forget his fear long enough to speak honestly? How could he stop being afraid of the way people looked at him?

How could he silence the disgusting voice in his head that never stopped whispering its judgments? What did he have to do to become the person he wanted to be finally?

 

“I just want you to be honest with your own feelings.” Maemiao’s voice softened when she saw him sitting there in silence instead of arguing back. She began to regret pushing him back into the darkness he’d only just started climbing out of.

 

“If you both feel the same way, then I don’t get why you’re running away from it. Some couples break up every month and still end up together again. If you still want him…” She looked him straight in the eye. “…then just go back to him. Why are you making it so complicated?”

 

“I want to.” Rak’s voice was quiet. “I really do, Miao. I just… I have to sort myself out first.”

 

“Sort out what?” Maemiao frowned. Then her eyes widened.

 

“…Do you have someone else?”

 

“I don’t. How could I?”

 

“Then what is there left to sort out? I seriously don’t get it.”

 

“My way of thinking,” Rak answered earnestly. Once again, his eyes drifted across the field until they met Karn’s. “The way I think is the mindset of someone who’s not ready to be in a relationship. If I force myself into one now, it’d be cruel to Karn.”

 

Maemiao fell silent for a moment before saying something that pierced straight through Rak’s heart.

 

“You’ve never liked yourself, have you?”

 

The words stayed lodged there because Rak had no idea how to pull them out without bleeding himself dry.

 

“Then… I guess it’s for the best that you don’t get back together.”

 

Rehearsal ended just as the sun dipped below the horizon. It was the first day they hadn’t practised until late at night. The cast had unanimously agreed not to push themselves too hard with opening night approaching.

 

Every time his friends fussed over him, Rak felt like he was some celebrity. They begged him not to take motorcycle taxis unless necessary, asked him to stay away from bars and clubs, warned him not to do anything reckless, not to get caught in the rain, not to eat anything unusual or overly spicy, and to avoid fermented foods and raw dishes.

 

They were doing everything they could to minimise the chance of an actor getting sick before the performance. Rak understood, even if they worried a little too much sometimes.

 

Rak waved goodbye to Maemiao outside the gym. She practically skipped away with a huge grin on her face, excited because she was finally going to watch her boyfriend perform at a famous jazz bar after he’d spent so long auditioning for the opportunity.

 

Her boyfriend was a music student from another university. Rak had never met him in person, but Maemiao showed off photos of them together all the time.

 

He was a handsome pianist with an effortlessly stylish look—the coolest person Rak had ever seen.

 

“Rak!”

 

Before he had even left the gym entrance, a familiar voice called from behind him. Rak forced himself to smile before turning around.

 

“I thought you’d already gone home.”

 

“I just finished talking with Jaeng and the others,” Karn replied.

 

The “Jaeng” he mentioned referred to the directing team. Jubjaeng was the director of the play, and they were always having serious discussions with Karn about his performance.

He was so dedicated that Rak honestly thought talent scouts might recruit him for professional acting after this production ended.

 

“Are you going somewhere else?”

 

“No. I’m heading home.”

 

“Want me to give you a ride?”

 

Rak’s lips parted, but no words came out. He couldn’t even form a sound. He hadn’t been prepared for that kindness coming from his ex-boyfriend. Since they’d broken up, this was the first time Karn had offered to take him home.

 

At university, they both tried to act normally around each other. But once it was time to leave, they truly went their separate ways—as though there were an unspoken rule between them. Both of them tried their hardest never to cross that invisible boundary.

 

“It’s okay.” Rak smiled faintly, trying to refuse as gently as possible. “I’ll go by myself.”

 

“Why? We’re heading the same way anyway.”

 

“I… already booked a Grab.”

 

“Oh… really?”

 

Karn’s face fell instantly. A sharp pain stabbed at Rak’s heart. He hated being the reason Karn looked so dejected.

 

“Where is it? If it’s still far away, you can cancel it.”

 

“It should be here soon.”

 

Rak lied. He hadn’t even looked at his phone before answering.

 

He knew exactly what expression he’d see if he said that—the same heartbreaking puppy-dog look, only even worse. Back when they were together, Rak would’ve reached out and pinched those sulky cheeks.

 

“Then I’ll wait with you.”

 

“You don’t have to.”

 

Rak paused.

He’d answered a little too quickly.

 

“It’s already getting dark. You should head home. If you’re driving this late, Jaeng and the others will nag you again.”

 

“I usually get home much later than this.”

 

Right.

Real smooth, genius, Rak thought to himself.

Beep!

 

Before Rak could come up with a believable excuse, a car horn sounded nearby. He turned toward the sound and saw a familiar blue Toyota Yaris Cross pulled up beside the curb in front of the gym. His heart immediately began pounding.

 

“My Grab’s here,” Rak blurted out, already preparing to make a run for it. “See you tomorrow!”

 

“Wait.”

 

But Karn caught his arm, forcing Rak to stop even though half his soul had already climbed into the car.

 

“Can I pick you up tomorrow morning?”

 

“Tomorrow… uh…”

 

What do I do? What do I do? They had the same class first thing in the morning. What excuse could he use? Should he skip class? Skip for what reason? He couldn’t exactly call in sick in advance. Maybe a relative’s funeral?

Whose? He couldn’t even think of someone to curse like that. But pretending he’d only just found out now wouldn’t be convincing either. 

 

He didn’t look shocked or upset at all.

Or maybe—

 

Beep! Beep-beep!

 

The horn interrupted his thoughts again. This time it wasn’t just an ordinary honk. It was a playful three-beat rhythm.

 

“…What’s that?” Karn looked toward the blue car, thoroughly confused by the enthusiastic little tune. Meanwhile, Rak was praying for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

 

“I’ve got something to do tomorrow morning,” Rak rattled off in one breath. “I might be late, so… maybe another day, okay?”

 

He waved goodbye and hurried off without waiting for a response. He couldn’t stay there another second. The culprit was that ridiculous car. Karn never got the chance to say anything else. He raised a hand and watched Rak climb into the blue vehicle— A vehicle that definitely didn’t look like any Grab Rak had claimed it was.

 

“What the hell was that?!” Rak exploded the moment the car door closed.

 

“What?”

 

Van didn’t look bothered in the slightest. He waited until Rak had fastened his seatbelt before pulling away.

 

“Why were you honking so much? I saw you the first time!”

 

“Then why didn’t you come over?”

 

“I was talking to a friend.”

 

“Your ex, you mean.”

 

Van pouted.

 

“So what? Am I not allowed to talk to my ex?”

 

“You are.”

 

“But just now? That was crossing the line.”

 

Rak could only grumble under his breath before turning away with a huff. Meanwhile, Van stuck out his tongue behind Rak’s back in annoyance.

 

Of course he knew exactly why Rak was acting like such an angry bear.

 

“You were worried your ex would see some handsome guy picking you up.”

 

“Handsome my ass.”

 

After meeting Kahlah for the first time four days earlier, Rak managed to spend only one night back at his own condo before packing up his things and moving back into the Crow Club once again.

 

There were two reasons.

 

First, he wanted Van to summon Kahlah again as soon as possible so they could finally have a proper conversation with her.

 

Second…

Now that Kahlah’s existence had become clear and undeniably real, Rak’s fear had multiplied many times over. He wasn’t brave enough to sleep alone anymore.

 

Truthfully, Rak felt more than a little guilty about staying at the club for free. But Linda insisted he could stay as long as he wanted and told him to think of himself as just another member of the household.

 

Her kindness so touched Rak that he couldn’t find the words to respond. Ever since moving to Bangkok, this was the first time he’d felt like he truly had a home—and adults he could rely on. He thanked Linda over and over until Van finally snapped in annoyance.

 

“Enough already. You paid us millions. You’re not freeloading.”

 

Everyone in the house had such distinct personalities that Rak remembered all their names from the very first day.

 

He remembered Taengmo from the day he’d argued with Yo-Ye. Taengmo was tall and broad-shouldered, with the face of a wealthy private-school kid whose hobbies should’ve been golf or ice hockey.

 

Yo-Ye was devastatingly handsome, like the protagonist of a manga. He seemed principled, polite, and kind to everyone… except Taengmo

 

The house’s two women were just as memorable. Mimi was as pretty as a Japanese drama heroine, bright and cheerful like a little sun—though around Van, she looked more like a blood-red sun.

 

The other woman was Nae. Rak recognised her because she was fairly popular on TikTok for her fortune-telling content. She had a cool, striking beauty that lesbians would absolutely adore, but she didn’t seem particularly interested in getting close to Rak.

 

The person Rak saw the least was Patee. He barely spoke at all and was rarely home. Van claimed Patee was busy with “missions of national importance,” though he never explained what that actually meant.

 

The one Rak felt most comfortable around was Talay. Naturally, he was warm, kind… and he even had a car. Even now, Rak still didn’t understand what Talay had meant.

 

What exactly was wrong with this house?

 

“Is everything ready?” Van asked, hands on his hips as he stared at the floor.

 

“Candles, fragrant flowers, white liquor, turmeric-infused water, betel leaves and nuts, a red cloth, a white cloth…” Rak checked each offering one by one. Everything was arranged neatly in a circle, just as his grandma had instructed.

 

“I think that’s everything.”

 

“I feel like we’re still missing something.”

 

“Really?”

 

Van didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled out his phone and searched for something. A moment later, he shoved the screen right in front of Rak’s face, glaring like an irritable spirit medium.

 

“Hair. See? We’re missing hair.”

 

“If you wrote it down, why didn’t you check it sooner?” Rak grumbled, pouting as he reached straight toward Van’s head.

 

“Hey! Hey! What are you doing?!” Van yelped, jerking his head away and throwing up his arms defensively.

 

“I’m getting some hair.”

 

“Then why are you taking mine?”

 

“Why not? Grandma never said whose hair it had to be.”

 

“Then why don’t you use your own?”

 

“And why can’t I use yours?”

 

“Because my hair’s blond as a damn foreigner! So are you trying to summon a Northern Thai ghost… or Santa Claus?”

 

Rak clicked his tongue in annoyance, but he couldn’t deny Van had a point.

 

“If the ghost actually shows up where I can see her…” he muttered under his breath.

 

He reluctantly plucked three or four hairs from his own head and watched them drift into the small paper cup Van had placed beside the offerings. His heart sank. He felt incredibly uneasy now that he had become an official participant in this creepy ritual.

 

What if Kahla really became powerful after this and appeared right in front of me? Wouldn’t I die of a heart attack?

 

“So… what now?” Rak asked when Van stood there staring at the offerings despite everything seemingly being ready. “Do we light the candles?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Van held out his hand.

 

“What?”

 

“The lighter.”

 

“Oh!”

 

Rak reached into his pocket and handed over his trusty lighter. It seemed the white-haired shaman hadn’t bothered bringing one because he’d known Rak would definitely have one.

 

Van began melting candle wax to fix the candles onto the offering tray. The sight looked utterly bizarre to Rak. Nothing about Van fit his image of a spirit medium.

 

For one thing, his hair was brighter than the candlelight in front of him. (Or maybe you could call it grey. Some spirit mediums did have completely grey hair, didn’t they?)

He was wearing a shirt…

 

He was wearing an Attack on Titan anime T-shirt, a dangling cross earring, didn’t know a single word of Yong—or even Northern Thai—didn’t believe in ghosts, and, to top it all off…

 

…he couldn’t even use a lighter.

 

“Give me that.”

 

After enduring Van’s frustrating attempts for several minutes, Rak finally snatched the lighter from his hand. For someone who loved bragging that he could do everything, the fact that he couldn’t even light a Zippo was ridiculous.

 

“I’m just not used to this kind of lighter,” Van muttered in his own defence.

 

He sat hugging his knees while watching Rak expertly flick it open. Rak flipped the silver lid back, and the flame sprang to life on the first try.

 

Van, on the other hand, had spent ages awkwardly snapping the lid open and shut before managing to get even a single spark.

 

“I thought you said you only smoke once in a while. Why do you even own a cool lighter like that?”

 

“I picked it up cheap at an antique shop,” Rak replied.

 

The warm candlelight washed over his face. The metallic click of the vintage lighter somehow made him look unbelievably cool. Van silently apologised to all those old Western movies he’d watched growing up—for making smoking with an old-fashioned lighter look far cooler than it had any right to.

 

“I only bought it because it’s made of silver.”

 

“Now I really believe you love money.”

 

“It just looks nice.”

 

“My hair’s silver too. Do you like it?”

 

“I’ll make one exception.”

 

“You little brat.”

 

After only a few more rounds of bickering, the candles burned brightly in the middle of the room.

 

Rak separated seven incense sticks, lit them from one of the candles fixed to the offering tray, and handed them to Van.

 

Van accepted them quietly while using his free hand to slide the cup of rice liquor farther away from the open flame. He definitely didn’t have enough money to compensate Linda if he accidentally burned her house down. Better safe than sorry.

 

“Done,” Rak said.

 

The two of them stared at each other, each holding seven smoking incense sticks. The fragrant smoke drifted into their faces until their noses began to sting.

 

Neither of them made the next move.

 

“So… what now?” Van asked. “Do we chant?”

 

“I think we’re supposed to.”

 

“Then chant.”

 

“I don’t know the incantation.”

 

“What?!”

 

Van nearly smacked the self-proclaimed lighter expert with the framed photo he was holding.

 

“Then why the hell are we even doing this ritual?!”

 

“I thought… maybe we wouldn’t need one.”

 

“Oh, really?”

 

“I tried figuring out what Grandma was saying, but I don’t understand Yong. I couldn’t make it out.”

 

Rak sighed helplessly.

 

Two days earlier, he’d called home and asked to speak with his grandmother. He’d asked her to teach him the ritual for communicating with the ancestral spirits—a ceremony their family had passed down for generations.

 

Ever since that night, Kahla had refused to appear again. So they’d been trying to think of a way to lure her out. That reminded Rak of something his grandmother had told him ever since he was little:

 

“If you want to see your ancestors’ spirits, all you have to do is call for them.”

 

So he’d asked her to list everything needed for the offering and recite the invocation over the phone, which was how they’d ended up conducting a ghost-summoning ritual in Van’s bedroom.

 

There was just…

 

…a slight technical problem.

 

“Oh my god… I’m going insane.”

 

Van buried his face in his hands in despair.

Incense smoke now filled the room, and the candles they’d lit were already beginning to burn down.

 

“But I recorded Grandma,” Rak said. “Do you want to try figuring it out?”

 

“You’re asking me to decipher it now?”

 

The reluctant shaman complained weakly, looking ready to give up. Then suddenly…

 

A light bulb seemed to go off in his head. Van whipped around to look at the guilty-looking Rak beside him.

 

“Or… maybe we don’t actually need to decipher the chant.”

 

“Huh?” Rak blinked. “What, are we just going to make one up?”

 

“No, idiot.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“We’ll just let your grandma do the chanting.”

 

Rak blinked several times.

 

It was… actually an interesting idea. At the same time, he already felt like he knew how this was going to end.

 

“I’ve never seen anyone perform a ritual over the phone before.”

 

“Then maybe your grandma will be the first.” 

 

Van shrugged as though he’d never been on the verge of giving up moments earlier. “We don’t even have to call her. Just play the recording you made. It’s still someone chanting, isn’t it?”

 

“…Do you think that’ll actually work?”

 

“How are we supposed to know if we don’t try?”

 

The more Rak thought about it, the more Van’s logic somehow started to make sense. He was beginning to think he’d spent far too much time around someone like Van. His own common sense was starting to wear thin.

 

“Fine. We’ve already gone through all the trouble of setting everything up anyway.”

 

The Complete Ritual (Revised Edition) officially began.

 

Rak placed his phone in front of the offering tray, incense still in hand. He looked at Van, and after they exchanged one final nod, he pressed play and turned the volume all the way up.

 

His grandmother’s wavering voice filled the room. Rak suddenly missed her, even though they’d spoken only two days ago. He knew this chant. He’d heard her recite it ever since he was too young to walk properly. Yet he couldn’t repeat a single line.

 

It was like all those Korean songs he loved listening to—he could hum the melody perfectly, but if someone asked him to sing the lyrics, he’d be completely lost.

 

Rak had once told Van he could understand Yong. But ritual chants were another language entirely. He had no idea what the words meant.

All he knew was that his grandmother was speaking to… something.

 

The sound of the Yong language mingled with the scent of burning incense, making him feel as though he were home. But not in a comforting way. It wasn’t nostalgia. It was more like opening a box filled with memories he’d rather have left sealed.

 

A chill crawled up his spine and the back of his neck. It felt as though something were brushing against his skin. As though countless unseen presences surrounded him…

…slowly…

…drawing closer.

 

Van, meanwhile, seemed completely unaffected. He sat cross-legged with his palms pressed together, incense between his hands, glancing around the room as though he were bored, which was unbelievable.

 

He’d seen Kahla with his own eyes. She’d even strangled him so badly he’d lost his voice for days. And yet here he was, acting like nothing was happening.

 

“I think she’s just not a fan of prerecorded chanting,” Van leaned over and whispered.

 

Rak clicked his tongue and lightly jabbed him with an elbow. The chant wasn’t even finished, and Van was already whining.

 

“She’s not coming. Let’s stop.”

 

“Van.”

 

Rak lowered his voice sternly.

 

“Be quiet.”

 

“The smoke’s getting in my eyes,” Van complained. “My nose too. Everything stings.”

 

“Can you be patient for once?”

 

“I have been patient. Look.”

 

The king of complainers leaned his face closer, blinking rapidly as tears streamed down both cheeks.

 

“This is what patience looks like.”

 

“It’s only a few more minutes.”

 

“Everyone’s limit is different.”

 

“Yours is way too low.”

 

“Hey! Count all the time we spent preparing the offerings too!”

 

“Van,” Rak warned again as the older man started paying more attention to complaining than listening to the chant. “Just wait until it’s over.”

 

“So when is it over?”

 

Van immediately reached over and tapped Rak’s phone screen to check the recording length. His eyes widened.

 

“We’ve only listened to half of it!”

 

He stared at the timer in horror.

 

“There’s still five more minutes!”

 

“Keep your voice down…”

 

“That’s way too long!”

 

“Van!”

 

“It is too damn long!”

 

“For god’s sake! Are you seriously going to die just from sitting quietly for ten minutes?!”

 

At last, Rak’s patience finally snapped right alongside Van’s. He gripped the incense sticks tightly, glaring at the troublemaker in front of him.

 

This had been Van’s idea in the first place. And now that Rak had agreed to go through with it, Van was the one ruining the ritual. He was already declaring it a failure even though they’d only gotten halfway through. Would this guy ever finish anything in his life?

 

“I told you, the smoke’s getting in my eyes!”

 

“Then suck it up!”

 

“I have been! I can’t take it anymore!”

 

“Then that’s not called being patient!”

 

The two amateur shamans shouted at each other without the slightest respect for the offerings sitting between them. Their hands flew around with every angry gesture, scattering incense ash across the floor.

 

The candle flames flickered violently…

 

…and then every single one went out at the same time.

 

As though a powerful gust of wind had swept through the room.

 

Instantly, both of them fell silent. The room was plunged into darkness. They stared at the offering tray before slowly turning to look at each other, both searching the other’s face for an explanation.

 

The chill that had faded from Rak’s body suddenly returned. He swallowed hard. Almost unconsciously, he edged closer to Van, all thoughts of their argument forgotten.

 

“Did… did she come?” Rak whispered, clutching Van’s arm with one hand.

 

“…Probably not,” Van answered.

 

He’d only looked startled for a split second when the candles went out. Now his voice had mostly returned to normal, though Rak could still hear the excitement he was trying to hide. It really seemed like Van wanted to see Kahla.

 

“I think the candles went out because of us.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“…Not really.”

 

“What?!”

 

Fear sent Rak’s emotions swinging wildly.

 

“How should I know? I was sitting right here with you!”

 

“But you—”

 

Knock. Knock.

Both of them froze.

 

They whipped their heads toward the bedroom door.

 

“Who the hell is that?” Van muttered before springing to his feet.

 

Rak jumped up after him, clinging tightly to Van’s arm. Van couldn’t resist teasing him.

 

“What? You think the ghost’s polite enough to knock?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Then you’ve clearly never heard any ghost hotel stories.”

 

The knocking came again.

Van unlocked the door.

 

As it swung open, light from the hallway spilt into the dark room. Standing there was a young man with messy, fluffy hair.

 

Thankfully…

 

…he wasn’t a ghost.

 

It was Patee.

Just Patee.

 

“I’ve got training early tomorrow morning.”

 

The quiet young man spoke in a hoarse, sleepy voice. Although…He looked a little too worn out for someone who’d been woken up.

 

Honestly, he looked more like he’d just come back from a battlefield. Here’s the continuation in a natural, publication-quality 

 

“Sorry, man.”

 

Van gave Patee a light pat on the shoulder.

 

“I had to work late. I sent a message in the group chat. Didn’t read it?”

 

“I haven’t touched my phone.”

 

Patee slowly shook his head, looking so exhausted he barely seemed conscious. He didn’t even appear to notice Rak standing behind Van.

 

“Alright, my bad. We’ll keep it down. Go get some sleep.”

 

Van spoke quickly as he gently ushered Patee away from the doorway.

 

“Go on, good boy. Back to bed. Sweet dreams.”

 

Bang.

 

The bedroom door shut again.

Rak let out a quiet sigh.

 

He looked down at the offerings arranged on the floor. The fear he’d felt moments ago gradually began to fade.

 

Maybe it was because seeing another ordinary human being, someone simply living a normal life instead of dealing with spirits from another world, had reminded him that the world outside was still carrying on exactly as it should.

 

Only this room felt terrifying. And judging by how calm everything was now…Rak became convinced the ritual really hadn’t worked.

 

“…Let’s clean up and go to bed.”

 

He knelt in front of the offerings, reaching for the candles.

 

“Wait.” Van’s voice stopped him.

 

“Rak.”

 

“What?”

 

Without looking back, Rak continued trying to pry the melted candle free from the tray.

 

“Don’t clean up yet.”

 

“What now? Weren’t you the one whining about giving up a minute ago?”

 

“Rak.”

 

Something in Van’s voice made him freeze. His hands stopped moving. Slowly, he turned around.

 

Van was still standing by the bedroom door. He looked as though he was staring at Rak…

But he wasn’t. His gaze was fixed on something …behind him.

 

“Van…”

 

Rak’s entire body went rigid.

His lips trembled.

He was seconds away from crying.

 

“Don’t cry.”

 

Van spoke calmly.

 

“Get up and come here.”

 

His eyes never left whatever was standing behind Rak. And that only made Rak even more terrified.

 

“I… I can’t.”

 

“Just one step.”

 

This time Van finally looked him in the eyes. He held Rak’s gaze steadily before speaking in a voice so gentle that maybe Rak was only imagining it.

 

“Come on, idiot.”

 

“Come over here.”

 

Shit…

Rak cursed silently.

 

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to stand. Van held out a hand toward him. Less than a meter away.

 

Just…

…a few steps.

 

“That’s it.”

 

“Good boy.”

 

Before he knew it, Rak was standing safely behind Van.

 

He really wanted to punch Van in the mouth for encouraging him the way someone praised a puppy. But revenge would have to wait. Right now, they had a much bigger obstacle to deal with.

 

Van looked past Rak and smiled.

 

“Evening, sis.”

 

“I thought you weren’t going to show up after all.”