The Crow Club: Over My Dead Body

Chapter 7.

Tonight, the Faculty of Architecture had reserved its usual bar near the university to celebrate the successful completion of this year’s project.

 

Their stage play had exceeded everyone’s expectations, becoming far more popular than anyone had imagined—and for several reasons.

 

First, there was Tonkhwan, the female lead. She was a rising T-pop idol, and her popularity had drawn countless fans to the performances. Her fellow idols had also come to support her, bringing along even more fans.

 

Second, there was Karn. The male lead had unexpectedly become the talk of social media after an alumnus posted a TikTok filmed with him in the show's first few days. The video had already surpassed a million views. Girls all over social media couldn’t stop talking about how handsome, charming, and playful he was. Before long, everyone had started calling him “P’Pat”—after Patrick, the character he played.

 

Of course, the show’s success wasn’t only because of its attractive cast. Their performances had earned plenty of praise as well.

 

At first, Rak assumed people were interested simply because they had adapted a famous '90s romantic comedy. Updating the story to fit modern Thai society better had made it feel fresh enough that many people bought tickets after seeing only the promotional trailer.

 

But after reading audience reviews online, Rak couldn’t help thinking this production might end up being the breakthrough that launched several people’s careers.

 

“Are you drunk yet?”

 

One of those people was Mamuang. She had become another standout performer, with countless people talking about her unique style. Even now, she was probably still replying to comments asking about everything from her hairstyle, hair colour, nail polish, and lipstick to her tattoo artist and practically everything else about her appearance.

 

Rak found it a little enviable—to be loved simply for being yourself. Unfortunately, he wasn’t even sure what his own style was.

 

“Not yet,” Rak replied casually, taking an unhurried sip of whisky as though he were relaxing in his own backyard. Meanwhile, a girl group was putting on an energetic performance on stage, while the audience below screamed and cheered just as wildly.

 

“I can keep going all night.”

 

“I heard you’ve always been able to hold your liquor,” Mamuang teased.

 

The smell of cigarette smoke clung to her clothes. She had obviously just come back from having a smoke outside.

 

“Of course.”

 

“But I’m so damn sleepy,” complained the girl who had played Rak’s love interest in the play. She lifted her glass and took a drink, her eyelids already drooping.

 

“I almost didn’t come.”

 

“Same.”

 

“Karn talked you into it, didn’t he?”

 

“…You know me too well.”

 

“As if you’re hard to figure out.”

 

Rak chuckled softly. It wasn’t surprising that everyone could read him so easily. He lived the same routine, surrounded by the same people, partly because it felt comfortable, mostly because he was too afraid to step outside of it.

Besides, even if everyone else had begged him to come tonight, if Karn hadn’t been one of them, Rak would probably already be curled up asleep in bed.

 

“You came because of Karn,” Mamuang said as she mixed herself another drink, “but I haven’t seen you talk to him once.”

 

“Like he’s had time to talk to me,” Rak answered lightly.

 

“He’s just doing what popular guys do. Someone’s always dragging him somewhere.”

He said it as though Karn had disappeared into another orbit.

 

In reality, Karn was only a few metres away.

Just beyond their table, he stood in the middle of the bar surrounded by upper-level students, laughing, clinking glasses, and joking around.

Rak’s eyes had been on him the whole time. And that was all it would ever be—a person he chose to watch without ever stepping into his world.

 

“People were asking about you.”

 

“Who?”

 

“A lot of people.”

 

“One person doesn’t count as ‘a lot of people.’”

 

“They’re not going to run headfirst into a wall just to get to you, Rak.”

 

The whisky glass froze halfway to his lips.

Mamuang’s words hit him so hard that his hand went weak. Slowly, he lowered the glass and set it back on the table. He turned to look at her, completely baffled.

 

“I don’t have a wall,” Rak said.

 

“Then why are you sitting over here?” 

 

Mamuang met his gaze. “Hiding in the corner. By yourself.”

 

“I just didn’t know where else to go.”

 

“And what about when people come over to talk to you?”

 

“I talk to them.”

 

His answer came automatically, though he was beginning to wonder where this conversation was heading. What exactly was she trying to say?

 

“I just don’t like sitting in big groups, so I came over here. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

 

“But sometimes that’s the impression you give.”

 

“So you’re saying I don’t want friends?” Rak laughed uneasily.

 

He thought he finally understood what she was getting at. He knew she meant well, but the conclusion she’d reached felt completely ridiculous.

 

“I don’t even like acting, yet I still auditioned for a lead role. Why do you think I did that?”

 

“I’m not saying you don’t make an effort,” Mamuang replied. “I just wanted you to think about it. Maybe you don’t even realise it yourself.”

 

“Realise what?”

 

Rak laughed again and shrugged before lifting his glass. The bitter liquor slid down his throat.

 

“That I’m lonely? You don’t have to worry about that.”

 

“You’re shutting yourself off.”

 

Her words pierced straight through the hazy place buried deep inside Rak’s heart. He didn’t know what that place was, only that it existed.

It had been there for a very long time. So long that he found himself wondering why he’d never once wanted to explore it. What am I so afraid of?

 

“You put yourself in a group of people,” Mamuang continued, “but you’ve never really opened your heart to anyone. You have a wall.”

 

“I opened up to you.”

 

“No, Rak.”

 

“I was the one who charged straight through it.”

 

The seriousness in both her voice and her eyes caught him completely off guard.

 

“I was the one who kept trying. I was the one who ran through your wall. That’s why I know you’ve closed yourself off. You talk to everyone, but it’s like you’re never really there. The real you is hiding somewhere I can’t see. It’s like you don’t want anyone to know who you really are.”

 

She paused, smiling softly.

 

“Even though you’re such a lovely person…Though honestly, I don’t even know if the version of you I know is the real you.”

 

“But I like him.”

 

Rak couldn’t find the words to respond. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was strange—almost surreal—sitting there while someone else explained him to himself. Talking about things he didn’t know. When this was his life, shouldn’t the person who knew Rak best…

be Rak himself?

 

“You send a stand-in to talk to people,” Mamuang said quietly.

 

“And people can tell.”

 

In that instant, a powerful gust swept through the abandoned, fog-filled corner of his heart, scattering the thick mist just enough to reveal something hidden beneath it. It looked like the answer he’d been searching for. But he still knew too little to understand what he was seeing truly.

 

“Is he here yet?” Van asked Tangmo as they passed each other on the stairs. Van gripped the handrail so tightly it looked as though he were walking toward an execution ground.

 

“He’s already waiting,” Tangmo answered with an amused grin.

 

“I actually think he’s pretty cute.”

 

“Then you can have him.”

 

“Hah.”

 

The good-natured young man shook his head so hard it was almost a blur before hurrying upstairs to his room, leaving behind only the silver-haired young man, who looked about ready to burst into tears because he had absolutely no…choice but to run away, unlike Tangmo.

 

“Good luck, buddy. Make it back alive.”

 

Van nodded with a face full of despair. He took one deep breath. Then another. Then a third. Finally, holding his breath, he sprinted down the stairs toward the second-floor living room.

 

Linda was sitting at the dining table, laughing.

Beside her sat a middle-aged woman wearing a dark red floral shirt. An orange handbag rested on the table next to a white paper bag. Nearby, three empty cookie wrappers were piled together while she happily tore open a fourth packet.

 

“Mom.”

 

The woman in red whipped her head around the instant she heard Van's voice. She set the unopened cookie on the table, sprang to her feet, and marched straight toward him.

 

“What on earth did you do to your hair? Is your father a foreigner now?”

 

That was the very first thing Van's beloved mother said to the son she hadn’t seen in nearly ten months.

 

“Mom!”

 

Van protested, shooting Linda a pleading look.

The older woman only gave him an awkward smile before quietly slipping out of the living room, abandoning him to face someone far more difficult than Linda ever was.

 

“We haven’t seen each other in ages, and that’s how you greet your son?”

 

“Well, you don’t look like my son.”

 

“I just dyed my hair. That doesn’t suddenly make me someone else’s child.”

 

“Maybe it does. I gave birth to a black-haired baby.”

 

Van sighed. As long as he could remember, his mother had always spoken without a filter and had never seemed satisfied with anything. Even so, he’d never managed to get used to it.

If anything, after moving out, he’d realised the immunity he’d once built against her sharp tongue had faded considerably.

 

Once the greetings were over, his mother launched into an explanation of the food she’d brought him—noodles and stir-fried basil pork with a fried egg. Wow. What an unexpected menu.

 

Van carried the bags to the refrigerator, making a vague promise that he’d heat everything later, before ushering his mother upstairs to his room. Truthfully, he would have preferred not to let her in. She was guaranteed to find something to complain about. Or more likely, everything.

 

Still, he’d rather be the only one getting lectured than have anyone else stumble across the two of them having what passed for a civil conversation.

 

“What makes this room any better than the one at home?”

 

His mother slowly looked around, clearly unimpressed.

 

“I never said it was.”

 

Van hurriedly picked up the clutter scattered around the room. She had shown up without warning, leaving him no time to prepare—

or brace himself.

 

“If it’s no different, then why don’t you come home?”

 

“If there’s no difference, then it doesn’t matter where I live.”

 

“If there’s no difference, wouldn’t your own home be better?”

 

“Do you really want me to come home?”

 

Van's voice drifted out from the bathroom as he tucked his laundry basket beneath the sink, hoping his mother wouldn’t notice the mountain of dirty clothes and accuse him of being lazy.

 

“You’re the one who kicked me out.”

 

“I only said it in the heat of the moment. Who knew you’d actually leave?”

 

“Don’t joke about things like that.”

 

Van stepped back into the room and slowly turned in a circle, checking that everything looked reasonably tidy.

 

“I’m the type who takes people seriously.”

 

“So why are you here this late, anyway? You could’ve at least told me you were coming.”

 

“I came to bring your father his medicine.”

 

“At first I was just going to head home. But I mentioned to the taxi driver that my son lived somewhere around here. He said it wasn’t far, so I thought I might as well stop by since I was already in the area.”

 

“What medicine?”

 

Van glanced at the small paper bag she’d been carrying the whole time.

 

“What’s wrong with the old man this time?”

 

“The usual. His arms and joints are aching. He’s getting old, and he ran out of medicine.”

 

“And he sent you all the way here by yourself?”

 

“I get around much easier on my own. Your father’s all clumsy these days. Bringing him with me would’ve only slowed me down.”

 

She said it so casually. But it was exactly that casualness that irritated Van.

 

For as long as he could remember, he’d never seen his father do anything for his mother. Anything that truly mattered. Whenever his father was sick, his mother prepared his medicine. Whenever his mother was sick, she found medicine for herself. Every problem his father had somehow became his mother’s responsibility. Every problem his mother had remained hers alone. And whenever Van asked, “What about Dad?” His mother would always answer, “It’s easier if I do it myself.”

 

The older he got, the more infuriating that answer became. As her son, he’d always tried to help whenever he could—even though she constantly waved him away. But the question that had always stayed with him was…Has his father ever once thought about helping her?

 

Sometimes Van thought being useless must be the easiest way to live. No matter where you were, someone capable—someone like his mother—would always step in and clean up the mess. Maybe that was why his father never bothered to do anything properly. If he did everything badly enough, his mother would eventually stop asking him altogether.

 

“So why did everything take so long today?” Van asked as he pulled out his desk chair and sat down.

 

“Oh, I left the house after three this afternoon. I spent the morning helping at a funeral.”

 

“Whose funeral?”

 

“Your second great-uncle. One of your father’s relatives. He’d been in the hospital for ages.”

 

“At least he’s finally at peace.”

 

“Did Dad go?”

 

His mother merely gave a dry laugh and shrugged. That alone was enough to answer the question. Just as always, everything concerning his father somehow became his mother’s responsibility.

 

“He doesn’t even talk to you,”  Van said, despite already knowing the answer. “So why do you have to go?”

 

“People would gossip if I didn’t. And when people gossip, they don’t just talk about me. They talk about you too.”

 

Van had often thought that if his mother cared just a little less about what other people said, her life would be so much easier. If she didn’t worry about people calling her heartless for ignoring relatives, she wouldn’t have to attend the funeral of someone who had never once treated her like family.

 

If she didn’t worry about people saying Van had grown up without a father, she wouldn’t have spent all these years enduring her marriage. And if she hadn’t been afraid people would say, “Her genius son amounted to nothing after graduation.”

 

…then Van would probably still be living at home instead of in an old townhouse surrounded by strangers.

 

“Oh, of course.” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “We can’t let the neighbours think badly of us, can we?”

 

His mother sighed heavily. She knew exactly how he felt about all of this.

 

“If people don’t approve of us,” she said quietly, “how are we supposed to live? Are you going to keep picking fights with me about this forever?”

 

“Not forever,” Van replied expressionlessly. “As soon as I’ve saved enough money, I’ll be off to Japan. Then I won’t be around to argue with you anymore.”

 

“Oh?” His mother looked at him.

 

“So how much have you saved?”

 

“Almost enough.”

 

Her expression stiffened. Van couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Was she happy that he was so close to achieving his dream? Proud of him? Or disappointed that she’d lost to the stubborn son who had insisted on carving out his own path?

 

“As soon as I finish my current project…I’m leaving.”

 

Deep down, Van hoped she would be happy for him. At the very least, she’d be able to tell the relatives that her only son had made it all the way to Japan to study engineering. It would justify all those years she’d proudly told everyone he had straight A’s.

 

“And that money is really enough to see you through?” she asked evenly. “The money you’ve saved, I mean. What about your living expenses? Food? Japan isn’t exactly cheap.”

 

“I’m applying for university scholarships,” Van replied. “You can apply once you’re enrolled. And I’ll work part-time too.”

 

“And if you don’t get a scholarship?”

 

Van smiled with quiet confidence.

 

“Someone like me? Why wouldn’t I?”

 

His mother’s gaze lingered on him before she answered.

 

“You’re the one who knows that better than anyone.”

 

Even though he knew exactly what his mother was about to do—throw his greatest failure back in his face—Wan still chose to walk straight into it. He knew she’d strike at the deepest wound he carried because it was her wound too. Whenever he hurt…she hurt as well.

That was the kind of mother and son they were. Neither of them could let go of the other—even if staying together felt like hell.

 

“Don’t throw your life away just to spite your parents,” she said, her voice icy. “This is your life. It’s not something to gamble with.”

 

Oddly enough, Van didn’t feel like he was being scolded. He just…hurt. The same way she did. Perhaps for different reasons, but the pain felt equally deep.

 

“I’m not doing this to spite anyone,” he replied firmly. “I know this is my life. And that’s exactly why I’m leaving. Because staying here… neither you nor Dad has ever cared about what I actually dream of. You just wanted me to become the person you bragged about. You didn’t want the neighbours to laugh at you.”

 

“We were never ashamed—”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

Van cut her off gently.

 

“I’m not blaming you for being ashamed of me.”

 

For a split second, he wanted to stop. To swallow the cruel words forming in his mouth.

 

“Because sometimes…”

 

“I’m ashamed of you too.”

 

But another image flashed through his mind—

so vivid, so haunting that it made his skin crawl. He no longer wanted to hold himself back. If that made him an ungrateful son…

then so be it. People could say whatever they wanted.

 

“It’s late.”

 

“You should head home.”

 

“I’ll call you a taxi.”

 

“Van”

 

His mother tried to say something. But he couldn’t bear to hear another word.

 

“I have to meet a client.”

 

Because he was afraid…afraid that if he listened any longer, he’d start wanting to become his mother’s perfect son again—even though he had stopped being that person a long time ago.

 

Rak tilted his head back and watched cigarette smoke drift into the night sky. A pleasant warmth spread through his body from the alcohol, while the cool evening breeze wrapped around him from the outside.

 

Music and bursts of laughter floated out from inside the bar. Compared to all that noise, this corner felt strangely lonely. But for once it wasn’t unpleasant. He wasn’t as afraid of loneliness as he used to be.

 

“There you are.”

 

No matter where Rak hid, someone always managed to find him in the end. Until a few minutes ago, he’d never thought much about that small, recurring miracle. But Mamuang had opened a door inside him. Now all that remained was for him to stop being a coward and walk through it himself.

 

“So you found me.”

 

Rak smiled at the person who had interrupted his peace. Nothing was surprising about it. Whenever Karn wanted to find him, he always did.

 

“I followed my heart.”

 

“It must’ve taken you to quite a few places first.”

 

“Don’t be so mean.”

 

Karn smiled sheepishly before stepping over to stand beside him. His cheeks were flushed pink, and he wore the kind of silly grin that appeared for no particular reason. It was all the evidence Rak needed. Karn was starting to get drunk.

 

“Why are you hiding out here by yourself again?” Karn asked.

 

“Not having fun?”

 

“It’s nice out here.”

 

Rak answered honestly.

 

He’d never thought attending a party meant he had to throw himself into the crowd. In fact…he rather enjoyed watching everyone else have fun.

 

“I just came out for a smoke.”

 

“I thought you were drunk.”

 

“Me?”

 

Rak laughed, narrowing his eyes teasingly at Karn.

 

“Shouldn’t you be worrying about yourself?”

 

“I’m not drunk.”

 

“I’ve barely had anything.”

 

“That’s exactly what you always say when you’re drunk.”

 

“Huh…?”

 

Karn pouted. He absent-mindedly nudged the ground with the toe of his shoe, looking for something to occupy himself with. His body swayed ever so slightly—not enough to stumble, just enough to show that his balance was beginning to betray him, just enough that Rak kept glancing over now and then while smoking, just in case he’d misjudged things and the handsome leading man suddenly lost his balance and toppled over backwards.

 

“What are you doing out here?” Rak asked.

 

“You’re not even smoking.”

 

“I came to keep you company.”

 

“I thought you were an ex-boyfriend.”

 

“Don’t joke like that.”

 

“I’m drunk enough as it is.”

 

“I thought you said you weren’t drunk?” Rak shot him a sideways glance.

 

“I was just pretending to be tough.”

 

Drunk Karn was always ridiculously endearing.

Whenever alcohol loosened his guard, he became more honest. Not the blunt, tactless kind of honest that annoyed people. It was a gentler honesty.

 

The kind that let his stubbornness and quiet selfishness slip through without restraint. The kind that made him admit things he would normally be far too embarrassed to say aloud.

That was why Rak liked talking to Karn when he was drunk.

 

“Karn.”

 

“Hm?”

 

Karn lifted his head. Even half-drunk, his attention settled completely on Rak, just as it always did.

 

“Do you think…I’ve opened my heart enough?”

 

Karn didn’t answer immediately. He was silent for a moment, genuinely thinking. It was only a few seconds. But that alone reassured Rak that his question wasn’t as ridiculous as he’d feared. There really was something worth considering.

 

“What kind of opening your heart?”

 

“I mean…actually letting people get to know me and not just c, not just with them because I want to make friends when I don’t really let anyone in. I keep everyone at arm’s length. It’s fake…”

 

“Fake?” Karn interrupted, looking puzzled. “Where did that come from?”

 

“I was talking to Mamuang. And she said I’m fake? No. She just said I never really open up. When I talk to people it's like they’re only talking to a stand-in.”

 

Rak repeated Mamuang’s words as best he could remember.

 

“So I started wondering: isn't that basically the same thing? I act like I want to be friends with everyone. I say I want friends. But in reality im not really friends with anyone. I look like someone who has friends. That’s all.”

 

“I don’t think that’s what Mamuang meant.”

Karn spoke calmly.

 

“Actually…”

 

“I think I understand why she said it.”

 

“So…”

 

“You think so too?”

 

“I do.”

 

“But not the way you’re thinking.”

 

“Then what do you think?”

 

“I think you really do want friends. You want someone you can share everything with. Someone you trust…and who trusts you.”

 

His words came slowly. Karn’s deep, soothing voice made Rak feel as though he were listening to a late-night podcast.

 

“But when Mamuang says you don’t open up, I think…deep down…you’re just scared.”

 

“Scared?” Rak raised an eyebrow.

 

“Scared of what?”

 

“Making friends?”

 

“Scared…”

 

“…of disappointing people.”

 

Karn didn’t say it like a conclusion. It was only a guess—a guess made by the person who had observed Rak more closely than anyone else. And perhaps the alcohol had given him the courage to say what he normally wouldn’t.

 

“I don’t think you’re fake, Rak. I think you’re just not confident. You don’t believe you’re good enough for someone to love. So you’re afraid to let people get close. Because you’re afraid that if they really get to know you, they will be disappointed.”

 

It was such a simple thought. Yet Rak had never considered it before. Or perhaps he had simply never allowed himself to. Even he wasn’t sure. But one thing was certain. If Mamuang had been the first breeze to stir the fog, then Karn was the second, stronger, steadier.

 

He made everything come into focus, forcing Rak to examine what lay before him truly. He was frightened. But now that the truth was right in front of him, turning away felt even more terrifying. And even more foolish.

 

“So…” Rak asked quietly, uncertainty filling his voice. “Do you think you’ve gotten to know the real me yet?”

 

Karn smiled. “I think the Rak I’ve fallen for is the real Rak.”

 

“How can you know that? Even I don’t know who I really am.”

 

“Because some things are easier to see from the outside.”

 

His smile was warm, softened by alcohol.

 

“You can’t see it. But I saw it first.”

 

“Mamuang said I have a wall.”

 

“You do.” Karn nodded slowly. “And I ran straight through it.”

 

The same words. Both Mamuang and Karn had said them. Rak didn’t know whether the two of them had ever talked about this. But he knew one thing now. They both felt the same way. Getting close to Rak was like running headfirst into a wall. And not everyone in the world would be willing to do that.

 

“Why did you run toward it?” Rak’s voice was barely above a whisper. He dropped his cigarette onto the ground and crushed it beneath his shoe.

 

As the last wisps of smoke disappeared, Karn stood closer than Rak remembered.

 

“Why did I break through your wall to get here? Because I knew it would be worth it.”

 

The cold breeze, the fading cigarette smoke none of it mattered anymore. Karn’s lips met his. Rak closed his eyes. He welcomed the warmth of the kiss, tasting the faint trace of alcohol on Karn’s lips. A warm, slightly damp hand rested gently against his cheek before sliding to the side of his neck.

 

The kiss was sweet. Intoxicating. Unsettling. Rak let go of every doubt. Every question. He abandoned reason itself and surrendered to the feeling he’d longed for all this time— closeness. Trust. The overwhelming certainty of being loved with someone’s whole heart. Karn gave him all of that even if he shouldn’t have.

 

Time seemed to stop for Rak. The wind, however, did not. Instead, it grew stronger. A sudden chill brushed the back of his neck. At first, he thought it was only because of the kiss. But seconds later he knew it wasn’t.

 

The icy wind pierced straight through his heart, so cold it felt impossible that they were still in Thailand. Karn’s kiss changed in an instant. The sweetness vanished. It became stiff. Awkward. Clumsy—like it was his very first kiss.

 

It was so unnatural that Rak instinctively pulled away. Only then did he realise Karn was trembling. His gaze wasn’t on Rak anymore. He was staring over Rak’s shoulder.

 

No…

Please… no…

 

“Karn…” Rak’s voice came out as little more than a breath. He grabbed Karn’s arm tightly. His own body had gone rigid. He couldn’t bring himself to turn around.

 

“…Are you okay?”

 

Karn didn’t answer. But Rak knew that expression all too well. Pure terror. The kind that left someone on the verge of breaking apart while still desperately trying to appear strong. 

 

Not long before they’d broken up, Karn had worn that same expression. He’d tried to convince Rak he could fight it. He hadn’t cried. He hadn’t run away. He’d held onto Rak’s hand even though, deep down, all he wanted was to run as far away as possible. That expression was why they had broken up.

 

“Karn—”

 

“It’s okay, Rak,” Karn whispered, his voice shaking. “I won’t leave you. “I…“I’m not scared.”

 

It was the worst lie Rak had ever heard. They looked so pitiful that he couldn’t find a single word to say. Both of them stood frozen like stone. Neither knew who would cry first. Neither knew how to escape this moment.

Because they had never been given the chance to run, all they had ever been able to do was cry and pray until it finally passed.

 

“It’s okay…”

 

“It’s okay…”

 

Karn kept murmuring the words like a prayer.

But it sounded less like he was comforting Rak and more like he was trying to comfort himself. Because both of them knew there wasn’t a single prayer in the world powerful enough to drive someone like Kahla away.

 

Karn kept his eyes tightly shut. He didn’t want to see the ghostly woman in traditional Thai clothing standing behind Rak, glaring with bulging eyes. Her skin was deathly pale. Her eyes were pitch black. Every feature on her face radiated hatred and resentment.

 

Karn knew that look. He knew she was angry. Angry because he’d been stubborn. Because he hadn’t obeyed her. She had told him to leave Rak’s life. Instead he’d ignored her. He’d kissed Rak. She was furious.

.

“It’s okay…”

 

Thud!

 

Before Karn could finish chanting those reassuring words, his entire body was violently thrown backwards onto the ground.

 

Rak, still gripping Karn’s arm, fell with him. He instinctively tried to keep himself from landing on top of Karn, terrified of accidentally hurting him, completely unaware that something far more horrifying was already consuming Karn from within.

 

“Karn!” Rak cried out as Karn’s body convulsed violently. His eyes rolled back until only the whites were visible. His fingers twisted into claws. His jaw hung open as saliva spilt down the side of his face.

 

It was more terrifying than anything Rak had ever witnessed. Karn had never had a seizure like this before.

 

“Karn… Karn!”

 

Kahla had never done this before.

This time…she meant it.

 

“Stop!”

 

Rak spun toward the space behind him and screamed. He couldn’t see Kahla. He didn’t know where she was. But it was the only thing he could think to do.

 

Tears streamed down his face as he clutched Karn’s shoulders helplessly.

 

“Kahla!”

 

“Stop!”

 

“I said stop!”

 

If Kahla truly existed to protect him just as Grandma Oi had always said, then surely she would listen to him. If she could see how much pain she was causing him, maybe she’d stop. At least Rak wanted to believe she would.

 

“That’s enough!”

 

“Don’t hurt him!”

 

He shouted until his throat burned raw. But it was as though no one could hear him.

 

Inside the bar, the music continued to blast. People screamed and cheered in excitement.

Everyone inside was having the time of their lives. No one had the slightest idea that just outside…their leading man was lying on the ground, convulsing and looked as though he might die at any moment.

 

What do I do…? What am I supposed to do? If Grandma Oi were here, what would she do? And what about Van? What would he do? Van wasn’t afraid of Kahla, but could he stop her? Could he drive her away?

 

“H-help…please help…”

 

As Rak’s desperate plea escaped in a trembling whisper, a brilliant light suddenly flooded over them.

 

HOOOOONK!!

 

A deafening car horn split the night.

 

HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK!

 

Then someone started rhythmically laying on the horn.

 

“GO BACK TO WHATEVER BACKWATER YOU CAME FROM, YOU UGLY WITCH!!”

His prayer had been answered.

 

From the moment they got into the car until they arrived back at the house, Rak didn’t say a single word. Van tried asking questions. Tried making conversation. Cracked a few jokes. Even deliberately tried to annoy him. Nothing worked.

 

The only response he ever received was silence and the expression of someone carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.

 

When they walked past Talay and Mimi at the bar, Rak didn’t even greet them. Neither of them took it personally. The look on his face made it painfully obvious he was drowning in something too heavy for words. Still, they worried.

 

Even if Rak was only staying there temporarily, both Talay and Mimi had grown genuinely fond of him. They had always treated him like part of the club…like part of the family. There wasn’t much Van could say. 

 

He told them that Rak had just been through something terrible. If Rak ever felt ready to talk about it, he would tell them himself.

 

Once they got back to the room, Rak did nothing except sit out on the balcony. Van knew Rak probably wanted some time alone. But he also knew Rak wasn’t really in a state where he should be alone. So instead of leaving him, Van quietly watched from inside the room, staying alert the entire time. Just in case Rak suddenly stood up and jumped from the third-floor balcony.

 

It wasn’t an unreasonable fear. Even now, Van couldn’t shake the image of Rak crying beside the road—the sheer terror on his face. Tears streaming down both cheeks. Both hands desperately trying to hold onto his boyfriend as Karn’s body convulsed violently on the ground.

 

Van knew what Rak had been doing. Praying and begging for so, begging to save the person he loved. Van had never expected that person to be him. He’d only wanted to get away from his mother as quickly as possible, so he’d used meeting a client as an excuse. It wasn’t entirely a lie.

 

He really had arranged to pick Rak up after the party. The truth was simply that he hadn’t needed to leave the house until Rak called. But then there had been that look in Rak’s eyes. The very first moment Van arrived. That look alone made him grateful he’d lied to his mother.

 

As for Karn, he was safe. Kahla had disappeared the instant the car’s headlights flooded the area, and with her gone, Karn had broken free from whatever had been controlling him. He’d sat up as though nothing had happened. Then he’d stared in shock at the sight of Rak sobbing uncontrollably.

 

When Karn tried to pull him into a hug, Rak had recoiled as if burned. He jumped to his feet and ran straight to Van's car without looking back. One of his female friends came rushing out of the bar to help Karn, and Rak left without even waving goodbye. Van couldn’t blame him. Not for a second. If it had been him, he wouldn’t have been able to bear watching someone precious suffer because of him either.

 

For Van, that person would probably be his mother. If she’d been the one lying there having a seizure, he didn’t think he’d ever have the courage to go near her again.

 

Actually, the same would probably be true for everyone at the club. If it had been Pathi or Talay, he knew he would have cried. And if it had been Rak…He wouldn’t have been able to stand there doing nothing.

 

Whether as Rak’s employer or simply as another human being, he would have done everything he could to help. Still, it was strange how frightened that image made him feel. Far more frightened than he wanted to admit.

 

“You know…” Van spoke softly through the balcony door, opening it only an inch or two. “There’s actually a caterpillar out here.”

 

Rak, who had been sitting on the floor hugging his knees, turned to look at him. His eyes were swollen. His cheeks were still streaked with tears.

 

“I’m not joking.”

 

“See all these plants?”

 

“When I water them, I always have to check for caterpillars.”

 

“If I find one, I pick it up and move it somewhere else.”

 

Rak blinked a few times. It was probably the first time since leaving the party that Van felt he was actually listening.

 

“Are you scared of caterpillars?”

 

“Did you catch it today?” Rak asked. His voice was hoarse and trembling. It sounded so different from the last time they’d spoken that it startled Van.

 

“Not yet.”

 

“Really?”

 

“I was too busy trying to get a ticket to your play.”

 

Van put on an innocent expression.

 

“I haven’t watered the plants yet.”

 

“So no…”

 

“I haven’t caught any caterpillars either.”

 

Rak fell silent. His gaze drifted over the rows of potted plants and the climbing vines wrapped around the balcony railing. After staring for a while, he let out a quiet sigh.

 

“Then come catch it.”

 

Van smiled to himself. He quickly hid it behind the same innocent expression as before, then slowly slid the balcony door open. Rak didn’t move. He remained curled up in the same spot. Almost as if he were genuinely waiting for Van to rescue the imaginary caterpillar. Which meant Van had no choice but actually to start looking for one.

 

“So…” Rak asked quietly while absent-mindedly wiggling his toes,

 

“Where did you get the ticket in the end?”

 

“Mamuang.”

 

Van answered as he swept the flashlight from his phone over the plants, pretending to search for a caterpillar.

 

“Huh?”

 

For the first time, Rak looked genuinely surprised. He raised his head to look at Van.

 

“How?”

 

“Do you know her?”

 

“No.”

 

“I messaged her on Instagram.”

 

“Then how did you even find her Instagram?”

 

“On your play’s page.”

 

“They tagged everyone in the posts.”

 

“I remembered you mentioning a friend named Mamuang, so I sent her a message asking for help.”

 

“Mamuang never told me…”

 

“I asked her not to.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Were you trying to surprise me?”

 

“Heh. I was afraid you’d yell at me.”

 

For the first time since they’d left the party, Rak almost laughed.

 

“Just so you know, I wasn’t asking for a free ticket,” Van hurried to explain. “The tickets were already sold out online, so I thought Mamuang might be able to help me find one. I was going to buy it, but she told me I didn’t need a ticket. She said she’d bring me in herself.”

 

Van sounded almost anxious not to be misunderstood. But Rak barely paid attention to those details. Instead, he replayed the memories in his head, wondering how he’d completely missed all of this. He’d practically been with Mamuang the entire time. How had he not noticed…?

 

“…Oh.”

 

Rak’s eyes widened as the pieces finally clicked into place.

 

“Right before the show started…”

 

“When Jaeng came over to get Mamuang.”

 

“I don’t know,” Van said with a shrug, “but when I called, someone else answered Mamuang’s phone. He said the performance was about to start and she was busy.”

 

“So I put on my most pitiful voice and begged a little. He went to get her for me.”

 

The tiny moment Rak had nearly forgotten suddenly expanded into a much bigger memory. At the time, it had happened just after Karn had given him the sacred white thread to wear. He’d been so focused on that and so nervous about the performance that he’d failed to notice everything else happening around him.

 

“And that was the final performance.”

 

Rak narrowed his eyes at Van in mock disapproval.

 

“You were still late?”

 

“There wasn’t anywhere to park!” Van protested.

 

“Do you know how many times I drove around looking for a space?”

 

“If you really wanted to come, you should’ve arrived earlier.”

 

“Hey, Rak.”

 

Van pointed his phone at him, accidentally shining the flashlight straight into Rak’s eyes.

 

“Don’t act like I didn’t try. Before I embarrassed myself by asking Mamuang for help, I actually tried buying a ticket myself. I found someone reselling one because I wanted the earliest performance I could get. Turns out I  got scammed.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

Rak stared at him in disbelief. He was beginning to think he’d been far too unfair.

 

“Seriously.”

 

“How much?”

 

“Fifteen hundred baht.”

 

“…What?”

 

Even with swollen eyes, Rak’s shock was unmistakable.

 

“The most expensive ticket was only a little over five hundred.”

 

“I know.”

 

“It was a resale.”

 

Rak couldn’t believe it. Van had gone that far…

Just for him. It had only been a university play.

They were only employer and employee. They’d only argued over something stupid because Rak had been stubborn, because he’d expected too much from someone who had never owed him anything. He couldn’t understand why Van would go to such lengths over something so unnecessary.

 

And yet when he’d been more terrified than ever before, why had Van’s face been the one that appeared in his mind?

 

“…Thank you.”

 

It was all Rak could manage to say. Van didn’t make a big deal out of it. He nodded and went back to pretending to search for caterpillars.

 

Silence settled between them once again. Van could almost feel the invisible weight pressing down on Rak’s shoulders. He glanced sideways. Rak was sitting with his knees hugged to his chest, staring out beyond the balcony.

 

Van wondered if he could even see the sky. From where he sat, the little garden covered almost the entire view.

 

“You know…” Van finally spoke.

 

“I got straight A’s my entire life.”

 

Giving up on the imaginary caterpillar, he switched off his phone’s flashlight and sat down opposite Rak, leaning against the opposite wall.

 

“I know,” Rak answered flatly without taking his eyes off the view. “I know you’re smart. You don’t have to keep bragging.”

 

“In university I earned a full scholarship, so I never paid a single baht in tuition. I graduated at the top of my class with a gold medal. But none of it really mattered. I got hired before I even graduated.”

 

Rak stayed quiet. He assumed this was simply another one of Van’s stories about how accomplished he was. He didn’t understand why Van was bringing it up now. Still, he let him continue.

 

“I landed a job at a famous company. The salary was amazing. The benefits were amazing. My mum bragged about it to practically everyone she knew. My dad was relieved too. He didn’t have to worry so much about the noodle shop anymore. Some days the business was good. Some days it wasn’t. But it didn’t matter. My salary alone was enough to support my family comfortably. I didn’t have any other responsibilities. And honestly…I’ve never been someone who spends much money.”

 

Van spoke calmly, almost absent-mindedly. His voice was gentler than Rak remembered. Not soothing like Karn’s voice, the kind that reminded Rak of listening to a podcast. No, this was different. It felt like listening to a child quietly reading aloud from their own diary.

 

“So I planned to keep working. Gain experience. Save as much money as I could.

Because from the very beginning I’d always planned to go to Japan for my master’s. There was this scholarship. A full scholarship. It was a special programme for robotics engineering students. They only selected one person from the entire country.”

 

“And…”

 

Van let out a faint, humourless smile.

 

“I was certain that person would be me.”

 

Rak was beginning to realise this wasn’t just Van showing off anymore. He turned to look at the man sitting opposite him. Van looked different. Not the Van that Rak knew. He looked like someone else, someone Van had never intended to introduce to anyone.

 

“You know…From the day I was born, I’d never failed an exam. I’d never seen the word fail. I’d never been rejected. But that time…was the first. The first time I didn’t make it. And I still don’t know why. I was sure I hadn’t done anything wrong.”

 

Van seemed to be trying to keep the pain locked away where it belonged. But in the end he gave up. He let out a long sigh before finally allowing the loser he’d been hiding to step into the light.

 

“I did everything. I filed requests to review my exam. I asked to speak with the people who marked it. I asked to meet the interview panel. I even requested a meeting with the scholarship committee. I tried everything. They refused. They just said the decision had already been made. Someone else had done better than me. You know…that was unbelievably hard to accept. But eventually I tried to let it go. I kept telling myself maybe it just wasn’t my opportunity yet. If not this year, I could always apply again next year. So I decided I’d keep working for the time being.”

 

Rak couldn’t take his eyes off him. Since they’d met, this was the first time he’d truly felt like he was seeing Van’s heart. He’d always assumed Van was transparent, someone he could read completely. Simple. Straightforward. Never overthinking. Never anxious. Never afraid. Never weak. Van had seemed like everything Rak wasn’t. But maybe Rak had been the arrogant one for assuming that.

 

Van was more like him. Not the same. But much closer than he’d ever imagined.

 

“But work…” Van laughed quietly. “…wasn’t as easy as I thought. The job itself wasn’t hard. Not at all. The hard part was the people. Working with them was worse than hell. Everything was politics. Your ideas didn’t matter. What mattered was whose side you were on. You had to do things you knew were wrong without anyone even needing to explain why because doing the right thing would hurt somebody’s interests. And the moment you spoke up…Everyone turned their backs on you.”

 

“No…They all stomped you into the ground.”

 

“And did you speak up?” Rak asked softly.

 

Van looked at him.

 

“What do you think?”

 

A small smile tugged at Rak’s lips.

 

“You speak up about everything.”

 

“I’m a loudmouth.” Van grinned.

 

That finally made Rak laugh. Van smiled too.

 

“So what happened?”

 

“You cursed everyone out and quit?”

 

“No, no, no.”

 

Van wagged a finger dramatically.

 

“That’s not how you do it.”

 

“Don’t resign.”

 

“Make them fire you.”

 

“Oh, my God.”

 

“Yes, baby.”

 

Van struck an exaggerated pose, flashing two fingers like a rapper.

 

“They already knew I hated the way they worked. And they hated me because I kept challenging them. So they all teamed up to make my life miserable. I refused to quit. I wasn’t about to let those bastards win. And I wanted my severance pay. No way was I leaving for free.”

 

“They actually bullied you?”

 

“Oh, everything.”

“They threw away my lunch.”

“They hid my documents.”

“They locked me out of meeting rooms.”

“They dumped so much work on me I couldn’t even go home.”

 

“What the hell?” Rak frowned.

“That’s bullying.”

 

“Like children.” Van let out a dry laugh.

 

“I wish that was the worst of it.”

 

“The real move was  putting you in charge of a massive project.”

 

“You’d do all the research.”

“Build the framework.”

“Pitch the concept.”

“Handle the entire process from beginning to end.”

“And then…”

“Right before the project was finished…”

“They’d kick you off it.”

“You got no credit.”

 

“They really did that?”

 

Rak couldn’t believe it. He’d never imagined working life could resemble a playground so closely. People bullying one another like schoolchildren—except the playground was the office of a prestigious company.

 

“So that’s why you swore at them and got fired?”

 

“No.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I wasn’t planning to quit at all. I was just trying to figure out the best way to get back at those idiots. But before I could come up with a plan, I hit the jackpot.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“I found out who got that scholarship. It was a nepo baby. The daughter of some bloody government minister. Her family was already loaded. So why the hell was she even competing for a scholarship?”

 

“No idea. Maybe she just wanted the prestige.”

 

“You know…”

 

‘The only student in the country awarded this scholarship.’”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“How do you know she got in through connections?” Rak asked. “Maybe she really was good enough.”

 

“Because we went to the same university.”

Van answered matter-of-factly.

 

“I know exactly how capable she is.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“And then one day, when I was meeting a client, I happened to overhear her talking to a friend. She was bragging about how her dad had arranged the scholarship for her. I just happened to be standing close enough to hear.”

 

Rak stared at him, mouth hanging open. This story just kept getting worse.

 

“…Is she stupid? Why would she brag about something like that?”

 

“I told you.”

 

Van shrugged.

 

“She’s not very smart.”

 

He said it so casually, as though it were just another funny story. But Rak knew it wasn’t. Not to Van.

 

It had been his dream stolen from him without a shred of fairness. He’d been punished despite doing nothing wrong. 

 

“So yeah. When I found out, I was completely devastated. I was furious. And then I had to deal with those idiots at work on top of everything. So I finally snapped.”

 

“I cursed the whole damn department. And they fired me that very day.”

 

“Holy shit…” Rak nodded slowly. “This story is insane. I almost feel like applauding.”

 

“Right?” Van grinned. “Just call me legendary.”

 

“The scholarship is why you’re saving up to go by yourself now?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Screw that scholarship.”

 

“I’ve completely lost faith in it. I’ll get there on my own. I don’t need anyone deciding whether I’m worthy.”

 

Rak thought today had become impossibly long. Too many things had happened some he had expected, many he hadn’t. The final performance. The sacred thread Karn had given him. Van showing up with the jasmine garland. Discovering, for the first time, the wall he’d built around his own heart. His first kiss with Karn after they’d already become exes.

Watching Karn get hurt because of him and crying until his eyes were swollen. And now, for what felt like the first time, meeting the real Van.

 

If he didn’t go to bed soon, what other surprises would tonight have waiting for him?

 

“…I’m sorry, Van.”

 

Van blinked.

 

“What are you apologising for?”

 

“You already apologised today.”

 

“I wanted to apologise again.”

 

“What?”

 

“You listened to my tragic backstory and got emotional?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

Rak smiled faintly.

 

“I guess.”

 

He couldn’t call Van’s story a “backstory.”

 

It was real.

And far too cruel.

 

“I honestly never knew anything about you.”

 

“I only heard little bits here and there.”

 

“I stitched them together in my head…”

 

“…and acted like I understood everything.”

 

“Mmm…”

Van chuckled.

 

“That’s probably true.”

 

“But isn’t that normal?”

 

“Everyone does it.”

 

“I do it too.”

 

“But I won’t do that to you anymore.”

 

Rak said quietly. Van looked at him.

 

“Then I won’t do it to you anymore either.”

Rak froze.

 

He stared at Van with an odd expression. Van blinked back, confused, smiling awkwardly.

 

“…What?” he asked through his frozen grin. His lips barely moved, making the words come out muffled.

 

“What’re you staring at?”

 

“…You’ve never called me ‘Rak’ before.”

 

Rak sounded oddly excited.

 

“…I haven’t?”

 

“No. You always call me ‘kid.’”

 

“‘Hey, kid.’”

“‘Listen, kid.’”

“Never my name.”

 

“Is that really such a big deal?”

 

Van still looked completely baffled. He couldn’t understand why Rak cared about something so small.

 

“I was just teasing you.”

 

“I copied the way you talk.”

 

“I’m not complaining.”

Rak smiled.

 

“I just think it’s… kind of strange.”

 

“Wait until I start calling you darling.”

 

Van didn’t stop there. He even winked. Rak immediately turned his face away in exaggerated horror. At that exact moment his eyes drifted downward, and he spotted a familiar figure walking toward the front of the club.

 

“Oh! Patee!”

 

“Where?”

 

Van shot to his feet immediately. A small smile crept onto Rak’s face as he watched Van’s obvious excitement. He had a feeling Patee was probably Van’s favourite person in the house. Even though they hardly ever seemed to talk.

 

(Or maybe it was simply because Patee hardly talked to anyone.)

 

“That idiot’s home late.”

 

Van muttered before leaning over the balcony and shouting,

 

“Patee!”

 

The man who was just about to step beneath the club’s awning stopped in his tracks. He took a step back and looked up. Patee didn’t seem surprised to hear Van calling him.

 

As always, he just looked tired and sleepy. Rak found himself growing more curious every day about this so-called “national mission” Van always joked Patee was busy with.

 

“Have you eaten yet?” Van called down.

 

Patee stood still for a couple of seconds before slowly shaking his head.

 

“I’ve got noodles and basil pork! Which one do you want?”

 

Patee didn’t shout back.

 

(In fact, Rak couldn’t even imagine him shouting.)

 

Instead, he mouthed the words slowly.

“…Noodles.”

 

“Okay! Come upstairs!”

 

Patee smiled. Then he walked into the club.

 

“…Patee smiles?”

 

Rak said it in genuine amazement.

 

Since moving into the house, this was the first time he’d ever seen the perpetually sleepy man smile. It felt like discovering some miracle. Was this…another surprise today waiting for him?

 

“He smiles all the time,” Van replied as he slid the balcony door open. It looked like he was finally heading downstairs.

 

“I’m going to heat the noodles for him.”

 

“Do you want the basil pork?”

 

Rak blinked. He seriously considered it. If Patee was eating the noodles… then that meant…Yeah.”

 

He nodded.

 

“I’ll eat the basil pork.”

 

“Alright.”

 

“I’ll bring it back up.”

 

With that, Van disappeared into the room before heading downstairs. Rak watched the retreating figure of that impossible man. Van always claimed he’d never been in love.

Then why had no one ever noticed what Rak was seeing now? He couldn’t understand it at all.

 

After Van went downstairs to warm up Patee’s late-night meal—(and Rak’s as well), Rak wandered back into the bedroom. He sat down at Van’s study desk and curiously looked over the stacks of engineering textbooks piled neatly in the corner.

 

He’d slept in this room often enough that everything already felt familiar. Yet when he really thought about it, he knew surprisingly little about what Van actually kept here. He wasn’t snooping…Just curious.

 

“Heh…”

 

A laugh escaped him when something near his feet caught his eye.

 

“…What’s this?”

 

It was the bundle of incense sticks they’d bought together for the ghost-summoning ritual. The very same bundle Rak had thrown at Van’s face the next morning. He’d assumed Van had either thrown it away or given it back to Linda after Rak had turned it into a weapon.

 

Rak bent down to pick it up. But before his fingers reached it, something else caught his attention.

 

A strip of red fabric was sticking out from one of the desk drawers. It didn’t look like something a person like Van would ever own. Rak’s imagination immediately began running wild. What on earth is that…? Would it really be so wrong…if I just took one quick look?

 

Curiosity won. It always did. Rak slowly pulled the drawer open. He picked up the folded piece of red cloth…Then—his jaw dropped.

 

“The basil pork’s here—”

 

“…WHOA!”

 

Van nearly dropped the plate of stir-fried basil pork and fried egg as he shut the door and turned around. Standing proudly in the middle of the room was his favourite superhero.

 

“…I knew I’d seen it somewhere before.”

 

Spider-Man Rak declared in the exact tone Conan used after solving an impossibly complicated case.

 

“How did it take me this long to figure it out?”

 

“That voice.”

 

“Those lips.”

 

“How many people could it possibly be?”

 

“…Wow.”

 

Van laughed awkwardly.

 

“So you found it.”

 

“I wonder how.”

 

He scratched the back of his head.

 

“Would you like your basil pork, sweetheart?”

 

“When were you planning to tell me?” Rak asked.

 

“Right now.” Van smiled innocently.

 

“I love you, Rak.”

 

“Do I look like I’m laughing?”

 

The defendant, charged with lying by omission, immediately shut his mouth. He shrank into himself and shuffled over to sit on the edge of the bed, still clutching the steaming plate of basil pork.

 

“…Sorry,” Van mumbled.

 

“I completely forgot about that. I honestly didn’t know when to tell you.”

 

“The first day I came here.”

 

Rak walked over until he was standing directly in front of him. Van wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but Rak’s shadow falling over him felt unusually enormous tonight.

 

“Well…At that point I wasn’t planning to accept your job. So I didn’t think there was any reason to tell you.”

 

“What about after you agreed to take it?”

 

“I was waiting for the right moment. And after I started sleeping here every night?”

 

Van winced.

 

“Sometimes I forgot. Sometimes you were exhausted…”

 

“And today?”

 

Van sighed in defeat.

 

“…I forgot I’d ever been Spider-Man.”

 

It was probably the stupidest confession he could have made. But perhaps if he showed enough genuine remorse, his sentence might be reduced.

 

“…I’m sorry.”

 

Rak said nothing. The silence stretched longer…

and longer…Until Van started feeling genuinely uncomfortable. Not being able to see Rak’s expression behind the Spider-Man mask only made it worse. Was Rak furious? Heartbroken?

Disappointed? Hurt? He couldn’t tell. Then after what felt like forever, Rak finally spoke.

 

“Say, ‘Tiny tuft of hair is cute.’”

 

“…And I’ll forgive you.”

 

“…Huh?”

 

Van’s jaw dropped.

 

“‘Tiny tuft of hair is cute.’”

 

Spider-Man repeated sternly. Van had never imagined that one day timid little Rak would get revenge like this. This was payback for teasing Rak the very first time they’d met.

 

“Can’t I just apologise normally?”

 

“Say it.”

 

“…Tiny tuft of hair is cute.”

 

So what? It was only one sentence. How much could it possibly hurt? Rak fell silent again.

 

“…Well?”

 

Van prompted. Rak stayed quiet for several more seconds. Then he burst into laughter.

 

“Hahaha!”

 

“Excellent! Excellent!”

 

“Good job, Little Willy!”

 

The fake Spider-Man clapped enthusiastically, laughing so hard he nearly doubled over. Meanwhile, Van sat on the bed with the expression of someone who had completely given up on life, still holding the plate of basil pork.

 

“…Don’t worry.”

 

“I’m not going to show it to anyone.”

 

Rak grinned beneath the Spider-Man mask.

 

“I’m just going to keep it…”

 

“…so I can watch it whenever I’m feeling sad.”

 

…Keep it?

…Watch it?

 

Van frowned in confusion. Then he slowly turned his head until he spotted his phone. It had been propped up on his study desk in a very suspicious position. Using his own textbooks as a camera stand.

 

“…Rak!”

 

“You really recorded me?!”

 

Rak tilted his head innocently.

 

“Hm?”

 

He walked over, picked up the phone, and calmly checked the video framing as if nothing unusual had happened.

 

“How could you trick me like that?”

 

Rak smiled smugly.

 

“This is revenge for you running your mouth in the lift.”

 

“But I helped you through your panic attack!”

 

“I already thanked you.”

 

Spider-Man the villain slipped the phone into his pocket before folding his arms confidently.

 

“Those are two separate things.”

 

“Being grateful is one thing.”

 

“Getting revenge is another.”

 

Van could only gape. Who would’ve thought that his favourite superhero, that friendly neighbour, would one day shamelessly set up a hidden camera just to blackmail him? Honestly, Van didn’t really care if Rak showed the clip to the entire world.

 

“Tiny tuft of hair is cute.”

 

It was embarrassing but also adorable.

What annoyed him most was that someone as brilliant as he was had fallen straight into this kid’s trap.

 

“…Just take your food.”

 

Van finally sighed in surrender. He held out the plate.

 

“Eat everything.”

 

“So you’ll have enough energy to keep bullying me.”

 

“I’ll lick the plate clean.”

 

Rak accepted it, giggling to himself. Van could only shake his head in resignation as he stood up.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“I’m taking my cute little willy on a trip to the bathroom.”

 

“Approved.”

 

The owner of the “cute little willy” trudged into the bathroom with his head hanging low. Left alone, Rak laughed to himself.

 

He carried the plate to Van’s study desk, set it down, then pulled the Spider-Man mask off his head, ready to enjoy the late-night meal Van had made for him.

 

That’s when the bedroom lights flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then again.

 

Rak frowned and looked around. As far as he remembered, the electricity had never behaved like this before. Van, however, didn’t react from inside the bathroom. So maybe it was just the voltage dropping. That happened sometimes. Nothing unusual. Except it didn’t stop.

 

“Van?” Rak called toward the bathroom.

 

An uneasy feeling slowly spread through his chest. He hated this feeling.

 

“Van…”

 

“Are you done yet?”

 

No answer. Rak immediately stood up and hurried toward the bathroom door, raising his hand to knock.

 

The lights began flashing in rapid, violent pulses. The fluorescent tube buzzed loudly overhead, as though it were about to explode.

 

“Van—”

 

“I WARNED YOU… DON’T LISTEN!”

 

The furious voice exploded through the room or perhaps inside his own head. Rak couldn’t tell.

 

Every light around him strobed wildly. The relentless flashing made him dizzy. He clamped both hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut before collapsing onto the floor outside the bathroom door.

 

He tried to scream. To beg whatever this was to stop. But no sound came out. It was like trying to scream inside a nightmare, throwing every ounce of strength into your voice and hearing nothing at all. There was no sound. No one could hear him.

 

“You’ll be ruined because of men!”

 

No…

Enough.

Please stop.

 

“Pervert!”

 

I don’t want to hear any more.

 

“…Rak.”

 

Go away!

 

“Rak!”

 

Gasp!

 

The moment that desperate scream echoed through his mind, Van’s voice broke through and pulled Rak out of the strange, suffocating abyss.

 

Everything returned to normal. The voices were gone. The lights had stopped flickering.

There was only Rak—his whole body trembling, drenched in cold sweat, held tightly in Van’s arms.