Chapter Text
By the next morning, the storm had not stopped.
The sky remained thick with dark clouds, turning the estate dim despite the late hour. Rainwater trickled from the tiled roofs while servants moved around the house in silence. Nobody laughed anymore. Nobody lingered alone in hallways. Even the older maids who usually gossiped endlessly while working now kept glancing over their shoulders as though expecting something to appear behind them.
The atmosphere inside the estate felt heavy.
Phutson stood near the kitchen counter grinding herbs harder than necessary with a stone mortar.
One of the aunties, Paa Noi immediately clicked her tongue. “You’ll break it.”
“Then buy a stronger one,” Phutson muttered.
The older miads exchanged looks.
Normally they would’ve scolded him for speaking like that, but everyone seemed too exhausted to argue these days. The kitchen smelled strongly of garlic, boiled rice, and incense someone had placed near the doorway for protection.
Paa Prik leaned closer toward the others and whispered, “I heard Rawi screamed again before dawn.”
Paa Noi looked around nervously. “Don’t say it so loudly.”
“They said water came out of his mouth while he was sleeping.” Paa Prik whispered now.
“That’s enough.”
Phutson said, slamming the mortar down harder than necessary, the sound made all of them jump.
He looked irritated as he turned to look at them. “If you’re all so scared then stop talking about ghosts every five minutes.”
Paa Prik huffed. “You weren’t saying that last night.”
Phutson rolled his eyes and turned away before she could notice the slight stiffness in his shoulders. Because unfortunately— last night had unsettled him too.
He still couldn’t stop thinking about Rawi’s face.
Those black eyes, that voice. And worst of all— the sound of the laugh near the balcony. Every time he remembered it, cold prickled across the back of his neck again.
Another loud crack of thunder shook the windows.
Jaeb squeaked softly, curling up with her arms around herself.
Phutson scoffed. “It’s just thunder.”
Then suddenly—
SCREECH
The sound of tires halting against wet gravel echoed loudly from outside the estate gates.
Everyone froze.
Another screech followed immediately after, then engine sounds and the kitchen exploded into movement.
“A car?”
“At this hour?”
“Maybe they arrived!”
“Go look!”
All of the maids and workers of the estate abandoned their work immediately and crowded near the back windows overlooking the estate entrance.
Phutson stayed where he was for exactly three seconds before irritation lost against curiosity. He sighed dramatically and walked toward the farthest window.
Rain blurred most of the front courtyard outside, but a dark vintage car had indeed pulled up near the entrance stairs.
Servants were already gathering nervously beneath the covered walkways.
Phutson leaned slightly closer toward the window, the first thing he noticed was Phloeng descending the front steps personally.
That alone was unusual enough because Phloeng almost never greeted visitors himself.
The second thing he noticed was that the people arriving did not look like monks. Like at all.
The front driver side door of the first car opened smoothly. A tall man stepped out holding an umbrella lazily over one shoulder.
Phutson blinked.
The man looked absurdly stylish for someone arriving at a haunted estate during a supernatural emergency. Dark tailored trousers, long coat despite the humid weather, rings glinting faintly beneath the rain. His hair was slicked neatly back, and despite the storm around him, he looked completely relaxed.
Like he had arrived at a social gathering instead of a cursed house.
The man approached Phloeng calmly before offering a small nod.
Even from the distance, Phutson could feel the confidence radiating off him.
“Good morning,” the stranger said smoothly. “I’m Kachen Erdogan.”
Phutson frowned slightly at the unfamiliar name.
Outside, Kachen gestured casually toward the cars behind him, “Porkru Pharan’s best friend and a fellow shaman,” he continued. “and unfortunately his personal chauffeur.”
Phloeng blinked once before politely greeting him, “Really great to have you come over Khun Kachen. Myself Phraphloeng Sitthikornkan. You may call me Phloeng.”
Meanwhile inside the kitchen, Lek whispered, “He doesn’t look like someone dealing with spirits.”
Paa Noi muttered, “He looks rich.”
Phutson silently agreed because Kachen absolutely did not look like someone involved with rituals or ghosts. He looked like the type of man who owned expensive alcohol and spent his time playing board games with fellow rich people.
Before Phloeng could say anything, the passenger door suddenly burst opened. A young man nearly launched himself out into the courtyard. He had a bright smile, big doe-eyes that were filled with excitement, too much energy and hair slightly messy.
He landed directly in a puddle and ignored it, “WE’RE HERE!” His voice echoed through the courtyard loudly enough that several servants jumped.
Kachen didn't have any reaction which probably meant he was used to this.
The energetic stranger grinned brightly at Phloeng before bowing quickly. “Hello! I’m Jettana! You can call me Jet!”
Phutson immediately disliked him. Not for any real reason. Jet simply radiated too much energy which Phutson hated in people because it annoyed him.
Jett looked around excitedly at the giant estate. “Oooohhhh this place is terrifying.”
Kachen turned to him with a tight smile, “Please behave for five minutes, it's a serious situation.”
“No promises.”
Then suddenly Jet leaned back into the car dramatically, “CHARN!”
Absolute silence from inside the car.
“CHARN COME OUT.”
Another absolute silence.
Then a voice answered, “I’m not getting dragged into mud first thing in the morning.”
Jet gasped loudly. “You care more about your shoes than the supernatural situation?”
The voice sounded resigned, “Yes.”
Jet gasped like he witnessed an abomination and said, “Unbelievable.”
Then, to everyone’s horror, Jet physically reached into the car and grabbed someone. A man wearing glasses was immediately pulled halfway out against his will.
“Jet- wait!”
“Meet my boyfriend!”
“S-sorry everyone! I-i don't know him! I swear!” The glasses-wearing man finally stepped out fully looking deeply offended. Unlike Jet, he appeared relatively introverted and nervous due to being being manhandled publicly moments earlier. He adjusted his glasses with visible nervousness before giving Phloeng a polite wai.
“Charnwitt,” he introduced quietly. “You may call me Charn.”
Phutson narrowed his eyes slightly. Now this one looked more believable.
Charn carried several old books under one arm along with what appeared to be a suitcase filled with stuff necessary for rituals. His expression was shy but nervous in the way of someone forced to manage chaos constantly.
Which, judging by Jet hanging off his shoulder dramatically, was probably true.
“Chan works in the intuition department, he has a really good intuition as Porkru says! And he also helps in reading all the spirit books, so he is the most boring of us all.” Jet explained proudly.
Charn turned to him with a frown, “You nearly packed cooking spices instead of ritual herbs.”
Jet just smiled and brushes the comment with: “In my defense they looked similar.”
“They absolutely did not.”
Meanwhile Kachen had already lit a cigarette and checked out from the conversation entirely.
The kitchen servants behind Phutson looked fascinated now.
“They’re strange.” Jeab said in awe, all her focus being on Kachen.
“Are those really spirit specialists?” Paa Prik looked suspicious.
“The loud one cannot possibly fight ghosts.” Lek replied.
Phutson snorted softly under his breath. Honestly, he agreed. This entire group looked ridiculous.
Then suddenly—
the rear passenger door opened and the entire atmosphere changed.
The first thing Phutson noticed was silence. Even Jett stopped talking.
A polished black shoe touched the wet ground first, then a figure stepped slowly out from the backseat. Tall, dressed in a dark blue shirt with black linen pants underneath.
For one strange moment, Phutson thought the storm itself seemed to pause around him.
The man straightened calmly beside the car. And despite the distance Phhutson felt the air around him turn heavy, full of weight as if he could command the air itself.
The servants outside lowered their gazes almost unconsciously.
The man finally looked up. Sharp eyes that felt outwardly. Like there is no way to express them in words because they made people attracted to them almost immediately, he wore a cold expression that was beautiful in a severe kind of way.
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He looked dangerous, the kind that made people instinctively straighten their backs when he entered a room.
Phutson’s stomach tightened unexpectedly.
The stranger’s gaze swept slowly across the estate, as if scanning the estate.
His gaze did not reach Phutson but for some reason Phutson had frozen in his place and realised as the man finally stopped his scan, that he had been holding his breath.
Outside, Phloeng stepped forward carefully, “Porkru Pharan?”
The man gave a small nod.
“Yes.” His voice was low, controlled and calm enough to send chills down Phutson’s spine.
Thunder cracked violently overhead at the exact same moment and somewhere deep inside the estate something slammed against a wall hard enough to shake the windows.
Several servants screamed. But Pharan didn’t even flinch. Instead, his eyes slowly lifted toward the upper floors of the estate, toward Rawi’s room.
Then he said quietly:
“It knows I’m here.”