Seeing Jhettana talking with the driver, just as he'd told him earlier that he'd go to retrieve the amulet necklace back, Khemjira went off to help others unload luggage and other stuff from the coach to be stored in the village's primary school, which wasn't far away. It seemed that the incident on the coach had left everyone feeling dispirited, with hardly any mood to continue with the recreational activities they'd planned, other than introducing themselves to the villagers. The village chief had gathered the villagers for a meeting to inform everyone of what the Community Service Club had planned for tomorrow, in case any villagers wanted to observe or participate.
The plans included repairing the school's roof, which was currently closed for the school break, building a library inside the school, fixing the temple's roof and renovating other parts, and installing water filters at various points in the village so that the villagers would have clean water to drink. They'd also survey each house to see if any villagers needed help with anything, and if it was something they could assist with, they were happy to do so.
Once all the details were shared, everyone separated to rest so that they could conserve their energy for the next day.
"Now, I'll announce the names of the homeowners in the order of their house numbers. If you hear your name, please raise your hand, and the members of the club will come to you. House number thirty-six, Ampai..."
For the accommodations, the club was divided into ten groups, three people per group. There were two people left over, which were Jhettana and Khemjira. But Jhettana had already told them that they'd find their own place to stay.
Each group would stay with the villagers that Jhettana had coordinated with the village chief. Each selected house had more than two family members to ensure that they could look after the members. What Jhettana hadn't told anyone was that all ten houses selected were homes to magic practitioners.
This village was situated at the foot of a hill near a forest, which meant that other than wild animals, there were also wandering spirits that inhabited the area. Most of the villagers here made a living by gathering forest products to sell. Sometimes, they also entered the forest to find medicinal herbs to boil and drink as a remedy when they fell ill, as the nearest hospital was tens of kilometers away from the village.
However, entering the forest wasn't something just anyone could do. Some people, who were without magical knowledge, had been led astray by spirits for weeks in there, nearly losing their lives. Therefore, it was essential to study magic to protect oneself from such unseen dangers.
Yet, in this day and age, there weren't many magic practitioners left. Considering the incident that had occurred on the coach earlier, Jhettana thought it was a good idea to ask the club members to stay in the homes of those people. The village chief and many villagers were aware of what had happened and promised to help protect and take care of the members who'd traveled far to help improve the living conditions in their village as a way of giving back.
"House number forty-six, Chai-ya and Kaew." After announcing the last homeowner's name, two kind-looking adults raised their hands together, and Charnvit, with the other two women of the same group, slowly walked toward them.
"Alright, from now on, please rest up. We'll meet at the school at seven in the morning. Don't oversleep," the club president concluded. After that, he turned off the microphone and portable speaker, packed up, and everyone dispersed to rest.
"Let's go, Khem. I'm gonna take you to see Por Kru," Jhettana finally spoke up, helping Khemjira pick up his duffel bag and other things from the ground and slinging it over his shoulder. Khemjira clutched his belongings tightly and trailed behind Jhettana, his mind swirling with worries. He couldn't help but imagine Por Kru as a man of the same age as his father, covered in yantra tattoos like the ones he'd seen in movies, with a fierce look and a walking stick ready to strike at troublemakers like Khemjira the moment he stepped foot in the house.
"What if he kicks us out? What do we do then?" Khemjira couldn't help but ask since Jhettana had just confessed after getting out of the car that he hadn't told Por Kru beforehand about Khemjira staying with him. It seemed they might have to leave it to fate. With every step, Khemjira was filled with fear, but at this point, there was no turning back.
"Don't worry, dude. I've got a secret weapon ready," Jhettana said with a sly grin. Khemjira didn't know whether to laugh or be afraid, thinking to himself that at least they had to try.
While the other villagers went eastward, Jhettana and Khemjira walked westward out of the village, where it seemed like there wouldn't be any houses in that direction. "There they go again, doing something different from everyone else."
As Charnvit watched them go, a strange urge pulled at him. He wasn't usually one to meddle in others’ business, but something about Jhettana and Khemjira caught his attention, making him unable to look away.
"What are you looking at, Charn? Are you coming?" a female friend, who was staying at the same house, asked. She tried to follow his gaze but saw only the dark path and the banana grove flanking it.
"Nothing. Let’s go," Charnvit replied, pushing his glasses up and turning to catch up with their hosts, who had already gone ahead. But until he could figure things out, he decided he’d keep an eye on Jhettana and Khemjira, curious to discover what secrets the two might be hiding.
Some areas of the village still had no access to electricity. Jhettana held up his phone’s flashlight to guide the way to Por Kru's house, which lay at the very end of a narrow road. They moved through banana groves and rubber tree plantations lining either side of the path.
The wind howled, whistling through the trees, heightening the tension. The further they walked, the heavier their hearts grew, weighed down by an inexplicable dread. The cold air brushed against their bodies, sending chills down their spines. Khemjira clutched his blanket tightly, glancing nervously around, though all he saw was darkness stretching endlessly.
"Are we close yet, Jhet?" he asked, his voice shaky.
Jhettana raised a finger to his lips. "Shh, don't make a sound. If you see anything, stay quiet. Just follow me."
Khemjira swallowed hard, silencing any further questions. Trusting Jhettana had kept him alive this long; whatever he said, Khemjira would follow without hesitation. Jhettana forced himself to focus, determined not to give in to his instinctive fear, though the air around them felt unsettlingly still.
The forest was too quiet.
No bird songs.
No insect chirps.
Only the eerie screeching of the wind, as if a storm were about to break.
A sense of foreboding washed over them, filling their minds with unspoken dread, a silent warning of something dark looming ahead.
Finally, they arrived. Khemjira stared at the large, traditional Thai house before him, its perimeter lined with sam bong trees, which were as tall as a person. People believed sam bong trees repelled malevolent forces; most villagers planted a few near their homes, but this place had an entire fence of them.
"Here we are," Jhettana said, turning to him. "When you see Por Kru, make sure to greet him properly."
Khemjira nodded, swallowing nervously as Jhettana took his blanket. His eyes darted up to the second-floor balcony, where two lanterns cast a dim glow. Their light barely reached the ground, but it was enough to make out a figure.
Por Kru, or Parun, had been expecting them. He knew about the spirit disturbance on the coach and the malevolent forces lurking nearby—his spirit servants had kept him informed.
"How many?" he had asked, roused from the edge of sleep by the ominous report.
"Every single one in the forest, Por Kru," came the answer.
Realizing the danger, Parun had knelt before his altar, lighting three incense sticks and focusing his mind on Jhettana, willing protection over him. But Jhettana’s fear had been so potent that it clouded his concentration, leaving him barely able to keep control. All he could do was chant a sacred khatha, praying fervently for safety. Fortunately, Jhettana remembered a particular chant that had once saved him in a life-or-death situation, just enough to escape disaster.
All of this, because of his involvement with Khemjira.
It seemed the spirit haunting Khemjira was no ordinary specter. Only a powerful entity could summon dozens of pretas to gather in one place; normally, they were solitary, reluctant even to engage with their own kind.
"Jhet will bring that person here, Por Kru," whispered Thong, a spirit servant appearing as a twelve-year-old boy, crawling in to report. Parun’s brows twitched in irritation at this news. The stubbornness of that family line was truly inescapable.
It seemed Jhettana had grown attached to this friend, disregarding all warnings and even daring to bring him here. Parun’s curiosity stirred. What kind of person was this Khemjira? If he didn’t take a liking to him, he’d have the two of them sleep outside with Dhang.
Just then, a spotted dog rushed up, barking at Jhettana and Khemjira. Recognizing Jhettana, it quieted and circled his legs, sniffing for something. Jhettana reached into his bag, pulling out a large, bone-shaped treat he'd brought just for this purpose. Satisfied with his prize, Dhang trotted off under the stairs to gnaw on it, leaving them in peace.
After a few moments of tense silence, Khemjira and Jhettana noticed the light on the upstairs balcony begin to flicker, revealing the figure of a man slowly stepping out. The man stopped at the wooden railing, his gaze bearing down on Khemjira with an unreadable expression.
From where he stood, it was difficult for Khemjira to discern the man’s face clearly, but his heart pounded wildly, compelling him to clutch his shirt over his left chest in shock.
What is this feeling...
Parun studied Khemjira’s face, illuminated in the warm glow of the lantern light. The instant their eyes met, a flood of memories from Parun’s past lives surged through his mind. He’d known of his ability to recall previous lives since childhood, yet he’d never embraced it. He had no desire to remember who he’d been or what he’d done; he only wished to live in the present, as ordinarily as anyone else.
What use was it to remember them? That had always been his perspective.
But in this moment, an odd sensation washed over him. Khemjira’s face stirred Parun’s mind in a way he hadn’t expected.
This person was a lover from whom I'd been separated in a past life.
Parun’s sharp gaze narrowed slightly before drifting past Khemjira’s head to the man standing behind him.
Khemjira swallowed hard as Por Kru descended from the second floor, lantern in hand. His body was tense, and even Jhettana seemed too intimidated to greet him. The aura surrounding Por Kru was so intense that goosebumps prickled across Khemjira’s skin, though the man’s handsome face betrayed no hint of emotion.
Khemjira held his breath as Por Kru approached, catching a faint, cool fragrance emanating from him. He could clearly see the Sarika Kuu Dok Bua, a tattoo meant to attract love and popularity, stretching from Por Kru's chest to his Adam's apple. But he dared not look any further, fearful of what he might see.
Parun ignored Khemjira’s trembling presence. He slowly raised the lantern above Khemjira’s head to reveal the face of the figure standing behind him.
It was a tall, thin young man, clothed in the khaki uniform of a government official. Yet, the uniform was stained with blood, the dark patches trickling down to his trousers. His skin was so pale it bore a greenish tint, and one eye was rolled back, leaving only the white visible, while the other eye stared at Parun in sheer shock.
Parun’s face remained blank as he said, with chilling calmness,
“So, it’s you.”
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