(The novel was translated from Thai.)

The dark front door opened, stirring a haze of dust into the still air. Narajkul, the forty-five-year-old gentleman, stepped into the quiet mansion, his eyes profoundly still. Every piece of furniture was draped in white sheeting, and only weak sunlight, piercing the tiny gaps in the heavy curtains, struck his tall frame, casting an intriguing, enigmatic shadow.

He walked with measured composure, set his luggage down, and moved directly to a window. Reaching out, he quickly yanked back the thick, concealing drape. Morning sunlight instantly flooded the space, illuminating dust motes dancing around his handsome face. Reflected in his glittering eyes, the stately beauty of Rin Fah House stood across the way, reflected back with a hint of dark purpose.

In that very moment, as Ploysuay and Ae approached their house with their faint, natural conversation, Narajkul’s pupils widened perceptibly, as if he had just seen something completely unexpected. His fingers slowly released the curtain, allowing it to fall back into place. He turned, his gaze settling upon a gleaming, sharp knife plunged into the center of an intricately carved antique wooden gramophone.

The man fixed his eyes on the weapon. Then, with an unsettling stillness, he walked toward it. His slender finger gently touched the turntable, and his hand slowly raised the tone arm before carefully placing the stylus at the start of the first groove. The music began to play—a slow, haunting melody that underscored the already chilling atmosphere of the darkened house.

Narajkul closed his eyes, and a slow smile lifted his lips—a smile that was glacial, and too cryptic to decipher.

His lean hand rose slowly to trace the sharp point of the knife, his fingertips feeling the honed edge. His deep, calm eyes opened, reflecting the image of the murder weapon without a ripple, as though it were the most treasured thing in his life—a dark covenant he could never break.

Meanwhile, Ploysuay stopped beneath the large, shady frangipani tree. She looked up at Rin Fah House, her eyes trembling. The house’s classic grandeur had been an irresistible allure, driving her to sign the lease without hesitation. Yet, it also radiated a persistent mystery, suggesting dark secrets lay hidden behind its facade.

Ploysuay glanced at the white concrete house next door and its new resident. Was he merely a fellow tenant, or a long-time owner? Curiosity made her wonder if the man knew the house’s history... but his chillingly reserved demeanor had immediately stifled that thought.

“Maybe we should ask Chattrakul about Rin Fah House’s history? He’s the one who manages this place, after all.” Ae’s voice broke Ploysuay’s trance, snapping her back to reality.

She turned to face her friend, nodding in agreement. “Oh, that’s right! I completely forgot about Chattrakul.”

Chattrakul, the man who managed and leased Rin Fah House, might hold the key—the definitive piece of information that could finally unlock the true story of its past.