In the familiar comfort of her bedroom, Ploysuay immediately jumped onto the bed, then slowly flipped onto her back, staring at the ceiling fan that spun with an annoying, rhythmic ‘add-add’ squeak. Outside, the cold wind whispered through the treetops, mingling with the deafening chorus of crickets that chirped incessantly around Rin Fah House, nestled deep within the pomelo orchards.

The surrounding area offered no disturbance from traffic or passersby; the house was located at the end of a long, deep cul-de-sac, with only a few other occupied dwellings. Silence slowly began to solidify, bringing with it the mysterious history of Rin Fah House. Chattrakul had confirmed that no one had died...

But instead of relief, the feeling of dread grew heavier. The reality they received—a painful story of blood and the grotesque violence of lovers brutally attacking each other—did nothing to soothe her fear.

The squeaking fan and the relentless chirping of the crickets seemed to be soundtracking the house's dark secrets, a lullaby that would never cease.

Ploysuay could not close her eyes. Her mind spiraled: if the owner of Rin Fah House had died, would he be a vengeful spirit, tethered to this place by unforgiving rage? And if he were still alive... could he be even more dangerous?

"I didn't want to think these terrifying things, but now I have," Ploysuay muttered to the darkness. She tried desperately to summon sleep but found herself incapable of forcing her mind into submission. She could only grip the edge of the blanket tightly and squeeze her eyes shut, waiting in the silence for something to arrive.

Crick... Crack...

Something was pacing slowly on the grass outside. The sound grew steadily clearer as it approached the bedroom window. Ploysuay’s eyes shot open, darting frantically around the room. She prayed desperately that it was only a dog or a cat, anything but a person... or something without breath.

She yanked the blanket up, pulling it completely over her head. She couldn't believe anyone would be strolling the front lawn this late. Only she and Ae—who was now presumably asleep—were in the house. The profound silence made the soft footsteps even more distinct, sounding as if they had stopped right outside her window.

"May God have mercy on me. Please, don't harm me," Ploysuay whispered, raising her hands in prayer beneath the quilt, her body trembling.

A horrific vision flashed into her mind: a man with a ruined face, his skin slick with fresh, streaming blood and dripping with long trails of sickly yellow pus. The vengeful spirit floated slowly into the house, its malice hurtling directly toward her door.