In the consuming darkness, Ploysuay could not distinctly make out his features, yet she inexplicably felt he was a man close to her own age. A cold breeze gently swept her hair. Suddenly, the front door burst open. The figure of a man stood rigidly in the threshold.

The dark shadow that was embracing her instantly pushed her away. Ploysuay tumbled back, hitting the floor.

The man at the doorway lunged directly toward her, while the shadow of the first man—the one who had caught her—shot through the room like a gust of wind, darting past the kitchen and out the back door.

Ploysuay’s breathing became erratic. She scrambled away from the man now standing over her, sprinting toward the light switch.

Clack! Her trembling hand slapped the switch plate.

Light flooded the entire house, and the sight before her made Ploysuay’s eyes widen in absolute astonishment: The man standing over her was Narajkul, the mysterious, older neighbor from next door.

In that instant, everything froze. Ploysuay stared at him, overwhelmed by a mix of confusion and pure terror. Her gaze then slowly descended to the gleaming, sharp knife clutched tightly in his hand. Her heart hammered wildly, her hands shook violently, and her breath caught in her throat from sheer panic. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his face—a placid, stern countenance, and fierce eyes devoid of any discernible emotion.

She alternated her look between him and the blade he held, her panic rising. She began to retreat, moving cautiously backward, like a small animal trying to escape the claws of a predator.