BREAKING NEWS

Pelesit attack reported at Muae Market this morning.

Residents are advised to stay away from the area.

Zingforce Thailand is on the way.

Emergency sirens cried somewhere in the distance.

A young woman with short, shoulder-length hair sat cross-legged on the sofa. A long skirt draped over her legs, her fair skin lit by the flicker of the TV. Her slightly narrow, tired-looking eyes stayed on the screen, calm, almost bored. Like the warning was just background noise to her morning.

She chewed on toast smeared with condensed milk and sugar.

This kind of thing? Normal.

“Muae Market?”

She paused.

“That’s… close to my place.”

The map popped up on screen.

Too close.

She jumped to her feet.

“Perfect,” she grinned. “A chance to grab some Pelesit samples.”

She chewed faster, reached for a cup of still-hot milk tea, and swallowed it in one go.

“ACHHH!”

Ratree waved her hands, tongue out, hissing as the heat burned. No time to complain. She sprinted to her room, grabbed her jacket, shoved herself into it. One sleeve missed, the shoulder snagged, but she forced it through anyway. The messenger bag went across her body. Inside, tablets and devices knocked loudly against each other.

She yanked the scooter key off the hook behind the door.

CRACK!

“AOO!”

The hook snapped.

Ratree grabbed her head.

“Tai laew… I’m so dead.”

She turned.

A man in his fifties stood behind her, thick mustache, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

“Ratree,” he said low.

“How many times have I told you? Don’t grab things like you’re fighting them.”

Ratree scratched her head and flashed a dumb, guilty grin. Her father sighed, eyes drifting to her university jacket and the gadget-stuffed bag.

“Where are you going this early?”

“And didn’t you hear the Pelesit sirens just now?”

Ratree froze. Her eyes darted, brain spinning.

“I’ve got class this morning,” she said quickly, forcing a smile while slipping on her shoes.

One eyebrow rose.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” she added fast.

“I’m taking the long way. Not even near Muae Market.”

Her father looked at the ceiling. Then the clock. Then back at her. She already had her helmet on.

“Isn’t today Sunday?”

His eyes narrowed.

Ratree ignored him on purpose and twisted the throttle.

VROOOOM!

The engine swallowed his voice. She waved sweetly and shot off down the road.

Her father shook his head.

“Just like her mother,” he muttered, smiling.

His gaze stopped at a photo on the wall. Ratree in a graduation gown, gold medal around her neck, smiling proudly as she hugged him.

The words on the frame read:

FIRST CLASS HONOURS

BIO–ZING ENGINEERING