Nut suddenly turned, but he didn't let go. Rak was still clinging to him.
"Rak..." Nut called his name softly.
Rak looked up at him. He was only tall enough to reach Nut's chest, and because he had been staring at the floor, Nut could barely see his face. But still, Rak held on tight.
"Rak... let me see you," Nut said. He gently but firmly lifted Rak's head. Rak pouted, his eyes full of worry.
"Don't..." Nut whispered. He didn't finish the sentence, instead pulling Rak into a protective embrace.
While they shared that small bit of warmth, a sudden, ice-cold wind blew through the hallway.
The entire atmosphere changed in a second.
Then came the sound of small bells— a light, rhythmic ringing that felt like it could pierce right through a ghost's soul.
Still held in each other's arms, Nut and Rak looked toward the sound at the same time.
Ring... Ring...
The bells were getting closer.
A figure emerged from the shadows. He wore long, deep red robes patterned with scenes of cruel, ancient wars.
The scent of blood and roses filled the air.
His hair was long and tied back with a thin red ribbon.
In his hand, he held a white fan— a fan that felt powerful enough to turn even the air into ashes. He was cold, fair-skinned, and terrifyingly handsome.
"Oh my God... Phraya is here," the man said in English, his voice smooth and mocking.
He looked at the two of them and tilted his head. "Wow... why are you both looking at me like I'm something terrible?"
Nut and Rak froze. Their hearts skipped a beat as they realized exactly what— and who— was standing in front of them.
"Phraya..." Nut said the name in shock.
The word just slipped out. Beside him, Rak was frozen, his eyes locked on the fan in Phraya's hand.
Nut's eyes filled with a sharp, hot anger.
He started to sign with shaking hands— How dare you...— but then he stopped. "Forget it," he spat out, his voice heavy and bitter.
Nut grabbed Rak's hand and forced him to turn back inside. Rak was dragged away, his heart pulling him in two directions.
Nut, wait... it was my fan... it was my Luk... Rak cried out in his mind, but Nut didn't hear him. Nut was too blinded by his own rage to notice Rak's pain.
Phraya stood there, watching those "two clingy cats" run away.
He looked down and squeezed the white fan in his fist. The fan started to shiver against his palm, the wood making a small, scared sound.
"Why?" Phraya whispered. His voice was smooth and scary. "Why are you shaking? Is it because you saw your old master? Are you trying to betray me ?"
Phraya looked at the white fan with a mean, annoyed face. The fan was so terrified of his look that it stopped moving. It fell into a deep, eternal sleep, trying to hide from the Demon's dark anger.
Nut entered his room and dragged Rak inside with him. "Phi..." Rak started to say.
Suddenly, Nut let go of Rak's hand. "I'm sorry, Rak... I was so angry, I didn't mean to..." Nut's voice broke. "Everything is already a mess. Now that Phraya is here, there will be too much trouble," Nut said.
Rak looked away, his face full of sadness. Nut gently grabbed Rak's hand again, and they both sat on the couch.
Nut leaned his head down onto Rak's lap. "Can we just stay like this?" Nut whispered. "I am so tired."
Rak looked down at Nut, who had already closed his eyes. Rak leaned back against the sofa, and as he sat in the quiet, a memory came back to him...
"Mae... when will we get there?" Little Artit asked. He was looking out the window while his father drove the car. His mother sat in the front seat and smiled.
"Mmm... my little Luk really wanted to see the sea at night, didn't he?" she said.
Her voice was kind. The car was full of warmth, and it was full of love.
Suddenly, the car engine stopped.
There was a loud sound. They were all shocked. "Luk... Luk, are you okay?" his mother asked, her face full of worry. "Honey, what's going on?"
"You both stay inside. Let me check," the father said. His voice was full of love for his wife and son.
"Pa... can Artit come too?" Little Artit looked at his father. His father couldn't say no to those eyes.
"Okay... you can come. But be careful."
They both got out. The father opened the front of the car to check the engine. Little Artit stood beside him, trying to copy his father.
"Artit, no... don't touch. It's hot," his father scolded gently. "If you touch it, your little hand will turn red like an apple, but that apple won't be tasty."
Little Artit pulled his hand back quickly.
"When you grow up, you can be just like your father if you want. I like cars, that's why I make them." His father looked down and patted Artit's head with a warm smile.
Suddenly, a cold wind blew. The road was too quiet. Darkness moved through the air, and something started to lurk in the shadows.
Little Artit looked toward the woods. He felt something approaching them.
They were on the way to his mother's home, where the roads were covered in deep green forest.
Suddenly, Artit couldn't breathe. He grabbed his chest as if he were badly hurt.
His father finished with the car and closed the hood. "Artit, let's go..." He looked over and saw Little Artit in pain. His mother ran out of the car when she saw Little Artit in pain.
"Luk! My baby!" His father pulled Little Artit into his arms while his mother started to cry.
"Honey, don't cry. We can get him to a hospital. Luk... it's alright, baby..."
She looked into the distance as if someone was approaching them.
"Honey... what is that?" his mother whispered.
Artit... don't close your eyes!" his father cried. His father was completely unaware of the thing...
The father was trying to get back into the car. 'Honey, let's get inside...we have to hurry ! "We need to get him to the hospital now ! " his father said.
When she called out again....
"Honey... something is—"
Suddenly, the mother's throat was pinned by a sharp nail.
She collapsed.
Blood from her throat began to fill the ground.
The father, still holding the unconscious Artit in his arms, shocked, frozen, he tried to reach for his wife. He couldn't believe what was happening.