Chapter 16: The Boy Who Knows: “He holds the truth, but at what cost?”
The sun had barely set, but the air had already grown unnaturally cold as the group walked across the deserted schoolyard. The eerie silence of the evening pressed down on them like a suffocating weight.
Ploy, Meen, Pim, Tan, and Praew stood in the shadows near the old pavilion, their eyes locked on the figure leaning against the rusted railing.
The mysterious boy had been lurking in the background for weeks—watching, appearing when things got strange, and disappearing before they could question him.
But tonight, they wouldn't let him slip away.
As they approached, the boy turned his head slightly, as if he had been expecting them. His dark eyes glowed faintly in the dim light.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice low and emotionless.
Tan stepped forward. "Neither should you."
The boy smirked, but it wasn't one of amusement. It was a warning.
"You're the ones digging where you shouldn't."
"Who are you?" Pim demanded.
"And how do you know about Kanya andNaree Chaiyakan? " Meen added.
For a moment, the boy said nothing. His fingers tapped absently against the metal railing, his gaze shifting to the old school building behind them. Then, he finally spoke.
"My name is Thanom," he said. "And I'm here because I know what happens to people who get too close to the truth."
Praew's stomach twisted. "What do you mean? "
Thanom's expression darkened.
"Do you really think Kanya and Naree Chaiyakan are the only spirit haunting this school? "
The group exchanged nervous glances.
Thanom let out a quiet sigh and ran a hand through his black hair.
"Kanya was used," he said. " Naree Chaiyakan was the medium," he added. "They was powerful… but they weren't alone. There's something older. Something worse."
Ploy shivered. "Something worse than a vengeful spirit? "
Thanom's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"You have no idea."
The silence that followed was thick with tension.
Tan clenched his fists. "Then help us."
Thanom shook his head. "I can't."
" Why not? " Praew demanded.
He looked at her then, his gaze steady. "Because once you start down this path, there's no going back."
A gust of wind swept through the pavilion, sending dry leaves skittering across the wooden floor.
Thanom took a step back into the shadows.
"You should stop while you still can."
Then, before they could stop him, he vanished into the darkness.
---
The next day, the group gathered at the old storeroom, the place where they had first found the doll.
Praew's hands trembled as she flipped through the worn, yellowed pages of the diary. The faded ink revealed the name of the girl who had been wronged so long ago—
Kanokwan.
The diary was filled with pain, betrayal, and sorrow.
Kanokwan had loved a boy, and she believed her best friend, Kanya, had stolen him away. The heartbreak had consumed her, and the last pages were filled with desperate, rage-filled scribbles, accusing Kanya of ruining her life.
But then, a single sheet of music—unfinished.
Meen traced the notes with her fingers. "It's a song," she whispered.
Tan frowned. "Why would she write a song before she…? "
Praew's heart pounded. "Because it's the other key."
Somehow, the melody held clues to breaking the curse.
Then—
A soft voice.
Faint. Chilling.
"Finish it."
The group froze.
The sound had come from the doll.
And its head—had turned slightly on its own, it was Kanya.
---
Later that evening, they found Thanom again. But this time, they weren't alone.
A small boy clung to his sleeve, his wide, frightened eyes peeking out from behind Thanom's arm.
Praew gasped. "Who is that? "
Thanom's expression softened. "My little brother," he said quietly.
The realization hit like ice water.
Kanokwan had a little brother.
A boy who had watched his sister suffer. A boy who had seen what no one else did.
The little boy—Niran—clutched a crumpled piece of paper.
It was the rest of the song.
"The curse," Thanom murmured, "started with this song before the ritual. And it will end with it."
---
That night, at Praew's house, something shifted.
The doll had moved.
It wasn't where she had left it.
Then, in the dim glow of her bedside lamp, Praew noticed something etched into the porcelain of the doll's arm.
Scratched into the surface, as if by fingernails.
"Help me."
Praew couldn't breathe.
The doll wasn't just cursed.
It was suffering, again.
---
The next day, at school, Chai, Chaiyaporn Worasit made a mistake.
He mocked the curse.
He laughed at Kanya's pain.
And the spirit heard him.
That afternoon, the classroom grew cold.
The windows slammed shut.
Chai's chair slid backwards on its own, throwing him to the floor.
He screame as his hair lifted, yanked by unseen hands.
Then—
A mirror shattered, and in the jagged shards—
A reflection of Kanya's angry, tear-streaked face.
The lights exploded.
And the whisper came again—
"Sing the song… or suffer the same fate."
---
Shaken and desperate, the group sought help from an elderly monk at a nearby temple.
The monk listened in silence before speaking.
"The spirit is bound by two things," he said. "Revenge… and sorrow."
He glanced at the music sheet. "And this song… it is her unfinished wish."
Tan's voice was hoarse. "How do we stop her? "
The monk's gaze was heavy.
"You must finish the song. And when you do…"
He closed his eyes.
"You must be ready for her final message."
---
The next day, the school was in chaos.
More students whispered of hallucinations.
Of shadows moving on their own.
Of a girl standing at the end of the hallway, weeping, her face hidden behind long black hair.
Accidents kept happening.
Bruises appeared on students' skin— finger-shaped bruises.
A girl fell down the stairs, screaming that someone pushed her.
Fear spread like poison.
The school was no longer safe.
And the final warning came that night—
When the melody started playing on its own.
A piano in the empty music room.
Playing Kanokwan's song.
Calling them.
Daring them to finish what was started.
---
*"They had searched for the truth, and now the truth had found them."*