Chapter 24: The Headmaster’s Sin: “Some secrets are buried for a reason, but when the dead whisper, the truth must rise.”

The house was empty—except for one room. Kanya's room.

It was untouched, preserved as though she had never left. The bed neatly made, the desk stacked with old letters, her scent still lingering like a ghost refusing to fade.

Praew picked up a letter with trembling hands. The ink was smudged, the words desperate:

*Why won't you love me? Why do you pretend I don't exist?*

Her parents had denied her. Erased her. And in their denial, they had damned her to an existence of suffering.

"She was never just angry," Pim whispered. "She was heartbroken."

A shiver ran through them as the walls creaked, the shadows shifting unnaturally. Kanya's presence was here, lingering, waiting.

But they were no longer sure if she wanted to be freed—or if she wanted them to suffer alongside her.

---

The truth is out. The deaths were escalating. And the past refuses to stay buried.

They now know who killed Kanya. But with the spirit's rage growing, the lines between justice and vengeance are beginning to blur.

The cursed heirloom must be destroyed. But will it break the cycle—or unleash something far worse?

With the final battle looming, one question remains:

*Are they fighting a spirit seeking justice… or something far more sinister?*

---

The air in Sathit Chao Phraya High School was heavy with an unspoken fear, like a storm hovering on the horizon, ready to unleash chaos. The once-lively hallways now carried an eerie silence, interrupted only by the occasional flicker of the overhead lights. It wasn't just Kanya's spirit haunting them anymore—something far more sinister was at play.

Meen, Pim, Tan, Ploy, Praew, and Chawin sat huddled in the dim glow of the library's reading lamps. The scent of aged parchment and dust mingled with the metallic tang of fear. Their hands trembled over the brittle pages of an old school ledger, one that should have been burned long ago.

"We're missing something," Pim murmured, flipping through the brittle pages. "The ritual was never completed. But why? Who stopped it for the second time? "

Tan clenched his jaw. "And more importantly—who wanted it stopped? Why would they do it twice? "

The answer, it seemed, lay behind the cold and calculating eyes of the headmaster. Principal Sombat Anantrakul had been a pillar of the school for decades, but the way his gaze lingered on them lately, the way his voice carried hidden warnings—something was wrong.

---

The next morning, the group found themselves summoned to the principal's office. The heavy wooden doors groaned as they pushed open, revealing Principal Sombat Anantrakul standing behind his mahogany desk, his fingers steepled together. Shadows clung to the corners of the room, thick and unnatural.

"You are meddling in things you do not understand." His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge, like a knife hidden beneath silk.

Praew felt a chill creep up her spine. "Sir, we just—"

"You will stop." His words cracked like a gavel in a courtroom. "This is not your burden to bear."

Meen's fingers dug into her palms. "Then whose burden is it? "

Principal Sombat Anantrakul's gaze flickered for a fraction of a second—hesitation. Fear. Then, as if someone had pulled invisible strings, his face hardened. "Leave it alone."

The dismissal was clear, but they weren't backing down. Not now. Not when they were so close to unearthing the truth.

---

That evening, whispers slithered through the school like a venomous snake. A student had vanished. Just like Kanya.

Rumors spread like wildfire—some said they saw her walking into the old courtyard and never coming out. Others claimed they heard her calling for help through the walls.

The school tried to smother the news before it reached the outside world, but the city had already caught wind of it. The press swarmed the gates. And then, as if summoned by the disturbance, Kanya's remaining family appeared. Saksit was shook too, they had disappeared and promised never to look back,now why did they suddenly come?

Meen, Pim, Tan, Ploy, Saksit, Praew, and Chawin rushed to the front gate, but it was too late. The ghostly remnants of Kanya's family were gone, slipping through the city like fading mist. They had come seeking answers, demanding the return of their loved one's body.

But no one could give them an answer.

And Kanya—she hid. She who had haunted the school with her wrath and sorrow could not bear to face the living. That night, her weeping could be heard through the old music room, each sob a knife carving into the group's resolve.

---

Saksit adrift in a sea of faces, yet he searched for islands of familiarity. They were , his family ghosts in the crowd, echoes in the silence. His memories were a tattered map, leading to a destination that was vanished. He was a detective in a city of strangers, each face a closed book. Had they become whispers on the wind, scattered like autumn leaves? Or were they simply hidden in the labyrinth of life, waiting to be rediscovered? His hope was a flickering candle in the darkness, refusing to be extinguished.

---

That same night, as the group wandered the darkened halls, a sudden movement made them freeze. A figure lingered at the edge of their vision—Boonsong, the old watchman, his face pale under the flickering light.

"You shouldn't be here," he rasped.

Chawin stepped forward. "We're looking for answers."

Boonsong studied them for a long moment, then nodded toward a shadowy corridor. "Then watch carefully."

They followed him, their footsteps barely making a sound against the cold tiles. The air grew thick, suffocating, as they entered an unused classroom. There, sitting on a dusty chair, was a girl—a girl who should not exist.

Nattaya Suthirak.

She looked exactly as she had the day she disappeared in 1997. Not a single wrinkle, not a single sign of aging. A human statue preserved in time.

"She never changed," Chawin murmured.

Boonsong added, "And I've seen others like her before."

Meen's breath hitched. "What do you mean? "

He exhaled slowly, like a man burdened by the weight of too many ghosts. "Puppets. Empty shells. Something… someone… is keeping them like this, just like I told you the other day, like one on orders."

The implications settled over them like wet cement. If Nattaya had never aged, then something—or someone—had stolen her time.

And if that was true, then Kanokwan—the true enemy—was still lurking in the shadows.

---

The line between the living and the dead was shattering. The headmaster was hiding a sin, the puppet girl held a secret, and the enemy lurks unseen. But if they wish to survive, the group must find the truth before the truth finds them first…