The city was drenched in the kind of heavy rain that blurred streetlights into streaks of gold and silver. Niran Woraset hurried along the narrow streets, clutching his notebook as if it could shield him from the uneasy feeling pressing in his chest. Each step echoed softly against the wet pavement, yet the shadows seemed to move in rhythm with him, subtle and deliberate.
Kit followed from the rooftops, calculating every footstep, every glance. Tonight was no longer a test or a small interference. Tonight he would ensure that danger touched Niran just enough to validate his own control. He nudged a trash can to roll across the street just as a motorcycle sped by. Niran stumbled, heart racing, narrowly avoiding the collision. Kit remained hidden, watching the fear flash across the boy's eyes and feeling a twisted satisfaction.
Niran arrived home, shaking, breath uneven. He leaned against the door, trying to calm his racing heart.
What is happening to me, he thought. Something isn't right, but I can't see it.
....
Krit Veerayut had spent the evening at his mansion reviewing the latest city reports. His gaze was sharp, scanning the maps and photographs for patterns. Something was changing. The threat was no longer abstract; it had grown bolder. Krit felt it in the rhythm of the streets, the timing of the latest incidents, and the subtle signs that someone was manipulating events without leaving a trace.
Pha entered the study, arms crossed. You're staring at those reports like they owe you answers, he said, voice teasing but edged with concern.
Krit didn't look up. Patterns exist, he replied calmly. They are emerging more clearly. And someone is closer than we anticipated.
Pha frowned. Closer? You mean… dangerous close?
Krit's gaze finally lifted, eyes dark and unwavering. Yes, Pha. Someone we know, someone who moves unseen.
....
The following day, Niran returned to the café to gather his thoughts. Krit was already there, seated at their usual table, eyes scanning the city below.
You're here, Krit said simply. Good. I wanted to speak about last night.
Niran shifted nervously. I… I don't know what you mean. Nothing happened.
Krit leaned forward, voice low but steady. You were in danger. Someone was watching. Someone manipulated events around you. It was controlled, deliberate. You were lucky.
Niran swallowed, unease pressing down. Who would do that, he asked quietly.
Krit didn't answer directly. He didn't need to. Niran understood instinctively that the danger was closer than anyone realized.
....
Kit remained in the shadows outside, cataloging every reaction, every tremor of fear, every subtle shift in Niran's body language. Each observation reinforced his conviction. They could not yet know him, but soon they would. His interference, his protection, his obsession, everything was necessary.
Tonight, the threads tightened. Niran's life had brushed against danger, and Krit's instincts were sharpening. Pha sensed the growing tension but remained a playful anchor. The city itself was a stage, shadows moving with intention, invisible strings pulling everyone toward a collision no one yet saw coming.
....