Arthit woke up groggily, the shrill ring of his phone cutting through the thick fog of sleep. His hand flailed around the bed until he finally grabbed the device. He glanced at the screen. Tonfah 6:30 A.M.? Damn, I'm late. Without a second thought, Arthit shot out of bed, the blanket tangling around his legs as he fumbled to answer the call.
"I'm up," he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
"Hurry up," Tonfah's voice barked through the phone.
"Okay," Arthit mumbled, hanging up as he rushed toward the bathroom. Showering quickly, he didn't bother with anything beyond the basics. His duty today? Ward rotations. Being in his fourth year meant mandatory rotations, and it was a hassle he hated with a passion. Medicine was no walk in the park, and the ward rounds, lectures, and evening shifts were draining. Yet, it was something he had to push through.
As he pulled on his clothes, a nagging thought struck him. Normally, the noises from the next room didn't bother him, but last night? It was unbearable. Someone new must have moved in, and it sounded like they threw a party. Probably not Donut, though. The dragging of chairs... It wasn't his ghost's style. But then again, Donut was a mess, even in death. Stabbed by his girlfriend and still refusing to leave the earth. The haunting had only gotten worse since Donut's untimely demise. Arthit rolled his eyes.
Donut kept showing up in his dreams, asking for food or demanding the money Arthit had borrowed before he was killed. He'd already given the money to Donut's mother at the funeral—what more did Donut want? I'm ranting because I dreamt about him again, Arthit thought bitterly. Donut kept whining about being hungry.
Meanwhile, Arthit was swamped with ward duties and had barely enough time to breathe, let alone cater to a ghost's needs. Being a ghost was convenient. No responsibilities, just popping into someone's dreams to beg for offerings. How nice. Arthit stormed out of his apartment and hopped onto his motorbike, speeding to the hospital. His mind wandered back to Donut, but he couldn't afford to lose focus. Not today. The moment he parked and spotted Jo, also running late, they exchanged a brief nod before rushing to the ward together.
The day was a blur of rounds, lectures, and more rounds. By the time Arthit finally collapsed into his bed that evening, he was physically and mentally drained. Being a med student was exhausting, and while he had his reasons for pursuing this path, he wasn't in the mood to explain. Just as he was about to drift off, his phone rang again. This time, the caller
ID read "Direk."
"What's up?" Arthit groaned, half-expecting another one of Direk's bizarre calls.
"Mind your tone," Direk snapped. "That's your dad you're talking to."
Arthit rolled his eyes. "Direk."
"Am I your buddy now?" Direk grumbled.
"You wish. You're my dad—or a buddy, if you prefer."
Direk's tone shifted. "I heard you're not going to the racetrack anymore?"
"No time. Morning and evening ward shifts, Direk. I'm exhausted. Why don't you just take care of me?"
"I already am, aren't I? It's better you're not going to the racetrack anyway,"
Direk replied, his voice softening. "But it's been dull without you. People keep asking about you."
"Then what do you want? Should I go or not? Last time I went, you got mad and blocked me on LINE."
"I've unblocked you. Been talking to Johan instead."
"See? You'll talk to Johan but not your own kid."
"Johan's reasonable. I blocked you because you kept asking for money all the time. You think I'm made of money?"
"Well, if you're broke, just tell me. I'll borrow from Jo for you."
"I'm plenty rich. Just don't keep asking for money."
"Sure, sure. So, what's the call for?"
"I had a bad dream last night."
"Should I comfort you or something? There, there, Dad. Don't overthink it. Bad dreams turn into good luck, right?"
"Your dad, you mean."
"Why are you insulting yourself? So, what was the dream about?"
"I dreamt about your mom."
"... Seriously?"
"Why would I lie?"
"What did she say?"
"Nothing. Same as always."
"Maybe you're overworking yourself. Take a break."
"Yeah, probably. How's ward duty? Don't kill anyone, or we'll end up bankrupt from lawsuits."
"It's manageable, scraping by. Hopefully, nobody dies."
"Is your haunted room the same as always?"
"More like the room next door. Someone new moved in. Last night was like a school reunion—total chaos."
"Who moved in? How are they living there? And you, how've you managed to live with ghosts for years? Are you a masochist or what?"
"I'm just too lazy to move my stuff. Besides, if I move, it feels like I'm losing to them. No way."
"You're trying to win against ghosts?"
"If I leave, Donut will get lonely."
"Have you ever made merit for him? He's your friend, after all."
"I've never been to a temple in my life."
"Well, you're not Buddhist anyway. Whatever, if you can live there, then stay. It's cost-effective."
"Oh, Direk, I want to change my car rims for next week's race."
"What rims?"
"I already ordered them. Pay for it, please."
"Ask your dad to pay... Oh, wait, that's me. You're at it again, ordering stuff and making me pay."
"Alright, hanging up now. See you at home."
"Damn it."
Arthit ended the call, muttering under his breath. Direk was his actual father. They'd been talking like this since he was a kid, and it had become second nature. Direk had always said he preferred being a friend than a father, wanting to keep their relationship casual and easy-going. Despite his age, Direk was youthful, and it was no wonder Arthit had turned out like him.
Growing up surrounded by cars made Arthit a car enthusiast. If anyone ever asked why he was studying medicine, his answer would always be, "None of your business." Just as he settled back into his bed, another call came in. He glanced at the phone. Johan's boyfriend.
"What's up?"
"You're not replying on LINE."
"So, what's up?"
"Let's play a game."
"Isn't that all you ever do? Invite me to play games."
"So, are you playing?"
"Yeah, wait a sec."
He logged into the game, and within seconds, North invited him to join.
"What are you playing?" North's voice rang through the speakers.
"Anything. What about you?"
"I'll go carry. You jungle."
"Who's tanking?"
"My friend will."
As they started the game, Arthit noticed an unfamiliar username in the lobby.
"Who's this friend of yours?" he asked.
"A ghostbuster. Your next-door neighbor."
"Right. Can they tank? If they're bad, I'm cursing them."
"Prepare to be amazed by my friend's tanking."
The game unfolded, and to Arthit's surprise, the new player was an incredible tank. He was nearly flawless, taking hits like a pro without breaking a sweat.
"Damn, are they a pro or what?" Arthit muttered, impressed. "How are they not dead in a 3v1?"
"I told you, my friend's amazing. But it'd help if you went to back them up. They're about to die."
"Look at my health, dude. I'm not going in. They can hear me, right?"
"They can hear you. Neighbor ghostbuster, what's the plan? Say something."
"Yeah, fall back to the jungle. Low health isn't worth the risk. We're just covering so you can escape."
Arthit couldn't help but admire the stranger's calm demeanor, even in the chaos of battle. The tank had perfect timing, saving them all with each move.
The game went on for hours, and they didn't lose a single match. Finally, as the stranger left, North called out, "Hey, bro, how was last night? Did you see any ghosts?"
Arthit chuckled. "Last night was more chaotic than usual. Why do you ask?"
"I asked my friend, and he said he saw four ghosts! Where'd the woman who hanged herself come from?"
"Oh, the woman who hanged herself?" Arthit mused. "She used to be in my room. But she's gone now. I think she moved to the next one."
North was silent for a moment, then laughed. "You kicked her out?"
"I wouldn't say I kicked her out... but yeah. I did."
"What did you do? Use a Buddha amulet?" North's voice echoed incredulously through the phone.
Arthit chuckled darkly, his eyes narrowing as he recalled the strange and unsettling encounter. "Nope. At first, she was really aggressive, like, she sat on me while I was sleeping."
"What?! Like sleep paralysis? What did you do?" North's voice spiked with disbelief, clearly caught off guard.
Arthit's lips curled into a faint, amused grin. "She sat on me, so I bucked my hips up at her."
"Damn, P', are you serious?" North burst into laughter, the sound almost painful through the phone. "That's so messed up! Were you trying to seduce the ghost or what?"
Arthit leaned forward, his elbow resting on his knee as he relived the moment with a mixture of annoyance and humor. "Well, what else was I supposed to do? She's a woman sitting on a guy like me while I'm sleeping. What was she thinking?"
North's laughter only grew louder, completely losing himself in the absurdity of the story. "Geez, P'... Just picturing it is killing me. What did the woman do after that?"
Arthit snickered to himself. "She screamed and disappeared. Probably embarrassed."
"If I were the ghost, I wouldn't haunt you anymore either. So, she moved to the other room?" North asked, still giggling.
"Not right away. She kept dragging the chair at midnight. That night, I lost patience. I knew she'd start dragging it around 12:30. She always dragged it from the middle of the room to the balcony, passing the bathroom on the way. So, at 12:25, I went to sit in the bathroom."
"Why'd you go to the bathroom?" North asked, puzzled.
Arthit leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "To jerk off."
North's response was a mix of shock and uncontrollable laughter. "You're insane, P'! You were masturbating for a ghost to see?"
"Yeah," Arthit replied nonchalantly. "If she's dragging a chair past the bathroom, she'd have to see me. I even left the door open."
"P'! That's next-level messed up! Even if she's a ghost, she's still a woman!" North laughed so hard that Arthit could hear him stumbling over his words. "I can't believe you did that!"
Arthit couldn't help but laugh along, recalling just how angry he must have been at the time. "Looking back, it really was messed up. But honestly, I'm kind of proud of myself. It's my room. I was doing my thing in my room. How is that wrong?"
"It's not wrong, P', but damn, it's wild. So what happened to the woman?" North asked, still struggling to regain composure.
"She disappeared. I think she moved out after that," Arthit answered casually.
"Good for her," North responded with a chuckle. "If it were me, I wouldn't stay either. You're a psycho."
"Psycho? Come on, it's normal, right? Can you honestly say you've never done it?" Arthit teased, knowing full well what his friend's response would be.
North groaned dramatically. "Okay, fine, it's natural, but damn, P'. How many doctors on this planet can say they've jerked off in front of a ghost? You win, man." The sound of North's laughter was so intense that Arthit heard a loud thud from his end. "I fell off the couch, dude!"
Arthit smirked, amused by his friend's antics. "Why are you laughing so much? Is your funny bone extra sensitive?"
"Yeah, I'm easily amused," North replied, snickering. "I feel bad for that ghost, though. And all the others in your room. My friend said there's a woman hanging herself at midnight, another jumping off the building at 2 a.m., a crying ghost in the bathroom, and Donut scratching the wall."
"Donut's scratching the wall?" Arthit asked, puzzled.
"Yeah, my friend said that. Why's he scratching the wall, anyway?"
Arthit paused, his face shifting to a more somber expression. "Donut had this weird condition. When he was alive, he always said his nails felt itchy at the tips, so he'd scratch them a lot, on tables or whatever. I told him to stop, but he said he couldn't. I can't believe he's still obsessed with scratching even after death."
"Honestly, that's creepy as hell," North responded, his tone growing a little more serious. "Like, if scratching was part of his daily life, it makes sense he'd keep doing it after dying. My friend said he scratches until his nails peel off."
Arthit frowned slightly, a chill running through him at the thought. "Wait, your friend's name is Ghostbuster? What kind of name is that?"
"No, no, his name's Daotok, but I think Ghostbuster suits him better," North clarified, his voice tinged with humor.
"Daotok? That's a weird name for a guy," Arthit remarked, shaking his head.
"Right? But it's his name, so whatever," North said dismissively.
"Fair enough," Arthit muttered. Then, his mind shifted back to the conversation's darker turn. "So, how did Donut die? Did his girlfriend really stab him in his sleep? Were you there?"
"Yeah, I was asleep too. I didn't know anything until the next morning when I found out Donut had been stabbed. It was his girlfriend, Min. I guess Donut was cheating on her, and they'd fought a lot. She probably snapped and stabbed him," Arthit explained, his tone somber.
"Damn, that's brutal. She just left his body on the bed?" North asked, his voice filled with disbelief.
"Yeah, and she slept next to him till morning. The whole bed was soaked in blood. In the morning, she called the police herself."
"That's terrifying. Did you do any merit-making for Donut?" North asked, his voice quieter now.
Arthit let out a small snort. "Nope. I'm not Buddhist, and I don't go to temples."
"My friend said Donut's been haunting people's dreams, saying he's hungry," North added.
"Yeah, he came to my dream too, saying he's hungry," Arthit confirmed with a shrug.
"What did you say?" North asked, eager for the punchline.
"I told him to eat my foot," Arthit answered flatly.
"P', that's harsh! He's still your friend, even if he's a ghost," North chuckled.
"Why don't you burn offerings or give him food? Maybe he'll stop bothering you."
"If I do it once, he'll expect more. Why doesn't your friend do it for him?" Arthit countered, growing tired of the conversation.
"My friend doesn't have any money, P'. Spent it all on cat food," North explained, his tone almost deadpan.
Arthit sighed, his patience wearing thin. "Then just leave it be. I'm going to sleep. Got an early ward shift tomorrow. Is Jo asleep yet?"
"Yeah, P'Jo's already asleep. Is he that tired?" North asked, his voice softening.
"Of course he's tired. Why are you even asking?" Arthit replied, standing up from the couch. "Alright, I'm off."
"Okay, okay," North responded, still chuckling.
Arthit hung up, his thoughts momentarily drifting as he shut down the game and headed to the bathroom. A quick shower, a change of clothes, and he was ready for bed. It was already past 10 P.M, and the hours spent gaming had made him lose track of time. With a tired sigh, he made his way to his bed, his thoughts lingering on the bizarre conversation as he drifted into sleep.
~~~~
Daotok continued working late into the night, just like he had the night before. The clock read past 10 P.M, and Emma sat quietly by his side, keeping watch as always. The silence around them was oddly calming, with nothing strange or unsettling happening so far.
It was a stark contrast to the heavy presence he could feel just beyond the ordinary—an eerie weight that grew thicker with each passing minute as midnight neared. Spirits were said to grow stronger during this time, and Daotok had long since grown accustomed to their presence, though he still couldn't shake the feeling that things might get chaotic after midnight.
Earlier in the evening, he'd spent some time playing a game with North. North, an avid gamer, was always looking for someone to play with, and Daotok was more than happy to indulge. He'd always favored the tank or support role in games, preferring to help his teammates rather than be the star of the show.
It was a quiet comfort, especially when the game's pace kept his mind occupied. As usual, North was full of energy, always joking and laughing, and tonight was no different. A third player had joined them —someone from the next room. Daotok couldn't help but notice how skilled the guy was, matching North's level of play, which made the game enjoyable. There was nothing worse than playing with people who had bad attitudes, and North was quick to let anyone know when they weren't living up to expectations.
Once the clock struck midnight, Daotok couldn't ignore the change in the air. The spirits, as always, seemed to stir and gain strength after this time, and Daotok knew it wouldn't be long before things started getting uncomfortable. As usual, he slipped on his headphones, blocking out the world around him to concentrate on his work. The sound of nails scraping against the walls—the unmistakable sign of a ghost's restless energy—was something he had learned to ignore, but tonight, even that noise seemed more persistent.
After a while, though, he hit a mental block, unable to focus on his work any longer. Deciding to unwind, he made his way to the bathroom for a hot bath. The warm water was always a good way for him to clear his mind and relax, but when he entered the bathroom, he found someone already occupying the space.
"...I'm going to take a bath," he stated, not bothering to ask for permission. He wasn't the type to be polite in situations like this. "Don't turn the water into blood like in the movies, okay? Not that you could. I mean, the human body only has about four or five liters of blood. That wouldn't even fill the tub."
Without waiting for a response, he filled the tub with warm water and settled into it, the heat immediately soothing his tense muscles. The temperature was perfect—just the right amount of warmth to make him forget the stress of the day. But as he leaned back, a tingling sensation crawled along the back of his neck. He froze. Something... was touching him. A pale, slender hand. The nails were sharp, dragging painfully down his skin, leaving an almost electric burn in their wake.
"That hurts," Daotok muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. "I'll get angry if you keep doing that."
He lifted a hand and smacked at the back of his neck, intending to punish the invisible entity. "Hold out your hand for a spanking," he joked, but nothing happened. His hand lingered in the air for a moment, then fell back to his side. Shrugging, he closed his eyes, trying to relax again. But then, his fingers brushed against something cold and wet. Something…soft.
His eyes snapped open, and that's when he saw her for the first time. A woman. Her wet, jet-black hair spread out like ink across the water. Slowly, she raised her face to look at him. Daotok recoiled instinctively, pulling his hand back from her head. Her face was unnaturally pale, devoid of expression. But what made his blood run cold was the twisted grin that split her face, stretching from one side of her mouth to the other in a grotesque line before snapping shut.
Then, as if to seal her eerie appearance, the bathroom was filled with the sound of sobbing—loud, heart-wrenching cries. Daotok watched, frozen in place, as bright red blood began to pour from her mouth, spilling in thick streams that stained the water. Her body—bony and broken—slowly came into clearer view as she hugged her knees to her chest. Cuts marred her neck and shoulders, but Daotok dared not look any further. Her sobs grew louder, more desperate.
"Sob... Sob... It hurts... Don't hurt me, please, don't hurt me," she wailed, her voice a hollow echo in the bathroom.
Daotok's mind clicked into place. She had been murdered. Her throat had been slit, and she was trapped in this tortured existence, crying out for help from the very place where her life had been violently taken.
"I won't hurt you," he said, his voice calm but lacking sympathy. He wasn't afraid, though there was an unsettling pity in his heart for the ghost.
"Sob... Sob..." she continued, her words growing fainter. "It hurts... I can't breathe."
"Well, your throat was slit," Daotok responded, his tone dry and disinterested. "How could you breathe? By the way, how are you even talking?"
"Sob... Sob..." Her voice trailed off again as if she had heard nothing.
Daotok sighed. "You, no, ma'am," he corrected himself, using a respectful tone. "Ma'am, listen to me." He reached out, intending to shake her shoulder to snap her out of her endless wailing.
The moment his fingers brushed her icy-cold skin, she stopped crying. The sound died instantly, and her head turned slowly, her eyes locking onto him. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, before she suddenly screamed —an ear-piercing, inhuman shriek that shook Daotok to his core.
"AAH!"
He recoiled in surprise, freezing for a split second before she disappeared, vanishing into the air as though she had never been there at all. Daotok exhaled sharply, the tension leaving his body, though his mind was still racing. Had she screamed to frighten him? Or had she been startled by his presence? Or was it the shame of being seen in her naked state? Whatever it was, Daotok didn't have the patience to dwell on it. He soaked in the tub for a little longer, until the warmth became unbearable, then climbed out and unplugged the drain. As the water level receded, something caught his eye—a long strand of hair tangled near the drain.
"Hey, stop shedding hair!" he muttered under his breath, already annoyed.
"What am I supposed to do if it clogs the drain? I don't want to keep picking it out every time." With a final irritated glance at the bathroom, Daotok left, but just as he was about to walk away, he saw her again. This time, it wasn't the woman from the tub, but another specter—a woman hanging from a rope, passing slowly in front of the doorway. Daotok thought she was just passing by, but to his surprise, she stopped and turned to face him. He blinked, not sure whetherto react.
"Uh... Is there something you need?" he asked, his voice hesitant but composed. The woman's voice was low and slow, almost echoing unnaturally, as she replied.
"...No."
At least she closed the door, Daotok thought as he moved away from the scene. His mind was already wandering to the next task, but the spirits in this place seemed to have no intention of letting him off easy. He let out a sigh. This was going to be a long night.