That girl with the glasses—how did she touch me?
The question lingered, but I couldn't leave this place. All I could do was watch as the group drifted farther and farther away.
I turned, about to slip back into the Ambang Motif Building—
when I saw it.
A soft, glowing light hovered in the air—right where the girl with the glasses had touched me.
What the hell is that?
I hesitated, curiosity tugging at me. Almost without thinking, I reached for the soft, hovering glow.
The instant I made contact, it burst into brilliant light—blinding, overwhelming.
My vision vanished.
All I could feel was a warm energy wrapping around me, slowly seeping into my body.
When my vision returned, I was no longer outside.
I was sitting at a vanity.
In the mirror, a little girl stared back at me. Six? Maybe seven years old. Round cheeks, bright eyes, a soft braid half-done. Behind her stood a young woman, gently tying the rest of her hair.
"All done! My sweet little Qi is the prettiest!" the woman said, smiling warmly.
I turned my head from side to side, admiring the neat braid in the mirror. Then spun around and hugged her. "Thanks, Mommy!"
Wait. Mommy?
That's not my mom.
And I'm not... Qi? I'm Wai Ling! And I didn't look like that as a child!
Just as my thoughts spiraled into chaos, everything suddenly went black.
"Aaaah! Aah! Mommy, help me!" I screamed, my voice high and unfamiliar.
"Don't be scared, Qi-qi. Mommy's here!" the woman called.
Click.
The door creaked open. A beam of light swept in. She stepped in with a flashlight and rushed to the bed, pulling me into her arms.
A door creaked open. Flashlight beams cut through the black. The woman rushed to a bed—my bed—where I huddled in a shaking ball.
"Just a power outage, sweetheart. I'm here." She pulled me close.
"S-scary…" I sniffled.
"Thirteen years old and still afraid of the dark," she sighed, wiping my tears. "Always needing a nightlight…"
Thirteen? I'm not scared of the dark. I'm famous for being brave!
And—what the hell? I'm Qi again?!
Darkness, again.
When light returned, I was back—floating in front of the Ambang Motif building.
The glow was gone.
What… just happened?
Did I dream? But ghosts don't dream. Not in all my years of haunting have I ever—
No. It wasn't a dream. It was more like… someone had uploaded two new memories into my mind.
And that woman, the one calling herself my mom… she looked just like the girl-with-the-glasses's mother.
And the girl in the mirror—Qi—she looked an awful lot like the glasses girl too.
Could it be… her? A memory from when she was young?
But why would I have that memory?
I thought about it for a while, came up empty. Maybe I'd ask the other neighborhood ghosts next time I saw them. Someone had to know what this meant.
For now, I floated back into the Ambang Motif Building, slipped up the stairs to the second-floor storage room.
Time to sleep—kidding, of course. Ghosts don't sleep.
I just went still, let my mind quiet down.
You have to, sometimes. Eternity is a long, long time.
The night passed in silence.
I didn't leave the storage room the entire next day.
As evening fell, a sudden, inexplicable sense of unease washed over me.
I paused, focusing. Something had entered the Ambang Motif building. Two things, actually—one human, one spirit. Both at the same time.
Who the hell sneaks into the Ambang Motif Building after dark?
The spirit was moving fast. Toward me. Toward the second-floor storage room.
And then I saw him—maybe seven or eight years old, skin dark, eyes bright, stepping through the storage room door like mist. Literally. He passed through it.
I tilted my head, trying to look friendly. "Hey there, kid. You new?"
The boy nodded. Then shook his head.
Right. One of those.
"What's your name? How old are you?" I tried again.
"Thong... Thong…" His pronunciation was shaky.
"Thong Thong? You Chinese?" I asked.
Another nod. Then another shake of the head.
I gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. Great. Communication was going to be fun.
"Did you come here to play with me?" I asked.
He just shook his head again.
I narrowed my eyes. "Do you not understand me, or are you just not here to play?"
He frowned hard and waved at me impatiently, like a kid calling his dog. Then he turned and drifted back out through the door.
Wait—was he summoning me?
Before I could decide, his head popped back in, more annoyed than before. Another impatient wave.
I hesitated, but followed. As I floated out, he gave a satisfied nod and beckoned me again, leading me quickly down the stairs toward the lobby.
Something about this didn't sit right.
That feeling of unease—it was stronger now. Because I could sense the other intruder waiting downstairs. The human. And something about him felt... wrong.
But they were clearly here for me. So I followed.
We reached the lobby.
The boy stood beside a man. Mid-thirties, lean and tanned, dressed in a tight black tank top that showed off his arms—and the rows of Thai script tattoos curling across his skin.
A thick stainless-steel chain hung from his neck, weighed down with clusters of Thai amulets. They pulsed with a strange, oppressive power. I could feel it in my chest, like something pressing down on my spirit.
His left hand wore a pristine white glove. Odd. His other arm slung a Gucci crossbody bag—a detail that didn't match his whole "spiritual hitman" vibe.
I stopped at the foot of the stairs, keeping my distance.
His hands were in his pockets. His eyes were locked on me. No surprise he could see me—he was clearly some kind of mage.
I didn't flinch. Just narrowed my eyes and said, "What are you? Exorcist? Here to banish me or bind me?"
The man smiled. "Name's Ajarn Ken."
Ajarn?
My guard went up. My ex, Ah Dong, used to talk about Thai ajarns—spiritual masters with tattoos and charms and rituals that could ruin or save lives. I'd even been to one with him once.
"You're an ajarn?" I asked, suspicion rising.
He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't expect you to know that word. But I'm not from Thailand. I'm local."
"Don't care where you're from." I crossed my arms. "Just tell me what the hell you want."
"No need to be so tense." He slowly pulled a phone from his pocket, tapped a few times, then turned the screen toward me.
"You remember this girl?"
I looked.
My breath caught.
It was her. The girl from yesterday.