Pha shrugged, though secretly he admired Krit's focus. "I guess. Still, don't tell me you're going to spend another night alone, staring at walls, when you could be… I don't know, breathing fresh air or talking to actual humans."
...
Meanwhile, Niran Woraset returned home from his evening classes, clutching his notebook. The streets felt different tonight, heavier somehow, the shadows darker. A stray cat hissed from a nearby alley, its eyes glinting in the dim light. Niran felt a shiver run down his spine, a tiny warning that something was off.
He ignored it, attributing it to nerves, and quickened his pace. But someone was already observing a shadow in the corner of his vision, moving with deliberate caution. Kit followed silently, cataloging, calculating. Every hesitation, every glance, every nervous step was a data point, fueling his obsessive compulsion.
"Soon… very soon," Kit whispered to himself, voice almost drowned by the soft drizzle. "Everything will make sense once I protect him… once I make sure nothing can harm him. Not even the world."
....
The next day, Krit attended a private charity event, the mansion buzzing with the city's elite. Guests moved elegantly between the marble halls, laughter and soft conversation floating like music. Krit's attention, however, was elsewhere.
He noticed a familiar figure slipping past the crowd Niran, clutching a notebook, awkwardly navigating the sophisticated space. Krit approached, careful not to startle him.
"You came," Krit said, voice calm but tinged with curiosity.
Niran blinked, a nervous smile forming. "I… I was invited by a friend of my mother's… I didn't expect it to be so… grand."
Krit allowed a rare, faint smile. "Not everyone is used to this world."
Their brief conversation was interrupted by a sudden commotion near the grand staircase,a guest fainted, startled by a dropped candle. The distraction gave Krit the sharp awareness of someone observing the scene from the shadows. He didn't see the face clearly, but the figure moved with the precision and composure of someone used to being unnoticed.
Kit, across the room, tilted his head slightly, lips curved in a faint, unreadable expression. Not a smirk, not a grin, just calm, focused, patient.
....
Later, back in the mansion study, Krit and Pha reviewed recent police reports. One detail caught Krit's eye: a pattern in the choice of victims, locations, and even the time of day. Pha leaned over, squinting at the maps.
"It's like the killer knows exactly how to avoid detection," Pha muttered.
"Precisely," Krit said, his tone measured, almost clinical. "Intelligence, patience, and obsession. Someone methodical… someone who might be closer than anyone suspects."
Pha's smirk faded. "Closer than anyone suspects… like someone we know?"
Krit didn't answer immediately, his mind racing. There were names, faces, connections that no one else could see yet. But one thing was certain: danger wasn't abstract anymore. It was close.
...
Meanwhile, Kit remained in his usual shadowed corner, mind turning over the events of the evening. Krit had noticed, subtly, a presence. The tension in the room, the way he had scanned the crowd… it thrilled Kit in a way that only his obsession could understand.
He traced every movement of Niran, every interaction with Krit, every subtle glance exchanged between the two. It was delicate work, requiring patience and restraint. One wrong move, and everything would crumble.
But he would not fail. Not now, not ever.
The threads were tightening. The patterns emerging. And the city, with its bright lights and hidden shadows, seemed unaware that a storm was quietly approaching, one that would not only test courage and morality but the very boundaries of love, obsession, and survival.