Upstairs, Kai walked alone,
her bag weighing lightly on her shoulder.
The long hallway stretched ahead....
silent, empty, endless.
But the moment she passed Room 510,
a strange pull gripped her chest.
Her steps slowed.
Her face turned, unwillingly,
toward the door.
It felt as though all the secrets,
all the truths she sought,
were waiting on the other side.
Her heartbeat quickened.
Her breath grew shallow.
Yet reason clawed its way back.
No....she could not allow herself to stray.
Distractions would only weaken her resolve.
She forced her eyes away,
pushed forward,
opened her own room,
changed into dry clothes,
and let her body fall onto the bed.
Sleep claimed her within moments,
though the weight in her heart remained.
—
Some time earlier.
Wee had still been unconscious.
Suda sat quietly,
trying to calm Lamai,
but his thoughts drifted elsewhere.
How could Wee know the name Yim?
Why had she reacted that way.....
as though memories not her own
had been stirred awake?
When Lamai's sobs finally softened,
Suda's expression shifted.
He looked at her intently,
his voice low.
"Come with me."
Confusion flickered across Lamai's face,
but something in his eyes.....
a certainty, a weight.....
made her rise without protest.
They walked.
Down silent corridors.
Through winding passages.
For what felt like an eternity.
Until at last,
Suda stopped.
He pushed open a heavy door
and led her inside.
The room smelled of history.
Every object within it
seemed to carry the echoes of the past.
And then Lamai froze.
Her eyes landed on the wall,
on a photograph
hung there for decades.
Her heart lurched.
Her breath caught.
Because the girl in that picture.....
she had seen her before.
Not in reality.
But in Wee's painting.
The same face.
The same gaze.
The same delicate expressions,
as though Wee had captured her
stroke for stroke,
without ever having laid eyes on her.
Shock rippled through Lamai,
her mind refusing to accept
what her eyes were telling her.
—
Later, Suda and Lamai
stepped back out of Wee's room.
The air was heavy.
The silence heavier.
Neither spoke,
but the weight of the unspoken
pressed hard between them.
Wee had drawn Yim's face.
Every detail.
Every nuance.
As though she had seen her...
truly seen her.
And yet… she never had.
Even Suda had no answers.
Before he could say anything more,
his name was called.
Duty dragged him away.
He left quickly,
a final glance lingering in his eyes.
Lamai returned to her seat
outside Wee's room,
alone once again.
Her hands trembled in her lap.
Her thoughts swirled like a storm.
And one question haunted her most of all:
What am I even supposed to tell Aunt Yen
when she calls?