Chapter 1: Durian and the Time-Traveling Door
———
The crunch of dry leaves under my feet blended with the soft murmur of the nearby stream. I strolled through Grandma's durian orchard, towering fruit trees hanging enormous, eye-catching durians above me. The fresh air hit my face, and I drew in a deep breath before picking up my phone, smiling like someone just struck gold.
"I'm in Grandma's durian orchard already!" I said excitedly, my grin stretching wide under the warm sunlight and the chirping birds surrounding me.
Jan's voice shrieked back over the line, rapid and piercing enough to make my ears tingle. "Duuurian!! Ahhhh!! Wait for me! I'm halfway there already. I'm about to transform into Dominic, right now!"
I laughed, raising my hand to shield the phone as if her voice could actually slap me. "I think you'd make a better Han…"
"Insult much?!" Jan's tone shot high, full of mischief and laughter. "Listen, I'm a pro!"
"A pro in real life, huh?" I teased, squinting knowingly.
"Hah! Pro in the game, silly! Hahaha!" Jan's laughter erupted over the line, as if she was sitting right next to me.
I clutched my stomach, laughing. "I knew it! Hahaha… You really are… a pro, but only on the screen!"
"So, what the hell are you doing right now?" Jan asked, her voice still raspy from laughing.
"Just… admiring the birds and trees," I said, glancing around, my foot twitching slightly with mischief.
Thunk… Thunk…
The soft thud of my shoes nudging the durian trunk sounded.
"What's that noise?" Jan asked instantly, her voice tense, as if sensing trouble.
"I'm just kicking the tree, no big deal," I replied nonchalantly, a sly grin curling at the corners of my lips.
"Careful, or a durian's gonna fall on your head…" Jan said in a calm, yet worried tone, the kind only a close friend could pull off.
I glanced up at the massive durian dangling above me and gave the tree another gentle nudge, challenging fate. "Nah, it's sturdy. Won't fall that easily."
"Sure, sure… Keep poking it, and you might make the front page!" Jan teased in a high-pitched sarcastic tone.
I laughed out loud, ridiculous as it sounded. "Front page? I'd die dumber than some news saying you threw a durian and it smacked me in the head!"
But before I could finish…
CRASH!
A heavy object slammed down onto my head with a deafening thud. I froze for a second, then staggered to the side, stunned. The massive durian rolled across the ground not far from me. My handsome face froze in shock as if I'd just been struck by a biological weapon.
"OW!!" I yelled, toppling straight into the river. A splash echoed through the orchard. The fallen durian tumbled mockingly on the muddy bank.
I flinched, face first into the icy water with a thump. The cold wrapped around me unexpectedly, soaking my hair and clinging to my skin. My heart raced like a drum, eyes wide in disbelief.
"Damn… divine mouth, really…" I muttered under my breath, closing my eyes in exhaustion. My mind spun as water entered my mouth and dizziness crept in.
The icy current pushed against me, pressure building until I felt as though I was sinking into the darkness. The cold stole my breath; shadows crept closer while the water gnawed away the last of my senses. My body slowly disappeared, my heartbeat resounding in my ears like a melancholic symphony, reminding me of inevitable departure.
Then, the water's sound began to change, whispering in my ear as if guiding me somewhere. A voice from the past. My body was gently pulled along the current, like stepping through time. I felt the atmosphere around me shift as familiar images began to blur away.
———
And in another stretch of time, in a different past.
an unexpected event unfolded on a dark night. The stars glittered across the sky, and the gentle murmur of a stream lingered in the air. A young man sat on the wooden pavilion of a small house near a larger one, craving a late-night sweet but finding none. He began reciting a verse that reflected the feelings in his heart.
"A promise that captivates the soul, etched deep within desire, across countless lifetimes our eyes shall meet, bound eternally in heart."
As he gazed up at the moon, the sound of the stream carried thoughts of his lonely life. Suddenly, he felt a sharp impact from behind—a solid object striking him.
"Ah!" That was all he could utter before darkness swallowed him. The coldness of the water replaced all other sensations. He struggled weakly to claw his way out, but the more he tried, the deeper he sank.
As his breath began to falter, it felt as if the entire world dimmed. A strange force surged through him. His body vanished into the icy water, so cold it seemed to signal death approaching.
In that moment, the mysterious boy's form and mine began to feel a strange connection. The swirling water pressed against us, drawing us toward incomplete yet powerful memories. As my breath started to fade, the connection between our bodies intensified, transmitting emotions—fear, sorrow, and love once felt for those around us, shaping who I had become today.
For what seemed like an eternity, the boy and I were drawn together in the starlit, sparkling river. The cold water became a pathway, linking us as if we were traversing different dimensions, with the river serving as a bridge to hidden memories. Confused recollections intertwined, merging as one. The sensations of love and grief wove together intricately, heartbeats synchronized, and the spectrum of emotions passed between us, as if we were dancing in an endless dream.
It felt as if a powerful force yanked us upward, reviving both of us in radiant light. It was a fresh beginning, full of hope and endless possibilities.
I began to regain consciousness, blinking as I clawed my way out of the water, finally reaching the edge of the wooden pavilion.
"Khun Warun!" someone called out urgently. I lifted my head and saw a young woman running toward me, panic written all over her face. "What happened? Why are you all wet like this?"
I sat frozen for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts after just getting hit on the head by a durian and now waking up drenched. "Huh…" I thought to myself, still bewildered. "What the hell is going on?" I muttered inwardly.
The woman rushed to support me, her face a mixture of surprise and worry. I remained silent, processing nothing in time, so she said, "Khun Warun, the servant will take you to change, or you might get sick." She smiled gently.
"Quickly, help Khun Warun into the house, or the young master might fall ill!"
She called two other women for assistance, and together they guided me into a house.
Servant?
I followed docilely but froze when I saw the house. It… it was the same house from my dreams. My mind was spinning; as the memories of someone else flooded in from my near-drowning experience, I couldn't analyze anything. What was happening?
"Khun Warun! Khun Warun!" I flinched at the voice. The young woman stared at me with concern, noticing my dazed expression. I glanced at her as she called out a name that wasn't mine. Seeing my awkward state, she quickly guided me inside, fetched a towel to dry me off, and yet no one noticed anything unusual about my clothes or behavior. The servant named Yoey brought me to a room I assumed to be a bathroom—but it was oddly different from a normal bathroom. Then, the two other women carried in a bucket of water, pouring it into a large wooden basin.
Everything felt strange, until I regained focus hearing them talk. The middle-aged woman spoke with another: instructing her to report this to "Khun Than." I had no idea who that was, but instinct told me I had to say something quickly.
I spoke firmly, neither too loud nor too soft: "Don't tell anyone. Not a word." My gaze was steady, pressing them silently not to do anything wrong. Then I added, "Can you leave me alone for a while? I want to be by myself."
"But…"
The middle-aged woman hesitated, thinking for a moment.
"Go. Consider it a request. And don't tell anyone."
Seeing my insistence, she nodded with worry in her eyes and left, accompanied by the other two women.
I stood dazed, holding my head, a dull ache spreading through my skull.
"What the hell is going on?" I thought to myself. My mind swirled in confusion. Who was this woman? Why was she wearing an armored chest piece and a chong kraben?
("Chong Kraben" – Thai traditional pant-like garment made from a single piece of cloth.)
I began recalling the events in the water, strange memories forming in my mind. Images from the past—both happy and sad—surfaced.
"Damn… it's like I'm living in a movie, but this is real life," I chuckled to myself, while my thoughts scrambled, wondering what I had just done and who was writing the script of my life like this.
⸻
I furrowed my brow, my thoughts tangled with memories of someone who looked exactly like me, flashing through my mind relentlessly. Not just ordinary memories, but bizarre events I had done—or maybe that someone else had done?—that made me feel like a full-blown bipolar disaster, causing more chaos than any villain in a prime-time drama.
"Is that… me?" I wondered, confused, recalling every irrational scene from my past self. Rampaging, acting possessed, doing things that made no sense at all—how could I have done that? Or was it just someone who looked like me?
In my mind's eye, the person resembled me almost perfectly—same face, same mole, just slightly sweeter-looking… maybe. "I'm definitely better-looking," I muttered under my breath. That figure was shorter than me, with a completely different personality—like comparing my backside to my face.
The whirlwind of tangled thoughts left me in a daze, unable to process what was happening. It felt like my mind was trying to compute everything at once, but the more I tried, the more confusing it became.
After sitting with my chaotic thoughts for a while, I remembered the middle-aged woman's question from earlier. It sparked a flood of uneasy feelings—what had brought me back here? And how would my life go on from this point?
I laughed bitterly at the strange memories in my head. Then suddenly, I froze. My eyes caught a shadow in the mirror: a young man in ancient clothing, his face almost identical to mine, but his eyes and smile were cunning, mischievous, and slightly sinister. I blinked a few times, trying to clear my vision—but the image only sharpened. Then, the figure spoke, unexpectedly.
"What the—?!"
Ghost, maybe?
The reflection looked exactly like me, except for the clothing. He stared silently and parted his lips to speak. His voice was so soft I barely heard it; instinctively, I blurted
"Huh?"
Then the mirror voice said clearly, "What, startled? Looking like you've seen a ghost?" My confidence scattered.
"No way, that's not me!" I thought.
Then he said something that made my jaw drop:
"I am you… and you are me."
"We are the same person."
A sweet, eerie voice from the mirror. I froze, blinking rapidly, disbelief etched across my face.
I looked like I'd seen a ghost—but it was a real ghost, kind of. My brows knitted tightly as the words looped in my mind: You are me… and I am you… what the hell? Images of strange memories kept flashing—scenes of a reckless, chaotic life I vaguely remembered. Was this my past life? Or just my mind playing tricks on me?
Memories flooded my mind, and I clutched my head, muttering, "No way, dude!" Could this really be me? I felt a wave of denial so strong I couldn't even speak.
"…I don't want to be bipolar like you!" I thought, writhing as the visions in my head sharpened. My doppelgänger was rampaging through a house full of people. "Damn… possessed even worse than a ghost!" I grimaced, imagining myself as the protagonist in some horror movie, surrounded by a silent audience. Or was I the "new actor" in a horror flick?
I held my head in disbelief. "Am I… some kind of joke in a comedy no one laughs at?" My thoughts spiraled further. I let out a heavy sigh, feeling like the clown in a crazy drama. "Damn it! How is this even happening?" Anxiety and weird fascination collided in my mind, making me want to both laugh and cry.
The man in the mirror sighed, like he was utterly fed up, then spoke calmly, though with a mocking smile:
"I told you already—we are the same person. That reflection? That's us."
No, wait. Not me—it's you, only you!
I froze, my mind reeling. I raised my hands to my head. "Could this really be… me?!" I muttered, half in awe, half in resignation. "I can't believe the one causing all this chaos is… me…" I exhaled heavily, watching the reflection slowly fade.
The figure's voice whispered softly from the mirror
"Remember, we are one person. Our name is… Warun… Warun Worachet…" He paused, letting me process, then smirked mysteriously.
I froze completely. That name—the one the man in my dream kept calling—lingered in my mind. The mirror gradually disappeared, leaving me staring into emptiness. "Warun Worachet? What?" I muttered, stunned and confused.
Then the reflection vanished. I just stood there, staring silently, thinking, when the story comes, it comes; when it goes, it goes. And it leaves questions behind.
I sat, zoning out, thinking about everything that had just happened. I might have read novels like this before, but I've forgotten everything. Honestly, it's exhausting. Memories trickled back, like waves rolling in and fading away, hinting that some parts were still hidden. I exhaled deeply, rubbing my face hard.
"Damn… this is a sign that I need to settle my debts from my past life, right?" I muttered to myself, shaking my head. Thinking back to my reckless past, I couldn't help but laugh, imagining myself freaking out over something trivial. My face was blurry, just the memory of myself losing it like a monkey fighting over food.
No way…..
"Totally unacceptable…" I muttered in a deep, slightly sweet voice, exhausted.
"Shit…" I raised my hands and covered my face, surrendering to my own past. Taking a deep breath, I looked up at the ceiling, resigned to my fate.
"Sigh… so in this life I really have to fix all the crap I… messed up, huh?" My brows furrowed, worry etched across my face. "Am I going crazy!?"
Inside, all I wanted was to run from this mess, but my laziness kept me stuck. Acting like some polite, cute, well-mannered guy? No way in hell. But going back to being like my past self… yeah, better not. I'd rather just stay still like this.
As I sat with these thoughts, mocking laughter echoed in my ears again. Those insulting words, those sneers from people who looked down on me as if I was worth nothing. My heart remembered that pain all too well. I frowned without realizing.
"Yeah, well, I deserved it. Acting bipolar like that—if it were me, I wouldn't just curse myself." I muttered seriously, then added with a bitter laugh, "I'd shove a damn fist down my throat!" My expression went flat again.
'I'm not someone who bows down easily. Back then I looked like the ultimate loser. If those assholes mocked me, I should've smashed a chair over their mouths. If you're gonna go crazy, might as well go all the way, right?' I thought and spoke out loud with firm conviction.
Strange… with a personality like this, how did I still get bullied? Was I actually dumb enough to let them push me around?
Or was I just so annoying they couldn't stand me? Yeah… that must be it. With a personality like mine, no wonder people hated my guts.
I stopped for a moment, laughing to myself: "Ahahahaha!" Then I looked at the mirror again, only to frown. I'm really starting to look like a lunatic.
I forced myself to calm down and looked around the bathroom. This place was really strange—nothing looked modern, yet everything looked surprisingly refined.
I walked over to a teakwood bathtub filled with water, flower petals floating on the surface. I studied it carefully—it seemed to be made from a special kind of wood, polished smooth, giving off a faint, pleasant fragrance. Then my eyes fell to the floor. It was in earthy tones, but I couldn't tell what material it was made of.
The toilet and sink had simple, rounded designs, probably made from white ceramic. The faucets and fixtures gleamed with polished brass. A huge carved wooden mirror hung above the sink, elegant yet simple.
Everything looked antique, crafted with meticulous detail. But I remembered when I'd explored this place for a school report—back then it looked much older and more broken down. The structure was still there, but definitely not like this.
One thing was certain… I only remembered the house itself, not the details inside. Great. My memory just stopped there. I knew it was an old house, but the specifics? Gone. Honestly, history was never my thing. Normally, I have a sharp memory and good grades—but not in this subject. Even if someone told me the exact year or dynasty, I'd still be clueless.
When it comes to history… better not mention it, since I don't know squat. All I can recall is Phra Ruang, King Ramkhamhaeng… I mean, just the name.
(Phra Ruang, King Ramkhamhaeng is the name of a Thai king.)
Thinking about it made me sigh. Part of me wanted to apologize to my history teacher for never paying attention in class… but if I could go back in time? I still wouldn't want to study it.
⸻
Before I could turn and smile at my own reflection in the distorted mirror, I chuckled at the thought that I still hadn't really improved myself. "History's just not my thing. I only remember bits from class, and then I forget everything afterward," I muttered, sounding half annoyed with myself.
Sighing deeply, I made up my mind to strip off my clothes—but froze again when I examined my body. This was my body, every tattoo and mark intact, no details missing. I slowly stepped into the wooden bath, the water now slightly cold. Not long—less than three minutes—and I pulled myself out, shivering from the chill. I grabbed a towel and reached for the neatly laid-out clothes on the armrest, picking up a pair of undergarments too. Odd, but not too different from modern ones.
Slipping on the outfit—a short-sleeved shirt and loose trousers that felt soft and comfortable—I glanced at myself in the mirror. Everything fitted well, yet it carried that old-time charm. Once dressed, I stepped out and began exploring the house. The whole place was wooden, carved beautifully, with intricate details on doors and beams. I wandered into the bedroom.
The bed was wooden, carved with subtle patterns, holding a thin mattress, pillows, and a light blanket. A delicate mosquito net hung above, minimal furnishings otherwise—just a dressing table and a wardrobe. I sat on the bed, thinking about my future. Uncertainty made me restless. I wanted to create my own path, yet couldn't shake the fear of encountering strange situations—like being forced to teach history when I knew almost nothing about it.
Memories of my past life kept flooding in, relentless. I exhaled slowly, recalling my childhood self—troublesome, aggressive, selfish, a poor student who could barely convince anyone he was capable of anything. My past self seemed the complete opposite of who I am now.
I pictured my old family, the Worachet household. Father, Patthanchai Worachet, a high-ranking, respected official. Mother, Suree, warm and caring, watching over everyone. Older sister, Waranya, who loved me fiercely and always worried for me.
Past images surfaced: once, I had been a cheerful, innocent child, free of aggression and selfishness. But everything changed when a child my age was constantly compared to me by parents and those around them. That kid was adored by everyone—sweet, gentle, charming—a favorite in every gathering. In contrast, I was constantly compared and inevitably jealous.
"If you're always being compared to someone else, it's no wonder it gets annoying," I muttered quietly. I knew the jealousy and anger back then were almost uncontrollable, leaving scars that lingered even now.
I tried to stop thinking about it, but those memories kept swirling back, pounding in my head like a warning I couldn't escape the past. As the flood of thoughts surged, I rolled over, shut my eyes, and let out a long sigh, hoping that closing them would somehow free me one day…
Eventually, my thoughts drifted away into the air, and I accidentally fell asleep, unmindful. The bedroom was silent except for the soft rhythm of my breathing, bathed in the gentle moonlight streaming through the window.
I woke up in a dark forest, feeling the cold wind brush against my skin, like being thrown into a horror movie scene. An owl hooted faintly to my left, and the moonlight filtered through the towering trees. Everything was so quiet it gave me goosebumps. I scanned my surroundings carefully.
"Please tell me I'm not about to see that guy again," I muttered under my breath.
But today felt different. Unlike previous times, I had a premonition that this wasn't a dream. Honestly, the fear I usually felt was gone. I'd experienced too much already today, and now I just felt resigned. If I had to sleep, I might as well fully sleep—why half-asleep, half-awake?
"Come on. Whatever the hell shows up, I'll smack your face in," I muttered, bracing myself.
A crack—a branch snapping—echoed nearby.
"Who's there?" I shouted, eyes darting around. A vague shadow lingered in the depths of the forest. No reply—just the echo of my voice, almost mocking me.
Suddenly, a cold, eerie laugh came from the darkness.
"What the hell…? Sounds like… I should buy some lozenges for this, looks serious," I murmured to myself. The laugh sounded like a chronically sick person, but the closer I listened, the louder it became.
I turned—and there, at the edge of the woods, stood a tall figure.
"Hey! Who's that?" I yelled, a chill crawling up my spine. "This isn't… a ghost, right? Definitely not human!" I cursed instinctively.
Then, a female ghost in traditional Thai clothing emerged from the shadows. Her face was pale, her long hair obscuring most of it, and her hollow black eyes stared straight at me.
"Shit!" I jumped back, kicking at her chest instinctively.
"Hey! You can't just pop up like that!" I shouted, gasping for air, before mocking her, "Damn ghost! If I have a heart attack and die, what are you gonna do? Take responsibility?"
The ghost stood frozen, confused, but I continued, irritated.
"Wait, have we met before? You just appear to scare me? Weren't you once alive too? Show some respect! Don't just… act without sense. And that face—seriously, have you ever looked in a mirror? If I were you, I'd faint all over again. Rude-ass ghost."
"I-I'm sorry…" her voice whispered, barely audible.
"Speak up! I can't hear you!" I barked.
"I'm sorry, sir," she repeated, louder this time, bowing her head in guilt. After a pause, she lifted her gaze, eyes filled with discomfort and sorrow.
"I died here…" she said softly, clearly, as if hoping I would understand.
I squinted slightly at her. "So?" I replied indifferently, as if her words were mere trivia. "You died here? Not my problem," I muttered, scratching my head, sighing as though meeting a ghost was more annoying than frightening.
The female ghost froze, stunned by my coldness. She stood stiffly, her mouth opening slightly as if to speak, but no words came out.
I tilted my head slightly, giving her a weak smile. "Anything else? No? Then I'm leaving—it's a waste of time."
With that, I turned and walked away, completely indifferent, treating this ghost encounter as just another trivial, absurd part of life.
The ghost could only stare after me, still shocked that a living person had the audacity to "talk back" without fear.