Prologue: The Wind and the Blood
The wind—growing stronger by the minute—swept across the sea, tearing through the coconut groves and mangrove forests like a pair of giant hands. Leaves spiraled into the air; salt spray lashed against the trunks; the shadows of the trees quivered and broke apart. Somewhere deeper in the forest, lanterns flickered like restless spirits, their glow trembling under the assault.
A pair of eyes gazed dreamily toward the swaying treetops, pupils reflecting both the silver of moonlight and the molten darkness of the storm. It was unclear whether they were watching the trees—or watching the wind itself devour the horizon.
Not far away, the clinking of glasses and the throb of electronic bass fermented in the humid night air, blending with the scent of seaweed, perfume, and diesel. Laughter burst and died like waves against coral—a soundtrack of reckless hedonism.
Then, a dull thud. A splash.
A body collapsed into the water.
Light—fierce, almost holy—pierced the sea surface, scattering through the trembling waves and across the coral spires. A school of juvenile sharks wheeled in the shallows, curious, playful; a lone diver drifted nearby, caught between fascination and dread. The glow sank deeper, swallowed by darkness. Beneath the steep ocean floor, no wind, however fierce, could stir a ripple. The body descended slowly, like a fallen offering, until a gush of crimson unfurled—delicate as silk—into the blue. The young sharks, eyes bright and innocent, turned toward it as one.
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Chapter One: An Unexpected "Accident"
(1) The Island
It had been years since Li Ye had seen a sky burn with such uncanny colors—an impossible red that throbbed like a living heart, streaked with molten gold. The light shimmered against the sea's mirrored surface, so vivid it seemed unreal, a sky made of blood and jewels.
He stood at the rail of the roaring speedboat, hair whipped back by the salt wind, the scent of fuel and brine clinging to his skin. Something about that sky tugged faintly at the edge of memory—a half-forgotten dream of home, or perhaps of loss.
All around, the sea glittered like shards of glass. Once untouched and serene, this coral reef zone—praised in glossy travel magazines as Thailand's "rising-star A-list snorkeling paradise"—had recently been conquered by money. International investors turned its quiet shores into playgrounds for the global elite, where infinity pools now gleamed where mangroves once grew.
But now the water lay clouded with debris, the reefs fractured and pale, casualties of the typhoon that had torn through days earlier.
And worse—far worse than the storm—was the case Li Ye had been sent to investigate.
The island's faint silhouette loomed ahead, its luxury villas jutting like pale teeth from the jungle ridge. "Ptooey!" Somkhun spat a mouthful of betel nut into the wind, the crimson streak dissolving into foam.
Li Ye frowned, wiping a few drops from his cheek. He said nothing. Somkhun, the swaggering lead detective of Na-Khi province's Second Police Station, leaned back and lit a cigarette.
"Lim," he said lazily, smoke curling around his grin, "you ever been here before?"
"No," Li Ye answered. "Couldn't afford it."
Somkhun chuckled. "Well, now you get the VIP tour—dead guests and all."
Li Ye looked away. The island was drawing closer. Beneath the beauty, he could almost taste the rot. "If it weren't for you, Somkhun, I'd never have a chance to visit a high-end island resort like this in my lifetime. Or get assigned to such a major case."
Somkhun patted his shoulder. "Don't be modest. Both victims are overseas Chinese. And you're the only Chinese officer in our station. Who else would they send?"
Li Ye replied flatly, "Yeah. Why are both victims Chinese?"
"Because you Chinese are all rich! Hahaha!" Somkhun guffawed.
Li Ye forced a dry chuckle. "Well, the big boss of this hotel and the island owner *are* both Chinese. The guests are all Chinese elites or wealthy businessmen from Southeast Asia and Australia. But my family? We're just small-time street vendors, barely scraping by, sir."
"Don't get defensive whenever someone says Chinese have money," Somkhun said, exhaling smoke slowly. "I didn't say money means ill-gotten gains. Just the other day, when I made offerings at the temple, the monk told me there are seven kinds of noble wealth: Faith (*Saddhā*), Virtue (*Sīla*), Conscience (*Hiri*), Scruple (*Ottappa*), Learning (*Bahusacca*), Generosity (*Dāna*), and Wisdom (*Paññā*). Rich people who follow these are like sages. *Sadhu!* (Well done!/Blessed!)" Somkhun pressed his palms together devoutly, dragging out the last word.
"Well, there's still a big difference between rich people. Sadhu!" Li Ye reflexively followed suit.
"Differences don't matter in the face of disaster. Everyone's equal then. A typhoon like this… I only saw one like it over twenty years ago. The officials in Na-Khi province, they're used to an easy life. Total panic this time." Somkhun sighed.
"Yeah. Normally, for two foreign deaths, the Tourist Police would come, the Central Forensics would come, and we'd need a medical officer from the Tourism Authority as an observer. But right now… it's just us two local cops. And the typhoon must have destroyed the crime scenes completely. I'm really worried there might be complications we can't handle." Li Ye also took out a cigarette and lit it.
"Heh, those officials aren't worried, so why should you be?" Somkhun scoffed. "Look at them, busy making the rounds at all the scenic spots right now. The Governor dragged all the council members out early to inspect the disaster zones for the TV cameras, campaigning for re-election later this year. They've even pulled officers from every station for the Governor's security detail. Checkpoints everywhere, manpower stretched thin. Heh, what the hell can *we* do here? But," he clapped Li Ye's shoulder again, "even though Forensics isn't here, *you've* got experience, Lim." He thought for a moment, then added, "Though experience might not matter much. Sending just two cops… it means the bosses *don't* want this blown up. The hotel manager hinted as much. Said the place was just renovated last year, they're angling for new investment… best not to stir up trouble."
He patted Li Ye's shoulder again. "But hey, at least you've got experience."
Li Ye gave a faint smile.
"Not that it matters," Somkhun added. "The fact that they only sent two of us says it all: higher-ups want this case wrapped up quietly. The hotel manager hinted as much. They just renovated last year and are chasing new investors. They want zero drama."
"I hope it really is just a simple accident. But if more than two foreign nationals die, we have to notify the Special Investigations Unit. Then Bangkok's forensics team gets involved—"
Smack. Somkhun cut him off with a loud slap on the back.
"Don't jinx it! Word is, the hotel lost power and water for two days. Can you imagine how these pampered rich folks managed in this heat?" He took another drag. "When I was in the Navy, we once went a full week at sea without a shower. You ever serve, Lim?"
"Army. Seven years." Li Ye stared at the glowing tip of his cigarette.
"Woah—! Respect, Lord Indra (God of War)!" Somkhun raised his thumb in surprise. "If I'd drawn the Army lot, I'd rather have gotten a sex change."
"As a Chinese, if you don't push harder, how do you get a shot at a government job?" Li Ye looked towards the distance; the island was getting closer. "This island isn't that big. You asked what the two of us can do. As local police, we have the right to put the hotel on lockdown. If there's any doubt about the deaths, we can establish a Level 3 restricted area."
"Are you crazy? Let me say it again: Don't go looking for trouble! We're just two insignificant pawns. I checked before we came. The hotel's parent company is registered in Panama, it's foreign-owned. And this is a private island leased for fifty years. To seal it off, they could legally demand a warrant. And the hotel manager hinted when he called it in – their big boss is tight with the Governor of Na-Khi … Let's not make waves." Somkhun warned.
"But these victims are rich, or at least middle-class elites. Their families won't be easy to deal with," Li Ye argued.
"Rich folks are people too," Somkhun replied. "The hotel says it was just an accident. The families were all nearby. No one's made a fuss. In my experience, as long as it's confirmed accidental and the relatives are calm, we can close this clean."
As they talked, the boat slowly approached the island's pier.
The jetty jutted from the water, decorated with ornamental seashells, now shattered and scattered by the storm. Above it, the coral-fragment lettering of "Dame Island" had been partly damaged—making the "e" resemble an "n," making it look like "Damn island."
"Damn island, alright!" Somkhun laughed, flashing his betel-stained teeth—then turned and saw the grim-faced hotel manager, Kevin, waiting at the dock.
"Two more dead, officers," Kevin said, on the verge of tears. "Just now—right as you were arriving—two more guests died."
Somkhun's face instantly fell.
"Guess it really is a damn island."