[Inn of the Rainy Season] Chapter 9 🏍️ I didn't know when the night ended.

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When I realized it, the absolute black that had filled the forest without a gap had slightly decreased in density.

It was not that the darkness had completely vanished.

It was just that faint shades were beginning to emerge within the all-encompassing black.

The black of the thick trunks and the black of the space behind them were separating.

The layers of leaves covering overhead were beginning to vaguely take on distinct layers.

It wasn't that the light had returned, but rather the sensation that this insane world had begun to regain its physical contours once again.

I was still walking.

I kept on walking.

I have no idea how much time has passed since I heard the gunshot behind me.

My legs kept moving. Forward, they just kept moving.

I could no longer distinguish whether it was by my own will or just desperate inertia.

My body had long since passed its limit and should have been burning with fever, yet without stopping or collapsing into the mud, it was just being carried forward like a machine.

In the center of my vision, there was the young man's back.

For me right now, that was the only point of contact holding reality together.

Eventually, the sky began to turn a cloudy white. A thin film of light rested above the treetops.

That light slowly descended to the forest floor over time.

It made the outlines of the leaves cold and clear, brought out the rough texture of the trunks, and mercilessly returned the complex unevenness of the ground to my sight.

It was morning. The forest changed its appearance into yet another place.

The overwhelming pressure of the night lifted. But there was no relief.

It was just that I had become able to see things I couldn't see before.

My feet were clearly reflected on my retinas.

Mud. Wet fallen leaves. Roots tangled like traps.

Until yesterday, I would have surely processed them and walked around them.

But now, it's different. Even if I can see them, the commands from my brain to my muscles can't keep up.

I understand where my feet are stepping only after the fact, like a delayed report.

Even so, I walk.

The young man ahead of me suddenly slowed down. It was the first time.

During the night, he hadn't changed his pace once, like a machine.

That pace had slackened slightly here.

Something had changed. I understood it belatedly, while still looking at his back.

The air is different. The smell has changed.

Mixed into the scent of forest leaf mold and damp mold is a distinct, different layer.

Smoke. Burnt wood ash. And the smell of human life.

It is thinner than that of a refugee camp, but definitely thicker than the smell of the forest.

We continue further. The density of the trees decreases slightly. Light enters more easily.

The ground is unnaturally flattened and packed down.

It is not grand enough to be called a road, but the traces of humans passing through repeatedly over many years were certainly there.

The young man does not look back.

But the caution has vanished from his gait, and all hesitation is completely gone.

It is a way of walking where the soles of my feet already know the soil of this place.

A few more minutes. An artificial straight line appears in the green deep in my field of vision.

Bamboo. Roughly woven walls. A shape like a low roof.

I finally understand there. It's a village. That young man's village.

The place I stopped by at dusk on the first day.

I have finally made it back there.

The moment I recognized it, my body suddenly felt heavy as if it were being torn apart.

The invisible threads that had been forcibly holding my muscles and bones together until then snapped with a sound.

One step, my foot fatally stumbles. The foot that should have stepped forward fails to catch the ground accurately and slips on the mud.

The young man finally stops there and turns around.

For just a moment, our expressionless gazes meet. That was enough.

The fact that "we have arrived" is conveyed without words.

Brother approaches from behind and places his hand on my collapsing shoulder.

This time, it was a physical force supporting me so I wouldn't fall.

I enter the village, half-dragged by that force.

There is a presence of people. There are mud-covered children. There are women. There are men.

But they do not come near.

They watch us from a distance with eyes mixed with wariness and indifference.

An unfamiliar farang.

Moreover, covered in mud, feverish, and unable to even walk properly.

Its presence was an obvious foreign object to this closed-off village, an ominous import.

I didn't even have the luxury of interpreting the meaning of their gazes; I just kept moving my feet.

Being led somewhere.

In front of a hut at the edge of the square. A low roof. A floor made of bamboo with gaps everywhere.

The young man says something briefly to someone in the village.

Immediately, someone replies in a low voice.

I go inside. It's dark. The sharp light from outside is blocked.

At that moment, my body completely reached its limit.

All my strength drains away. My knees buckle.

I fall to the floor just like that, like a marionette with its strings cut.

The hardness of the bamboo hits my shoulder and cheek, but my brain doesn't even have the capacity to feel the pain.

Only the fact that the weight of my body has vanished is processed as an intense pleasure.

I lie down. I can feel the bamboo against my back. My breathing is rough, making an unpleasant sound.

But it's different from before.

I don't have to walk anymore. Even if I stop, I won't be shot.

That fact alone was the only thing clear in my feverish head.

From outside, I hear human voices. The sound of water splashing. The presence of people rushing to carry something.

Everything is distant, as if heard from the bottom of the water. I close my eyes.

I was looking for insects. A phantom rhinoceros beetle. A tall tale I heard in Bangkok.

That was how it was supposed to be.

However, even if I recall that insane motive now, it feels completely unreal.

Still, one certain fact remains.

I made it this far. I came back this far, alive. That was all.

My consciousness slowly sinks to the bottom of the mud.

This time, there is no reason to resist. A deep darkness is coming.

But it is different from the darkness of last night, where bullets flew.

It was just an overwhelming sleep.

I don't know how long I was asleep.

It might have been a few minutes, or it might have been several hours, more than half a day.

I didn't have any dreams.

My consciousness was simply forced to shut down, and then forcibly turned back on.

My shoulder is being shaken. It's not violently strong.

But I am pulled back to reality with an inescapable force that allows no refusal.

I open my eyes. My vision is blurred as if smeared with water.

The incoming light hurts my eyes. The outlines follow with a delay. Brother is there.

He is looking down at me from a terribly close distance.

He is saying something.

At first, the meaning doesn't enter my brain.

It reaches my ears as a lump of sound, and there is a desperate delay before it connects as words.

"Go"

That was all. But he continued to say something quickly. It was short.

And it was extremely assertive.

...I cannot stay here for long.

Even without understanding the words, I could understand that from the atmosphere.

The very fact that I, a foreign object, am here is a fatal burden for this village.

The armed men from last night. The watchful eyes. The trail of pursuit drawn into the forest.

Everything is spreading to this defenseless place.

This is not a place that will protect me. It is just a place I must pass through.

My body feels heavy, as if lead has been poured into it. But I get up.

I must get up.

When I crawled outside, the young man was waiting.

He had already finished his preparations and was standing at the edge of the village.

Beside him was an off-road motorcycle.

It was that lump of iron I rode while having my insides shaken when I arrived.

Back then, it was just a rough means of transportation. But now, it is different.

This will be the only spider's thread to escape from this realm of death.

I am placed on the rear seat.

I don't remember clearly whether I lifted my legs to straddle it myself or if they held me under my arms and lifted me up.

My hands, guided only by instinct, search for the pipe behind the handlebars. I grab it.

I have no strength. The sensation in my fingertips is faint. Even so, I will never let go.

The kick pedal is stomped down, and the engine starts with a deafening roar.

Violent vibrations travel from between my legs, up my spine, and resonate deep within my body.

That alone makes my stomach acid churn and nausea well up. But I cannot stop.

The bike kicks up mud and moves. Leaving the village. I have no time to look back.

Or rather, the very idea of looking back is completely missing from my brain.

I just cling on. I focus every cell in my body on that alone.

The road is not a road.

It is just a series of animal paths and ruts forced through the forest.

Mud. Protruding stones. Thick, exposed roots. The bike bounces like it's gone mad.

Shocks that the suspension cannot absorb enter directly from my pelvis into my internal organs.

Each time, it goes beyond pain, and my consciousness feels like it's about to blank out.

Don't close your eyes. That's what I think. If I close them, I'll fall right off the back.

If I fall, I will definitely break my neck and it will be over.

I put strength into my hands.

Even though I intend to, I don't know how well I'm actually gripping the handlebars.

My entire arms are numb, and the sensation in my fingers has completely vanished.

Even so, I don't let go, using only the power of my spirit.

The wind hits me. It is terribly cold.

But the inside of my body, struck by a fever, is burning hot.

That extreme contradiction tears my consciousness apart even further, leaving it hazy.

My sense of time completely vanished. I don't know how long I rode.

It just felt like the endless, violent vibrations, the cold wind, and the deafening roar of the engine would last forever.

Eventually, the road changed. The resistance against the tires had clearly changed.

The intense vertical shaking subsided. The ground had been artificially leveled. The sound changed, too.

The heavy air of the forest receded behind us.

In its place, the sounds made by humans gradually grew louder and returned. Voices.

The sound of metal clashing. The echo of another engine in the distance.

It's a town.

Suddenly, the bike stopped. The engine was cut.

In that moment, it felt as if the world had become so quiet it would burst my eardrums.

I was still clinging to the bike seat, frozen.

Brother tapped my shoulder, and I finally let go. My strength drained away all at once.

He held me under my arms to support me as my body threatened to collapse forward.

He forced me to walk just like that.

I could barely feel the soles of my feet touching the ground.

Even so, I was pulled forward by his strength. I could see a building.

It wasn't woven from bamboo or leaves. It had concrete walls.

It had a proper roof. It had a door. It was that inn where we stayed on the first day.

We went inside. The air was decisively different.

There was no humidity or scent of death from the forest; the space was completely 'closed off' by human hands.

It smells less than outside, and it's inorganic. That alone felt strange to me right now.

I am made to sit on a plastic chair in the lobby.

Or perhaps I just collapsed directly onto the floor. My vision is swaying and won't stabilize.

Brother is talking to someone on the other side of the counter.

It must be someone from the inn. A short exchange. I can tell by the tone of their voices.

It isn't a 'negotiation' for payment. It's just an 'explanation' or perhaps a 'handover'.

Before long, Brother looks back at me. He says nothing.

He just meets my eyes with his murky gaze for a brief moment.

That was enough. He brought me here alive. The promise was kept.

Their job is completely finished here.

I open my cracked lips. My throat is stuck, and the words won't come out right.

"Money..."

A raspy, miserable voice. I can't continue any further.

I don't even know myself if I was trying to pay an additional reward or just trying to squeeze out some words.

I search the pockets of my mud-stained trousers. Aside from an empty wallet, there is nothing. Truly, nothing at all.

Everything that was thought to have value in this world had long since lost its meaning and vanished in that forest where the gunshots rang out, and along the endless road.

Penniless. That materialistic fact is etched into my brain clearly, albeit belatedly.

My life has barely been preserved. But physically, I have nothing.

In this mud-covered frontier town, not a single thing.

Seeing me like that, Brother shrugs his shoulders slightly.

It was a clear move that they would not get involved any further.

Naturally. They are not volunteers.

Just bringing a mad foreigner back alive this far was more than enough work for the initial payment.

He turns his back. And goes outside.

Just like that, without looking back even once. The door slams shut.

I am left behind alone in that dim space.

My body burning with heat.

Empty pockets. Everything is a distant, unknown town.

For a while, I cannot think of anything. I can only repeat my ragged breathing.

However, deep in my feverish mind, one certain fact lay heavily.

It is not over yet.

The fact that I saw an illusion, the fact that the forest is there, and the fact that I have survived.

The only thing was that all of it would continue from here.

Chapter 10 is here

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