PON'S PAIN

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Sailub stepped onto the wooden stairs, which creaked due to their age.

Mueang Chiang Rai had been rainy lately, and the wallpaper was a bit damp, with edges slightly curled up, printed with green bamboo branches, and a few spots of mold.

With one hand holding his luggage and the other holding the key, the metal edges of the key dug into his palm, causing it to ache even though it was not sharp.

He stopped at the third floor, in front of room 307.

Outside, the wind and rain swirled, and the corridor was quiet, almost dead silent.

The corridor lights were dim and low, with green glass lampshades, casting a dim light on a cheap imitation painting.

Sailub remembered all the furnishings in room 307, unchanged from eight years ago.

The rattan lamp still hung by the bed, two single beds placed together with snow-white soft quilts, each with a dark blue pillow.

On the five-drawer cabinet sat a natural-colored vase, with two artificial willow branches inserted askew.

The room was simple and clean, lacking in design aesthetics, but with large bright windows and an open layout, it was still pleasant.

Sailub walked in with his suitcase and threw it into the corner of the room before slowly pacing around.

Although the bedroom felt cold and uninhabited, there were traces of life.

He opened the wardrobe and saw several pieces of clothing hanging inside.

The outer two were very familiar, one was a black coat with bronze buttons at the cuffs, and the other was a thin blue down jacket with white fur around the hat, which could cover the face.

Sailub stood in front of the wardrobe and reached out to grab a sleeve, as if shaking hands with someone across space.

He recognized them.

These were the clothes he had bought for Pon.

That winter when Pon was eighteen, he mistakenly thought Pon was a poor boy working hard, afraid that he didn't have new clothes, so he dragged him out to buy two winter outfits.

After so many years, he thought these two pieces of clothing might have been thrown away long ago.

But they hung neatly in the inn's wardrobe, kept clean and new.

The bronze button brushed against Sailub's fingers, its icy touch like a blade.

He looked through the other clothes next to it.

There were many pieces, camel-colored cashmere coats, sturdy black windbreakers, embroidered baseball jackets, and even a long flannel robe.

Underneath were several pairs of men's sneakers and boots, cramming the wardrobe full, but none wer Poen's size.

Sailub flipped through the label of one of the garments and found they were all XL in size, corresponding to men between 185-190cm tall.

This is his height.

The sleeve slipped from Sailub's hand.

He looked at the wardrobe full of clothes, imagining Pon standing in this room, hanging clothes in the wardrobe.

He didn't know what Pon was thinking.

For a betrayer.

For someone who betrayed him for fame and fortune, what was Pon's mood when he rented this bedroom for seven years?

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