The Deadly Charm

Part 41 : Yanawadee's Revenge

Poison in Her Heart

As twilight painted the sky in hues of crimson and fire, Yanawadee crouched in the shadowed corner of the city. Her eyes, sharp and unblinking, followed the man weaving his way through the crowd.

Kongkiat.

The man she had once loved. The man who had once whispered promises into her skin. The man who was now nothing more than a target.

For weeks, she had followed him—always out of sight, always one step behind. Like a shadow that refused to let go. No matter where he went, she was there. Watching. Waiting.

Her heart, once brimming with affection, had turned to molten hatred. He had betrayed her. Used her. Thrown her aside when she no longer served his purpose. And now, he would pay.

But it wasn't just him.

One afternoon, she watched him meet someone in a quiet café. Her hands clenched into fists when she saw who it was.

Akira.

Once her best friend.

Now, her enemy.

From the darkened corner of the café, Yanawadee observed them. They laughed together. Kongkiat looked at Akira with softness in his eyes—eyes that had once looked at her the same way. Each smile they shared was a dagger plunged deep into her heart.

"It was you..." she whispered, trembling. "You took him from me."

The jealousy. The betrayal. The humiliation. It all swelled within her, feeding a fire that had never truly gone out. Her love had died long ago—burned to ashes by lies. But her hate?

It was alive. Thriving.

She turned and left the café without being seen, her expression cold and resolute. No more watching. No more waiting.

She was done with pain.

Now it was their turn to suffer.

The Poison of Vengeance

The forest was silent beneath a crescent moon, every tree cloaked in shadows. Yanawadee moved through the woods with purpose, her footsteps silent. The deeper she walked, the darker the path became.

She finally arrived at a secluded wooden cabin—half-hidden by overgrown vines and draped in cobwebs. It was a place whispered of in back alleys and cursed dreams. The home of Suban, a shaman known for his deadly gifts.

She stood before the door, breathing in the heavy night. Then, three knocks.

No answer.

She pushed the door open anyway. It groaned under her touch.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of incense, roots, and rot. The room glowed dimly from a single candle on an ancient wooden table.

Sitting behind it was a man whose age was impossible to guess. His eyes shone with the kind of knowledge that corrupts the soul.

Suban.

"I know why you're here," he rasped before she could speak.

"You want a poison. One that kills."

Yanawadee stepped forward. "I want her to suffer. I want Akira... to die slowly."

The shaman chuckled darkly and stood, shuffling toward a cabinet filled with clay vials and blackened glass bottles. He selected one—black, unlabeled, ominous—and turned to her.

"This is death in liquid form," he said. "One drop... that's all it takes. Her body will betray her. Her soul will scream. And no one will know how to save her."

Yanawadee took the vial. It was warm—unnaturally so. Like it pulsed with a heartbeat of its own.

"I'll make her feel every ounce of what I've endured," she murmured. "She'll rot from the inside... like I did."

Suban's smile faded.

"Be warned. This poison is ancient. And it always demands payment. When you use it... something may be taken in return."

"I don't care," she replied, her voice as cold as stone.

He nodded once and returned to his seat, vanishing into the shadows like a spirit in a shrine.

Yanawadee left the cabin, the forest silent behind her.

But the storm inside her was anything but.

She had the poison. She had the plan.

And soon, she would have justice—her way.

There was no turning back now.

No forgiveness.

Only the promise of pain.