"You too, Saibua! Stay where you are!" she barked. "If anyone dares to save La-Orchan, I will have them flogged until they die!"
.
.
La-Orduen's grip on Saiyood tightened. The maid's eyes filled with horror, her face wet with tears. She struggled, her voice shaking as she begged.
"Lady La-Orduen! Lady La-Orchan can't swim well! She was bitten by a snake—if no one helps her, she won't survive!"
La-Orduen pressed her lips into a thin line.
She knew. She knew it all too well.
Yet her grip on Saiyood remained firm. Her gaze flickered with turmoil. The war within her raged on, preventing her from making a clear decision.
One part of her knew what she should do—La-Orchan was her twin, once inseparable from her life. But another part of her whispered—this was the perfect chance to rid herself of her greatest enemy, the one who had stolen her love.
Her hesitation weighed her down, trapping her in uncertainty. Even as the voice of the woman who had just saved her from a venomous snake moments ago echoed in the air—
"Sister... please... help me..."
La-Orchan's body thrashed in the water, her eyes reflecting a desperate hope.
Her heart pounded with fear.
She didn't want to die.
She had to survive.
There was still someone waiting for her.
Phiengwad... was waiting.
But her strength was fading fast.
.
.
At last, La-Orchan's strength gave out. Her body slowly sank into the depths of the river, swallowed by the dark abyss.
The venom coursing through her veins burned like fire, consuming every last shred of hope and life within her. She had fought—struggled against the suffocating water again and again—but each desperate gasp only brought more liquid death into her lungs.
Her breath faltered. Her limbs grew weak. The creeping darkness enveloped her, like a specter of death pulling her into its cold embrace.
Her last hope—the hope of surviving, of seeing Phiengwad again, the woman she loved most—began to fade.
"P'Phiengwad..."
A trembling whisper escaped her lips.
The final image in her fading consciousness was Phiengwad's face—the face of the one she loved beyond all else.
One of La-Orchan's hands remained clenched tightly around something, as if grasping onto a fragment of her last hope. Even as her body was pulled under by the relentless current, her heart still reached out—still longed—for one last moment together.
Her once-bright eyes blurred. Tears, indistinguishable from the river's flow, drifted away into the endless tide.
No one heard her silent cry.
No one saw her final struggle.
La-Orchan knew.
This was the end.
.
.
In her final moments, she prayed—not for herself, but for Phiengwad. She prayed that Phiengwad would live on, that she might have one last chance to say the words left unspoken, one last chance to hold her, even for the briefest moment.
But that wish would never come true.
The icy water wrapped around her, sinking its freezing grip deep into her bones. Her last sensation was not pain, nor fear—but sorrow. An aching grief that would never fade, even in death.
No one heard her final whisper.
No one saw the tears that disappeared into the river's depths.
She sank.
Deeper.
Until all that remained was silence.
And an endless, inescapable darkness.
.
.
La-Orduen stood motionless, staring at the scene before her as if time itself had stopped.
She kept telling herself—this was how it was meant to be. This was the rightful punishment for someone who had broken their oath time and time again.
And yet, the coldness that had once wrapped around her heart now felt like nothing more than an empty void. The pain she had tried so hard to suppress seeped through, unbidden. She wasn't sure if what she had done was right or wrong.
But there was one thing she knew with absolute certainty—
La-Orchan, her twin sister, her betrayer—
Was gone.
Forever.
A deep, suffocating emptiness swallowed her whole. The loss consumed her, so vast and hollow that even the hatred she had clung to for so long could no longer fill it.
Beside her, Saiyood collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her face, her broken cries cutting through the thick silence. The hands that had once served her mistress with unwavering devotion now trembled violently.
"My lady... Lady La-Orchan..." she wept, as if calling the name alone could somehow bring her mistress back.
But all that answered her was silence—cold, merciless silence.
Not far away, Saibua stood frozen in shock. Her eyes were wide, her face ashen, drained of all color. The scene unfolding before her was beyond anything she had ever imagined. It felt like a nightmare, one from which she might never wake.
Her hands shook as she clutched herself, as if trying to shield herself from the crushing weight of grief. But there was no escape from the brutal reality before her.
A commotion broke through the darkness.
A group of servants from Lord Noradit's estate rushed toward them, their torches casting flickering light over the tense, bewildered faces. None of them understood what had happened—but their eyes were all drawn to the riverbank.
Saiyood still wept.
Saibua remained frozen in shock.
And La-Orduen... she stood unmoving, her vacant gaze fixed upon the dark river, as though her soul had already drifted away.
"Lady La-Orduen, is that you? What happened?"
One of the servants asked hesitantly, his voice laced with uncertainty. He had never seen his mistress like this before—so eerily still, lost in the depths of her own mind.
Slowly, La-Orduen turned to face him, her expression void of all emotion.
Her voice, barely above a whisper, slipped through the cold night air.
"La-Orchan fell into the river."
She lifted a hand and pointed toward the dark, endless water.
"She's gone."
.
.
The gathered servants stood frozen, their eyes locked on the still, ominous water. Murmurs spread among them, hushed whispers of unease and fear. Some shifted nervously, uncertain of what to do, yet no one dared make a move.
Then, a voice rang out from behind them.
"What happened?!"
Phiengwad rushed forward, her heart pounding against her chest. She had heard the commotion from afar, and an overwhelming sense of dread had gripped her long before she arrived.
As soon as she spotted the crowd gathered at the riverbank, a foreboding feeling settled deep within her bones—heavier than anything she had ever felt before.
Terror flickered in her wide, searching eyes. She scanned the faces in the crowd until they landed on La-Orduen.
Her gaze swept over the woman from head to toe.
And in that instant, she knew.
This was not the one she had been searching for.
A sharp pang struck Phiengwad's chest.
"La-Orduen…" her voice trembled. "What are you doing here? Where is La-Orchan?!"
Silence fell like a suffocating blanket. It was as if every sound had been swallowed by the night.
Phiengwad's eyes darted around, desperate.
But La-Orchan—
She was nowhere to be seen.
"Where is she?!"
Her voice cracked, raw with fear.
Then, Saiyood collapsed at Phiengwad's feet. Her frail body trembled violently as she clutched onto Phiengwad's legs, sobbing uncontrollably. Her tears streamed down in relentless torrents, her face twisted in unbearable grief.
Her voice was barely a whisper—yet it struck Phiengwad's heart like a dagger.
"Lady Phiengwad… Lady La-Orchan… she…"
Saiyood struggled to speak, but the sobs wracking her body stole her words away.
"What happened, Saiyood?!"
Phiengwad demanded, her voice edged with urgency.
But no answer came.
Only Saiyood's broken cries, echoing through the heavy night—telling of a tragedy that could never be undone.
A chill ran through Phiengwad's body, sinking into her bones. She turned sharply toward the gathered servants of Lord Noradit's household, who stood hesitantly nearby.
"I asked you what happened! Where is La-Orchan?!"
Her voice rang across the riverbank, filled with desperation and barely restrained terror. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill.
Just then, Sir Det-Wijit arrived, quickly lowering an unconscious Gulab from his arms. His sharp gaze swept over the tense scene before he bellowed—
"My sister just asked you a question! Did you not hear her?!"
His voice carried an undeniable authority, sending a jolt through the gathered servants. Some paled, others trembled, but none dared to speak. Fear and hesitation painted their faces.
Then, in the suffocating silence, La-Orduen finally spoke.
Her voice was cold. Steady.
"La-Orchan was bitten by a snake and fell into the river. She has been lost beneath the water for some time now."
Her words shattered something inside Phiengwad.
She turned sharply to her brother, her eyes wild with anguish and fear.
Without thinking, she lunged forward, racing toward the river—
She had to find her. She had to save her.
But before she could reach the riverbank, a strong hand caught her arm.
Sir Det-Wijit held her firmly, pulling her back.
"Phiengwad! You cannot go in!"
His voice was firm, his arms locked around her in an unyielding grip. He knew.
He knew grief would drive her to reckless desperation.
And he would not let her throw herself into danger.
.
.
Phiengwad's world shattered before her eyes.
Her legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed onto the ground. The pain in her chest was unbearable, a sorrow so overwhelming that it felt as if her heart was being torn apart. She tried to hold back her sobs, but the tears came in torrents, spilling freely down her face.
While Phiengwad drowned in grief, Sir Det-Wijit burned with fury. His eyes blazed like fire as he turned sharply toward the gathered servants.
"What kind of useless servants are you?!" he roared, his voice laced with fury. "You stood by and watched as your mistress fell into the river—why didn't you jump in to save her?!"
His anger crackled through the air like thunder.
"Get in the river and find her! Now!"
The male servants of Lord Noradit's household hesitated, exchanging fearful glances. None of them dared to move. The water was deep and treacherous, and the night was unforgiving.
Sir Det-Wijit's patience snapped. In one swift motion, he grabbed one of the men by the collar and shoved him into the river.
"I SAID GO NOW!" he thundered, his voice echoing across the riverbank. "Find La-Orchan! Search every inch of the water! If you fail to bring her back, don't bother showing your faces again! And if you let my sister's beloved die, I swear upon Lord Noradit himself—I will have every single one of you beheaded!"
His words sent a cold wave of terror through the group. Faces paled. Bodies trembled. Then, one by one, they jumped into the water, too terrified to disobey.
But Phiengwad barely noticed.
She sat motionless, her gaze vacant, fixed upon the dark, unforgiving waters.
The chaos around her meant nothing. She felt nothing but the crushing weight of despair settling into her bones.
Her eyes, filled with silent anguish, never wavered from the river's inky surface. Tears slipped down her cheeks, slow and unrelenting. The cold grip of hopelessness tightened around her heart.
She could no longer breathe past the ache in her chest.
The pain was too great—too vast for words.
It was as if her entire world had collapsed before her.
Only moments ago, she had clung to the hope of seeing La-Orchan again, of holding her once more.
But now, that hope was gone—consumed by the merciless river.
Phiengwad remained where she was, lost in the storm of her own torment.
She should have been there. She should have protected La-Orchan.
But instead, she was forced to witness the love of her life vanish beneath the water's depths…
And she hadn't even been able to reach out—
Not even for a single, desperate attempt to save her.
.
.
Time passed.
Perhaps only moments had slipped by, but for Phiengwad, it felt like an eternity.
Then—
"We've found Lady La-Orchan!"
A servant's frantic voice shattered the silence.
All eyes turned toward the riverbank as a group of drenched men dragged a pale, lifeless body from the water.
The servant who had spoken trembled as he laid the still form onto the ground. His face was ashen, his voice faltering.
"B-but… she… she's not breathing."
The words sliced through the air, through flesh, through bone—cutting deeper than any blade.
Phiengwad stared at the sight before her, frozen in despair.
Her body moved on its own, inching closer to La-Orchan's motionless form. Her hands shook violently, too afraid to reach out—too afraid that the moment she touched her, the last shred of hope would vanish into nothingness.
"La-Orchan…"
Her voice was barely a whisper, a breath lost in the wind.
She sank to her knees beside her lover, tears clouding her vision. Finally, with trembling fingers, she reached forward—cupping La-Orchan's hand in her own.
Cold.
Devoid of warmth.
A lifeless chill seeped into Phiengwad's skin, spreading through her veins like poison.
La-Orchan's fingers were clenched tightly around something.
Phiengwad hesitated, then, with great care, she pried them open.
The moment she saw what lay in her beloved's grasp, a strangled sob escaped her lips.
A gold ring, adorned with a single ruby—
The very ring she had once given La-Orchan, as a token of her love. A promise, a vow, a symbol of the bond they had sworn to cherish.
Even in death, La-Orchan had held onto it.
A silent, final message.
A sharp, unbearable pain tore through Phiengwad's chest. And then—
She screamed.
A wretched, heart-wrenching cry that pierced the heavens.
Phiengwad pulled La-Orchan's lifeless body into her arms, holding her close, as though trying to will her back to life.
She wept, her sobs unrelenting, echoing into the night.
It was a sound of anguish beyond words. A grief so profound that it stripped away the very meaning of speech.
Her one and only love—
Gone.
Forever.
Never to return.
.
.
...
Hojicha Writer
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