Part 9

Ira huddled on the couch in the streaming room, trying desperately to pretend nothing bad had happened, but it was impossible. She was surrounded by security personnel, police officers, flashing lights, and the constant reminders that something was terribly, mind-numbingly wrong.

Her bedroom was now a crime scene. A literal crime scene.

The moment she'd seen the photos on her bed, everything had felt warped and distant. Like she was trapped in a dream.

No. A nightmare.

She wanted to get out of this no-longer-safe house, but they wouldn't let her leave. She was a witness. She had to give a statement. She had to recount every step she'd taken. Everything she'd touched. Every detail she knew about the photos, Thirakorn, the party... It all blurred together into an overwhelming haze.

The only sharp, clear truth that pierced through was this: a man she barely knew had been beaten nearly to death, and it was her fault.

She felt lost. Alone.

More than anything, she wanted to throw herself into Wisanu's arms. The urge to run home to her brother was so powerful it made her dizzy. But she couldn't. Doing so would put him at risk.

She clenched her fists. She wouldn't let that happen.

"I think we're done here," Tawan said as she strode into the room, her presence commanding and steady as always. "The police will leave a patrol in the neighborhood for a few hours while we clear out. The team will remain here to maintain the illusion that you're still in the house."

Ira pushed herself to her feet. Her legs were shaky and numb, but she forced herself to walk with purpose, as though she were stepping onto the most important stage of her life. She inhaled deeply to keep her voice steady. "You still haven't told me where we're going."

"I'll tell you once we're on the road," Tawan replied curtly.

Ira frowned, irritation bubbling up in her chest. "Why can't you tell me now?"

"Because I'm not taking the chance that we'll be overheard." Tawan pulled out her phone and started tapping away, her face unusually serious. No irritation. No commanding authority.

Instead, there was a flicker of... reluctance?

"Okay, Ira. Come with me," Lin called from the doorway. She held a black duffel bag in one hand and a dining room chair in the other.

Ira hesitated for a moment, then followed, relieved to finally have something to do besides answering endless questions from the police and enduring furtive glances from the security team. "Who's Tawan texting? She looks like a kid being forced to eat vegetables."

Lin snorted, leading Ira to the guest room on the far side of the house. "That's exactly what she's doing."

Ira paused. "Hey, what are we doing? I thought we were going to pack a go bag."

"Not to worry. I've already done that. All you have to do is get changed." Lin tilted her head toward the guest room.

"Changed?" Ira glanced down. They'd let her swap her stage costume for shorts and a T-shirt. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Nothing. It's just... well, you." Lin maneuvered the bag and chair into the room with a practiced ease. "You need to go from Ira Suwannathat, celebrity, to someone completely unremarkable. That means a change in clothes, makeup, and—most importantly—your hair."

Ira raised an eyebrow. "My hair?"

Lin pulled a box out of the bag and held it up with a smug grin. The cover showed a woman with rich auburn hair. "Red. Perfect for blending in."

Ira stared at the box, her signature blonde hair instantly coming to mind. "You're joking."

"Not even a little bit." Lin laid gloves, a cape, and a makeup kit on the counter. "Let's be honest. That blonde is basically a neon sign. You stick out anywhere. Time to tone it down."

Ira didn't bother denying it. She had spent years maintaining the golden blonde that had become her look—one that set her apart and got her noticed. "Do you have any idea how much effort it takes to keep this color perfect? It's not just hair. It's my brand."

Lin tilted her head, scrutinizing Ira's reflection with a mix of admiration and determination. "Your hair really is stunning—long, smooth, and those soft waves? Perfect for Ira Suwannathat, the pop star. But right now, we need to make it impossible for anyone to connect you with her."

Ira crossed her arms, her amber eyes narrowing. "And you think red hair is the magic solution?"

Lin gave a knowing smile as she laid out gloves, dye, scissors, and a cape on the counter. "Not just red—red and a completely different cut. It's all about changing your signature. We'll give you a fresh, airy, textured shoulder-length style. Something light, playful, and totally unlike what you have now. People will notice the bold new look and never think twice about who you might be."

Ira glanced at the array of tools with growing apprehension. "You mean you're actually going to cut my hair?"

Lin nodded firmly, pulling a comb through Ira's smooth, wavy strands. "Yes. Shoulder-length. Light, airy layers for movement. It'll frame your face beautifully. Trust me—it's the kind of style that'll make anyone who sees you think, 'Wow, who's that?' and not, 'Oh, look, it's Ira Suwannathat.'"

Ira backed away slightly, clutching at her long hair. "I've always had long hair. It's part of my look, Lin. I love it. I love the way it moves on stage, how it feels when someone runs their fingers through it. And now you want to... take that away?"

Lin's gaze softened, but her resolve didn't falter. "I get it. Really, I do. Your hair is part of your identity. But this isn't forever—it's just a way to protect you. A way to make sure he can't find you. And honestly? You'll look incredible with this cut. It'll still feel like you, just... a different side of you."

Ira hesitated, staring at her reflection. She touched her hair, the ends slipping through her fingers like silk. "It's not fair. He's the one stalking me, and I'm the one who has to change everything."

"It sucks. I know. Believe me. I've been there and done that, and it's not fair." Lin leaned against the counter, her voice steady and calm. "Here's the thing. Fair or not, you still have to deal with the fact that someone is determined to screw with you. He's not going away until we make him. So that's what we're going to do."

Ira thought about the flowers in her dressing room, the photos on her bed, and Thirakorn. "How? How can you find him when he can get in here even with everything? How can you keep someone like that from doing it again? Or worse?"

Lin's gaze was steady and confident. "First, we hide you. If you're not in front of his face, he'll get frustrated and make mistakes."

"Hide." Ira ran her hands through her blonde waves, tangles catching on her fingers, driving home the fact that she hadn't brushed it since the show. "I thought we were already doing that."

"Hanging out in your sister's house isn't hiding. I think you know that."

"So you're taking me to a different prison? Somewhere remote? Like one of those movies where they hide out in a cabin in the woods, but I still can't go outside in case someone notices me? Do you really think cutting my hair will stop people from figuring out who I am?"

"Fair point," Lin admitted, giving a small shrug. "I'll admit hiding you in plain sight won't be easy. You're Ira Suwannathat. You're recognized no matter where you go, and people document your every move. But I'm looking forward to the challenge, actually. I'll get to brush off all of my tricks from my model days."

"Won't people wonder if I just... vanish? Won't they miss me?" Ira's voice cracked, and she hated the way it sounded. "Jesus, listen to me. I sound ridiculous. Famous Ira Suwannathat is worried about being forgotten?" Tears prickled her eyes, and she quickly glanced away.

"It's not ridiculous or funny. At all." Lin placed a light, reassuring hand on her shoulder. "And it's up to you. All of this is your choice. We can't make you go anywhere, and we can't make you do anything you don't want to do. We wouldn't even try. But we need your buy-in for this to work. Otherwise, we're all wasting our time and energy. If you let me work my magic, and if you let Tawan do her thing, we can stop focusing so hard on keeping you safe and put all our energy into finding this asshole."

Ira thought about the video of Thirakorn's attack and imagined Wisanu or Ying in his place. She would do anything to make sure that didn't happen. Anything.

She sniffed and pushed her self-pity to the back of her mind. "You're right. It's the smart thing to do. Don't mind me. I'm just tired. It's been a long day. Actually, at the moment, I can't think of a single person in my personal life besides my family who would even look for me. I'm on break. Nobody will even notice."

That realization stung more than she wanted to admit. Especially today.

"I know this is all moving too fast," Lin said as she led Ira back to the chair.

"It's fine." Ira melted into the chair. "It's just hair, right? Not a big deal."

Lin squeezed her shoulders. "Now, I didn't say that. It's definitely a big deal, but I really do think you'll look amazing. Honestly, I love changing up my appearance. I get to be whoever I want with just a wig and sunglasses. And Tawan will be with you every step of the way. She'll get you through this."

"Really?" Ira looked up at the ceiling until the unwanted tears went back into her skull where they belonged. "Because I'm not so sure my warden is interested in helping me through this. All we do is argue. I'm pretty sure she hates me."

Lin returned to the counter to unpack the box of dye. Ira didn't miss the way Lin avoided her gaze.

"She doesn't hate you," Lin said, her tone casual but firm. "She's just frustrated."

"She thinks I'm useless," Ira countered, crossing her arms. "I can see it every time she looks at me. She hates music. I've seen her face every time I sing anywhere around her. It's like I'm torturing her. I don't know why she even agreed to take this assignment."

Lin started mixing the dye in a dark brown bowl, the movements precise. "She's drawn to protecting people who can't protect themselves. Stalker cases get her attention the most."

"Why?" Ira leaned forward, curiosity flickering through her voice. "Why stalkers?"

Lin hesitated for a moment, as if choosing her words carefully. "Ask her sometime. It's her story to tell, not mine. What you need to know is that she doesn't have to like you, and you don't have to like her. Ignore her Oscar the Grouch act. What counts is that she'll absolutely, one hundred percent have your back. We all will."

Lin held up the bowl and gave Ira an encouraging smile. "Ready for a new you?"

Ira sighed, resigning herself to the change. "Sure. Why not? Maybe red will be fun."

A couple of hours later, Lin fluffed Ira's new hair with a pleased expression. "I think this is absolutely perfect. Light, airy, and full of movement. It suits you."

Ira stared at the reflection in the mirror.

Her new hairstyle—a textured, shoulder-length cut—framed her face with soft, airy waves that caught the light in shades of copper and auburn. It was sleek but not flat, effortlessly stylish in a way that felt foreign. It made her look younger. Fresher.

Her cheekbones seemed more prominent, and the warm tone of her hair brought out subtle golden flecks in her dark amber eyes. She ran her fingers through the waves, and they fell softly back into place.

"It's...different," Ira said, her voice tentative.

"Yes," Lin replied, her tone light and cheerful. "Very."

Ira forced her attention away from her hair to her face in the mirror. Her reflection wasn't just different—it was unrecognizable. Her makeup was almost nonexistent: a hint of mascara and a touch of nude lip gloss. No bold lipstick. No dramatic eyeliner. She looked fresh-faced and understated, a far cry from the glamour she usually exuded.

Her outfit—a pair of light denim jeans and a pale yellow top—added to the unfamiliarity. It was casual and unassuming. There was no glitter, no shine, no designer label screaming for attention.

Her signature sparkle was completely absent.

"I don't even recognize myself," Ira murmured, touching her hair again.

Lin grinned. "Good. If you don't recognize yourself, hopefully nobody else will either. That's the idea, anyway."

Lin handed Ira Suwannathat a small crossbody purse in navy blue. There were no embellishments—just plain, practical fabric. It was the kind of bag Ira had seen at Chatuchak Market or the bargain sections of MBK Center. "I put the lip gloss and mascara in here, along with a new burner phone. There's only one number programmed. Don't call it unless it's a real emergency, and don't call anybody else. Burner doesn't mean untraceable, no matter what they say in the movies. It just takes a few extra steps, and we have to assume your stalker is more than willing to do whatever he has to do to find you. So no calls. Of any kind. Okay?"

Ira rolled her eyes. "You've only said it twenty or thirty times."

Lin's stern expression reminded Ira of her brother Wisanu's whenever he scolded her for being reckless. "Not your brother, not your manager, not the next-door-neighbout. Nobody. Especially not Thirakorn."

Ira raised her hands in mock surrender. "I got it. No calls. No texts. No Instagram stories. No Line messages. No emails or hookups. Promise."

"Good girl." Lin slung the bag over her own shoulder and motioned toward the door. "Come on. Let's show Tawan your new style."

It was almost worth all the hair-cutting trauma to see the look on Tawan's face when she walked into the security room.

Her sharp brown eyes widened slightly, and she blinked at Ira.

Twice.

Ira managed a tentative smile. "What do you think?"

Tawan stared at her. Just stared. The muscles along the side of her jaw twitched.

Ira ran her fingers through her newly styled, airy-textured shoulder-length hair. "Like it?"

Tawan opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it.

Something inside Ira, frayed from the highs of her earlier performance and the crushing lows of the night, snapped. "You look great, Ms. Suwannathat," she filled in sarcastically. "You really went the extra mile. Can't believe you cut your hair off like that. Way to sell the new identity."

Tawan frowned. Was the woman's face broken? Had her vocal cords been damaged?

"You know," Ira said, letting her frustration spill out, "I think I'm going out of my way to play along with this whole thing. I've done everything you've asked. I let Lin cut my hair and change my clothes. I'm even ready to go with you—even though you haven't told me a damn thing about where we're going. The least you could do is say, I don't know, good work? Job well done? Thank you? Anything?"

Tawan's head jerked slightly, almost like Ira had struck a nerve in her neck. "It's done, anyway," she muttered before directing a glare at Lin. "I asked for inconspicuous. Not...Lucille Ball."

Ira glanced at her reflection in the mirror on the wall. Lucille Ball? She remembered watching I Love Lucy reruns with Wisanu during lazy family nights in Bangkok. "I don't think that's the insult you think it is. Lucille Ball was a badass."

"Look with your eyes, not your attitude," Lin countered, stepping between them. "She's exactly like a lot of women her age. They love experimenting with bold hair colors and small tattoos. She'll blend right in. And luckily, her tattoo is easily hidden."

Tawan tilted her head. "Tattoo?"

Ira lifted her now-shorter hair to reveal the small lotus flower tattoo at the nape of her neck. She'd gotten it during a trip with her siblings after her graduation. "Just a reminder to stay grounded. Hardly scandalous."

"Great." Tawan closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"I kept her hair long enough to cover it," Lin said, her tone defensive. "And if it becomes an issue, I gave her makeup to hide it. She'll pass."

"I need her to do more than pass, Lin. I need her to be wallpaper. How's she supposed to blend in looking like that?" Tawan gestured vaguely at Ira.

"You want me to be wallpaper?" Ira said, her voice rising. She might as well be with the way Tawan acted like she didn't exist unless she needed to bark an order. "Why not just dump me in some godforsaken province? At least you'd be rid of me."

Tawan shot her a look that was hard to read. Exasperation? Maybe even a flicker of regret? "That's not what I meant."

"Take her somewhere and test it out if you don't believe me." Lin crossed her arms in challenge. "I guarantee nobody will recognize her. Who's better at going unnoticed, you or me?"

Tawan opened her mouth, but Lin cut her off. "Before you answer, let me remind you that she has to look like every other girl on the street because that's where she'll be. Where you're going you can't keep her behind locked doors. People will notice."

They stared at each other like they were having an argument in silence.

"Fine." Tawan's phone buzzed. She jerked it out of her back pocket and glared at it, then started tapping a response to someone. She hit the screen so hard that the phone almost popped out of her hand.

"Hey, I need a name for Ira's new ID," Wei said as he stepped into the room. He paused just inside the door, his gaze darting from Lin to Tawan to Ira. "Uh, is this a bad time? Should I come back?"

"No," Tawan and Lin said in unison.

"Okay..." Wei dragged the word out, clearly sensing the tension. "Nice, uh, hair."

Ira tugged at a light wave near her cheek and offered a tight smile. "Thanks."

Wei turned to Tawan, holding a tablet in one hand. "I've got everything set up. Just need a name. So, who's she going to be?"

Ira glanced at herself in the mirror again, her copper hair framing her face in airy, textured layers. She thought about it for a moment. "I don't know. I've always liked Orm. Or maybe Rylee. Yeah, Rylee...Rylee..." She trailed off, searching for a last name, but nothing felt right.

"Not Rylee," Tawan said, her voice firm. She crossed her arms, her brown eyes meeting Ira's in the mirror. "Your new ID is Earn Phongphiphat."