The next morning, white mist still blanketed Mistveil Coffee Farm, leaving only the silhouettes of the rows of coffee trees visible.
Pantawan stared at the newspaper in her hand, then turned to Phakin.
“We’re not waiting for him to come to us again.”
Phakin nodded.
“Today, we’ll find the answers in what your grandmother left behind.”
They walked to the largest coffee tree on the farm—the one the villagers called “the Old Coffee Tree” because it was more than fifty years old and the first tree her grandparents had planted together.
As they drew closer, Pantawan noticed a small carving at the base of the tree.
It was shaped like a coffee blossom...
Exactly like the seal on the wooden chest.
Phakin brushed away the dirt and dry leaves with his hand.
Buried beneath the tree’s base was a square stone slab.
“Help me lift it.”
Together, they slowly heaved the stone slab upward.
Beneath it was a small metal box already beginning to rust.
Pantawan’s heart pounded.
When she opened the box, she found a black leather-bound journal, a map, and an ancient brass key.
Written in Grandma’s handwriting on the journal’s cover were the words:
“The Truth About Mistveil Farm”
Pantawan opened it carefully.
The first page read:
“If you’re reading this, it means the time has come for this secret to be revealed...”
Suddenly...
The sound of several engines roared from the entrance to the village.
Phakin quickly peered through the rows of coffee trees.
Three black SUVs were heading straight for the farm.
“They’re here sooner than we expected.”
Pantawan hurriedly stuffed the journal, map, and key into her shoulder bag.
At the same time, a man in a suit stepped out of one of the vehicles, accompanied by several hired men.
He smiled coldly before saying,
“Ms. Pantawan... I’ve come to make one last offer.”
“Sell us the farm.”
“Or you’ll lose more than you think.”
Before Pantawan could answer, the roar of several motorcycles came from the other side of the farm.
The villagers rode in and lined up their motorcycles.
Uncle Kham stepped forward to stand beside Pantawan.
“This farm... doesn’t belong to just one person.”
“It’s the heart of the entire village.”
Every villager stepped forward to stand together.
The tension in the air was thick, as if it might erupt at any moment.
The man in the suit smiled faintly.
“Then... the game has just begun.”
He turned and climbed into the vehicle, then ordered his men in a cold voice,
“Keep your eyes on them.”
“Tonight... don’t let anyone leave the farm.”
Pantawan clenched the brass key tightly inside her bag.
Now she knew that the secret in Grandma’s journal wasn’t only about coffee beans.
It might change the fate of the entire village...