Chapter 10 The Locked Seed Storage Room
The rain began to fall again.
Raindrops drummed against the corrugated metal roof of Grandma’s house as Pantawan and Phakin stood looking at the old map on the table.
The final sentence in the letter still echoed in both their minds.
**“The person who brought MOG back to the farm isn’t an outsider.”**
Pantawan looked up.
“If it was someone from here…”
She paused for a moment.
“Then how will we know who it was?”
Phakin didn’t answer right away.
He carefully folded the map and put it away, then looked out the window.
“We shouldn’t trust anyone too easily right now.”
“Not even people from the village?”
“I’m not saying they’re the bad guys.”
Phakin turned back to her.
“But there may be more than one person who knows MOG’s secret.”
Pantawan clenched the brass key.
“Let’s go to the warehouse.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
She drew a deep breath.
“If they really know about MOG, we might not get another chance to go in tomorrow.”
Phakin nodded.
“Then let’s go.”
They left the house through the back.
Phakin carried a single flashlight, while Pantawan slung over her shoulder a bag containing the journal, letter, and map.
Grass and vines had overgrown the path to the old warehouse.
No one had used it in years.
But something made Phakin stop walking.
Footprints.
Fresh shoe prints marked the wet earth.
Phakin crouched to examine them.
“Someone came here before us.”
Pantawan looked toward the warehouse.
“Do they know we found the letter?”
“Or…”
Phakin looked up.
“They already knew about this warehouse.”
They continued cautiously.
At last, the old warehouse appeared before them.
Rust covered the enormous wooden door.
An old metal sign hung above it.
The letters were so faded they were almost impossible to read.
M.O.G.
Pantawan stopped short.
“It really is here.”
Phakin moved closer.
“But it looks like the door’s locked from the outside.”
Pantawan took out the brass key.
Its shape fit the lock on the door with uncanny precision.
She slowly slid the key in.
Click.
An old mechanism clanked into motion.
The door creaked open.
The musty smell of old wood and dried coffee beans drifted out.
Inside was pitch-black.
Phakin shone the flashlight in.
Old coffee sacks were lined up across the room.
But after only a few steps inside, Pantawan noticed something.
“Phakin…”
“What?”
She pointed at the floor.
A faint trail had been dragged through the dust.
It looked like someone had just moved something heavy out of the way.
Phakin followed the trail.
It ended at the back wall.
He rapped his knuckles against it.
Knock… knock…
One spot sounded hollow.
Phakin turned to her.
“Found it.”
He shoved an old wooden panel aside.
Behind the wall was a hidden compartment.
Inside it sat a small steel cabinet.
The same emblem as the one on the key was stamped on its front.
Three coffee blossoms.
Pantawan moved closer.
Her heart beat faster and faster.
“This has to be what Grandma was talking about.”
But before she could use the key—
A sound came from outside.
A rustle.
Phakin hurriedly switched off the flashlight.
He raised a hand, signaling for her to be quiet.
Footsteps stopped outside the warehouse door.
Someone was coming in.
One person.
Then another.
A man’s voice rang out.
“Search everywhere.”
“It has to be here.”
Pantawan looked at Phakin.
They’d followed them.
Phakin pointed behind the cabinet.
There was a narrow space, just wide enough for two people to hide.
He ushered Pantawan inside, then covered the opening with the wooden panel.
The footsteps came closer.
Two men entered the warehouse.
“Find it yet?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“Didn’t the boss tell you everything would be easier once we got the journal?”
Pantawan clenched her fists.
They were talking about Grandma’s journal.
Another man answered,
“But the woman named Pantawan already took it.”
The first man fell silent.
Then he said,
“Then make sure you capture her tonight.”
Pantawan turned to look at Phakin.
His expression had changed.
He pointed at the steel cabinet.
It meant they couldn’t open it now.
If the key made a sound, the men outside would know exactly where they were.
But then Pantawan noticed something.
There was a small opening in the floor beside the steel cabinet.
It was shaped like three coffee blossoms.
She tried touching the key to it.
Click.
The floor beneath her feet trembled faintly.
Phakin quickly grabbed her by the shoulder.
They both looked down.
The wooden panel beneath them was sliding open,
revealing a staircase leading below.
Pantawan could barely breathe.
There was another level beneath the warehouse.
Phakin gestured for her to go down first.
He followed, then pulled the wooden panel shut from inside.
They descended the stairs one step at a time,
until they reached the basement.
The room looked nothing like a coffee warehouse.
Its walls were covered with old documents,
maps,
photographs,
and long lists of names.
At the center of the room stood a wooden table.
A black folder lay on it.
The words written across it in red letters read:
MOG — ARCHIVE
Pantawan walked over.
She opened the folder to the first page.
The MOG emblem was at the top.
Below it was a date from several decades ago,
followed by a list of the group’s founding members.
She read each name,
until she reached the last one.
Her hand trembled.
Because that name was—
“Pricha Srisuwan.”
The same last name as hers.
Pantawan slowly looked up.
“Phakin…”
He came over to look.
He went still.
“Who was Pricha?”
Pantawan shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
But then she noticed a photograph lying beneath the folder.
She picked it up.
It showed a young man standing in front of the Old Coffee Tree.
Her grandfather stood beside him.
And the young man—
had a face Pantawan recognized all too well.
She looked back at the name in the folder.
Pricha Srisuwan.
“This…”
Her voice trembled.
“Might be my father.”
Before Phakin could answer,
a crash sounded from above.
Someone had found the hidden entrance.
A man shouted down at them.
“They’re down there!”
Phakin hurriedly closed the folder.
“We have to go.”
But Pantawan picked up another sheet of paper.
A message in the corner made her freeze.
**MOG wasn’t created to destroy Mistveil Farm.**
**It was created to protect something.**
**And the last heir is still alive.**
Pantawan looked at Phakin.
“The heir…”
Footsteps were coming down the stairs.
Phakin grabbed her hand.
“Take that document. Let’s go.”
They ran toward a passage on the other side of the basement,
just before a steel door slammed shut in front of them.
Phakin pushed against it.
It wouldn’t open.
Pantawan looked at the brass key in her hand,
then at the keyhole in the door.
It bore the same symbol:
three coffee blossoms.
She slowly slid the key in.
Click.
The door opened.
But what lay beyond it brought them both to a halt.
An old tunnel stretched out before them,
and written on its wall in Grandma’s handwriting was a message:
**“If you’ve made it here, it means the truth about your father is about to come to light.”**
Pantawan stood motionless.
Tears slowly welled in her eyes.
For the first time in her life…
she knew
that MOG’s secret might have begun with her own family,
and the people hunting her tonight…
might want more than just Mistveil Farm.
They might want her.