Real Estate Fable EP.7 (3/4): The Number That Never Meant Anything in His Memory

Real Estate Fable EP.7 (3/4)
The Number That Never Meant Anything in His Memory
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Some people — once they’ve been gone long enough —
forget how much they once hurt you.

After posting that house,
engagement numbers soared as usual.

P’Non — the superstar agent
was back in the spotlight.
Messages flooded his inbox.
Property pages shared his content.
Clients reached out non-stop.

He went Live in front of that house
on every platform — Facebook, YouTube, TikTok.
Comments poured in like rain:

“P’, can I see the house?”
“I want to book first! How?”
“P’Non, can we co-agent?”

He replied to every comment himself,
adding emojis,
acting as the exclusive agent,
and announcing proudly on his Live:

“We’ll open this house for viewing nationwide in 7 days!”
“Only pre-approved buyers will be invited for a live auction on site.”

His marketing tactic was sharp.
Normally, he sold at the owner’s asking price,
sometimes with minor negotiation before closing.
But this time, he chose to auction —
to push the price higher.
And of course,
the price gap would go straight into his pocket.

He had planned it all.
Yet something gnawed at his mind —
he still didn’t have the key.

That seven-day “countdown”
wasn’t about building hype —
it was his deadline
to somehow find the owner’s contact.

He sent his team to investigate,
called friends with connections,
asked for a name lookup at the land office,
questioned neighbors,
and circled the property several times.

But no one knew.
No one had the number.
And the few numbers he got —
either no one picked up,
phones were off,
or the line was disconnected.

Except one.
An old man who sold food nearby said,

“Try this number, son. The person who’s been taking care of that house uses it.”

Non saved it immediately —
‘Ramintra House’ —
without checking the name or history.
To him, every number was an opportunity.
He hit Call.

The voice on the other end was calm,
steady, and familiar.

“Hello…”

Benz recognized it instantly.
The number the old man gave —
was his own.

He hadn’t saved Non’s number.
He had deleted every trace.
But he would never forget that voice.

“Hi, I’m calling about the Ramintra house.
It’s gone viral — lots of clients asking.
Do you happen to have the owner’s contact?”

Benz paused,
then replied softly, emotionless:

“The owner is overseas right now.
They haven’t authorized anyone to show the house yet.
You’ll have to wait until they return.”

Non continued,

“Oh, okay. I’ll pre-screen the buyers first then.
Once the house is ready for viewing, please contact me.”

Benz just said quietly,

“Okay. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
And hung up — no goodbye.

Non didn’t realize who he’d just called.
Didn’t notice the faint tremor
in the other person’s voice —
the sound of someone hurt so deeply
yet still managing to sound composed.

After hanging up,
Benz stared at his phone.
No tears. No anger.
No blocks. No revenge.
He just thought:

“He doesn’t even remember who I was.”

A few days later,
Non posted another clip —
footage of the same house.
His caption read:

“I must carefully screen the buyers to align with the owner’s vision.
They trust me completely.”

Benz saw it — but stayed silent.
He knew the truth:
the key was still in his pocket.
The owner had never given Non permission.
Never authorized him to use the images.
Never called him their agent.

And the listed price?
Lower than what Benz had agreed upon with the owner.

The real price: 42.99 million baht.
Non posted: 39.99 million.
A marketing trick to make it look easier to close.

Still, Benz said nothing.
No public post.
No confrontation.
He remained the quiet man with the camera —
who once trusted the wrong person.

Four days later,
L, the homeowner, returned from abroad.
She quietly entered her house.
No lights had been turned on.
The door was still locked.
Furniture untouched.
Everything still.

When she connected her phone to Wi-Fi,
her Facebook notifications exploded.
Messages from friends,
family group tags,
and links — all the same:

“Is this your house?”
“Your home’s on TikTok!”
“Are you really selling it?”

She saw her house go viral.
The logo was unfamiliar.
The price was wrong.
And the man — a total stranger.

She clicked the link.
There he was — Non — saying confidently:

“I’m close with the owner.”
“This is an exclusive listing. No co-agents.”
“Only serious buyers will be screened to view.”

She scrolled through the photos.
Yes — it was her house.
Yes — those were the photos she sent to Benz.
But no — it wasn’t the price.
No — it wasn’t the message.
And no — she had never heard of Non.

She called the number displayed in the video,
pretending to be a buyer.
Non explained smoothly:

“Prepare funds. Viewing will be in seven days.
I make the final decision on the owner’s behalf.”

After hanging up,
she sighed.
Not in anger.
But in disbelief.
Then she texted someone she trusted deeply:

“Benz… who is this guy named Non?”

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The story tightens — the truth draws near.
Benz must now decide:
Will he speak the truth?
Or drown in quiet disappointment?

Stay tuned for the finale —
Real Estate Fable EP.7 (4/4)
Tomorrow, 8 PM.

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