Real Estate Fable EP.7 (4/4): My Name Is Not for Anyone to Claim

Real Estate Fable EP.7 (4/4)
“My Name… Is Not for Anyone to Claim.”
.
.
.

“I don’t know who he is.
But my house appeared in every one of his posts —
without him ever asking my permission.”

Her name was L —
a brilliant designer, known for her edge, her taste,
and her fierce sense of privacy.

Her corner house in Ramintra
was a masterpiece she crafted herself —
every lamp, every hinge, every line of tile
chosen with care.

She had lived there since childhood with her father.
After he passed away,
she decided to sell the house
and move to Switzerland for good.

.
.
.

When she returned to Bangkok,
before she even reached home,
she saw her house —
on her phone.

TikTok posts.
Clips.
Captions advertising her property.
The same familiar photos.
And a man’s voice she’d never heard before —
claiming to be her authorized agent.

She messaged Benz,
the one she trusted —
a quiet man,
humble smile,
no showmanship,
but the truest mix of professionalism and sincerity she’d ever seen.

“Benz, is my house being posted on TikTok?”
“Who is this guy ‘Non’?”

Benz read the message for a long time.
Then replied simply:

“He’s someone I once trusted.
He betrayed me…
and he betrayed you — even though you never knew him.”

She replied:

“Can you meet me at the house tomorrow?
I want to hear it directly from you.”

The round oak table in the corner house —
once home to a flower vase —
became the table of truth that day.

Benz told her everything.
His voice was calm,
but his face revealed the pressure of carrying
a story too heavy for too long.

He told her about the photos.
About the post.
About the call.
About the trust he had misplaced.
His voice trembled.

“P’… I only sent him some photos,
told him about the house a bit,
but I never gave him permission to speak for you,
and I never thought he’d set a selling price
without your consent.”

He paused,
looked up,
eyes wet.

“I don’t know how to apologize.
You trusted me… but I trusted the wrong person.”

L didn’t scold him.
She just listened — her eyes soft with understanding.

“It’s not your fault, Benz.
But it’s time we let the truth speak for itself.”

After lunch,
she sent Benz home,
went upstairs,
opened her laptop,
and wrote a short post.

No names. No accusations.

“This house is mine.
I never authorized anyone to sell it.
Never allowed anyone to set the price.
Never gave anyone permission to use my name.
If anyone claims to represent this house — other than Benz —
it’s not true.”

And she tagged: @Benz Realtor.

The post didn’t go viral.
L wasn’t the type for drama.
But within 12 hours,
the tremor reached the stars.

Comments poured in.
Agent groups started talking.
Old team members resurfaced.
People whispered across the real estate circles:

“Not the first time he’s done this.”
“Here we go again — stealing listings and calling them his own.”
“Working with him feels worse than feeding a stray dog.”
“Agent.jpg finally exposed!”

The shift was instant.
P’Non — once a superstar agent —
was now labeled
“the listing thief everyone’s tired of.”

Four major Line groups of real estate agents
shared L’s post — all at once.
Benz’s name appeared in comments with sympathy.
Non’s name — with recognition.

Because this wasn’t the first time.
It was just the first time the owner spoke.

Old teammates messaged Benz privately:

“I’m sorry, P’. Non once told me to pull owner names from the land deed too. Then he posted the property himself.”

“He told me not to co-list with owners — said if I could find them, I should take it myself. I was stupid to believe him.”

“Guys like Non should eat through incense sticks, not spoons.”

Non’s page went silent.
No new posts.
No words.

He frantically deleted old ones —
especially anything about L’s house.
Videos gone.
Captions changed.
Dozens of posts erased in hours.

But what he couldn’t delete
were people’s memories.

That afternoon,
his phone rang.
The screen read: “Mom.”

He hesitated — then answered.

“Son… I saw something online.
People say you posted someone’s house for sale without permission.
Is it true?”

He said nothing.
She didn’t repeat.
Just waited.

Finally,
his dry throat released a fragile lie:

“Just a misunderstanding, Mom. It’s all cleared up now.”

He looked down,
his voice trembling —
not from fear of exposure,
but from the weight of his mother’s disappointment.

He clenched his fist,
dug his nails into his palm,
and bit the back of his hand —
just to feel pain strong enough
to drown the shame.

After hanging up,
he opened L’s post again.
Read it slowly.

“This house — I’ve only trusted one person.
@Benz Realtor.”

And in that moment, Non realized —
he hadn’t just lost a house.
Not just a deal.
He had lost credibility,
trust,
and the image he built from lies.
And worst of all —

“He was no longer the man his mother believed in.”

That night,
he posted again — not a listing,
but an apology.
No tags. No names.
Just a photo of the sky,
and a caption:

“I’ve made mistakes.
I’m sorry to everyone I’ve hurt.
And I’m sorry, Mom — for disappointing you.”

It didn’t get likes like before.
Few shares.
Mostly comments like:

“Stay strong, P’Non.”

But everyone already knew —
when success is built on deceit,
no matter how high it climbs,
it eventually collapses.

After that post,
Non disappeared into silence.
He created new accounts,
trying to erase his past.
But in every new post,
he couldn’t show his face anymore.
The confidence was gone.

From someone to no one.

Trust — the hardest thing to build —
was what he destroyed with his own hands.

.
.
.

One day,
a client who once tried to contact Non —
and was rejected for “not passing the screening” —
reached out again.

But this time,
the name they found from L’s post
was Benz.

Benz didn’t boast.
Didn’t claim exclusivity.
He simply said:

“Let me show you this house with respect for its owner.
It’s special — not because of who sells it,
but because it was designed with heart.”

That day,
he showed the house carefully,
answered every question,
guided every emotion,
and never pushed for a sale.

That same client —
once ignored by Non —
became Benz’s happiest buyer.

The deal closed.
No co-agent.
Full commission.

The same house Benz almost gave up on
became the one
that earned him his first million.

At the land office,
during the transfer,
L stood beside him.
No speeches.
No ceremony.

Just a smile,
a gentle touch on his shoulder,
and the words:

“You did it, Benz.”

He didn’t grin wide.
He just lowered his eyes
and nodded softly.

Because he knew —
this wasn’t the success of closing a deal.
It was the success
of standing tall
without stepping on anyone.

After everything was done,
Benz didn’t post a selfie.
Didn’t flaunt a slip.
He went home,
opened his phone,
and saw a post from L.

“The house has been sold.
Thank you to the professional who cared for it with heart.
@Benz Realtor is the only agent I trust —
and I was right to choose him.”

No drama.
Just truth.

The next day,
a major real estate page messaged Benz.

“We’d like to interview the man behind the story —
the real one.”

He sat upright,
spoke slowly.

“I’m not better than anyone.
I just listen to owners
and treat every home like it’s my own.”

The interview lasted two hours,
but the final cut was forty minutes —
posted across every platform.

No one expected it —
the video went viral quietly.
Shared by agents, designers, HR pages,
customer service groups alike.

“This is what professionalism means.”
“Benz didn’t just sell a house — he respected ownership.”
“This is what the industry needs more than flashy content.”

Within three weeks,
his page gained thousands of followers.
But more importantly —
his inbox overflowed:

“We’ve been looking for an agent like you.”
“Please sell my house.”
“I’ll sign the contract right away.”
“Just treat my home like it’s yours.”
“You’re the only one I trust.”

Benz read them all,
never rushed.
Still visited every house himself.
Still calm. Still humble.
No hunger for fame.
No need to prove.

Now…
he no longer has to chase listings —
the good ones come to him.

“No house is too grand for sincerity.
No success can replace trust.”

And that —
was the end of this fable.

Some rise by taking.
Some rise by crushing.
But some — rise in silence —
strong enough to make others want to follow.

End of Real Estate Fable EP.7
(And yes, we all shed a tear.)

.
Join the conversation:
https://www.facebook.com/Ex.MatchingProperty/posts/pfbid0WLWJS4CitUh45hgmaCEK7eua9Q6t8uCcQc48x2yazwUDnSYg8byNC1fYPD2nwLTyl