Capítulo 3: Chapter 3: The Search for a Labyrinth
William's enthusiasm, once it got going, was unstoppable. After their iced coffee, he had walked Michael back toward the Fine Arts building, words tumbling out in a rapid stream about The Whispering Labyrinth. He spoke of shifting, living pathways, ancient guardians, and a protagonist who carried a secret power, like a curse. Michael, usually drained by long conversations, found himself swept up despite himself. William's descriptions were so vivid that Michael's fingers itched to start sketching.
"So, when do we start?" William had asked, eyes bright with a kind of excitement Michael couldn't remember ever feeling. "Tomorrow? I'm free most afternoons. We could meet after your last class?"
Michael, still riding the high of William's storytelling, had mumbled a "Sure."
Now, the next afternoon, Michael sat on a bench outside the Fine Arts building, sketchbook pressed against his chest like a shield. The reality of what he'd agreed to pressed down on him. He wasn't used to creating with anyone else. Drawing had always been private, just him and the page. Doing it with someone like William, someone who seemed to glow in every room, felt like stepping under a spotlight he hadn't asked for.
William arrived right on time, a burst of color in a bright orange polo. "Michael! Ready to dive into the Labyrinth?" he grinned. He didn't wait for an answer, already motioning toward the campus with a sweep of his arm. "First things first: we need a base. Somewhere to create. Not just another crowded café. We need… something secret."
"Secret?" Michael echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah! Like a hidden chamber in a temple. Or a wizard's tower!" William's eyes scanned the buildings around them as though expecting one to reveal a secret doorway. "We need a sanctuary. Quiet. Ours alone."
Michael hesitated, then nodded. A flicker of curiosity slipped past the wall of nerves.
Their search began. William took the lead, brimming with ideas and relentless energy as they explored forgotten corners of Chulalongkorn's campus. They poked their heads into dusty, unused lecture halls where their voices echoed too loudly, climbed creaky staircases in old colonial buildings, only to find locked doors and long, dim corridors.
"Too many ghosts," William decided after dragging Michael away from one particularly shadowy hallway. "The Labyrinth needs light, and a little mystery, not just mildew."
Michael didn't say much, but he was paying attention. He found himself noticing things: the way sunlight angled through broken blinds, the cracked tiles forming strange patterns, how ivy crept up red brick walls. He pointed them out quietly, and to his surprise, William listened. Sometimes he even stopped to scribble notes in a pocket notebook, muttering about "atmosphere" and "setting."
"What about the old library annex?" Michael suggested at one point. "No one really goes up to the top floors."
They tried it. The annex was silent, but not in a good way. The air was heavy, thick with the smell of forgotten books.
"Too many dead words," William said with a theatrical sigh. "We need living words, Michael. And room for your sketches."
By late afternoon, William's boundless energy was starting to crack around the edges. His grin was still there, but it looked a little strained now. Every so often, he would glance at his phone, quick, furtive checks, before shoving it back into his pocket as if embarrassed. Michael noticed but didn't comment. He was learning that William's brightness had shadows, quick as the flicker of a candle flame.
"Okay," William said at last, clapping his hands together with forced cheer. "One last idea." He pointed to a cluster of older, plain-looking buildings at the far edge of campus. "I heard there's an old faculty club out there. Maybe even a rooftop. Worth a shot, right?"
They wound their way through service alleys and patches of overgrown garden until they found it: a rusted spiral staircase tucked behind a maintenance shed. It looked like a lawsuit waiting to happen, but William was already halfway up.
"Come on, Michael! This feels right!" he called down.
Michael hesitated, the metal stairs creaking under his first step, then followed. He wasn't sure if it was curiosity or a quiet need not to disappoint William, but he climbed anyway. At the top was a warped wooden door left slightly ajar.
William pushed it open like he'd just discovered treasure.
The rooftop wasn't pretty. Weeds cracked through the concrete, and the few abandoned potted plants had long since died. But it was silent. And it had a view.
Bangkok stretched out endlessly before them, a city of contradictions, glass towers cutting through a soft haze, rooftops stacked like puzzle pieces, traffic rumbling in the distance. A breeze stirred the dry leaves, rare and almost cool in the late afternoon heat. A small shed sat off to one side, barely holding together, but it was shelter.
William turned in a slow circle, arms outstretched, and for the first time all day, his joy looked completely unguarded. "This is it, Michael. This is our Labyrinth. Our sanctuary."
Michael looked around, then back at William. His friend's eyes were shining, but softer now, almost fragile. Michael took a breath. Up here, the city felt far away, its noise dulled, its weight lifted. He could picture it, the sketches, the stories, the hours they'd spend creating.
A real smile broke across his face. "Yeah," he said, voice quiet but sure. "Yeah, it is."
And for the first time since agreeing to this collaboration, Michael felt not just nervousness, but a sharp, unexpected spark of excitement. Here, in this forgotten corner above the city, it felt like they might actually build something beautiful together.
Estado de energía semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Piedra de
Poder