Night came sooner than Raka expected.
Since meeting Bayu that morning, his mind had never truly been at peace. The photo of the building Bayu had given him still lay on the table in his rented room.
Raka sat on the floor with his back against the wall.
Beside him sat a cup of coffee and an old photo of himself from when he was still a soldier.
He picked it up.
Some of the faces in it were people he had never seen again.
Some had chosen to remain in service.
Some had resigned.
And one person in the photo was already gone.
Raka stared at his own face.
“I used to know who I was.”
He placed the photo back down.
His phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
Raka let it ring.
The call stopped.
Then a message came in.
COME TO THE OLD WAREHOUSE. ALONE. 10:00 P.M.
There was no name.
Raka knew immediately who had sent it.
Bayu.
He looked at the wall clock.
9:17 p.m.
There was still time.
Raka stood, grabbed his jacket, and left the room.
The old warehouse stood in an industrial district that had been nearly abandoned.
Old buildings loomed in the darkness. Most of the streetlights were dead. The only sounds were the wind and sheets of metal clanging against one another.
Raka approached a metal door.
It was slightly ajar.
He pushed it open.
A long creak echoed through the warehouse.
Inside, Bayu stood with three other people.
A large-built man.
A short-haired woman.
And a young man who kept playing with his phone.
Raka stopped several yards from them.
“I said alone.”
Bayu raised a hand.
“They’re part of the job.”
Raka looked them over one by one.
“Who are they?”
Bayu pointed to the large man.
“Jaka.”
The man nodded.
Then he pointed to the woman.
“Laras.”
Laras only stared at Raka without saying a word.
“And that’s Deni.”
The young man looked up.
“Hi.”
Raka didn’t respond.
“Why am I here?”
Bayu walked closer.
“Because we want to give you one last chance to say no.”
Raka let out a quiet laugh.
“Then I’m leaving.”
He turned around.
“Wait.”
Laras’s voice stopped him.
Raka glanced back.
The woman looked at him seriously.
“If you leave now, your problems won’t go away.”
Raka said nothing.
Laras continued.
“You have debt. Your lease is almost up. Your work isn’t steady. And someone is watching your every move.”
Raka immediately looked at Bayu.
“How much do you know about me?”
Bayu didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
Raka stepped closer.
“If you’re threatening me, I’m not in.”
“We’re not threatening you.”
Bayu pulled out a file folder.
“We’re offering you a choice.”
He tossed the folder onto the table.
Raka opened it.
Inside was information about someone.
A businessman named Adrian Wibawa.
He was known as one of the wealthiest men in Arkapura.
“He’s the target?” Raka asked.
Bayu nodded.
“What kind of target?”
“We want to take something he’s keeping.”
Raka looked at them.
“Money?”
“No.”
Bayu answered quietly.
“Documents.”
Raka frowned.
“What documents?”
“That’s not your concern.”
Raka gave a short laugh.
“That line again.”
He closed the folder.
“I’m not interested.”
Bayu stared at him.
“You haven’t even heard the pay.”
“I already know.”
Raka set the folder on the table.
“When something is too big to explain, the problem is usually too big too.”
Jaka suddenly laughed.
“He’s exactly like you said.”
Raka looked at him.
“Like what?”
“Suspicious.”
Raka gave him a thin smile.
“And you look like someone who talks too much.”
The atmosphere turned tense.
Jaka stepped forward.
Bayu quickly raised a hand.
“That’s enough.”
Jaka stopped.
Bayu looked back at Raka.
“You have until tomorrow.”
Raka didn’t answer.
He walked toward the door.
But before he could leave, Bayu said,
“Raka.”
Raka stopped.
“If you refuse, that’s fine.”
Bayu fixed him with a sharp look.
“But there’s someone else who might not accept your refusal.”
Raka turned around.
“Who?”
Bayu answered with a single name.
“Bram.”
It was late at night when Raka returned to his rented room.
He turned on the light.
The room looked the same as before.
And yet something felt different.
He walked over to the table.
The photo of the building he had left there was gone.
Raka froze.
He searched the entire table.
Nothing.
He opened the drawer.
Empty.
He checked the trash can.
Nothing.
Then Raka realized something.
The bedroom window was slightly open.
Even though he was sure he had closed it.
His hands clenched into fists.
Someone had entered his room.
Someone had taken the photo.
And that person hadn’t taken the money, his phone, or any of his other valuables.
Only the photo.
Raka stood in the middle of the room.
For the first time that night, he felt truly trapped.
Then he heard a sound outside.
A vehicle came to a stop.
Raka turned off the light.
He peeked out from behind the curtain.
A black car.
The same as the night before.
The rear door opened.
A man stepped out.
He didn’t enter the building.
He simply stood in the rain and stared straight at Raka’s window.
Then he raised his phone.
Raka’s phone vibrated.
A message came in.
BY TOMORROW MORNING. YOUR ANSWER BETTER BE READY.
Raka stared at the message.
Then he looked at the man outside.
For a few seconds, their eyes seemed to meet.
The car finally drove away.
Raka sat on the edge of the bed.
He stared at the photo of himself from when he was still a soldier.
He had left that world long ago.
But that night, he realized something.
Maybe that world had never truly left him.
And for the first time, Raka began asking himself:
If he accepted the job, was he looking for a way out?
Or was he opening a door to hell?