It was already approaching noon, and the sunlight shining over Cihalimun Village was scorching. Its brightness made the air around it feel warm, while the forest wind blowing gently made the atmosphere pleasantly cool.
After getting enough rest and eating the breakfast my mother had prepared, I began getting ready to uncover the mystery behind my father's disappearance.
While I was staying in my room, I remembered where Father had been headed when he disappeared. I tried to figure things out by drawing a simple map on a piece of paper to guide me in searching for him.
“Mom!” I called.
“If I’m not home by this afternoon, lock the door! Don’t wait for me!”
“I’ll find somewhere nearby to take shelter when afternoon comes.” I smiled at Mom.
My mother tried to stop me from leaving again because it had not even been a day since she had reunited with her only child. But I was going back out to search for my father, who had been missing for three days.
Still, I convinced my mother that I would be fine, considering that Cihalimun Village was not too large for me to search.
I knew Mom had to be worried about me. But I also didn’t want to see her sadness drag on because of her missing husband, who still had not returned.
At last, I opened the door and stepped outside again to look for clues about Father, who had been missing for several days.
Cihalimun Village lay deep within a dense forest, but it consisted of three areas separated by forests and rivers. I followed the village road, which looked smooth in the daytime.
The concrete road stretched straight from the front of the village to the back, ending at a sacred forest directly bordering the village.
My home, usually bustling, especially during the day, now looked deserted. The large, neatly lined houses on either side, which had once seemed luxurious, now looked neglected. Some bloodstains and claw marks had even been left on their walls.
Yet even though the atmosphere looked different, a few people were still going about their business during the day. They acted as usual, as if they were already accustomed to what had happened in this village.
This was especially true in the Wilaga area, the territory of my extended family, where almost everyone made their living as farmers. Whether they wanted to or not, they had to go to the fields or rice paddies every day.
Cihalimun Village consisted of three large families who lived together and complemented one another, creating harmony through the system that governed the village.
Each of the three families had its own role. My family came from the Wilaga family, whose territory was closest to the entrance.
Many members of the Wilaga family were farmers. They made use of the abundant natural resources of the forest, taking only what they needed. Each Wilaga family had its own farmland, managed by its members and passed down through the generations.
They grew tomatoes, corn, bananas, spinach, and even had several rice paddies whose harvest could feed everyone in the village for the next five years. Some of the produce was sold by taking it to the main road in the forest along the border.
Usually, every morning, middlemen gathered to collect the Wilaga family's crops and sell them in the city.
Meanwhile, if we passed through the Wilaga family's territory and crossed a river, we would enter the territory of the Tarmana family.
They were known as the village's laborers. Every building here had been constructed by members of the Tarmana family. The knowledge they inherited from generation to generation had given them impressive skills.
To be honest, Cihalimun Village currently had no access to government electricity. But thanks to the Tarmana family's expertise, they had deliberately built a small hydroelectric turbine in the river, and some residents had also bought solar panels to install on their homes.
As a result, Cihalimun Village could remain brightly lit even in the middle of a dense forest, without the slightest assistance from the government.
The innermost part of Cihalimun Village belonged to the Mandala family. Since ancient times, they had been trusted to manage life in the village, so the village office, school, community health center, and other public facilities were all managed by the Mandala family.
One of the village's current leaders also came from the Mandala family, with the position passed down through the generations. They had preserved their traditions for hundreds of years, including guarding several sacred places around the village.
These sacred places were often used by residents to carry out traditions that had been passed down and practiced for hundreds of years.
The villagers believed those traditions would protect them and keep every generation prosperous. And it was true: Cihalimun Village had managed to stand on its own without outside help.
“This place isn’t as lively as it used to be,” I thought.
I kept walking toward my destination outside the village, very close to the rice fields where the villagers had long carried out their farming activities.
It was an empty building that had once been used by the villagers as a gathering place for carrying out an ancient tradition.
The building stood right beside a river, near the villagers’ rice fields, which were not far from the village. But a new building had since been constructed right in the middle of the area.
As a result, the tradition was no longer practiced in the old building, and it had been left abandoned at the village chief’s suggestion.
“Excuse me, is this the way to the rice fields?” I asked someone sitting in front of his house.
The person merely nodded without answering my question. He looked completely dazed, sitting weakly in front of his house without moving at all.
I then turned onto a footpath branching off from the main road, a straight path that sloped slightly downward and connected the village to the villagers’ rice fields. Before long, I saw a dilapidated building almost completely overgrown with weeds.
The building looked empty. It had two floors, with several windows covered by weathered bamboo panels. I couldn’t see an entrance anywhere.
Wild plants had grown thickly around the building’s yard, a sign that humans had not lived there for a long time.
“Did Father come in here?” I thought.
I immediately began searching for an entrance so I could get inside, but the dense undergrowth covering the building made it difficult for me to move.
Yet I didn’t realize that while I was searching for the entrance, several pairs of eyes were watching me from inside the building—several pairs of eyes peering through gaps in the bamboo panels, which looked old and worn down by time.