At seven that evening, the rain began falling harder.
Alya stood by her bedroom window, watching the street grow quiet. Ever since receiving that message a few hours ago, her mind had refused to stop working.
Old Courthouse. 8:00 p.m. Bring Raka.
One hour left.
On the table lay a photograph of Arka Wijaya, a copy of her father's notes, and the seven victim photographs Raka had given her.
Alya reread her father's final note.
The person she should fear is the one who has always stood closest to her.
The sentence made her uneasy.
Who had her father meant?
Raka?
Her brother?
A friend?
Or someone she had never suspected all this time?
A knock on the door made Alya jump.
Knock.
Knock.
“Alya.”
Raka's voice came from outside.
Alya quickly opened the door.
Raka stood there in a black jacket, his expression serious.
“We're leaving now.”
Alya nodded and grabbed her bag.
“Mr. Raka.”
“Hmm?”
“If we run into Arka later...”
Raka looked at her.
“What?”
“Don't arrest him right away.”
Raka fell silent.
“Why?”
“I want to hear his explanation.”
“You realize he may be involved in all of this?”
“I realize that.”
“And you still want to hear him out?”
Alya nodded.
“Because maybe we've only been seeing one side of the story all along.”
Raka stared at her for several seconds before finally sighing.
“Fine. But you stay behind me.”
The Old Courthouse stood in a part of the city that people rarely visited anymore.
The building had been abandoned for years. Some of its windows were broken, and weeds had overrun the front yard.
The moment Raka's car stopped, Alya felt something strange.
The place was too quiet.
There were no guards.
No vehicles.
No lights from the surrounding buildings.
Raka turned off the engine.
“Let's go in.”
They walked toward the main entrance.
The door turned out to be unlocked.
As soon as Raka pushed it open, the old hinges groaned for a long moment.
Creeeak...
Alya followed behind him.
Inside the building was a large courtroom.
Rows of wooden chairs faced the judge's bench.
Dust covered the floor.
But something made Alya stop.
The lamp above the judge's bench was on.
“That can't be.”
Raka scanned the room.
“Someone was just here.”
They moved closer.
Seven black folders sat on the judge's bench.
Each one had a number on it.
01.
02.
03.
04.
05.
06.
07.
Alya stared at the first folder.
“These look like seven cases.”
Raka nodded.
“Don't touch them.”
But before they could do anything, applause echoed from the balcony.
Slowly.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Alya looked up.
Someone was standing there.
He was tall.
He wore a black suit.
His face was still hidden in shadow.
“Welcome.”
His voice was calm.
Raka immediately drew his weapon.
“Come down!”
The man didn't move.
“Easy, Investigator. If I wanted to kill you, you wouldn't have made it into this room.”
Alya stared at him.
“Arka?”
The man fell silent.
Then he gave a soft laugh.
“You still remember my name.”
Alya held her breath.
“So you're Arka Wijaya?”
The man slowly stepped out of the shadows.
His face finally came into view.
He was a man in his late twenties.
His expression was calm, but something unreadable lingered in his eyes.
Alya stared at him for a long moment.
There was something familiar about him.
Not because they had met before.
But because...
She felt as if she'd seen that face somewhere else.
Arka gave her a faint smile.
“It has been a long time, Alya.”
Alya furrowed her brow.
“Have we met?”
“No.”
“Then why are you talking like you know me?”
Arka didn't answer.
Raka stepped forward.
“Come down and surrender.”
Arka looked at Raka.
“Still fond of giving orders, Raka?”
Alya turned to him at once.
Raka froze.
Arka gave a soft laugh.
“Looks like you haven't told Alya everything.”
Alya looked at Raka.
“What does he mean?”
Raka didn't answer.
“Mr. Raka?”
Arka slowly descended from the balcony.
“I think it's time she knew.”
Raka immediately said, “Don't.”
Arka smiled.
“Why? Afraid your secret will come out?”
Alya began to feel that something was terribly wrong.
“Raka, what is he talking about?”
Raka remained silent.
Arka stopped several yards away from them.
“Do you want to know why your father left behind seven cases?”
Alya nodded.
“Because your father wasn't just a witness.”
Arka met her eyes.
“He was the one who helped cover it up.”
Alya felt as if the ground had dropped out from under her.
“No.”
“He wasn't the villain you think he was,” Arka continued. “But he made one decision that caused many people to die.”
“Don't believe him,” Raka suddenly said.
Arka smiled.
“Funny.”
“What?”
“The person saying that is the very one you should be suspicious of.”
Alya looked at Raka.
“Mr. Raka...”
Raka sighed.
“Alya, I do know Arka.”
“Since when?”
“Since that old case.”
“Why didn't you ever tell me?”
“Because I wanted to protect you.”
“Protect me from what?”
Raka hadn't had time to answer when one of the old screens behind the judge's bench suddenly lit up.
A video began to play.
Alya stared at the screen, her eyes widening.
Her father appeared in the video.
Darman Mahardika.
Alive.
Young.
He was sitting in a room with another man.
Alya moved closer.
The man sitting across from her father was...
Raka.
But the Raka in the video looked much younger.
Alya slowly turned toward him.
“Mr. Raka...”
Raka closed his eyes for a moment.
“I can explain.”
The video continued.
Alya's father's voice rang out clearly.
“If this case is reopened, they'll kill that child.”
The younger Raka replied, “What about Alya?”
Alya's father fell silent.
“We have to make her believe it's all over.”
The video stopped.
Alya stared at Raka, her face pale.
“All this time...”
Her voice trembled.
“You've known my family?”
Raka didn't deny it.
“Yes.”
“Since I was little?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Raka looked at her with eyes full of remorse.
“Because your father asked me to protect you.”
Alya shook her head.
“So all this time...”
She took several steps backward.
“You knew about everything that happened?”
“Don't misunderstand me.”
“Then what am I supposed to understand?”
Raka moved closer.
“Alya, I didn't kill anyone.”
“But you knew about the seven cases!”
“I knew about some of them.”
“And you never told me!”
“I tried to keep you away from all this.”
Alya gave a small laugh, but her eyes began to fill with tears.
“Keep me away?”
She pointed at the seven folders on the judge's bench.
“Now I'm right in the middle of it all!”
Arka said nothing as he watched them.
Then he spoke. “Now you understand why I called you here.”
Alya turned toward him.
“Why?”
“Because you have the right to know the truth about your father.”
Arka picked up folder number one.
He opened it and pulled out a document.
“This is the first case.”
Alya looked at the name printed across the front page.
LIVIA WIJAYA.
Arka's mother.
Alya stared at him.
“She was murdered.”
Arka nodded.
“And your father knew who killed her.”
“Who?”
Arka looked at Raka.
Alya followed his gaze.
Raka looked increasingly tense.
“Don't,” he said.
Arka gave a faint smile.
“Why? Isn't it time Alya knew?”
Alya looked at Raka.
“Who killed Arka's mother?”
Raka didn't answer.
Alya pressed him harder.
“Who?”
Arka opened the document to its final page.
The name of a suspect was printed in clear letters.
Alya read the name.
Then her entire body went cold.
Because it wasn't the name of a stranger.
Not the name of a police officer.
Not the name of anyone in Arka's family.
It was the name of someone she had trusted completely all this time.
Someone she had never even imagined could be part of the case.
Alya looked at Raka.
“This is impossible.”
Raka closed his eyes.
And for the first time since they had met, he said in an almost inaudible voice,
“I'm sorry, Alya.”
The courtroom lights suddenly went out.
In the darkness, Arka's voice rang out.
“Welcome to the first case.”
Then they heard a key turn.
Click.
The courtroom door locked from the outside.
Alya held her breath.
Raka immediately tried to open the door.
It wouldn't budge.
Arka stood in the middle of the darkness.
Then another voice came from the old loudspeaker above them.
“The first case begins.”
A red light came on directly above the judge's bench.
And words appeared on the screen:
DEFENDANT: ALYA MAHARDIKA
WITNESS: RAKA ADIPUTRA
PROSECUTOR: ARKA WIJAYA
SENTENCE: ONE LIFE.
TIME: 60 MINUTES.
Alya stared at the screen, her heart pounding.
Sixty minutes.
One life.
And this time...
her own name was in the defendant's chair.