The sun was nearly setting when Brajamusti finally entered Desa Karangjati.
The village was far busier than he had imagined. Its main street was crowded with vendors packing up their goods, while several food stalls were still serving people who had just returned from the rice fields.
Brajamusti breathed a sigh of relief.
“At least I can sleep somewhere decent tonight.”
He walked slowly down the village road, taking in his surroundings.
But the farther he went into the village, the more he began to notice something.
The people looked afraid.
Several vendors hurried to close their stalls when they saw a group of men walking from the end of the street.
The men were dressed entirely in black. They walked arrogantly, as if the entire village were under their control.
Brajamusti stopped in front of a food stall.
“Excuse me, sir. Why does everyone look so scared?”
The stall owner immediately put a finger to his lips.
“Shh…”
He glanced toward the group of men.
“Don’t ask too many questions.”
“Why not?”
“If you want to live until tomorrow morning, don’t make trouble with them.”
Brajamusti looked at the group.
“Who are they?”
The stall owner swallowed hard.
“Jaka Wulung’s men.”
“Jaka Wulung?”
“The leader who controls this village. Every vendor has to give him money.”
Brajamusti frowned.
“What if they don’t?”
The stall owner didn’t answer.
His expression was answer enough.
Brajamusti then ordered some food.
He ate calmly, glancing around from time to time.
Before long, three men from Jaka Wulung’s group entered the stall.
“Protection money!”
One of them slammed his hand on the table.
The stall owner quickly handed over a small pouch.
“This… is for today.”
The man opened the pouch and counted what was inside.
“Not enough.”
“That’s everything I have.”
The man grabbed him by the collar.
“Don’t lie!”
Brajamusti set down his spoon.
He hadn’t wanted to get involved.
But seeing an old man treated that way made him uncomfortable.
“That’s enough.”
Everyone in the stall turned to look at him.
The man stepped closer.
“Who are you?”
“A wanderer.”
“If you’re a wanderer, keep eating.”
Brajamusti remained seated.
“I don’t like watching people get bullied.”
The man laughed.
“You want to play the hero?”
“No.”
Brajamusti stood.
“I just want to eat in peace.”
The man immediately threw a punch.
Brajamusti dodged.
The second punch came faster.
Brajamusti caught his wrist and twisted it.
The man cried out in pain.
His two companions attacked at once.
Brajamusti moved swiftly.
One kick sent a man tumbling out of the stall.
The other fell after taking an elbow to the body.
The entire place fell silent.
Brajamusti took a breath.
“I told you, don’t interrupt my meal.”
The three men immediately fled.
The stall owner stared at Brajamusti with a pale face.
“Young man… you have no idea what you’ve just done.”
Brajamusti reclaimed his seat.
“I just hit three men.”
“They’ll come back.”
“If they do, we’ll talk again.”
But before Brajamusti could finish his meal, the sound of footsteps came from outside.
Not three men.
This time, there were many more.
A dozen men stood in front of the stall.
At their center stood a large man of about forty, his face covered in scars.
He wore black clothes with a red sash.
Everyone in the village immediately lowered their heads.
The stall owner whispered,
“Jaka Wulung…”
Jaka Wulung entered the stall.
His gaze went straight to Brajamusti.
“So you’re the one who hit my men?”
Brajamusti stood.
“They attacked first.”
Jaka Wulung smiled coldly.
“Your name?”
“Brajamusti.”
“Brajamusti…”
Jaka Wulung repeated the name as if trying to remember something.
Then his eyes dropped to the flute hanging from Brajamusti’s waist.
His smile suddenly vanished.
“Where did you get that flute?”
Brajamusti immediately became wary.
“Why do you ask?”
“Answer me!”
Jaka Wulung’s voice thundered.
Brajamusti gripped the flute.
“Someone gave it to me.”
“Who?”
“An old man.”
Jaka Wulung exchanged a glance with his men.
Then he laughed.
“Interesting.”
He drew his sword.
“Hand over the flute.”
Brajamusti shook his head.
“And if I don’t?”
“This village will become your graveyard.”
Jaka Wulung attacked.
Brajamusti dodged quickly. Jaka Wulung’s sword smashed through a table.
The battle was fierce.
Jaka Wulung was far stronger than his men.
Brajamusti was forced back several times.
One slash nearly struck his shoulder.
Brajamusti leaped backward.
His hand accidentally touched the flute.
He remembered what had happened in the forest.
The powerful wind.
The bandits sent flying.
Brajamusti gripped the flute.
Jaka Wulung attacked again.
Brajamusti raised the flute to his lips.
But before he could blow into it, a voice suddenly rang out from outside the stall.
“Stop!”
Everyone turned.
A woman stood in the middle of the village road.
Her long hair was tied back simply. She wore white clothes, with a sword hanging at her waist.
Her gaze was sharp.
Jaka Wulung looked startled.
“You?”
The woman walked closer.
“That’s enough, Jaka Wulung.”
Brajamusti stared at the woman in surprise.
He had never seen her before.
But what intrigued him even more was the way Jaka Wulung looked at her.
As if the two of them shared a complicated past.
The woman then glanced at Brajamusti.
Their eyes met for the first time.
Brajamusti didn’t know who she was.
He also didn’t know why she had come to Desa Karangjati.
But somehow, from the moment their eyes met, he felt something different stirring in his heart.
Meanwhile, the woman was staring at the flute in Brajamusti’s hand.
Her expression slowly changed.
“That…”
She whispered, almost inaudibly,
“The Dragon Flute?”
Brajamusti fell silent.
For the second time in a short span, someone had recognized the flute Grandpa Paijo had given him.
And this time, that person was a woman whose name he didn’t even know yet.