Rain had been falling since afternoon when Raka Adinata finally spotted an old wooden sign by the roadside.
**KARANGWENING — 7 KM**
The lettering was almost impossible to read. Much of the paint had peeled away, and the sign leaned to one side as if it hadn't been repaired in years.
Raka slowed the car.
He opened the digital map on his phone. There was no Karangwening.
"Seriously?"
He tried searching again.
The result was the same.
There was no Karangwening.
There was no road leading to the village.
Even the phone signal, which had been weak all this time, suddenly vanished completely.
Raka stared at the narrow road ahead. Its asphalt was cracked and covered in puddles. Tall trees stood on both sides, making the road look like a corridor leading to a place no one was supposed to visit.
He remembered Rania's last message.
**Bro, if you can't reach me anymore, look for Karangwening. Don't trust anyone there.**
The message had been sent three days ago.
Since then, Rania had never answered her phone.
Raka drew a deep breath, then turned the car to follow the signpost.
Seven kilometers felt far longer than they should have.
Fog began to descend as he crossed an old stone bridge. Beneath it, a black river flowed, reflecting the night sky.
On the other side of the bridge, he saw a child standing by the roadside.
A boy.
He was wearing a red jacket.
Raka hit the brakes.
The car stopped a few yards away.
"Hey, kid?"
The boy didn't answer.
Raka rolled down the window.
"Do you know the way to Karangwening?"
The boy slowly turned his head.
His face was pale.
Far too pale for a child standing in the middle of the rain.
He pointed straight ahead.
"That way."
Raka followed the direction of his finger.
When he looked back, the boy was gone.
Raka got out of the car.
There was no sound of footsteps.
No footprints in the wet ground.
Only the empty road and the rain, falling harder by the second.
His heart began to race.
He got back into the car and continued on.
Fifteen minutes later, lights from houses began to appear through the fog.
Karangwening.
A small village that looked as if it had been left decades behind by the outside world.
Raka stopped near an old roadside stall.
A middle-aged woman stood behind a wooden counter.
When she saw Raka get out of the car, her expression immediately changed.
Not surprise.
Not curiosity.
Fear.
Raka walked closer.
"Excuse me. I'm looking for someone."
The woman didn't answer.
Raka took a photograph from his wallet.
A photo of Rania.
"Her name is Rania Adinata. She came here a few days ago."
The woman's hands trembled.
Her eyes remained fixed on the photograph.
Then she whispered, barely audibly,
"Don't say that name."
Raka furrowed his brow.
"Why?"
The woman looked at the road behind Raka.
Her face grew even paler.
"Because if she hears it..."
She stopped.
From far away came the sound of a bell.
**Dong.**
Raka turned.
An old clock tower stood in the middle of the village.
Its hands had stopped exactly at **3:17**.
The woman whispered again.
"...they'll know you've arrived."