Three months had passed since the night in the forest.
Mr. Wiryo's house had been repaired.
The basement that had once been the site of the pact had been sealed with cement and stone. There was no hole anymore, no stairs, and no more strange sounds from beneath the floor.
Life slowly returned to normal.
Mr. Wiryo no longer went to the shed at night.
He never touched the money he'd obtained through wealth-pact sorcery, either.
He had thrown most of it into the river.
The rest, he burned.
He chose to return to work as a farm laborer.
His life was simple.
But this time, he wasn't ashamed.
Every morning, he watched Laras leave for school.
Every afternoon, they ate together.
And every night, before going to bed, Mr. Wiryo always checked the doors and windows.
Not because he was afraid.
But because he'd learned that peace was something that had to be protected.
One night, Laras sat on the porch.
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“Do you think Mom is really gone?”
Mr. Wiryo fell silent.
He gazed at the sky.
“I don't know.”
“I still dream about her a lot.”
“What does Mom say in your dreams?”
Laras smiled faintly.
“Not much.”
“What does she say?”
“She just says I have to live a normal life.”
Mr. Wiryo nodded.
“That’s the most important thing.”
Laras rested her head on her father's shoulder.
For a while, they enjoyed the night without speaking.
Until a sound came from the road.
**Ting!**
Like a small object falling.
Mr. Wiryo turned.
“What was that?”
Laras stood.
“I'll take a look.”
“Don't.”
Mr. Wiryo suddenly felt uneasy.
But Laras had already walked to the gate.
Something glittered in the moonlight beside a rock.
A coin.
Laras bent down and picked it up.
Mr. Wiryo immediately stood.
“Laras!”
The girl turned.
“What?”
“Don't touch it.”
Too late.
The coin was already in her palm.
Mr. Wiryo ran over.
He took the coin from her.
His face immediately went pale.
The surface bore the image of a pig's head.
Exactly like the coin they had found before.
“Where did this come from?”
Laras shook her head.
“It wasn't there before.”
Mr. Wiryo flipped the coin over.
There was writing on the back.
**ONE DEBT REMAINS UNPAID.**
Mr. Wiryo felt his chest tighten.
“No way.”
He threw the coin onto the ground.
It bounced.
**Ting!**
Then stopped.
Mr. Wiryo waited for something to happen.
Nothing did.
He grabbed a shovel.
Together, they dug a hole behind the house.
They buried the coin deep underground.
Then they covered it back up.
Mr. Wiryo sprinkled salt over the spot.
“That’s done.”
Laras stared at him.
“Is it really over?”
Mr. Wiryo didn't answer.
He hoped it was.
But that night, something happened.
Twelve minutes past midnight.
Laras woke up.
She heard a sound outside her room.
**Crack... crack...**
Like someone walking across the yard.
Laras sat up.
“Dad?”
There was no answer.
She left her room.
The living room was dark.
The porch light was on.
Beyond the window, the yard looked empty.
Laras was about to return to her room.
Then she heard a sound.
**Hrrr...**
Laras froze.
The sound had come from the kitchen.
She picked up a broom.
She walked slowly.
The kitchen was empty.
But the back door stood open.
Wind blew inside.
Laras approached.
There was no one outside.
Then something moved near the ground.
A piglet.
Small.
Black.
Laras backed away.
The pig stared at her.
Its eyes were red.
Laras was about to scream.
But the pig didn't attack.
It simply dropped something from its mouth.
A coin.
Then it turned and ran into the darkness.
Laras shut the door.
“Dad!”
Mr. Wiryo came out of his room.
“What is it?”
Laras pointed toward the yard.
“There was a pig.”
Mr. Wiryo grabbed a flashlight.
He opened the back door.
There was no pig.
But a coin lay on the ground.
Mr. Wiryo picked it up.
His expression changed.
This coin was different.
There was no pig's head on it.
There was no writing.
There was only a name.
**LARAS.**
Mr. Wiryo dropped it.
“No.”
“Dad?”
“Go to your room.”
“But—”
“Now!”
Laras obeyed.
Mr. Wiryo stood alone in the yard.
He stared into the darkness.
Then he heard a voice.
“Wiryo...”
Mr. Wiryo froze.
The voice was deeply familiar.
Mbah Ranu's voice.
“Ranu is dead,” he said.
There was no answer.
Then laughter rang out.
“Only my body is dead.”
Mr. Wiryo stepped back.
“Who are you?”
“I already told you.”
The voice drew closer.
“A pact doesn't die.”
Mr. Wiryo gripped his machete.
“We ended it.”
“Your pact, yes.”
“Then what?”
“Your family's pact isn't over.”
Mr. Wiryo fell silent.
“What do you mean?”
The voice laughed.
“Do you really think your family made only one pact?”
Mr. Wiryo felt cold all over.
“What?”
“Go to your father's grave.”
The voice vanished.
Mr. Wiryo stood there for a long time.
Then he went inside.
Laras was waiting for him.
“Dad, who was that?”
Mr. Wiryo didn't answer.
He grabbed his jacket.
“We're going to Grandpa's grave.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
Mr. Wiryo's father's grave was at the edge of the village.
They arrived at nearly one in the morning.
The cemetery was deserted.
There was only the sound of crickets and wind.
Mr. Wiryo carried a lamp.
He walked toward his father's grave.
Laras stood beside him.
“What are you looking for, Dad?”
“I don't know.”
Mr. Wiryo cleared the weeds around the grave.
Then he saw something.
The soil in front of the gravestone looked freshly dug.
Mr. Wiryo knelt.
His hand touched the dirt.
It was still damp.
“Someone dug up this grave.”
Laras backed away.
“Who?”
Mr. Wiryo took the hoe he'd brought.
He began to dig.
A few minutes later, the hoe struck something.
**Tuk!**
Mr. Wiryo stopped.
He dug with his hands.
A wooden box emerged.
An old box.
Locked.
Mr. Wiryo pried it open with his machete.
Inside was a book.
Its cover was black.
There was no title.
Mr. Wiryo opened it.
The first page contained only one sentence:
**RECORD OF THE WIJAYA FAMILY PACTS.**
Mr. Wiryo read quickly.
The names of his ancestors were recorded inside.
But something on the last page made him feel as if his blood had stopped flowing.
There was a name he'd never seen before.
**Raka Wijaya.**
Beneath it:
**First pact — 1897.**
Mr. Wiryo swallowed.
“Raka...”
Laras looked at the page.
“Wasn't Raka the one who became that creature?”
“Yes.”
Mr. Wiryo turned the page.
There were more entries.
**Second pact — 1934.**
**Third pact — 1978.**
**Fourth pact — 2001.**
Mr. Wiryo counted.
“2001?”
He fell silent.
That was the year Laras was born.
Laras looked at her father.
“Dad...”
Mr. Wiryo turned to the last page.
The writing there was very short.
But it was enough to make him tremble.
**NEXT HEIR: LARAS.**
Beneath it was one sentence:
**THE PACT WILL BECOME ACTIVE AGAIN WHEN THE HEIR TURNS SEVENTEEN.**
Mr. Wiryo stared at his daughter.
“How old are you now?”
Laras went pale.
“Sixteen.”
Mr. Wiryo counted the dates.
Laras would turn seventeen in three months.
He closed the book.
“No.”
“Dad...”
“We're leaving.”
“Where?”
“As far away as possible.”
But before they could stand, a sound came from behind them.
**Clap.**
Slowly.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Mr. Wiryo turned.
A man stood among the graves.
He was around forty years old.
He wore black clothing.
His face was unfamiliar.
But on his finger was a black stone ring.
Mr. Wiryo stood in front of Laras.
“Who are you?”
The man smiled.
“My name is Jaka.”
“What do you want?”
“I've come to take something that was promised.”
Mr. Wiryo gripped his machete.
“Go away.”
Jaka laughed.
“You still don't understand.”
“Understand what?”
“I'm not part of the old pact.”
Jaka stepped closer.
“I'm the holder of the new pact.”
Laras took her father's hand.
“What pact?”
Jaka looked at her.
“The pact your mother made before she died.”
Mr. Wiryo froze.
“That's a lie.”
“Then read the last page.”
Mr. Wiryo opened the book.
Beneath Laras's name was writing that hadn't been there before.
Black ink slowly appeared on the page.
**PAYMENT BEGINS ON THE SEVENTEENTH BIRTHDAY.**
Mr. Wiryo looked at Laras.
Three months.
Only three months.
Jaka smiled.
“You managed to break one pact.”
He pointed at the book.
“But you forgot one thing.”
“What?”
“Sometimes, to stop wealth-pact sorcery...”
Jaka paused.
“...you have to find out who asked for it in the first place.”
The wind blew hard.
Mr. Wiryo's oil lamp went out.
In the darkness, the sound of pigs came from every direction.
**Hrrr... hrrr... hrrr...**
Laras squeezed her eyes shut.
Mr. Wiryo gripped her hand.
And from behind his father's gravestone came Sulastri's voice:
“Wiryo... don't let Laras reach her seventeenth birthday.”
Mr. Wiryo opened his eyes.
But the voice had already vanished.
Jaka was gone, too.
Only one object remained atop the grave.
A gold coin.
Written on its surface:
**THREE MONTHS.**
Mr. Wiryo stared at the coin.
He realized their struggle wasn't over.
Something far older had only just begun.