Mr. Wiryo did not immediately answer Laras's question.
He only hugged his daughter tighter.
Outside the house, the wind blew through the trees. Bamboo leaves rubbed against one another, making a sound like people whispering from far away.
Laras was still trembling.
“Dad... what does the writing on this bracelet say?”
Mr. Wiryo looked at the black bracelet around his daughter's wrist.
**THE HEIR HAS BEEN CHOSEN.**
He wanted to tell her that everything would be all right.
But for the first time in his life, Mr. Wiryo was not sure of his own words.
“It’s okay,” he finally said.
“We’re leaving this place.”
Laras nodded.
They went back to packing their things.
But when Mr. Wiryo opened the front door, he found the village road covered in fog.
The fog was far too thick for an ordinary night.
The neighbors’ house lights were nowhere to be seen.
Even the crickets had gone silent.
Mr. Wiryo stepped outside.
“Stay close,” he said.
Laras clasped her father’s hand.
They had only walked a few meters when a sound came from behind them.
**Knock... knock... knock...**
Mr. Wiryo stopped.
Laras looked at the house.
“The door?”
Mr. Wiryo did not answer.
The knocking came again.
**Knock... knock... knock...**
Three times.
Then a woman’s voice.
“Wiryo...”
Mr. Wiryo froze.
It was Sulastri’s voice.
“Mom?” Laras whispered.
Mr. Wiryo immediately pulled his daughter’s hand.
“Don’t answer.”
“But that’s Mom’s voice.”
“It’s not.”
The voice from the house called out again.
“Laras...”
The girl turned around.
“Mom’s calling me.”
Mr. Wiryo tightened his grip on her hand.
“Don’t look.”
But Laras was already crying.
“Dad, what if that really is Mom?”
Mr. Wiryo held back his tears.
“If that really were your mother, she wouldn’t ask you to go back into the house.”
They kept walking.
The fog grew thicker.
The village road, usually only a few hundred meters long, seemed to have no end.
Mr. Wiryo began to realize something.
They were not walking away from the village.
They were returning to the same place.
An old banyan tree appeared in front of them.
The same tree.
The place where he had once met Mbah Ranu.
Mr. Wiryo stopped.
“That’s impossible.”
They had been walking for nearly twenty minutes.
But that tree should have been behind their house.
Laras looked around.
“Are we lost?”
Mr. Wiryo shook his head.
“We’re not the ones who are lost.”
He stared into the fog.
“The road has changed.”
Suddenly, they heard footsteps.
From beyond the fog.
Someone was approaching.
Mr. Wiryo stood in front of Laras.
The silhouette of a man began to appear.
A dark robe.
A wooden staff.
A black stone ring.
Mbah Ranu.
Mr. Wiryo gripped his machete.
“Don’t come any closer.”
Mbah Ranu stopped.
“You brought Laras?”
“Don’t touch my daughter.”
“I didn’t come to touch her.”
“Then what do you want?”
Mbah Ranu looked at Laras.
“To take her home.”
Laras immediately hid behind her father.
“She’s not your child,” Mr. Wiryo said.
Mbah Ranu smiled.
“No.”
“Then don’t call her home.”
Mbah Ranu sighed.
“You still don’t understand.”
“What?”
“Laras wasn’t chosen because she’s your daughter.”
Mr. Wiryo fell silent.
“Then why?”
“Because of her blood.”
Mbah Ranu pointed at the bracelet on Laras’s hand.
“Your family’s blood is the key.”
Mr. Wiryo shook his head.
“No.”
“Listen carefully.”
Mbah Ranu stepped forward.
“The first pact was made by your grandfather. He accepted wealth on the condition that his descendants would become its guardians. For several generations, everything proceeded according to the rules.”
“Then why did my mother try to stop it?”
“Because your mother knew something your family didn’t.”
“What?”
Mbah Ranu was silent for a few moments.
Then he said,
“Wealth-pact sorcery doesn’t give you wealth.”
Mr. Wiryo stared at him.
“Then what does it do?”
“It lends you wealth.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Every bit of money you receive becomes a debt.”
Mr. Wiryo felt his throat go dry.
“And that debt?”
“It’s paid by the descendants.”
Laras held her father’s hand.
“Dad...”
Mr. Wiryo looked at his daughter.
Mbah Ranu continued,
“That’s why your mother wanted to stop everything. But she failed.”
“Why?”
“Because she was too late.”
Mr. Wiryo clenched his fists.
“Then how do we stop it?”
Mbah Ranu stared at him for a long time.
“Destroy the source.”
“Where?”
“Beneath your house.”
Mr. Wiryo fell silent.
“The basement?”
“No.”
Mbah Ranu shook his head.
“Deeper.”
“How deep?”
“As deep as your family’s sins.”
That night, they returned to the house.
Mr. Wiryo knew they had no choice.
If he wanted to save Laras, he had to find the source of the pact.
They went back to the kitchen.
The wooden floorboard was still in place.
Mr. Wiryo opened it.
The stairs leading underground came into view.
But this time, Laras carried an oil lamp.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“You can’t go alone, Dad.”
“Laras—”
“I’m already part of this.”
Mr. Wiryo fell silent.
Laras looked at him.
“If I stay upstairs, they can take me again.”
Mr. Wiryo knew his daughter was right.
At last, they descended together.
The stairs felt longer than before.
Every step echoed.
**Knock... knock... knock...**
At last, they reached the first room.
The stone table was still there.
But this time, the bowl filled with black water was gone.
In its place was a hole in the center of the room.
Hot air rose from it.
Mr. Wiryo moved closer.
Writing he had never seen before appeared on the opposite wall.
**BLOOD CALLS TO BLOOD.**
Laras read the words.
“Dad, look.”
Beneath the writing was a family tree.
The names of their ancestors were carved one by one.
Grandfather.
Father.
Mother.
Mr. Wiryo.
Then Laras’s name.
But beside Laras’s name was a circle symbol.
The same symbol that had appeared on the gold coin.
Mr. Wiryo touched it.
The wall suddenly began to tremble.
A section of stone opened.
Behind it was a narrow passage.
A voice came from within.
“Wiryo...”
Mr. Wiryo tensed.
It was his father’s voice.
“Don’t go in.”
Mr. Wiryo looked at Laras.
“We can’t trust that voice.”
They continued forward.
The passage grew narrower.
Coins were embedded along the walls like scales.
There were hundreds of them.
Some still gleamed.
Others had already turned black.
At the end of the passage was a large room.
And in the middle stood a gigantic pig statue.
The statue was made of black stone.
Its eyes were two red stones.
Beneath the statue stood an altar.
Mr. Wiryo saw something on top of it.
A photograph.
A photo of his family.
The photo had been taken several years earlier.
He, Laras, and Sulastri.
But something was strange.
Written on the back of the photo were the words:
**ONE FAMILY. THREE DEBTS. ONE HEIR.**
Laras began to cry.
“Dad...”
Mr. Wiryo hugged her.
Suddenly, the pig statue moved.
Very slowly.
Its head turned.
Mr. Wiryo stepped back.
“Laras, stay behind Dad.”
The statue’s stone eyes lit up.
A deep voice filled the room.
“Heir...”
Laras trembled.
“Dad...”
“Don’t be afraid.”
“Heir...”
The statue spoke again.
“Come.”
Laras seemed to be pulled by something.
Her body moved forward.
Mr. Wiryo held her back.
“No!”
He pulled Laras toward him.
But whatever was pulling his daughter was far stronger.
Laras was dragged several centimeters forward.
Mr. Wiryo struggled to keep hold of her.
“Laras!”
“Dad!”
The bracelet on Laras’s wrist began to glow bright red.
Then came the sound of something cracking.
**Crack!**
One of the red stones in the statue’s eye fell to the floor.
Black smoke poured out of it.
The smoke formed a human figure.
Mr. Wiryo recognized her.
Sulastri.
“Mom!”
Laras cried.
Sulastri looked at them.
“Don’t destroy that statue.”
Mr. Wiryo was confused.
“Why?”
“Because if that statue is destroyed...”
Sulastri looked at Laras.
“...all the debts will be passed on to her.”
Mr. Wiryo fell silent.
“What are we supposed to do?”
Sulastri looked at her husband.
“It’s not the statue that must be destroyed.”
“Then what?”
“The pact.”
“How?”
Sulastri pointed to the statue’s chest.
“Find the name of the first person who made it.”
Mr. Wiryo looked at the statue.
There was writing on its chest, hidden beneath dust.
He wiped it clean with his hand.
Slowly, a name emerged.
**RAKA WIJAYA.**
Mr. Wiryo fell silent.
He had never heard that name before.
Laras shook her head too.
“Mom?”
Sulastri said softly,
“He isn’t human.”
The room suddenly began to shake.
Laughter echoed from every wall.
Cracks began to spread across the pig statue.
And from behind those cracks emerged two red eyes, far larger than before.
Mr. Wiryo hugged Laras.
The voice said:
“The heir has come.”
Then all the lamps went out.
In the darkness, Mbah Ranu’s voice came from behind them.
“Now you know who you’re really facing.”
Mr. Wiryo turned.
Mbah Ranu stood at the entrance to the passage.
But this time, his face had changed.
His eyes were completely black.
And a circular scar marked his neck.
He smiled.
“Ranu isn’t my real name.”
Mr. Wiryo stepped back.
“Who are you?”
Mbah Ranu laughed.
“The first one to come to you wasn’t me.”
He pointed at the pig statue.
“I’m the one who has been coming to you from the beginning.”
Mr. Wiryo felt his entire body go numb.
Mbah Ranu raised his hand.
The black stone ring on his finger changed into a tiny red eye.
“And now...”
His voice changed into the same voice that had come from the statue.
“...it’s time for you to surrender your heir.”
Laras screamed.
Mr. Wiryo stood in front of her.
And in the middle of the darkness, another voice rang out.
His father’s voice.
“Run, Wiryo!”
For the first time, Mr. Wiryo saw an opening.
The only way out.
He grabbed Laras’s hand.
“Run!”
The two of them ran toward the passage.
Behind them, Mbah Ranu’s voice turned into a pig’s growl.
And that night, Mr. Wiryo finally learned the most horrifying truth:
Mbah Ranu was not a human who taught wealth-pact sorcery.
He was the pact’s guardian.
And for decades, he had been waiting for one thing—
the birth of an heir whose blood was strong enough to replace him.