Raka was still standing in the middle of his father's room.
His hand gripped the old recording device.
His father's last words kept echoing in his mind.
“I wasn't the victim of an accident.”
That sentence shattered everything Raka had believed all these years.
Five years.
For five years, Raka had believed his father had died in an ordinary accident.
But it turned out something had been hidden.
Someone had kept his father from coming home.
And that person's name was Arman.
“Grandma...”
Raka's voice sounded heavy.
“You knew this whole time?”
Grandma Ida stood near the door.
Her face was filled with regret.
“I knew something was wrong.”
“But I stayed quiet.”
“I was afraid.”
“Everyone always says they're afraid.”
Raka stared at her.
“But nobody thought about me.”
Grandma Ida lowered her head.
“You're right.”
That answer left Raka momentarily speechless.
Grandma Ida usually tried to explain herself.
But this time, she admitted her mistake.
“I was wrong.”
“Why?”
“Because I kept everything to myself for too long.”
Raka looked at Arman's photo again.
“Who is he, really?”
Grandma Ida walked closer.
“Arman used to be the person this family trusted most.”
“How close were they?”
“Very close.”
“Sari's friend?”
“Yes.”
“My father's friend?”
Grandma Ida nodded.
“At first.”
Raka caught something in that answer.
“At first?”
Grandma Ida fell silent.
“So something happened.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Grandma Ida looked out the window.
“They had a fight once.”
“Who?”
“Your father and Arman.”
“Because of Sari?”
Grandma Ida nodded.
Raka picked up his father's notebook.
There were still many unread entries on the back pages.
He flipped through several sheets.
One page had large writing across it.
“Arman is lying.”
Raka read on.
“He knows Sari's last known location.”
Raka turned to her.
“Grandma.”
“What?”
“My father knew Arman had found Sari?”
Grandma Ida said nothing.
“Answer me, Grandma.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did Arman never say anything?”
“I don't know.”
“Or was he hiding something?”
Grandma Ida didn't deny it.
Raka closed the notebook.
“Tomorrow, I'll find Arman.”
“No.”
Grandma Ida's answer came quickly.
“Don't.”
“Why?”
“Your father failed. What makes you think you can do it?”
Raka fell silent.
Her words struck deep.
But they only made his resolve stronger.
“I'm not my father.”
Grandma Ida looked at him.
“I won't stop until I know what happened.”
Suddenly, a sound came from outside the room.
Creak...
Creak...
They both turned.
The rocking chair.
But this time, the sound was coming from the living room.
Raka went out first.
Grandma Ida followed.
The chair was rocking slowly.
But something was different.
There was an object on the chair.
A wristwatch.
Raka recognized it immediately.
He stepped closer.
“That...”
Grandma Ida looked shocked.
“Your father's watch.”
Raka picked it up.
His hand immediately began to tremble.
It was the watch his father had always worn.
The last time Raka had seen it was at the funeral.
“How could it be here?”
Grandma Ida didn't answer.
Raka turned the watch over.
There was a small engraving on the back.
“For Raka, from Dad.”
Raka's eyes immediately filled with tears.
He had never seen the engraving before.
“My father kept this for me.”
Grandma Ida came closer.
“Raka...”
Suddenly, the watch hands began to move.
Even though the watch had been dead for years.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
They both froze.
The hands stopped at exactly 2:15 a.m.
Grandma Ida went pale.
“This watch...”
“What?”
“That was the last time your father contacted me.”
Raka stared at her.
“What time did my father die?”
Grandma Ida didn't answer.
Raka began to realize something.
“Grandma.”
The old woman finally spoke in a quiet voice.
“2:15 a.m.”
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Night wind blew in through the window.
The light flickered.
Then a sound came from the back room.
Someone had dropped something.
Bang!
Raka and Grandma Ida looked at each other.
“There's someone in the house.”
Raka picked up the wooden stick near the table.
“No.”
“Grandma, if someone really is here, I need to know.”
They walked slowly toward the kitchen.
Every step felt heavy.
The back storage-room door stood open.
Even though it had been closed a moment ago.
Raka gripped the handle.
“Grandma, wait here.”
“No.”
“Grandma.”
“I'm coming with you.”
Raka opened the storage-room door.
A damp smell immediately wafted out.
Old things were still stacked inside.
Wooden boxes.
A broken chair.
Dusty cardboard boxes.
There was no one there.
“It's empty.”
Raka went farther inside.
Suddenly, his foot touched something.
A piece of paper.
He picked it up.
The handwriting on it made him stop.
It was the same handwriting as his father's letters.
“I know who made Sari disappear.”
Raka read quickly.
The bottom half had been torn away.
Only one sentence remained.
“That person isn't Arman.”
Raka looked at Grandma Ida.
“Then who is it?”
Grandma Ida didn't answer.
Because at that moment, they heard footsteps outside the storage room.
Someone was standing behind them.
Raka slowly turned around.
Under the light from the yard, an old man stood there.
His hair had turned completely white.
His face was covered in scars.
And his eyes were fixed on Raka.
“Son...”
His voice was deep.
“You finally came home.”
Raka took a step back.
“Who are you?”
The man gave him a faint smile.
“Don't you recognize me?”
Raka said nothing.
“It's all right.”
He stepped closer.
“Your father didn't recognize me at first either.”
Grandma Ida immediately began to panic.
“Arman...”
The man stopped.
Raka stared at him.
Arman.
The man they had been searching for all this time.
Arman looked at the watch in Raka's hand.
His smile disappeared.
“You found the watch.”
Raka tightened his grip around it.
“What did you do to my father?”
Arman didn't answer.
He only looked toward the house.
Then he spoke quietly.
“If you want to know the truth...”
Arman looked at the rocking chair in the living room.
“You have to be ready to accept that not everything you find is an answer.”
Raka stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Arman drew a breath.
“Because on the night Sari disappeared...”
He paused briefly.
“It wasn't an outsider who made her leave.”
Raka's eyes widened.
“Then who was it?”
Arman looked at Grandma Ida.
And for the first time, Grandma Ida's face showed genuine fear.
“The person who was in that house.”
Raka slowly turned toward Grandma Ida.
And every question he'd kept buried all this time came rushing back.
Had Grandma Ida really been hiding the truth?
Or was Arman trying to destroy their trust in each other?
That night, Raka realized one thing.
Finding the answers was far more dangerous than living in ignorance.