Ardi's ID card was still lying in front of the hospital room when the last nurse left the hall.
Raka stared at it through the glass. He didn't dare bend down to pick it up. The date of death printed on it kept spinning through his head, just like the monitor's beeping that marked his heartbeat.
The day his father came home carrying the second-place trophy.
Naya stood beside him, clutching a black bag with both hands.
“Don't touch it,” Raka said.
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Call security.”
“To tell them a dead student's ID card appeared in front of a hospital room?”
Raka didn't answer.
Inside the room, his mother was still asleep after being given a sedative. The doctor said her condition was stable, but Raka saw how she trembled every time she woke up. Since the accident, she still hadn't explained what she meant when she said Ardi didn't want to kill them.
She'd only said one thing before falling asleep.
“Find the archives room before your father comes.”
Raka finally opened the door.
The hallway air felt colder than before. He crouched down and picked up the card using the edge of a handkerchief. The front was burned, but Ardi's photo was still faintly visible. His face looked much younger than the figure that had appeared in the hallway earlier.
On the back of the card was a red stain.
Not new writing like the one he'd seen before, but a small stamp in the shape of the number two.
Naya studied the stamp. “Second place?”
“I don't know.”
“Does this hospital have an archives room?”
“Hospitals keep patient files, not campus records.”
“Then why did your mother tell us to come here?”
Raka looked at the room's door.
“Because maybe someone moved the records.”
They waited until his mother fell asleep again. Raka left a brief message for the nurse, then went downstairs with Naya. His father still hadn't shown up. Raka's calls went straight to voicemail.
Near the lobby, Naya showed him a photo on her phone. She had secretly taken it from Ardi's ID card.
“Look at the background,” she said.
Raka enlarged the image. Behind Ardi's photo was the campus emblem, but at the bottom he could make out nearly vanished writing.
OLD ADMINISTRATION BUILDING.
“The ID photo was taken there,” Naya said. “Maybe the competition archives are in that building too.”
“That building's been closed.”
“That's exactly why we have to go there.”
Raka wanted to refuse. The message on his phone, Ardi's appearance, and his mother's words made every choice look bad. But something was worse than going to the old building: staying put and letting other people decide what he was allowed to know.
They left the hospital just before midnight.
The rain had stopped, but the city was still wet. The road to campus was deserted. The store lights were out, leaving only pale reflections on the sidewalks. Every time Raka glanced at the rearview mirror, he felt as if a figure in a university jacket were sitting in the back seat.
When he actually turned around, there was nothing there.
The old administration building stood behind the campus complex, separated from the main buildings by a field that hadn't been used in years. Its iron fence was rusted. Some of the windows were broken and covered with wooden boards.
Naya pulled a key from her jacket pocket.
Raka stared at it. “Where'd you get that?”
“From a custodian.”
“You asked a custodian for the key to an abandoned building?”
“I paid.”
“With what?”
“Don't ask.”
The side door opened with a long creak. The smell of dust and wet wood greeted them immediately. Naya's phone flashlight swept across the hallway, which was filled with old cabinets, bulletin boards, and competition posters from different years.
Most of the posters had yellowed. At the end of the hall, Raka found the competition poster from Ardi's year.
The first-place winner's name had been crossed out with black ink.
Ardi's name had been crossed out too.
Only the words SECOND PLACE were still legible.
Raka ran his fingers over the poster's surface. Beneath the black ink, he could see the outlines of other letters. He took Ardi's ID card from his pocket and held it close.
The number-two stamp on the back of the card suddenly felt hot.
The writing beneath the ink slowly appeared, like old ink being pushed out from the paper.
ARDI PRATAMA — FIRST PLACE.
Naya held her breath.
“So it's true,” she said.
“He won.”
“Not only did he win. Someone deliberately changed the entire record.”
From the room beside them came the sound of a cabinet opening.
Raka turned off the flashlight.
They waited in the darkness. The sound stopped. Then slow, dragging footsteps came from the end of the hall.
Naya gripped Raka's arm.
Someone's shadow passed behind the glass door.
Raka recognized the shape of the old university jacket.
“Ardi?” he whispered.
The shadow stopped.
A finger pressed against the glass.
Then it wrote a single number in the condensation forming on the surface.
2.
The shadow vanished.
In its place, a door stood slightly open. The smell of burning paper drifted out from inside.
They went in.
The room was packed with filing cabinets. Some of the doors stood open and empty. In the middle of the room was a large table with a single archive box lying on top.
The box was labeled: NATIONAL COMPETITION — YEAR SIX.
Naya opened it.
Inside were score sheets, contestant photos, and an old cassette tape. Some of the documents had been damaged by water, but the first sheet was still intact.
Raka read the score table.
Ardi had received the highest score from every judge.
Raka's father's name was listed beneath it as the recording committee member.
Beside Ardi's score was a handwritten note.
LOWER THE SCORE. DON'T LET HIM WIN.
The handwriting didn't belong to his father.
But the signature beneath the note belonged to Dr. Seno.
Naya took a picture.
“This is the proof we need.”
“Not yet.”
Raka pointed to the old cassette at the bottom of the box. “We need to know what happened after the score was changed.”
In the corner of the room was an old cassette player. Naya put the tape in and pressed play. Hiss filled the room.
Then the voice of a young man came through.
“My name is Ardi Pratama. I didn't kill myself.”
The hairs on the back of Raka's neck rose.
The voice sounded hurried, as if it had been recorded in fear.
“They said I accepted the loss. They said I left the building alone. That's a lie. Raka's father saw it. He saw who pushed me.”
The tape suddenly crackled.
Another voice came in. Older. Quieter.
“Ardi, turn that thing off.”
Raka recognized his father's voice.
“You can't tell me to stay quiet anymore, Dad,” Ardi said on the recording. “I have a copy of the scores.”
“Give it to me.”
“To burn it?”
Something fell.
Then Ardi screamed.
“Don't push me!”
The recording stopped.
Naya's flashlight flickered.
From outside the room came the sound of the main door closing.
Someone had just entered the building.
Raka grabbed the archive box. “We're leaving.”
They ran toward the side door, but the hallway outside was dark. Footsteps drew closer. Not hurried. Whoever it was walked as if certain they had nowhere to go.
The old posters on the walls began to move. One by one, they came loose from their nails and fell to the floor.
Beneath the last poster was a message written in red paint:
ONE HAS ALREADY HAPPENED AGAIN.
Two shadows appeared at the end of the hall.
The first wore the old university jacket.
The second wore a gray suit.
Dr. Seno stepped out of the darkness.
“Hand over the box,” he said.
Raka stood in front of Naya. “Did you kill Ardi?”
Dr. Seno didn't answer.
Behind him, Ardi's figure raised a hand. His face was still hidden by wet hair, but this time Raka saw blood running from the corner of his mouth.
Dr. Seno glanced behind him.
When he looked back at Raka, his smile was gone.
“I wasn't the one who pushed him,” he said.
“Then who was?”
Dr. Seno pointed at the archive box.
“The same person who's waiting for you at the hospital.”
Raka's phone vibrated.
A message came in from his father's number.
DON'T TRUST DR. SENO.
A moment later, a second message appeared.
HE ALREADY KNOWS YOU FOUND HIS TAPE.
Behind Dr. Seno, Ardi smiled.
Then every door in the old building locked at once.