"You've really gone insane, Arlan," Danu muttered as he set his coffee cup down with a fairly loud clink on the worn wooden table at Orange Café.
"I didn't have any other choice, Danu. You saw that piece of paper yourself, didn't you?" Arlan stared at his friend with tired-looking eyes, but there was a fire burning in them.
"That 'help me' message could mean anything. Maybe she just needed help moving a wardrobe, or maybe she was being emotional. You can't just jump into a lion's den because of a shabby scrap of paper!" Danu ran a hand through his messy hair, looking deeply frustrated.
"Maya never asks for help unless it's urgent. You knew her longer than I did, Danu. She's stubborn and independent. If she wrote that, it means she was truly desperate."
"And your solution is to apply to be a photographer on her project? The project directly overseen by Satria? That's not courage, Arlan. That's sticking your neck out for the executioner."
Arlan leaned back in his chair and gazed out the window of Orange Café. The fog over Astina City felt thicker than usual that morning, as though the city itself were trying to hide something from the world.
"Satria needs professional documentation for the restoration of Swara Park. He wants the project published in an international journal. Danu, there isn't a documentary photographer in Astina with a better portfolio for historic architecture than me."
"Of course not, because you spent five years overseas working on it! But your ability isn't the problem, Lan. The problem is that you're her ex-fiancé—the one who ran away on the day of the engagement! Do you think Satria will let you handle a camera around his future wife?"
"He won't have a choice if the city council requested me. I sent my portfolio anonymously to headquarters yesterday, and they called this morning. They want to meet me at the site this afternoon."
Danu's mouth fell open, forming a perfect O.
"You... you're really sneaky when you set your mind to something. So they don't know it's you yet?"
"They know my name is Arlan Dewangga. But it seems Satria doesn't pay much attention to the names of technical-level applicants. He's too busy with bureaucracy and his own power."
"Or he's planning something for you, Lan. Don't underestimate that man. Satria isn't just an ordinary urban planner. He has enormous influence in Astina."
"I'm not afraid of him, Danu."
"You should be! The last time you two met, he nearly broke your neck in that park. And now you want to work right under his nose?"
Arlan reached into his jacket pocket and felt the cold key still resting there.
"I need to know what's inside that box. And I need to know why Maya feels threatened. That's my only goal."
"Fine, have it your way. But don't call me if you end up at the bottom of the Eldon River with your feet tied to a block of cement," Danu grumbled as he drained the rest of his coffee.
That afternoon, Swara Park looked gloomier beneath the overcast sky. Ruins of old buildings were scattered everywhere, surrounded by corrugated metal fencing that enclosed the construction area. Arlan stood at the gate, gripping his camera bag tightly.
"You're two minutes late," a cold voice greeted him before Arlan even had a chance to step inside.
Arlan turned. Maya stood there wearing a white hard hat and a neon vest that looked too large for her slender frame. Her beautiful face was pale, and faint dark circles showed beneath her eyes.
"Sorry, the fog on Verlaine Street was really thick," Arlan replied flatly, trying to keep his voice professional.
Maya froze. Her eyes widened when she realized who was standing in front of her. The camera in her hand nearly slipped from her grasp.
"Arlan? You... you're the applicant from that independent agency?"
"Dewangga Photography. That's my name, isn't it?"
"Why are you doing this?" Maya whispered, her voice trembling. She glanced around to make sure none of the workers were watching them. "Leave now, before he gets here."
"I'm here to work, Maya. I heard the Swara Park restoration project needed detailed documentation before all of this was destroyed."
"You know this isn't about work! Arlan, please, don't make everything harder. Satria will explode if he sees you here."
Arlan stepped forward, shortening the distance between them until he could smell the jasmine perfume that was still the same as it had been five years ago.
"You were the one who asked for help, Maya. I read the paper."
Maya flinched, her face growing even paler.
"I don't... I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't lie to me. Your handwriting hasn't changed. 'Help me, Arlan. He's not what you think.' What does it mean, Maya? What has Satria done to you?"
"Shut up!" Maya cut him off in a hissing voice. "Don't ever mention that again. It was a mistake. I wasn't conscious when I wrote it. You have to leave, right now!"
"I'm not leaving. The city council signed my contract this morning. Legally, I have the right to be here during working hours."
"You... you trapped me?"
"I'm saving you, Maya. Even if you don't want to admit it."
The rumble of a luxury car shattered the tension between them. A gleaming black car stopped right in front of the project gate. The door opened, and Satria stepped out in a sharply tailored suit that stood in stark contrast to the filthy construction site.
"What's going on, Maya? Why are you wasting time at the gate?" Satria asked as he approached. His footsteps were steady and authoritative.
Maya looked shaken as she tried to steady her breathing. "Satria, this... this is the photographer the city council sent."
Satria stopped directly in front of Arlan. His eyes narrowed as he looked Arlan up and down with contempt. A mocking smile slowly spread across his face.
"So, the rat really has come crawling back to its hole?" Satria asked disdainfully.
"I'm here to work, Satria. Not to deal with personal matters," Arlan replied calmly, though his hand was clenched tightly behind his camera bag.
"Work? On my project?" Satria laughed loudly, his laughter echoing among the bare trees of Swara Park. "You think I'm going to let someone like you touch this multimillion-dollar project?"
"The city council chose me based on my portfolio in Oakhaven. If you have a problem with that, feel free to contact them. But I doubt they'll be happy to hear that you're rejecting the best photographer over some childish personal issue."
Satria's face hardened. The veins in his neck tightened. He stepped closer until his face was only a few inches from Arlan's.
"You think you're clever, huh? You think hiding behind the city council keeps you safe from me?"
"Satria, enough," Maya interrupted pleadingly. "He's right. The city council stressed how important this documentation is. If we reject him now, the opening schedule could be delayed."
Satria turned toward Maya, his gaze becoming razor-sharp and possessive. He grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her closer.
"You're defending him, sweetheart? After what he did to you five years ago?"
"I'm not defending him! I'm thinking about this project!" Maya cried, trying to wrench her arm from Satria's grip.
Arlan felt his blood boil at the way Satria was treating her. "Let her go, Satria. You're hurting her."
Satria only tightened his grip. "She's my fiancée. What I do to her is none of your business. Understand?"
"Let her go," Arlan repeated in a lower, more dangerous voice.
Satria stared at Arlan for a moment, then slowly released Maya's arm with a gesture that made it seem as if he were throwing away trash. He straightened his jacket, then looked back at Arlan with an unreadable smile.
"Fine. You want to work? Go ahead. I'll let you stay. But don't expect to work in peace."
"What do you mean?" Arlan asked suspiciously.
"You'll document every corner of this park. Including the underground warehouse we're demolishing tomorrow morning. You have one night to finish everything. If you miss even a single corner, I'll make sure your photography license is revoked nationwide."
"One night? That's impossible! This park covers five hectares!" Maya protested.
"He said he's a professional, right?" Satria slapped Arlan's shoulder hard, the gesture feeling more like a threat than a friendly pat. "Happy working, Arlan. Oh, and one more thing. Don't ever try to approach Maya outside of work. I have eyes in every corner of this place."
Satria then dragged Maya away toward the project office without looking back. Maya managed to glance briefly at Arlan, deep fear shining in her eyes before she was forced inside the building.
Arlan stood frozen in the middle of the silent park. He knew this was a trap. Satria had deliberately given him an impossible deadline so he would make a mistake. But something else mattered more. The underground warehouse. That was where the time box had been hidden five years ago.
He had to move fast.
Arlan took out his camera and began photographing every corner with practiced efficiency. But his thoughts kept drifting back to Maya's message. Why was Maya so afraid? And what was Satria really planning by demolishing the warehouse tomorrow morning?
As evening approached, the fog descended again, shrouding Swara Park in premature darkness. Arlan walked toward the back of the park, where an old iron door covered in tangled brush stood. That was the way to the underground warehouse.
As he reached for the doorknob, a hand caught his shoulder from behind.
Arlan jolted and spun around. Danu stood there, breathing hard.
"What are you doing here, Danu? You could get caught!" Arlan hissed.
"To hell with getting caught! I just heard something at Orange Café. Satria doesn't only want to destroy this warehouse, Lan. He wants to destroy you inside it!"
"What do you mean?"
"He's already hired people to make sure this warehouse 'accidentally collapses' while you're down there tonight. Arlan, you have to get out of here now!"
Arlan looked at the iron door in front of him, then at Danu.
"I can't leave. The key... the key I'm carrying is the key to this door, Danu. Whatever's inside, it's the reason Maya begged me for help."
"You're going to die for an old box?"
"I'll die if I let Maya suffer with that man forever."
Suddenly, heavy footsteps approached from the direction of the project office. Several big men with flashlights in their hands began searching the park.
"They're here!" Danu whispered in panic.
Without thinking, Arlan inserted the key into the iron door's lock. With a single turn, the door opened with a wrenching screech. He pulled Danu into the underground darkness just before the flashlight beams passed over their position.
Inside, the air was damp and smelled of ancient dust. Arlan switched on his small flashlight, illuminating a room filled with old wooden crates and rotting archives.
"Where's the box?" Danu asked, his voice trembling.
Arlan swept the room with his flashlight until he found a small alcove in the stone wall. There, a black iron box carved with jasmine flowers sat beneath a layer of dust.
But just as Arlan was about to step forward, the iron door above them slammed shut. The sound of a key turning from outside rang out clearly.
"Good evening, Arlan," Satria's voice came from beyond the door, muffled but brimming with triumph. "I hope you enjoy your documentation work. Unfortunately, you'll never be able to send the results to anyone."
"Satria! Open the door!" Arlan shouted as he pounded on the iron door.
"Don't waste your energy. Tomorrow morning, this place will become the concrete foundation for a new building. You and your secrets will be buried forever beneath Astina City's history."
Satria's footsteps receded, leaving Arlan and Danu in total darkness.
"We're trapped, Lan," Danu whispered, his voice thick with despair. "We're really going to die here."
Arlan didn't answer. He turned his flashlight back toward the iron box. If he was going to die here, then at least he had to learn the truth that had destroyed his life over the past five years.
He walked closer, inserted the key into the box's lock, and turned it. When the lid opened, Arlan was stunned. Inside were not only old letters, but something far more horrifying—something that could change everything.
"Danu... look at this," Arlan whispered, his voice caught in his throat.
But before Danu could see, a rumbling began overhead, coming from the warehouse ceiling. Satria wasn't waiting until tomorrow morning. The demolition had already begun.