The following morning, at Koba Baru Pharmacy, the stillness of dawn was ripped apart by a sudden, blood-curdling scream, no, three screams, rising in perfect, chilling unison from the throats of the pharmacists, Dewi, Rasya, and Wina.
The shriek rang out so shrill, so startlingly sharp, that it seemed to rattle the very windows, reverberating out into the quiet street beyond like a siren of dread.
Passers-by froze mid-step. Shopkeepers, just unlocking the shutters of neighbouring storefronts, paused and turned, faces drawn with alarm.
One by one, people began to emerge, some from habit, some from concern, all with the same question furrowed into their brows, "What on earth had happened?"
In mere moments, a small crowd had assembled at the front of Koba Baru Pharmacy.
The pavement teemed with murmuring strangers, their voices low and taut with anticipation.
Eyes darted, heads craned, as though some monstrous truth might emerge from behind the glass door.
A curious shop assistant from the ruko next door stepped cautiously inside, pushing the door open with the wariness of someone approaching a battlefield.
The stench hit him first. Faint, sour, unmistakable.
"Is everything all right, miss?" he asked, though his tone betrayed his doubt.
Dewi turned slowly, her face ashen. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words trembled as they came.
"D-Dead rats… everywhere, sir."
It took but a moment for the onlookers within the pharmacy to grasp the horror to which Dewi had alluded.
As their eyes scanned the room, disbelief gave way to revulsion.
Everywhere, littered like some grotesque offering lay the corpses of rats.
Dozens, perhaps hundreds, strewn across the tiled floor, nestled grotesquely between shelves of medication, and even crammed behind the cashier's counter in morbid stillness.
The stench was immediate and unforgiving, an acrid, fetid odour that punched through the air with venomous intent.
It clawed at their throats and invaded their nostrils, a rank fog of decay that left no room for doubt. This was rot, pure and visceral.
Hands flew to faces in instinctive defence.
Some clutched sleeves to their mouths, others fumbled for scarves, tissues, anything that might serve as a barrier against the invasive reek.
Those who had moments before entered in idle curiosity now recoiled, stumbling towards the exit in a tangle of limbs and muffled cries.
Several, overwhelmed, succumbed to nausea on the threshold, retching helplessly onto the pavement outside Apotek Koba Baru.
The initial hum of intrigue had curdled into shrill, chaotic disgust.
Panic bloomed like mould in the corners of the room, spreading fast, unchecked.
Amid the confusion, Rasya's training seized control where emotion faltered.
With a grimace and steel in her spine, she strode towards one of the lower shelves, scanning quickly for aid.
Her eyes found what she sought. A box of nose masks, half-hidden among rows of antiseptics and gauze.
Yet as she reached for it, her breath hitched.
More of them.
Even here, on the shelf itself, the bodies of rats lay twisted in death limp tails dangling, fur matted with some unspeakable residue.
A shiver of revulsion crawled up her back, and for a heartbeat, she hesitated.
But then, clenching her jaw, she pushed through it, reaching in with a steady hand, retrieving the box without flinching.
With quiet resolve, she turned and began to distribute the masks to those still inside, patients, staff, and stray bystanders alike, each of them frozen in place, trapped between disbelief and the reeking weight of reality.
The masks, flimsy though they were, offered a fragile kind of mercy.
And in a room now thick with the scent of death and dread, even that was enough to keep them breathing.
"Here please, take these," Rasya said, her voice hushed but urgent, as she handed out disposable masks with both hands. "It'll dull the smell, just a little."
The townsfolk accepted them gratefully, clutching the masks as if they were lifelines.
Some muttered thanks through clenched jaws, already slipping the fabric over their faces.
Others said nothing at all, too consumed with the effort of not retching as the fetid air clawed its way down their throats.
Then, like a sudden crack of thunder on a clear morning, a voice rang out.
"What is that writing?!" shrieked a woman near the entrance, a shopkeeper from next door, her words trembling on the edge of hysteria.
She pointed a trembling finger towards the tiled floor of the apothecary, her eyes wide with something between disbelief and dread.
The room seemed to hold its breath.
At once, Dewi, Rasya, and Wina turned, their gazes snapping to the spot as though pulled by a single thread.
With cautious steps, they moved closer, navigating through the macabre landscape of rodent corpses, drawn inexorably towards the thing that had silenced the murmurs and stilled the air.
Upon the cold, tiled floor of the apothecary, bold strokes of blue paint scrawled an obscene message that seared its way into the eyes of all who beheld it.
"ENJOY THAT, YOU DIRTY OLD MEN'S MISTRESSES!!!"
The effect was instantaneous.
A hush, profound and unnatural, fell upon the room, a silence not born of peace, but of shock so acute it rendered even breath an intrusion.
Faces blanched.
Some gasped and recoiled, instinctively covering their mouths as if to shield themselves from the vileness that now stained both tile and dignity.
Others stood rooted, transfixed by the sheer vulgarity of it, unable to look away.
Wina, the youngest of the three apothecaries, stepped back a half-pace, her hand rising to her throat.
Her voice, when it came, was a mere wisp, "What… what does it mean?"
The answer did not come from Dewi or Rasya, but from a woman near the doorway.
Her face etched with alarm, her voice ringing with certainty, "This is a threat, miss. A warning. Someone wanted to shame… and they wanted an audience."
A low murmur of assent stirred among the townsfolk who had lingered just beyond the threshold.
The atmosphere had turned curiosity giving way to outrage, and then to dread.
"This isn't mischief," added a man in a weather-worn jacket, his eyes sharp beneath a furrowed brow.
"It's criminal. You'd best report this to the authorities at once. God knows what else they might do."
No one spoke further.
They simply stared at the words, spiteful, accusatory, gleaming wet under the flickering fluorescence, as though the floor itself had turned traitor and screamed an accusation no one had prepared to hear.