That morning, the city—so familiar to the tall man standing along the sidewalk—felt unusually somber. Gray clouds gathered heavily along the horizon, deepening the gloom in the air. The streets were as crowded as ever, and the sidewalks overflowed with endless streams of pedestrians. Despite the darkening sky and the rising wind, people carried on, laughing and chatting as if nothing had changed.
Why does time seem to pass faster with each passing day?
Months blur into years, years into decades—everything slipping by like a fleeting breeze. The man remembered every change all too clearly. Just like the ground beneath his feet. This very sidewalk had once been a stretch of lush green fields, a thriving tea plantation full of life. Then came the long drought, turning the endless green into a barren sea of dry orange earth. The plantation disappeared. In its place, settlements rose. One by one, people arrived and claimed the land—like animals marking their territory. Houses became clusters, clusters became villages, and villages eventually transformed into a city.
Modernization took over. Time moved forward. Everything changed.
Everything… except him.
He shifted his weight slightly, his legs protesting after standing still for nearly two hours. It seemed that the older he grew, the quicker exhaustion found him. Yet even after a long day of work, he felt no urge to return "home."
Because to him, there was no home.
Only an empty, lifeless building. Cold. Silent. Hollow. There was no warmth waiting for him, no laughter, no happiness. So he chose to remain where he was.
"Is it time already?" he muttered under his breath, a faint, humorless chuckle escaping him.
It really was ridiculous.
His life felt like a broken cassette—playing endlessly without purpose, without meaning. Nothing to see. Nothing to anticipate.
Absurd.
"What name should I use this time…?" he sighed. "Who am I supposed to be now?"
It wasn't a question. It was a complaint.
Living behind masks was exhausting. There was no satisfaction in playing roles forced upon him. Would anything ever feel different? Would something—anything—make him do this willingly?
Enough.
Thinking too much would only make his head ache.
"Raken Aldar…" he murmured to himself. "That'll do."
Before dawn broke—before even the chickens stirred from their slumber—the tall man stepped into the vast courtyard. The estate stretched across hectares of land, grand and imposing. The long path leading to the main entrance alone was enough to drain one's energy.
And yet, it had been a long time since he first stepped foot here.
Soft grass spread like a lush carpet on either side of the road. Everywhere he looked, beauty unfolded—calm, refined, and almost unreal. To him, the place resembled a palace. Not the extravagant Western kind, but something deeply rooted in local heritage. A palace adorned with Indonesian elegance. Rich, rare woods decorated the structure, adding both warmth and prestige.
His steps eventually led him to a private room—one reserved only for a select few.
As the door opened, his eyes fell upon a young man seated inside. He carried himself with quiet authority, his gaze fixed on a small framed photograph in his hand.
Hanganto Ningtyas.
The head of the Ningtyas family—a name that held immense power. Their wealth stretched across countless industries. In fact, it would be nearly impossible to find something in an average household that wasn't connected, directly or indirectly, to their empire.
And yet, the room he occupied was surprisingly modest.
A simple teakwood desk and chair. Bookshelves lining the walls. A large glass panel facing east, offering a breathtaking view of both sunrise and nightfall. A family portrait hung near the entrance, accompanied by a standing lamp tucked neatly into the corner.
The faint scent of wood filled the room as the man stepped in and waited.
"I didn't expect your father to leave so soon."
Hanganto spoke without turning.
"I am Raken Aldar, sir. I'm here to serve you," the man replied firmly.
"Your spirit reminds me of Mepi… your father."
A soft chuckle escaped Hanganto as he finally turned around to face him.
But the moment their eyes met, he froze.
Raken looked exactly like Mepi.
Too identical.
The resemblance struck him like a blow. His chest tightened as memories came rushing back—of Mepi sacrificing his life just yesterday to save him, his wife, and their unborn child. Seeing Raken felt like staring into the past… at Mepi in his younger days.
The weight of it nearly overwhelmed him.
Quickly, he turned away again, unwilling to let his emotions show.
"For some reason," he said quietly, "I find myself trusting you right away, Raken."
"It's an honor, sir."
"Then I have a task for you." His voice grew firmer. "Protect my child. Keep them safe from the cruelty of this world. They haven't even been born yet… and I want you to start guarding them from now—while they're still in the womb."
He paused, his tone sharpening.
"You understand what I mean, don't you, Raken?"
"Yes, sir."
Without hesitation.
"I will protect your child… and Mrs. Hanggini with my life."
Raken bowed deeply, one hand placed over his chest—a gesture of absolute respect.
Not long after, Raken made his way to meet the lady of the house.
Hanggini.
A woman of noble lineage, her grace inherited through generations. Every movement she made carried elegance. Every word, softness.
He found her standing beside an ornamental pond, gently caressing her growing belly. As if the life within her was eager to greet the world.
If only that child knew how cruel the world could be… perhaps it would choose never to be born.
Raken approached quietly and greeted her.
She turned, offering him a warm smile.
"You really do look like Mepi," she said softly. "It's like seeing him all over again."
"He was my father, ma'am," Raken replied, returning the smile.
"Ah… yes. My husband told me." Her expression softened. "We're deeply sorry for your loss. It must have been a terrible shock."
Raken simply nodded, his smile faint but polite.
"This is our first child," she continued, gently stroking her belly. "Please protect them… wherever you are, at all times. We're placing our hopes in you."
Their eyes met.
And in that moment, Raken could feel it—the weight of their trust.
He could not refuse.
"With all due respect, I, Raken Aldar, will protect this family to the best of my ability."
Hanggini shook her head gently.
"No," she said, her voice soft but firm.
"It's not us you need to protect."
Her gaze fell to her belly.
"It's our child."
She looked back at him, her eyes unwavering.
"No matter what happens… don't ever leave them."