That morning, Arya's boarding room felt strange. No cheerful racket from Rika—no off-key singing at dawn, no loud shouting to wake him up, no silly questions thrown at him out of nowhere. Today, everything was quiet. Still.
Arya woke up thirty minutes before his morning class. His phone showed 08:24. Half-awake, he dragged himself out of bed, sunlight spilling lazily through the gap in the curtains. In the corner of the room, Rika sat facing the wall, her small back slightly hunched. Her wavy copper hair fell over her face, making her look fragile.
"Rika… let's go to campus," Arya said softly, trying to draw a response.
She didn't answer. Just shifted a little, still facing the wall. Silent.
Normally, she would've jumped up with a grin, bombarding him with a hundred questions about his plans for the day or whining to tag along. But now—no voice, no laughter. Only silence that pressed on his chest.
Arya let out a long sigh. He wanted to step closer, to force her to talk, to ask what was wrong. But his feet felt heavy. Fear, guilt—something inside him held him back.
"…I'll get going then," he whispered, stepping out.
Class went on as usual. No disturbances, no oddities. Just routine. And that was precisely why Arya felt something was missing.
Without Rika's antics, his world felt hollow. No laughter echoing in his head, no innocent remarks that made him want to cover his face, no tiny hands tugging his sleeve when he was down.
He tried to bury himself in his notes, but his mind drifted. In between lines of scribbled lectures, he saw flashes of copper-red hair leaning beside him, eyes brimming with curiosity. Then—gone. Replaced by an empty chair.
"Why do I feel… something's really wrong?" he thought.
A weight pressed down on his chest, guilt gnawing at him, tangled with a fear he couldn't even name.
"Is this… because of me?" He bit his lip, fighting the whirlpool of thoughts.
His eyes burned. He wanted to go back, to make sure Rika was okay—but was terrified of finding her even further away.
After class, he sat alone in the cafeteria. Not because it was empty—it was bustling with chatter and clinking cutlery—but in his ears, all of it was just hollow noise. He stared blankly through the trees outside, fiddling with a bent straw in his glass of iced tea.
Thoughts of Rika wouldn't leave him. The dreams haunted him—her clutching her chest, golden light spilling between her fingers. His own weakness mocked him; how utterly useless he was in the face of all this.
"When did I… become like this?" he wondered bitterly.
"I've always only cared about myself. Never about anyone else. So why… why am I so worried now?"
The question looped endlessly, suffocating him. Even Dio, who usually drifted around the cafeteria, was nowhere to be seen. Everything felt empty, despite the noise around him.
By the afternoon class, his notebook was filled only with meaningless scrawls. His eyes glazed at the board, but nothing stuck. By evening, he gave up. Too drained—physically, but even more so inside.
On his way home, Arya suddenly froze.
The air turned icy, far colder than it should be. The golden glow of sunset dimmed, though the sky was cloudless. A sharp scent of sea salt and unfamiliar flowers filled the air.
Before him stood a figure: a woman with blazing red hair, her blood-colored gown flowing as if stirred by an unseen wind. Her eyes glittered like gemstones, yet carried a crushing darkness.
Nagini.
"Your face looks more beautiful than before…" she said softly, her voice graceful yet piercing, a delicate smile curling her lips.
Arya's body locked up. His heartbeat thundered, his legs frozen in place. Her aura pressed down on him, suffocating. Cold sweat trickled down his temple.
"Time will keep ticking… and we never know when the clock will stop," Nagini whispered, her voice like waves breaking against the rocks—soothing, yet devastating.
Arya clenched his fists. His whole body trembled, but he forced the words out of his dry throat.
"She… is my friend," he said, halting yet firm.
Nagini tilted her head, her piercing gaze cutting straight into his soul. A faint, enigmatic smile tugged at her lips.
Then—like mist whisked away by the wind—she was gone. The air warmed. The sunlight returned.
Arya collapsed to his knees, trembling. "What the hell was that…" he muttered, anger and fear tangling in his chest. Forcing himself up, he staggered forward.
But the thought of Rika struck him like a jolt. His eyes widened, fear seizing him. He broke into a run toward the boarding house.
"I hope… my worst fear isn't true."
He rushed up the stairs, breath ragged, heart pounding like a drum. Each step echoed in the narrow hallway, amplifying the storm inside him.
He flung the door open.
SLAM!
Arya froze.
There was Rika, sitting on the bed, swinging her legs playfully like a child. She turned her head toward him with a pouty, sulking face—almost her usual self. But the moment their eyes met, she looked away sharply, lips pursed in a mock frown.
"What's wrong with you?" Arya asked, still catching his breath.
Rika huffed dramatically, turning her back to him, legs crossed, staring at the wall.
Arya closed the door gently, leaned on it for a moment to steady himself, then walked over and sat cross-legged on the floor.
"Thank God you're okay…" he whispered hoarsely, hiding the crack in his voice with a faint smile.
Rika glanced over her shoulder briefly, golden eyes glinting, before quickly turning away again with another pout.
Arya bowed his head, his hands trembling against his knees. He swallowed hard.
"I'm sorry…" he said quietly.
Rika didn't move, though her ears twitched slightly.
"Sorry? For what?" she asked flatly.
Arya drew a long breath, chest heavy as if crushed by stone. His voice shook. "For never telling you anything… I thought I could handle this all alone. But the longer I go, the more I lose my way…"
"And?" Rika snapped quickly, her voice sharper now, unease flickering beneath her tone.
"I just… I didn't want to drag you into this. I'm too weak, Rika. I don't know what I'm doing… I don't want to be a burden to you." His voice broke. He bit his lip hard, trying to hold himself together.
Rika stiffened. Slowly, she turned. Her eyes widened as she saw Arya hunched over, shoulders trembling, tears slipping down his face.
"Eh… wait, what? Arya—what are you even talking about?" Panic filled her voice, all her fake anger gone. She spun around fully, facing him, eyes darting in confusion.
Arya kept his head low, tears dripping onto the floor. "I'm really sorry…" he whispered, like a scared child.
"I don't get it, Arya… why are you like this?" Rika's voice trembled now too. Her hands hovered uncertainly in the air, inching closer to him but stopping midway.
"Arya… please, don't do this…" she whispered.
Arya didn't reply. He just covered his face with both hands, curling in as if hiding from the world.
Rika clenched her fists tight. Her chest ached seeing him like this—the stubborn, aloof Arya now so fragile, like glass ready to shatter. She inched closer.
After a long silence, Arya finally exhaled. His voice was barely audible.
"Rika… I need to be honest. These past weeks… I keep dreaming about you."
Rika froze. Slowly, she turned, expression blank.
"What kind of dream?" she asked lightly, though her voice trembled.
Arya's fists tightened in his lap. "Every night, I see you… holding your chest, like you're in pain. And there's this golden light, something glowing in your hands… I don't know what it is."
Rika listened quietly, eyes unblinking. A faint, strained smile tugged at her lips.
"In that place, I can't do anything… I can't even reach you," Arya whispered.
"…Arya, dreams are just dreams. Don't think too much about it," she said gently.
"No! This isn't just some dream, Rika!" Arya's voice rose, his eyes glassy. "Every time it happens, my chest hurts. I wake up gasping."
Rika lowered her head, eyes shut as if holding something back.
"…You're just overthinking. You're stressed, that's all. Look—I'm fine, aren't I?" Her voice was colder now.
"Rika, tell me the truth! You're hiding something, aren't you?" Arya pressed, eyes burning into her.
She lifted her gaze, still smiling faintly, though anger flickered beneath. "Please, Arya… just forget it. This isn't something you need to worry about."
His heart sank. The words struck like a slap. He bowed his head, defeated.
"…If that's what you want… I'll try." His voice was faint, almost swallowed by the air.
Rika sighed in relief, though storms swirled behind her eyes. She knew Arya hadn't truly given up—but for now, he would stop asking.
Not long after, Arya fell asleep on the floor, drained from everything. His breath steadied, his face calm—the face Rika had always sworn to protect.
She watched him for a long time, so long that the moon climbed high. Then, silently, she drifted toward the window, slipping through the glass. She landed softly on the rooftop, the night wind teasing her loose hair.
She looked up at the full moon, smiling faintly… even as tears streaked her cheeks.
"You're better off not knowing…" she whispered, her voice breaking. Only the moon bore witness.
Elsewhere, Dio sprinted through villagers' fields, grass whipping at his legs, sweat dripping down his face.
"Damn… that fox is fast!" he cursed under his breath.
For months, the spirit fox had plagued the area—stealing chickens, biting cats, even chasing children in the yards.
Aura flared around Dio's hands as he skidded behind a tree, senses sharp. "It hides its presence well… barely leaves a trace."
A rustle—"crrk!"—from the bushes.
Dio shot forward. A pale fox darted out, tails glowing like smoke under the moon.
"Got you!" He slammed his palms forward, energy bursting out in a spiral.
CRACK! A boulder split as the fox screamed, dissolving into mist before being sucked into the rift Dio tore open.
Panting, Dio collapsed against a tree. "All alone again… Where's that damn snake tonight?" His voice carried a lonely edge as he looked at the full moon.
High on a hill with Mount Merapi in the backdrop, Nagini sat on a boulder, her crimson gown rippling in the wind. Below, Yogyakarta glittered in the night, its lights scattered like fallen stars. Her gaze was soft, but laced with sorrow.
Once, this land was wild forest and swamps, crawling with spirits. She had raged across it, leaving scars still etched today.
"…It's been so long, hasn't it, Ki Ardhana," she murmured like a lullaby. "I hope you're well, wherever you are…" Her hand lifted as if to touch a face that no longer existed, eyes filled with longing and regret.
That night… all four of them were bound by invisible threads. Each carried secrets, wounds, and prayers left unsaid.
Fate is a mystery—no one knows how a story ends. They could only guess, struggle, hope the outcome would favor them. Perhaps that was the art of living: learning to breathe in the moments of uncertainty.