Heavy rain poured over the law office roof, accompanying Ari's footsteps as he ended a phone call with a grim expression.
"This case makes no sense, Mas," said Sekar, his assistant, handing him a red folder. "It went viral on TikTok. But... the legal evidence is weak."
Ari opened the folder slowly. A photo of a young mother crying had spread across social media. The headlines were provocative: "Mother Arrested for Stealing Milk for Her Baby."
"Public loves drama. But the law needs proof," Ari muttered, his eyes fixed on the woman's face. There was something off—too neat for just a spontaneous tragedy.
He stood and walked toward the window. Jakarta at night was dim and full of lights. But his mind was darker still.
"If this is another setup, they're getting closer."
Sekar looked at him, concerned. "They?"
Ari gave a slow nod.The conspiracy people once called a theory… now felt painfully real.And as always, he had to fight it—alone.
The lights flickered for a second—Jakarta's way of reminding its people that even electricity could be unstable, just like justice.
Ari turned away from the window, brushing invisible dust from his sleeves. A ritual. A distraction. A habit born from courtrooms and quiet rage.
"Schedule her in," he said.Sekar raised an eyebrow. "The mother?""Yes. Tomorrow morning. Early. Before the cameras do their dance."
Sekar hesitated. "You really think this one's part of it?"
Ari didn't answer immediately. He sat down, opened his drawer, and pulled out a thin black notebook. Names. Patterns. Clues. None proven, but all too consistent to ignore.
"She's either a victim of poverty," he finally said, "or a pawn in something worse."
The silence between them was heavy.
Then, the office door creaked open. A man in a raincoat stood there, soaked and shaking. Not from the cold—but from fear.
"Are you... Muhammad Ari Pratomo?"
Ari stood slowly. "Yes. You are?"
The man pulled out a flash drive. "They said… if I didn't give this to you tonight, I'd disappear by morning."
His voice cracked. "Please. Help me."
Ari took the flash drive without a word. His pulse quickened.This wasn't just another night.This was the beginning of something that refused to end.
Ari didn't flinch. He simply gestured to the chair across his desk.
"Sit," he said, calmly but firmly.
The man obeyed, his soaked clothes leaving small puddles on the floor. His hands trembled as he placed the flash drive on the table, sliding it toward Ari as if it burned his skin.
"They're watching everything. Phones. Emails. Even lawyers," the man whispered.
Ari tilted his head. "Who are 'they'?"
The man looked at him—eyes bloodshot, terrified. "People who hide behind titles. Behind power. I was one of them."
Ari's grip on the flash drive tightened slightly. He recognized that look. The look of someone who had crossed a line… and now wanted a way back.
"I worked in procurement. Government contracts. Clean on the outside, rotten underneath," the man continued. "The mother in that video? She's a warning."
Ari's heart skipped a beat.
"A warning to you."
Sekar gasped softly, but Ari stayed silent, listening, processing.
"They know you dig too deep," the man said, voice low. "This isn't just about defending the innocent. It's about staying alive."
Ari stood. Slowly. Deliberately. He walked to a locked cabinet and placed the flash drive inside.
Then he turned to the man. "What's your name?"
The man hesitated. "It doesn't matter. Just promise me one thing…"
Ari met his eyes.
"Whatever happens," the man said, "don't let this story die."
Ari nodded once. A quiet promise.
Outside, the rain eased. But inside that room, the storm had only begun.
Ari didn't ask more questions. Not yet. He had learned, long ago, that the most dangerous truths were the ones people weren't ready to say out loud.
Instead, he turned toward Sekar.
"Take him to the safe room. Make sure he gets dry clothes. Food, if he can eat."
Sekar nodded and helped the man up. Before they left, the man looked over his shoulder one last time.
"If I disappear… don't trust the official reports," he said."They'll call me a criminal, or insane. But you've seen what they do to people who talk."
Ari didn't reply. He just watched until the door closed behind them.
Then, alone in the room, he walked back to his desk. The silence was deep—almost sacred. Like the pause before a verdict. Or a war.
He opened the cabinet again. Took out the flash drive. Plugged it into a laptop that wasn't connected to any network. His fingers moved with care, like a surgeon handling a living heart.
Files appeared—dozens of them. Documents. Videos. Audio clips. Names of officials. Leaked messages. Proof of altered verdicts. Even manipulated viral content.
And there—at the center of it all—his own name.
"Project: ARI"
Ari leaned back slowly, breath caught in his throat. His eyes didn't blink.
This wasn't just about justice anymore.It was personal.They weren't just trying to scare him.
They were building a narrative—where he would be the villain.
He looked out the window again. The city lights had dimmed under the thick fog. The night was far from over.
He locked the files back inside the cabinet. Not because he feared the truth—but because timing was everything. In law, in war, and in survival.
Ari took a long breath. His reflection stared back at him from the glass—sharp suit, tired eyes, and a storm behind them.
He hadn't chosen this fight.But he had made a vow, years ago, when his first client cried in a courtroom no one believed in.
That the law must speak louder than fear.That silence would never win.