The rain began to fall, not as a gentle drizzle, but as the heavy downpour typical of the Buitenzorg region. Water overflowed from the ground, turning the footpaths into slippery mud trenches. Adrian moved with the agility of a leopard, his machete hacking through the thickets blocking their path.
Julian, usually accustomed to the marble floors of the palace, struggled to stay upright. He gasped for air, his lungs feeling scorched by the thin, wet mountain air.
"Don't stop, Julian! If we stop now, our tracks will be too easy for their tracking dogs to read," Adrian shouted behind the roar of the rain.
They reached a narrow cleft between two stone cliffs covered in thick moss. Behind it lay a cave entrance, nearly invisible, obscured by the hanging roots of an old banyan tree. Adrian signaled for Julian to enter immediately.
Inside the dark, damp cave, they finally found relief. Adrian lit a small fire using flint and dry twigs stored in a corner of the cave—a sign that this place was indeed frequently used as an emergency hideout.
"Why are you doing this?" Adrian asked suddenly, staring at Julian through the dancing flames. "You are a Van de Berg. You could have just handed me over to Friedrich and lived in luxury forever. Why choose this mud and escape?"
Julian looked down at his hands, soiled by the earth of Buitenzorg. "Because in that palace, I felt like a walking corpse, Adrian. But here, with you and seeing how you live... I feel human for the first time. You are my brother. And I will not let a cowardly history destroy you again."
Adrian remained silent for a long time. He pulled out a piece of Ubi Cilembu from his waist bag, snapped it in two, and gave the larger portion to Julian.
"Eat. We need the strength. Tomorrow, we must find out where Mother and Anne Marie are. If Kartika sent that message, it means she is gambling with her life in Batavia."
That night, sheltered by the ancient stones of Mount Salak, the two men who were supposed to be arch-nemeses slept leaning against the same wall. Outside, the storm raged, as if the world were weeping for the ruin of a family separated by ambition and colonialism.