Swamp

As dusk settled over the horizon, Havi's weary footsteps echoed faintly through the winding paths of Loban Village, guiding him homeward.

Shadows lengthened and danced around him, the forest's gentle whispers and rustling leaves weaving a symphony of nostalgia.

Choosing a shortcut through the dense woods, Havi followed a path he had once known intimately, one that seemed to beckon him with memories of a simpler time.

Once, these forest trails had been his playground, their mysteries sparking an insatiable curiosity.

While many elderly villagers dared not tread beyond the forest's edge, deterred by tales of its sacred and eerie nature, Havi had never shared their fears.

The whispered legends and foreboding warnings passed down through generations had fascinated him more than frightened him.

His parents, too, had often cautioned him. They spoke in hushed tones of the forest's ancient secrets, urging him to respect its enigmatic presence.

But Havi, ever the sceptic, dismissed their admonitions as mere folklore. His logical mind sought answers in the tangible and the real, brushing aside the mysticism that so enthralled the villagers.

Yet tonight, as he traversed the moonlit woods, a peculiar feeling crept into his heart, a sense that the forest held more than mere shadows.

It was as if the trees themselves harboured stories untold, their towering forms cloaked in an aura of intrigue.

After some time, Havi stumbled upon an unexpected sight. His steps faltered as he came upon a waterlogged clearing, a tranquil swamp nestled deep within the forest's embrace.

Dense vegetation cloaked the area, and ancient trees, their branches reaching skyward like skeletal hands, framed the serene landscape.

"A swamp!" Havi whispered, his voice tinged with astonishment. "How could I have missed this hidden gem?"

The discovery ignited his curiosity, and he ventured closer. The swamp, untouched and primordial, seemed a world apart, its still waters reflecting the canopy above.

As he surveyed his surroundings, his gaze fell upon a grove of peculiar trees-tall, graceful Percha trees whose bark glistened faintly in the dim light.

A broad smile spread across Havi's face, his heart racing with excitement. These trees, he realised, were no ordinary find.

The Percha tree, native to distant South America, had gained immense value in recent years for its precious sap, a substance used in countless industries.

"Divine providence smiles upon me," Havi murmured, his voice filled with reverence. To him, the presence of these trees in Loban Village was nothing short of a miracle, a gift from the heavens.

Havi's mind raced with possibilities. The sap of the Perca tree, renowned for its utility in tyre manufacturing, textiles, and even pharmaceuticals, could transform the village's fortunes.

If he kept the location of this grove a secret, he could harvest the sap and become a key supplier to industries both near and far.

His thoughts turned to the textile factory on the border of Loban and Wlahar villages, a facility likely reliant on imported materials. "If I can offer them a local supply," he mused, "I could secure a steady source of income and pave the way for the village's progress."

Havi's imagination soared. Beyond the textile industry, he envisioned partnerships with automotive manufacturers, bicycle tyre producers, and even pharmaceutical companies. The economic potential was staggering, and for the first time in years, he felt a glimmer of hope.

With renewed determination, Havi left the swamp, the outline of a plan forming in his mind. His discovery had eased one of his greatest worries, funding his vision of a brighter future for Loban Village.

Now, the challenge lay in executing the first harvest and ensuring the village reaped the benefits of its hidden treasure.

As he approached his home, Havi noticed the house was empty. His parents were undoubtedly toiling away, eking out a living through their modest but honest labours.

A pang of guilt struck his heart as he thought of their sacrifices, their unwavering love and dedication to his wellbeing.

Tears welled in his eyes as he vowed silently, I will make you proud. I will make your sacrifices worthwhile.

Exhausted but resolute, Havi sank onto the bamboo daybed, its cool surface offering a moment's reprieve.

The day's discoveries and plans swirled in his mind, but soon, the comforting embrace of sleep overtook him.

Beneath the starry canopy of Loban Village, Havi dreamed of a future where the forest's secrets illuminated not only his life but the lives of all who called the village home.

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(At Another Place)

The tension in the air was palpable as Haryo Wibowo, a veteran entrepreneur with over three decades of experience, stormed into the office of Nictex Usaha Jaya Ltd (Nujaya Ltd).

The faint hum of machines outside did little to mask his fury as he reprimanded one of his subordinates.

"Do you mean to tell me that Karet Bagus Ltd has severed ties with us?" Haryo's voice, though controlled, carried the weight of his frustration.

At 51, Haryo was known for his sharp acumen and unyielding determination, traits that had propelled Nujaya Ltd to become a formidable player in the textile industry. Yet, this latest development threatened to undo years of effort.

The news had hit him like a thunderclap : their primary natural rubber supplier, Karet Bagus Ltd, had abruptly terminated their longstanding partnership.

The timing could not have been worse, with Nujaya Ltd already grappling with dwindling reserves of raw materials critical for their textile production.

Nictex Usaha Jaya Ltd, located on the border of Loban and Wlahar Villages, was teetering precariously on the brink of bankruptcy.

The severance of the supply chain was not merely an inconvenience, it was a crisis that threatened the factory's very survival.

In a desperate bid to secure alternative sources, Haryo and his team reached out to major suppliers, small-scale providers, and local rubber farmers alike.

Yet, to their dismay, every potential partner rebuffed their overtures, leaving Nujaya Ltd stranded.

"Why would every single supplier turn us down?" Haryo mused aloud, his brow furrowed. The question hung in the air like a dark cloud, its answer eluding him.

The pieces began to fall into place when an investigation unearthed a troubling truth: all the suppliers had entered into an exclusive agreement with Hextex Abadi Ltd, a competing textile factory.

Haryo clenched his fists, his mind racing. Yunus Adirjo... The name brought a bitter taste to his mouth.

Yunus Adirjo, the ambitious owner of Hextex Abadi Ltd, had harboured a deep-seated grudge against Nujaya Ltd. Despite being a relatively new player in the textile industry, Hextex Abadi Ltd had long viewed Nujaya Ltd as a formidable adversary.

Haryo's factory, with its stellar reputation for quality and innovation, had swiftly risen to prominence, dominating the domestic market and overshadowing Yunus's enterprise.

Yunus's vendetta stemmed from fear-a fear that Nujaya Ltd's continued success would spark a nationwide shift in favour of their superior products.

Such a shift would render Hextex Abadi Ltd obsolete, jeopardising its survival.

Unwilling to stand idly by, Yunus had resorted to sabotage. It was he who had orchestrated the mass exodus of suppliers, ensuring that Nujaya Ltd's lifeline was severed.

His machinations were calculated, ruthless, and effective, leaving Haryo and his team scrambling for solutions.

Haryo paced his office, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on his shoulders. The rhythmic click of his shoes on the polished floor was the only sound as he contemplated his next move.

"This isn't over," he muttered under his breath, determination glinting in his eyes. He would not allow Yunus Adirjo to dismantle everything he had built.

As the day wore on, Haryo resolved to fight back. He knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but he was no stranger to adversity.

If Nujaya Ltd was to survive, it would require ingenuity, resilience, and an unrelenting spirit.

Outside, the factory workers continued their tasks, unaware of the storm brewing within their leader's mind. Haryo's resolve hardened as he gazed out at the machinery that symbolised his life's work.

Let Yunus play his games. He doesn't know who he's dealing with.

And with that, Haryo Wibowo began to craft a plan, a plan that would not only save Nujaya Ltd but secure its place as an unassailable force in the textile industry.

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