DISTRICT LEADERS [2]

Cengkareng District, At the Market.

The hot air mixed with the stench of rotten meat, spices, and sweat filled the market. The shouts of vendors, coarse laughter, and the rustling of plastic broke the concentration. Amid the crowd, two men in conspicuous suits stood like ink stains on dirty paper.

Chi Sadan, the Leader of Tangerang District, stood tall in his flawless black suit. His dark sunglasses reflected the sunlight, hiding his cold gaze. His hands were clean, spotless—as if this market was too filthy to touch.

Beside him, Johan, the Leader of Cengkareng District, was smoking a cigarette with a wide smile. His jacket was open, his tie crooked, and his shirt collar wrinkled. He walked casually but kept his eyes on Chi Sadan like a guard dog.

"How is it, Sir? Our market is quite lively, isn't it?" Johan swept his gaze around. "Oh, and this is a special place—at night, there's entertainment that's... hotter."

Chi Sadan did not answer. His finger tapped the sleeve of his jacket with a steady rhythm like a clock. His eyes stopped on a fishmonger stealing from the scale.

"Not interested, Sir? I can show you something more interesting!" Johan whispered as he leaned in. "We also have connections like you. Even better—"

"Enough." Chi Sadan cut him off. His flat voice was enough to stop Johan in his tracks.

They walked out, passing narrow alleys between carts. The cobblestone street turned into dusty soil sticking to their expensive shoes.

Suddenly—

*WHENGGG!*

A motorcycle sped by, its rear tire splashing through a puddle of filthy water.

*PRUAKK!*

Mud sprayed like bullets. People around shouted, cursing the motorcyclist who had disappeared.

But not a single drop hit Chi Sadan or Johan.

With devilish reflexes, Johan dragged an old vendor forward—making him a human shield. The dirty vendor's clothes were splattered, while Johan's suit stayed pristine.

"Hey! What's this?!" the vendor howled, his face red.

"Outrageous! Do you think you can treat us like this?!" others yelled.

Johan just smiled.

Before the mob's rage exploded, a group of teenagers in suits—but worn like cheap costumes—emerged from the crowd.

"Trouble, Boss?" One teen chewed gum, twirling a switchblade in his hand.

Johan shrugged. "No. No trouble."

The teens stared at the crowd. No words were needed—just their looks.

And the crowd dispersed.

Chi Sadan was already walking toward a black car parked at the end of the street. Johan hurried after him, still smiling.

"Leaving already, Sir? What a shame! Next time, I'll show you something more thrilling—"

The car door opened. But before Chi Sadan could get in—

An old man wearing a straw hat blocked the way.

He held a bunch of colorful balloons. A small child stood next to him, eyes wide and empty.

Johan growled. "Damn beggar! You're looking for trouble?!"

Chi Sadan squinted. "Poor people like you disgust me."

The old man laughed—his voice like rattling chains. "Ouch, offended because I called you a beggar and poor!"

He reached into his pocket. Johan and Chi Sadan braced themselves—

But he only pulled out a worn piece of paper.

"I'm just a courier. Oh, and because of you two... I'll give you only one. To save it."

He handed the paper to Johan. Chi Sadan hissed, his fingers reaching for his jacket button—ready to take it off for a fight.

But Johan held back his arm.

"Are you crazy?! Let go!" Chi Sadan hissed.

"He's not an ordinary opponent," Johan whispered, his tone suddenly serious. "If you fight him, you'll disappear. If you take something from him, he'll take everything from you."

"You know him?"

"Enough to know we have to leave."

They opened the paper.

"Meeting of District Leaders... West Jakarta?"

[ Grogol Petamburan District, Midnight.]

The Public Cemetery—usually silent—was filled tonight with shouting and dangdut koplo music. Drunk youths danced on the graves, liquor bottles scattered among the tombstones. The stench of weed and vomit stung the air.

In the darkest corner was a swamp with waist-high grass. The wind rustled, as if whispering to those brave enough to approach: "Go away."

But tonight, a heavily drunk young man—his bladder about to burst—

"Ahh... can't hold it anymore!"

Staggered toward the swamp, lowering his pants.

"Ahhh... relief!"

His urine splashed onto the bushes. But he didn't notice—

Someone was sleeping behind the grass.

The warm liquid flowed onto the person's face.

He awoke.

The drunk man suddenly shivered. The air turned cold. As he opened his eyes—

A 2.5-meter tall black figure stood before him.

"G-Genderuo!!!"

He wanted to scream, but his voice vanished. Wanted to run, but his legs froze.

He disappeared.

The giant yawned, about to sleep again. But—

Someone else urinated on the same spot.

"Bastard!" Genderuo stood up, angry. But when he turned—

An old man in a black hat smiled.

The giant trembled.

"Yo, Mr. Jin To... the Mysterious," said the old man, playing with his hat. "Lazy sir, did you like my gift? Don't be mad, I was just told to teach you a lesson."

He threw a letter. Jin To caught it with one hand.

"Meeting of District Leaders... West Jakarta?"

The next morning—

Someone was found crushed flat at the swamp's edge, as if run over by a truck.

But there were no tire tracks.

And no one dared to report it.

—TO BE CONTINUED—