8 : A Difficult Decision

This house still felt unfamiliar, like a temporary stop they could leave at any moment. The new wooden walls held no stories yet—no memories, unlike the home they once had. Everything felt different—quieter, more silent, filled with anxieties hidden behind unspoken thoughts.

During the day, they tried to carry on as if everything was fine. Nyai assigned tasks carefully, ensuring everyone had a role so they wouldn't drown in their own thoughts. Rara's aunt managed the kitchen, her younger brothers and two cousins cleaned the yard, while Rara helped her mother, who still looked pale since the long journey.

But something kept bothering Rara. In the past few nights, she felt like someone was watching them. A dark silhouette in the distance, faint footsteps outside the house, air colder than it should've been. At first, she tried to ignore it, thinking it was just paranoia. But last night, she heard it again.

Slow, soft—like someone deliberately walking without wanting to be heard.

Rara woke up holding her breath, her ears picking up every movement outside. Across the room, Nyai was also awake, her sharp eyes fixed on the door.

"Did you hear that?" Nyai whispered, barely audible.

Rara nodded.

They waited, but the sound eventually faded, swallowed by the darkness of night.

The next morning, just as the sun began to rise, Pak Tirta found something in the front yard.

"Footprints," he muttered, his voice deeper than usual.

Everyone gathered, staring at the marks in the soil. They didn't belong to any of them. Someone had come here last night.

"Whoever it was, they didn't want to be seen," Pak Tirta added. "And we must start being more careful."

Tension grew after that. The front door was locked earlier each evening, the oil lamps in the corners were left burning until dawn. No one was allowed to go outside unaccompanied.

But that sense of calm only lasted two days.

Because after that, someone came.

A middle-aged man stood in front of their house, wearing simple brown earth-toned clothes. His face was stern, but his eyes carried something different—not threat, not fear, but understanding.

"Greetings, Nyai, Madam… I am Ki Surya," he said when he was finally allowed inside. His voice was calm, but firm. "I used to serve in the Duke's Department of Justice, and I was close to the master."

The name made the air in the room seem to freeze.

Nyai stared at the man for a long time, her eyes full of caution. "If you truly knew Wiratma, why are you only coming now?"

Ki Surya sighed. "Because I only just learned of your situation. I come bearing news."

Rara swallowed hard, waiting for his next words.

"The master and the third lord are not just being held," Ki Surya continued. "They are about to be transferred to a more distant and isolated place… Benteng Gading."

The room fell into sudden silence.

Benteng Gading.

That name was not just a place. It was the end for those considered threats to the kingdom. Not merely a prison, but a place where those who entered rarely returned the same—if at all.

Nyai remained calm despite the shock, but Rara could see the tension written in the lines of her face.

"WHAT? Why should we believe you?" the second lady snapped, her voice sharp.

Ki Surya met her gaze without flinching. Slowly, he reached into the folds of his garment and pulled out a small object that glinted under the oil lamp's light.

A silver badge, engraved with a symbol of three intersecting lines.

Rara held her breath. She recognized that symbol.

The Third Lord's badge. Their uncle.

Nyai immediately reached for it, clutching the badge tightly, as if needing to confirm it was truly real in her hand. Her wary gaze shifted into something sharper, full of questions.

"Where did you get this?" Nyai's voice dropped, but the tension behind it was unmistakable.

Ki Surya exhaled. "I happened to see some royal guards leaving the capital not long ago. I recognized a few of the men they were escorting, and by chance, I called out to the Third Lord… His was the only face I could clearly see."

Rara's heart sank.

Nyai looked at Ki Surya intently. "And then what happened?"

Ki Surya clasped his hands tightly on his knees, as though steadying his thoughts before answering. "He turned briefly in my direction. But before he could say anything, the guards quickly pulled him forward. I couldn't do much, but… in that moment, this badge slipped from his hand. I picked it up before the guards noticed."

Nyai remained silent for a long time, gently rubbing her thumb across the badge. Her expression was unreadable, but Rara could see the deepening worry in her eyes.

Pak Tirta, who had remained silent all this time, finally spoke. "And now you've come for what?"

Ki Surya looked at each of them before finally saying, "I don't want anything. But I also bring a final message from one of the royal guards… to deliver this paper to the Young Lady."

Rara's eyes widened. Carefully, she accepted the small scroll handed to her by Ki Surya. Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened it.

The writing inside was not long.

"The male members of your family will remain in the outer royal prison for one more week. After that, they will be transferred to Benteng Gading. If there is anything you wish to do... do it before it's too late."

Rara reread the words, as if hoping she had misunderstood. But the more she stared at the message, the clearer it became—this warning was a bitter reality.

When she turned to Nyai, the elder woman's eyes were closed. Her face remained calm, but her clenched fists on her knees revealed that her heart was far from at peace.

Benteng Gading awaited.

And they had only one week.

She couldn't just sit still.

The room felt utterly silent after Ki Surya's departure, broken only by the faint flickering of candle flames swaying in the breeze. The scent of burning oil lingered in the air, while the dancing shadows on the walls seemed to echo their unease.

Rara looked at the faces gathered around her. Nyai, the Grand Lady—her mother, Pak Tirta who had just returned after escorting Ki Surya, and her aunt who had remained quiet the whole time. All of them looked exhausted—not just physically, but emotionally.

Their expressions no longer held hope, only the remnants of anxiety that clung persistently.

No.

Rara couldn't bear to see them fall deeper into despair.

She took a deep breath and rose to her feet. Without wasting time, she spoke with a voice that was firm yet gentle,

"Nyai, we don't have much time. I want us to start preparing whatever we can before it's too late."

All eyes turned to her. Nyai gazed at her with an unreadable look, but said nothing to stop her.

"We must gather half of what remains of our possessions," Rara continued. "Whatever we can still salvage, let it be enough to sustain us here. The rest, we'll use as an offering to arrange a meeting with Father and Uncle before they're moved to Benteng Gading."

Her aunt frowned. "Are you sure that will work?"

"There's no guarantee," Rara answered honestly. "But if we don't try, then all we can do is wait and hope—without any certainty."

Nyai was silent for a moment, then finally gave a slow nod.

"I'll begin sorting through the items we brought when we first arrived," she said. "We'll keep only what's truly useful. The rest, we'll sell."

Rara felt a slight relief seeing Nyai begin to take action. She then turned toward her mother.

"Mother, I'd like to ask for something."

The Grand Lady looked at her with eyes still full of sorrow. "What is it, dear?"

"Please allow me and some of the servants to take on odd jobs for a while."

Once again, the room fell silent.

"T-That's not necessary," her aunt responded, shocked. "You're still too young to work. Besides, we still have enough savings."

"No, Aunt. No one knows how long we'll last with what we have," Rara said firmly. "Father and Uncle need us. If we only rely on what's left, it will run out even faster."

Nyai looked at her sharply. "Are you truly certain?"

Rara met her gaze with resolve."If I can work, at least we'll have some additional income. I can't just sit here while Father and Uncle are still in danger."

Pak Tirta, who had been quiet until then, finally spoke. "If the young lady is this determined, I'll try to reach out to a few acquaintances who might offer work—and please allow me to accompany you. At least, with jobs that aren't too strenuous."

The Grand Lady seemed like she wanted to object, but in the end, all she could do was let out a long sigh."If this is what you truly want, dear… then all I can do is pray that everything goes well."

Rara held her mother's hand tightly. "Thank you, Mother."

With that decision, the heavy night slowly began to move forward.