The atmosphere turns tense. The other bandits’ eyes flick between Cakara and Agra.

  But Hasya barely pays any attention. Still caught up in his excitement, he scoops up the clothes and hurries to Cakara’s house.

  Something feels different in him. It seems like he no longer sees Adanu Raksa’s present as a threat.

  Maybe it’s Adanu Raksa’s pitiful state. Maybe it’s the idea of having a friend his age for once.

  Whatever the reason, the hatred and jealousy that burned in him last night—are gone.

  “Hey, um—wait, shit, I forgot to ask his name.”

  He laughs to himself, pushing open the door.

  “Look what I have! Well, I’m not sure if you’d like it, but…”

  Once he steps into Cakara’s room, his words die in his throat.

  The bamboo bed is empty. The room is still.

  Hasya frowns, slowly setting the clothes down on a chair while his eyes scan the dimly chaotic space.

  Soon, he rushes to the broken wall, checking the left yard, then the clearing behind the house.

  But nothing.

  Adanu Raksa is nowhere to be seen.

  At first, he assumes Adanu Raksa is wandering nearby. A noble’s son like him wouldn’t dare to stray too far into a forest like this.

  Right?

  But as hours pass and dusk settles over the trees, a cold unease seeps into his gut.

  Something isn’t right.

  Until then…

  “Hey, Hasya!”

  Yodha’s voice calls out from the campfire. He and the other bandits are gathered, feasting on freshly grilled meat.

  Waving a hunk of roasted meat in one hand, Yodha invites Hasya to join. “What’s with the hassle? Come eat! You haven’t had a bite since last night, have you?”

  Hasya rushes to him, his expression taut with worry.

  “The kid—”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “What about the kid?”

  “The kid’s gone!”

  Yodha’s relaxed posture stiffens. “What?”

  “I’ve searched everywhere. He’s not here.”

  Yodha sets his food down, concern flickering across his face.

  Some of the bandits exchange uneasy glances. Looking concerned.

  They barely know the boy—he arrived only last night.

  But after hearing Cakara’s words and seeing how he protected Adanu Raksa from Agra last night—

  They understand.

  His disappearance is their problem.

  Not out of pity for Adanu Raksa, but out of respect for their leader.

  Yodha rises to his feet, nodding to a few others.

  “Come on. Let’s find him.”

  Five men immediately step forward, but the others—including Agra—remain seated, indifferent.

  Agra doesn’t even look up as he tosses a piece of meat at Hasya. “Forget about the kid. Come eat.”

  Hasya’s fists clench. Something about Agra’s tone feels wrong.

  Why the sudden change?

  All this time, Agra has been nothing but harsh—cold words, cruel glances, open disdain.

  But now… he’s offering food?

  Like they’re friends?

  Hasya’s gaze sharpens. “You... you did something to him, didn’t you?”

  Agra finally looks up, his eyes narrowing. “What?”

  “You were the first to leave. I saw you heading toward Cakara’s house. You’ve hated that kid from the start. Last night, you even tried to…”

  Blug!

  Agra slams his meat to the ground and stands abruptly, drawing his sword in a flash.

  “You little bastard,” he growls. “Just because Cakara and I are fighting, you think you can frame me now? You wanna get me kicked out, is that it?!”

  Hasya takes a step back but refuses to lower his gaze. Instinctively, he grabs Yodha’s sword from his belt and raises it defensively.

  But fear grips his limbs.

  Agra approaches, eyes burning with fury. His knuckles tighten around his blade.

  Yodha reacts, intending to stop him.

  But suddenly—

  A crushing, suffocating aura floods the air.

  Cakara steps out from the shadows, his presence heavy, suffused with unspoken rage.

  “That’s enough, Agra.” His voice is quiet—too quiet. “You’ve killed enough kids today.”

  A deadly pause.

  “If you still want blood, why don’t you fight me?”

  Silence hangs thick in the air.

  Agra, despite his arrogance, knows better. He slowly lowers his sword, though his face remains twisted with anger.

  Hasya exhales, chest heaving.

  Stepping closer to Cakara, he quickly explains the situation—his suspicions, Adanu Raksa’s disappearance, and Agra’s actions.

  Cakara listens. He doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze dark and unreadable.

  Then—

  “I haven’t seen the kid since last night,” Agra mutters. “He probably ran away. If you think I killed him, then find his body first.” His lips curl into a sneer. “You’re not about to accuse me without proof, are you?”

  But suddenly, instead of an argument…

  BAM!

  Cakara sends a huge swing.

  A single, crushing blow to the temple. Agra crumples to the ground, blood splattering from his mouth.

  The others freeze. Confused.

  They’ve known Cakara for a long time.

  Now they realize, something in him has changed.

  Cakara watches Agra writhe, expression unreadable.

  Until suddenly…

  << Easy. I know the kid isn’t dead. But you have to find him. You know how important he is to our dreams. >>

  Cakara blinks. His fingers twitch slightly as the whisper fades from his mind.

  He exhales.

  Then, without another glance at Agra, he turns to his men.

  “We have to find the kid before dark. Split into four groups. Search the valley. He couldn’t have gotten far.”

  His men nod. But grumbles rise among them.

  “Damn it. He hit Agra that hard over some kid?”

  “I don’t know what he sees in that brat, but he’s risking everything for him.”

  Cakara hears. But he pays them no mind.

  Glancing at Agra, he takes his leave with a warning.

  “You better pray the kid is still alive. Yodha! Stay here, and keep an eye on him.”

  ***

  Meanwhile—

  Adanu Raksa runs through the dense forest.

  Though the sun is still high, the thick canopy above swallows the light, casting the woods in an eerie, haunting darkness.

  He doesn’t know how far he’s gone. His breath is ragged, his small body trembling from exhaustion.

  But he can’t stop.

  Tears blur his vision. His feet stumble over rocks and roots. His lungs burn, but he keeps pushing forward.

  Then—

  THUD!

  He trips.

  The world tilts violently as he crashes to the ground. Pain shoots up his arms. Dirt fills his mouth.

  Shaking, he lifts his head—

  And freezes.

  A root juts from the ground before him. But in the dimming light, in his terror-clouded mind—

  It looks like them.

  Like the fleshy tendrils.

  Like the nightmare he experienced last night.

  His breath hitches.

  For a moment, his vision wavers—flashes of writhing flesh, the scent of blood thick in the air, the sound of his mother’s screams—

  “No! Get away from me! Get away from…”

  “Hh! Hh! It’s just… a tree root?”

  Once he realizes his current reality, he forces himself up. Tears streak his dirty cheeks, but his face hardens, looks so fierce painted by rage and hatred.

  “Damn you, Bramasti...” His voice shakes with rage. “How dare you betray us?”

  He stumbles forward, his pace uneven, his body weak—

  But his determination burns hotter than ever.

  “I’m coming, Mom. Hold on.”

  “I’ll save you—”

  And with that, Adanu Raksa pushes onward—

  Blind to the cruel truth waiting for him at home.