Don't Wander Too Far

“Jang...”

Pak Kosim approached them.

“What are you telling these two? Don't go around saying things carelessly. I've already told you not to bother them.”

Pak Kosim then sat cross-legged on the floor beside Ujang Belegug.

Ujang chuckled.

“I'm just talking about cassava and coffee, Pak.”

He held up the pack of cigarettes he had just taken out.

“Would you like a cigarette?”

Ujang offered the pack to Pak Kosim.

Pak Kosim accepted it without saying much.

Sagara and Niskala simply listened to the two men talking. There was something about the way Pak Kosim spoke to Ujang that made them feel as though they were witnessing a conversation whose meaning remained beyond their understanding.

As if something were being deliberately concealed.

Sagara was becoming increasingly convinced that this village held secrets they were never meant to discover.

Even Pak Kosim—the man they had considered trustworthy all this time—seemed to be trying to hide something.

Sagara glanced at his younger brother.

As it turned out, Niskala was also watching the conversation intently.

From the look in his brother's eyes, Sagara could tell that a multitude of questions were crowding his mind.

But before Niskala could open his mouth, Pak Kosim spoke first.

“Oh, right. Let's eat before we go to the village head's house.”

He looked at the two brothers.

“After we eat, we'll perform the Dhuhr prayer together.”

Pak Kosim offered a faint smile.

“Make sure you eat until you're full here. Later, at the village head's house, if they offer you food, don't accept it.”

Sagara frowned.

“What if they ask why?”

“Just tell them you've already eaten at my house.”

Pak Kosim shrugged.

“Just find a polite excuse if they offer you anything to eat.”

“Um ... but—”

Niskala was about to ask another question when Sagara gently nudged his arm with an elbow.

“All right, Pak Kosim. I'll follow your advice.”

Sagara smiled politely.

“After all, we're only guests here.”

Niskala turned toward his older brother.

He knew Sagara had deliberately stopped him from asking his question.

Reluctantly, Niskala chose to remain silent, swallowing his curiosity.

Pak Kosim then asked, “By the way... does Nyai know about your visit here? Including your intention to meet the village head?”

The question made Sagara and Niskala exchange glances.

Both shook their heads almost simultaneously.

“We don't know where Grandma is, Pak,” Sagara answered cautiously.

“She seems to be busy gardening near the forest. We tried saying goodbye before leaving this morning, but there was no response.”

Pak Kosim fell silent for a moment.

“Have you checked Nyai's room?”

The question sounded simple enough.

Yet, for some reason, Pak Kosim's tone struck Sagara as though the older man were investigating something.

Sagara hesitated before finally shaking his head.

“Her room is always locked in the mornings.”

He tried to explain.

“That's why we assumed Grandma wasn't home. Usually, after breakfast, the food is already waiting on the dining table.”

Pak Kosim nodded slowly.

Sagara continued watching him.

Something felt wrong.

For some reason, Pak Kosim's question reminded him of something Ujang Belegug had said earlier.

What appears good isn't necessarily good.

And what appears bad isn't necessarily bad.

Sagara did not know why those words had suddenly returned to his mind.

But one thing was beginning to become clear.

In a place like this, he could not afford to trust anyone too quickly.

Not even the person who seemed the kindest of them all.

Although, so far, neither Pak Kosim nor Bu Halimah had given them the slightest reason to suspect them.

—

The four men stood before the imposing gate of a large house.

Sagara and Niskala stood behind Pak Kosim, while Ujang Belegug chose to lean against the boundary wall beside the entrance.

The wall was decorated with reliefs bearing ancient symbols they could not understand. Some resembled carvings of plants, while others looked like strange emblems worn down by the passage of time.

Pak Kosim stepped forward.

“Assalamu'alaikum.”

There was no answer.

He knocked on the gate again.

“Assalamu'alaikum.”

Still, no one responded.

Pak Kosim waited for a few moments before offering the greeting a third time.

“Assalamu'alaikum.”

This time, a voice came from behind the gate.

A moment later, it opened.

A man appeared, wearing a welcoming smile.

“Well, Pak Kosim!”

He greeted them warmly.

“Please, come in. Come on in.”

But his smile gradually faded when his eyes fell upon the figure leaning against the boundary wall.

Ujang Belegug.

His expression changed instantly.

“Jang, get out of here!”

His voice turned sharp.

“My house will stink of burnt incense if you stay around!”

The warmth that had briefly illuminated the village head's face vanished in an instant.

Sagara and Niskala exchanged glances.

Ujang pushed himself away from the wall and straightened up.

His gaze was no less fierce.

“Who said I wanted to see you?”

He snorted.

“I'm only here to make sure my two new friends are doing all right.”

Sagara and Niskala looked at each other again.

New friends?

For some reason, those two words sounded strange.

They had only known Ujang for a short while, yet the eccentric young man was already calling them his friends.

The village head scoffed.

“Enough. Get lost!”

Ujang stared at him for several seconds.

Then he let out a quiet chuckle.

“Fine, then.”

He turned around and walked away from the gate.

However, Ujang did not go very far.

He stopped in front of one of the nearby villagers' houses, where a roofed *amben*—a traditional raised wooden platform used for sitting and resting—stood in the shade of the yard.

Ujang sat down.

Relaxed.

As though nothing had happened.

Yet his eyes remained fixed on the village head's house.

As if he truly intended to make sure the two brothers stayed safe.

Pak Kosim glanced at Ujang briefly.

Then he let out a short sigh.

“Come on. Let's go inside.”

The village head put his welcoming smile back on.

“Please.”

He ushered Pak Kosim, Sagara, and Niskala through the entrance.

As soon as the three of them had passed through the gate, the village head promptly shut it behind them.

The imposing gate once again became a barrier.

Ujang could no longer see what w

as happening inside.

Yet, from his seat on the *amben*, he continued staring at the gate without blinking.

His smile slowly disappeared.

For the first time that day, Ujang's face looked utterly serious.

And he did not look away.