The Woman in The Red Blazer

“Enough. Just leave that strange young man alone.”

Sagara sighed and prepared a glass of water for Niskala to take his medicine.

According to the doctor at the local health clinic, the bruise on Niskala’s neck was most likely caused by an impact he had not felt. As for the strange smell coming from the mask—one that only Niskala could detect—the doctor suspected it might be related to something going on inside his body.

There were no symptoms indicating an emergency. However, to determine the exact cause, Niskala was advised to undergo a more thorough examination at the hospital in the city.

Sagara handed his younger brother the glass of water and his medicine.

“Does it still hurt, Dek?”

Niskala shook his head.

“Much better now.”

“Let me see.”

Sagara moved closer. He was about to examine the back of Niskala’s neck, exactly where the bruise had appeared earlier.

But the moment he raised his hand, he suddenly froze.

The bruise ...

was gone.

There was no bluish discoloration. No sign of an injury. Even Niskala’s skin looked perfectly normal, as though nothing had ever happened.

Sagara blinked several times.

“What’s wrong, Bang? Why do you look so shocked?”

“The bruise...” Sagara pointed at Niskala’s neck. “It’s gone, Dek.”

Niskala touched the back of his neck.

“Seriously?”

Sagara slowly nodded.

Niskala smiled in relief.

“Alhamdulillah. That’s good, then.”

He even let out a small chuckle. But the laughter slowly faded.

Niskala touched his neck again.

Something unsettling began to creep into his thoughts.

A bruise that large couldn’t simply disappear in such a short time.

Especially when he could still feel the pain only moments ago.

Niskala looked at Sagara.

“Bang ...”

“Hmm?”

“If the bruise is already gone ...”

He paused for a moment.

“... then why do I still feel like there’s something here?”

His hand remained pressed against the back of his neck.

Sagara did not answer immediately.

For a few moments, the two brothers simply stared at each other.

Something was not right.

And for the first time, they began to realize that whatever was happening to Niskala might not have been caused by an ordinary injury.

—

Sagara closed the Qur’an he had just finished reading and placed it upright on the nightstand. He had just completed his Isha prayer.

Beside the nightstand, Niskala sat on a small bench with his back directly facing the window. He looked relaxed as he enjoyed a cup of black coffee that was beginning to cool and a plate of assorted traditional cakes he had bought that afternoon.

He had been quietly listening to the verses of the Qur’an recited by his older brother with deep devotion.

“Have you taken your medicine, Dek?”

“Yes, Bang. This afternoon, after I ate.”

Niskala took a sip of his coffee.

“But I’m hungry again now. I don’t know why, but I’ve been wanting to eat all day. And I’ve been craving coffee, too.”

He pointed toward the plate of snacks on the nightstand.

“Luckily, a food vendor came around this afternoon. I bought two packages. I gave one to Grandma, and the other one is for the two of us. Come on, have some.”

Niskala held out the plate of snacks to Sagara.

Sagara sat on the edge of the bed and folded his prayer mat. When he was done, he draped it over the bed frame. Then his hand reached for a bihun-filled risol—his favorite snack since childhood.

After just one bite, his thoughts drifted toward their father and grandfather.

Back then, whenever they returned to this hometown, Nyi Rukmini would often serve them bihun-filled risol and buras stuffed with spicy oncom.

Even on the first day they returned to the hamlet, Nyi Rukmini had served them those same dishes.

A bitter smile appeared at the corner of Sagara’s lips.

Some memories, it seemed, were still deeply rooted in this place.

“Oh, right, Bang.”

Niskala suddenly remembered something.

“I met Pak Kosim this afternoon. He asked if we had already paid a visit to the hamlet chief.”

Sagara looked at him.

“He said that whenever someone from outside the village comes here, they’re usually expected to report to the neighborhood head and ask permission from the hamlet chief as well.”

Niskala scratched his temple.

“Um... according to Pak Kosim, there’s some kind of custom or ritual for welcoming outsiders to the village.”

Sagara fell silent.

Nyi Rukmini had never mentioned anything about it. Ever since they arrived, their grandmother had only asked them to visit the graves of their grandfather and father.

“Well, then. Tomorrow, we’ll go to the hamlet chief’s house.”

“There’s something else, Bang...”

Just as Sagara was about to take a sip of the coffee Niskala had prepared, his younger brother suddenly continued.

“They say Ujang Belegug isn’t a native of this hamlet, Bang.”

Sagara lowered his cup.

“Apparently, according to the rumors going around, he became strange because he once violated one of the customs here.”

Sagara’s brow furrowed.

“You mean he didn’t ask the hamlet chief for permission when he came here?”

“Pak Kosim didn’t say what he did wrong. Besides, Grandma called me earlier, so I didn’t get the chance to talk to him much.”

Sagara nodded slowly.

“Tomorrow, we’ll stop by Pak Kosim’s house too, after we visit the hamlet chief.”

Niskala nodded.

He took another sip of his coffee. Only a few milliliters remained at the bottom of the cup.

But just as he was about to put it down, the back of his neck suddenly felt cold.

Then—

Fuuuh...

It felt as though something had blown directly against the back of his neck.

Niskala instinctively turned around.

The window behind him was tightly shut. The sheer curtain was closed as well. There was no opening through which any breeze could have entered.

Slowly, he reached for the back of his neck.

His expression changed, caught somewhere between confusion and unease.

“What’s wrong, Dek?”

“Something blew on the back of my neck, Bang.”

Niskala shuddered.

“I could really feel it.”

Sagara’s eyes narrowed.

“Your sensitivity is getting stronger here, Dek.”

Sagara stared intently at his younger brother.

“You’ve seen and felt strange things several times since we arrived in this hamlet.”

Niskala rubbed both of his arms. Suddenly, he felt a slight tremor run through his body.

“Say your istighfar, Dek. Don’t forget to recite your dhikr.”

Sagara tried to remain calm.

“Even I, who can’t sense anything like you do, have felt that something is wrong ever since we arrived here.”

Sagara then gazed toward the window.

The curtains were still open, but the pitch-black night outside was obscured by the sheer curtain.

Only the faint glow of the light on the warehouse porch could be seen, resembling a glowing orb behind the thin fabric.

“Tomorrow, we have to continue cleaning the warehouse,” Sagara said with a heavy sigh.

His thoughts returned to the old warehouse that had been locked for so long.

The thick layer of dust covering every corner of it.

“Yeah, Bang. I’ll help.”

Niskala smiled faintly.

“Hopefully my neck won’t hurt anymore.”

He casually turned around.

He only wanted to take another look at the warehouse from a distance.

But his body suddenly froze.

His eyes locked onto something outside.

A woman was standing directly in front of the warehouse door.

A red blazer.

Her hair hanging loose around her shoulders.

And this time,

the woman was not facing them.

She stood with her back to the window.

Her back to Niskala.

Motionless.

Not moving an inch.

Niskala’s breath caught in his throat.

“Bang...”

Sagara turned toward him.

“She’s here again.”