The Hidden Traces

The smell of dampness wafted through the air once again as the storage shed door swung open. With very little lighting, the room, measuring approximately sixteen square meters, looked gloomy and stuffy.

Several books on the shelves had even begun to decay after being left exposed to excessive moisture for so long.

And then there was the thick layer of dust covering almost every corner.

Sagara coughed. He quickly waved his hand to brush away the dust floating in front of him. As he stepped inside, his sleeve accidentally brushed against the top of a shelf. He felt something slick and sticky cling to the fabric.

Sagara rubbed the stain with his fingertip.

It felt like oil.

His eyes then settled on an object sitting on the shelf. Not far from what appeared to be a spill, there was an old kerosene lamp with its glass cover slightly ajar.

Perhaps it was kerosene.

The young man ventured farther into the shed, carefully observing his surroundings. He let out a heavy sigh.

How long has this place been left untouched?

Sagara wondered.

He understood perfectly well. The bookshelves lining the room were certainly too heavy for a woman as old and frail as his grandmother to move around.

Still, something about it puzzled him.

Considering Nyi Rukmini's wealth, it seemed impossible that his grandmother couldn't afford to hire someone to clean and maintain this storage shed.

Yet the place had been left to deteriorate, almost as if no one lived there.

The numerous shelves and books made the shed look more like a rundown old library than an ordinary storage room. There were only a few other objects besides the books that occupied nearly the entire space.

Sagara crouched down and ran his finger through the layer of dust on one of the shelves.

It was so thick that it clung to his fingertip.

Just then, a familiar voice came from behind him.

"Hey, Young Man."

Sagara flinched.

He immediately turned around.

Ujang Belegug was standing a few steps behind him.

Sagara's brows knitted together. He couldn't understand how the man had managed to get inside Nyi Rukmini's property.

"Kang Ujang? How did you get in here?" he asked suspiciously.

For a brief moment, Sagara had even wondered whether the man had climbed over the two-meter-high fence surrounding his grandmother's house.

Ujang Belegug chuckled.

"See? I came in through there. It wasn't properly locked, so I could still get through."

He pointed with his chin toward a window at the back of the shed.

Curious, Sagara immediately approached the window and peered outside.

Only then did he notice it.

No wonder Ujang had managed to get in.

There was a narrow footpath behind the shed, connected to a small gate in the property's fence.

The gate was just wide enough for one person to pass through. Its design was not much different from the main entrance, except that it was considerably smaller.

However, wild bushes growing around the back of the shed had almost completely concealed both the footpath and the gate. Without looking carefully, anyone might have mistaken the area for nothing more than an ordinary patch of overgrown bushes.

Sagara was still examining the footpath when Ujang's voice sounded again.

"You're probably thinking I climbed over your grandmother's fence."

Sagara turned around.

The man was grinning as though he knew exactly what had been going through his mind.

Sagara merely offered a faint smile.

"Would you like a cigarette, Kang?"

Ujang chuckled.

"That's unusual. Offering me a cigarette? Do you even have any?"

Sagara shook his head.

"I can buy some later if you want, Kang."

Ujang fell silent for a moment.

He then reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes. He took one out and tucked it between his lips.

He flicked his lighter.

A small flame appeared for a moment before the tip of the cigarette caught fire.

Ujang inhaled deeply, then exhaled the smoke through his mouth and both nostrils.

Sagara watched him for a while.

If one looked closely, Ujang Belegug wasn't actually as unpleasant-looking as his appearance suggested.

With a little care for his hair and face, the man's distinctly Sundanese features would become more apparent, complemented by his sun-kissed skin and sharp eyes.

And the longer Sagara observed him, the more he began to feel that Ujang wasn't truly insane, despite what the villagers had always said about him.

There was something else behind the man's peculiar appearance.

Sagara just didn't know what it was yet.

But he was beginning to realize one thing.

Ujang Belegug seemed to know things that no one else did.

Perhaps even things that had been deliberately kept from them.

"Want one?"

Ujang's voice interrupted his thoughts.

The man held out his pack of cigarettes.

Sagara glanced at it briefly before firmly shaking his head.

"It's not that I don't want one, Kang. I've been friends with nicotine long enough."

Ujang chuckled softly and pulled his hand back.

"Come on, let me help."

He slipped the cigarette pack back into his pocket and glanced around the shed.

"Your younger brother must still be lying there, too weak to get up, right? It must be exhausting having to take care of a storage shed this big all by yourself."

Sagara gave a slight nod.

Ujang snorted. He waved his hand again to clear the dust floating in the air.

"It's so stuffy and cramped in here."

His gaze wandered across the rows of dusty bookshelves.

"Nyi Rukmini must not have visited this place in a long time."

"A long time?"

Sagara immediately turned toward him.

Something in Ujang's choice of words caught his attention.

Ujang didn't answer right away.

Instead, he took another drag from his cigarette. The glowing ember at its tip burned brightly in the dimly lit room.

Sagara stared at him, puzzled.

"Again?" he repeated. "You said Nyi Rukmini must not have visited this place again."

Ujang fell silent.

For a few moments, the only sounds between them were the faint creaking of old wood and the wind slipping through gaps in the walls.

Then Ujang looked at Sagara.

His expression had changed.

He no longer looked like a man making casual conversation.

"Ah, forget it."

He flicked the cigarette ash onto the floor.

"You're better off staying out of it."

Sagara frowned even more deeply.

"Why?"

Ujang slowly exhaled the smoke. His eyes shifted toward the rows of bookshelves in the darkest corner.

"You're not strong enough yet to face what you were never supposed to encounter."

Sagara fell silent.

The words lingered in the air.

His mind was suddenly filled with questions.

What am I not supposed to encounter?

Sagara followed Ujang's gaze.

Toward the dark corner of the shed.

Toward the rows of old books buried beneath layers of dust.

And somehow, for the first time since opening the door to that storage shed, Sagara felt that this place was not merely an abandoned room that had fallen into disuse.

Something had once been kept here.

Something that perhaps should never be discovered again.

But if that was true—

why did Ujang Belegug know about it?

—