# Chapter 2 The News That Came True
The phone in Alya's hand vibrated again.
The same news notification appeared from another news portal.
A man was found dead with three stab wounds in the Jembatan Merah area. Police are still investigating and have yet to identify the perpetrator.
Alya's breath caught.
Her hands began to sweat.
She reread the first case file, which was still open on her desk.
Victim: Dimas Pratama.
Time: 8:15 p.m. WIB.
Location: Jembatan Merah.
Cause of death: Three stab wounds to the chest.
Everything was the same.
Not a single detail was different.
“This... can't be.”
She immediately opened another news app.
The headline was different, but the story was exactly the same.
The victim's name.
The location.
The time of the incident.
Everything was identical to the contents of the file.
Alya clutched her head.
“Who made this?”
If the file had been written after the murder took place, it might still be dismissed as a joke.
But she had received the folder that morning.
Even before the victim was found.
That meant...
Someone had known about the murder before it happened.
Or...
Someone had planned everything.
That night, Alya couldn't sleep at all.
The wall clock showed one in the morning.
She opened all the files again.
The first case.
The second case.
The third case.
All the way to the sixth case.
They all followed a strange pattern.
Different victims.
Different professions.
Different ages.
Yet every page bore a small symbol in the bottom-right corner.
A judge's gavel.
Beneath it was a short sentence.
Justice Is Never Blind.
“Strange...”
Alya picked up the small magnifying glass she usually used when examining legal documents.
The symbol wasn't an ordinary print.
It looked as if it had been made with a special stamp.
She had never seen a symbol like it before.
When she turned over the last page, her eyes once again fell on the words that made her skin crawl.
CASE 07
DEFENDANT: ALYA MAHARDIKA.
“I don't even know Dimas Pratama.”
She tried to remember.
The name felt unfamiliar.
They had never been in the same class.
He had never appeared in any campus organization.
His name wasn't in her contacts.
Then why was her own name listed as the defendant?
Six in the morning.
Alya was still sitting at her desk.
Her eyes were puffy.
She hadn't closed them all night.
As she stared blankly toward the window, her phone rang.
The name on the screen made her sigh in relief.
“Sarah.”
She answered immediately.
“Morning, Ly. Why aren't you here yet? Aren't we presenting today?”
Alya closed her eyes for a moment.
“I... might be late.”
“Are you sick?”
“No.”
“Then why do you sound so weird?”
Alya hesitated.
Should she tell Sarah everything?
No.
If she told her now, Sarah would definitely think she was sleep-deprived and hallucinating.
“I'll explain on campus.”
“Okay. Don't take too long.”
The call ended.
Alya looked at the brown folder again.
Her instincts told her one thing.
She had to go to Jembatan Merah.
Around nine in the morning, the Jembatan Merah area was already crowded with police tape.
Several reporters were still standing outside the barricade, waiting for an official statement.
Alya wore a mask and a cap so she wouldn't attract too much attention.
She slipped through the crowd.
A woman was whispering to her friend.
“I heard the victim was stabbed three times.”
“Yeah. They say his wallet was still intact.”
“Then it wasn't a robbery.”
Alya gripped her bag tighter.
Three stab wounds.
Exactly.
A tall police officer came out from behind the yellow tape carrying several folders.
He looked young.
Maybe around twenty-eight.
His gaze was sharp.
He walked quickly, giving instructions to several officers.
“Make sure all the witnesses have been questioned. Don't miss anyone.”
“Yes, sir.”
The man stopped in front of a reporter.
“Excuse me, sir. Do you have a suspect yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Do you have a motive for the murder?”
“We're still investigating.”
His answers were brief.
Emotionless.
As soon as the interview ended, the man turned and nearly bumped into Alya.
“Sorry.”
Alya instinctively took a step back.
“It's okay.”
The man's gaze lingered on Alya's face for several seconds.
“Are you a law student?”
Alya was startled.
“Yeah... how did you know?”
The man glanced at the Faculty of Law pin still attached to her bag.
“Future lawyer habit. Always forgetting to take off your ID.”
Alya finally noticed it.
She gave an awkward smile.
“Guess you're right.”
The man gave a brief nod.
“If you don't have any business here, you should stay away from the crime scene.”
“Okay.”
The man walked away.
But after only a few steps, he stopped.
“Oh, right.”
Alya turned around.
“If you saw anything suspicious last night, report it immediately.”
Alya nodded.
“Will do.”
The man left the scene.
A reporter standing near Alya whispered,
“That was Investigator Raka Adiputra.”
“Is he famous?”
“Wow, you don't know? He's still young, but he handles almost every major case in this city.”
Alya watched Raka's figure grow more distant.
For some reason... she felt like she would meet him again.
And their next meeting might not be as simple as this one.
The crowd around Jembatan Merah began to thin after the police finished putting up additional barricades. Several reporters were still busy preparing live broadcasts, while the residents who had been filling the sidewalk slowly dispersed.
Alya remained where she was.
Her gaze swept across every corner of the bridge.
The case file was too accurate to be called a coincidence.
If someone really had known about the murder beforehand, then something must have been deliberately left behind.
She drew a deep breath, then slowly followed the pedestrian path. Her eyes scanned the iron railing, the bridge floor still wet from the rain the night before, and the streetlights that hadn't yet been turned off.
Several yards from the police tape, her gaze stopped on a small object wedged between the railings.
A black suit button.
The button looked ordinary, but its surface was decorated with an engraving shaped like a judge's gavel.
Alya's heart began to beat faster.
That symbol...
It was exactly the same as the emblem on every case file.
She looked to the right and left.
No one was paying attention to her.
Carefully, she pulled a tissue from her bag, wrapped the button in it, and slipped it into her blazer pocket.
Before she could walk away, a deep voice sounded behind her.
“What are you doing?”
Alya flinched.
She turned quickly.
Investigator Raka stood only a few steps behind her.
His gaze was sharp.
“I was just... looking around.”
“Looking around?” Raka raised one eyebrow. “This is still an active crime scene.”
Alya nodded nervously.
“Sorry. I didn't know.”
“Did you just pick something up?”
The question made Alya's throat go dry.
“No.”
Raka didn't answer right away.
He simply stared at Alya for several seconds, as if judging whether the woman in front of him was telling the truth.
“Strange.”
“What?”
“You look too nervous for someone who just happened to be passing by.”
Alya forced a small smile.
“Maybe because this is my first time seeing a murder scene.”
Raka nodded slowly.
“Could be.”
But from the look in his eyes, Alya knew he wasn't completely convinced.
One of the officers approached Raka carrying a folder.
“Sir, the preliminary identification results are in.”
“Any fingerprints?”
“Nothing matched the database.”
“Okay. Take it to the car.”
Raka nodded, then looked back at Alya.
“If you don't have any business here, you should go home.”
“Yeah.”
“And don't cross the police tape again.”
“Okay.”
Only after Raka left did Alya dare to let out a long breath.
That was close.
If the investigator had seen the button in her hand a few seconds earlier, he would definitely have questioned her.
On the way home, Alya's mind filled with possibilities.
Should she turn the button over to the police?
Or keep it for now?
If the object really belonged to the killer, hiding it was the same as destroying evidence.
But if she handed it over now, how could she explain that she knew the object was important?
She couldn't possibly say, “I found it because I have a file containing a murder that hadn't happened yet.”
Anyone would think she was crazy.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
“Why does all of this have to happen to me?”
When she arrived at her boarding house, Sarah was already sitting in the living room, playing with her phone.
“Well, look who finally decided to show up.”
Alya gave a weak smile.
“Sorry.”
“You skipped the presentation.”
“Yeah.”
Sarah studied her best friend's face for a moment.
“You're really pale. Didn't sleep last night?”
Alya nodded.
“A little.”
“A little, or not at all?”
Alya didn't answer.
Sarah sighed.
“I've known you for three years. If something's wrong, I can always see it on your face.”
“I've just got a lot on my mind.”
“Because of an assignment?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Alya slowly opened her bag.
Her hand touched the brown folder.
She desperately wanted to tell Sarah everything.
About the seven case files.
About the victim who had actually died.
About her name being written down as the defendant.
But every time she was about to speak, she lost her nerve.
No.
Not yet.
“I just haven't gotten enough sleep.”
Sarah sighed.
“If something's wrong, tell me, okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Please don't keep it all to yourself.”
Alya only nodded.
That night, she opened the first case file again.
This time, she read it more carefully.
Every word.
Every punctuation mark.
Every tiny detail.
Until she finally found something she had overlooked before.
At the very bottom of the page was a faint string of numbers.
14-09-20.15-17
“What is this?”
She took out her phone and photographed the writing.
When she enlarged the image, the last character became clearer.
It wasn't seventeen.
It was...
17A.
“What does it mean?”
A room number?
A location code?
Or something else?
Before she could think any further, her phone vibrated again.
An unknown number.
Alya hesitated for several seconds before answering.
“Hello?”
There was no answer.
All she could hear was slow breathing.
“Who is this?”
Still silence.
A few seconds later, a man's voice came through, deliberately distorted by a voice changer.
“You found something that doesn't belong to you.”
Alya's body tensed.
“Who are you?”
“If you want to stay alive...”
The voice paused.
“...stop looking for answers.”
The call ended immediately.
Alya stared at her phone screen.
Her hands trembled.
The number could no longer be called back.
A few seconds later, a message arrived from the same number.
The first case is over. Get ready to welcome the second victim.
Beneath the message was a photo.
A young woman smiling at a bus stop.
She looked happy.
A single name was written in the top-right corner of the photo.
Ratu Anindya.
The same name...
As the victim in Case File 02.
Alya stared at her phone screen without blinking.
The woman's photo filled the screen.
Her shoulder-length hair was blowing in the wind, her smile directed at the camera, as if the photo had been taken on an ordinary day. There was no sign that her life was standing at the edge of a cliff.
There was only one name beneath the photo.
Ratu Anindya.
Alya's hand reflexively reached for the second file.
She opened it so hurriedly that several sheets of paper fell to the floor.
Her eyes immediately searched for the victim's identity.
Victim: Ratu Anindya.
Date of incident: September 16.
Time: 6:40 p.m. WIB.
Location: Terminal Kota.
Cause of death: Gunshot wound to the chest.
Alya swallowed.
That date was only two days away.
“Two days...”
If the first file was accurate, then the woman in the photo would die two days from now.
She opened the message again.
The first case is over. Get ready to welcome the second victim.
The sentence felt like a taunt.
Not an empty threat.
A notification.
As if the sender was certain that nothing Alya did would change a thing.
“If I know who the victim is...”
Alya rose from her chair.
“...then I can still save her.”
At seven the next morning, Alya decided not to go to class.
She brought the second file, her laptop, and several criminal law books to her desk.
She immediately searched for Ratu Anindya online.
Dozens of results appeared.
Most of them were social media accounts.
There was no crime news.
No case records.
Nothing suspicious.
She opened one of the woman's social media accounts.
Her photos were filled with everyday activities.
Drinking coffee.
Reading books.
Attending seminars.
Occasionally posting photos with her friends.
She looked like an ordinary college student.
Alya opened her latest post.
Three hours ago.
“Hope my job interview tomorrow goes well.”
Tomorrow.
That meant it was the exact same day as the date written in the file.
Her chest tightened again.
“If I contact her now...”
But she immediately shook her head.
What would she say?
“Hello, I don't know you, but you'll be shot at Terminal Kota two days from now.”
It made no sense.
Ratu would definitely think she was crazy.
That afternoon, Alya went to the campus library.
Not to study.
She wanted to find the elderly attendant who had given her the mysterious folder the day before.
As soon as she reached the service desk, she asked, “Sir, is the attendant who was here yesterday around?”
The woman on duty looked up.
“Which attendant?”
“The man with white hair. He was kind of thin.”
The woman looked confused.
“We don't have anyone like that working at this library.”
Alya frowned.
“Yes, you do. He gave me a folder yesterday morning.”
The woman slowly shook her head.
“For the past six months, the only male attendant here has been Mr. Herman.”
“Which Mr. Herman?”
“The one who's on leave recovering from knee surgery.”
“Then... who was working yesterday?”
“I was.”
Alya fell silent.
“That can't be...”
“Why? What happened?”
“Nothing... it's nothing.”
She backed away several steps.
A chill suddenly ran down her back.
If this woman was telling the truth...
Then who was the old man who had given her the folder?
As Alya left the library, someone called her name.
“Alya.”
She turned around.
Sarah hurried toward her.
“I've been looking for you everywhere.”
“What is it?”
“You really didn't come to class.”
“Yeah.”
Sarah studied her friend's face.
“You still look awful.”
Alya forced a smile.
“Sorry.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“Are you involved in some kind of legal trouble?”
The question made Alya freeze.
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because a police officer came to campus earlier.”
Alya's heart began to beat faster.
“Police?”
“Yeah.”
“What did they want?”
“They said they were just looking for information about students who were around Jembatan Merah yesterday.”
Alya immediately thought of Raka.
So the investigator had started questioning all the witnesses.
“What did he ask?”
“He just asked whether any students had gone to the scene.”
Sarah sighed.
“I told him I didn't know.”
Alya nodded slowly.
“Thanks.”
“But...”
Sarah stared intently at her.
“He showed me a photo of you.”
Alya stared at Sarah.
“A photo of me?”
“Yeah.”
“And then?”
“I told him you were my friend.”
“What else?”
“He just said, ‘If Alya comes to campus, please tell her I'd like to speak with her.’”
Alya's stomach felt tied in knots.
Raka...
Was looking for her.
Late afternoon approached.
Alya decided to go home early.
She had just opened the door to her room when her eyes immediately caught something that made her blood run cold.
The brown folder.
She had left it on her desk that morning.
Now it was lying on her pillow.
Even though her door had been locked.
Slowly, she stepped closer.
There were no signs of forced entry.
The window was still tightly closed from the inside.
Her hands trembled as she opened the folder.
The first file was still there.
So was the second.
But tucked between the pages was a white slip of paper that hadn't been there before.
Red handwriting covered the paper.
Never involve the police.
If you disobey, the next victim will die sooner.
At the bottom was a sentence that made Alya's breath catch.
Investigator Raka Adiputra is not someone you can trust.
Before Alya could process the contents of the note, someone knocked on her door.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
“Alya? Are you in there?”
A man's voice came from outside.
Calm.
Firm.
Deeply familiar.
“It’s me, Raka.”
Alya froze.
Her eyes darted between the threatening note in her hand and the bedroom door, which was now being knocked on again.
“Sorry to bother you,” Raka called again. “I just want to ask you a few questions about the murder at Jembatan Merah.”
Alya held her breath.
If she opened the door, she would have to face the investigator she had just been warned not to trust.
If she didn't, she would look even more suspicious.
Her hand slowly closed around the doorknob.
On the other side, Raka waited in silence.
And for the first time, Alya realized that the game had begun.
Not just between her and the killer.
But also between her...
and the people who were supposed to uphold justice.