That afternoon, the rain that had pounded Zenith Warriors since morning finally began to let up.
Dark clouds still hung over the school, but the drizzle had turned into small drops that occasionally fell from the edges of the roofs. Puddles still covered the school grounds. The air felt colder than usual, and most of the students had already left the buildings.
Zenith Warriors was slowly returning to silence.
After what had happened in the old building that afternoon, Raka Aditama could not stop thinking about one thing.
The top floor. Arman. Alexander. And what exactly was hidden behind it all.
Raka still clearly remembered seeing Arman leave the old building, a few moments before Alexander emerged from the same place.
They were both clearly hiding something.
Raka just did not know what.
He had considered following Arman after the teacher left the old building. But he had abandoned the idea.
Too many people at the school had begun watching his every move.
Especially Alexander.
Raka did not want to take a risk simply because of his curiosity.
But the more he tried to ignore it, the more questions came to mind.
In the end, Raka chose to go to the library that afternoon.
Not because he had an assignment. Not because he wanted to read.
He just needed a quiet place to think.
The Zenith Warriors library was on the other side of the main building. It was fairly spacious, with bookshelves rising almost to the ceiling.
When Raka entered, there were almost no students inside.
Several tables stood empty.
Only one student sat in the corner, using a book as a pillow.
The librarian was at the front desk.
Raka gave him a small nod, then walked toward the back.
The back of the library was rarely visited by students.
Most of the books there were old.
Old textbooks. School magazines. Student activity documents. Yearbooks.
And several books whose covers had already begun to deteriorate.
Raka walked slowly past the shelves.
His thoughts were still focused on what had happened that afternoon.
He stopped in front of a shelf.
His eyes skimmed over the book titles.
Nothing caught his interest.
But as he was about to leave, his hand accidentally brushed against a book wedged between two others.
The book protruded slightly.
Raka pulled it out.
A thin cloud of dust rose into the air.
He wiped the cover.
There was no clear title.
Only writing that had almost faded away.
Raka opened the first page.
It was an old notebook.
Not a textbook.
Several pages contained notes about student activities from previous years.
There were students' names. Organization names. Dates of activities. Several notes about classes.
At first, Raka was not particularly interested.
But the more pages he turned, the more names he found.
Names of former students.
Some were no longer familiar to him.
Some might have graduated years ago.
Raka kept turning the pages.
Until his finger stopped.
One name made his entire body go still.
Adrian Mahesa.
Raka's finger stopped directly above the page.
His eyes fixed on the name.
The library, which had felt ordinary moments before, suddenly seemed different.
The sound of the wall clock grew clearer.
The hands moved slowly.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Raka did not turn the page right away.
He simply stared at the name.
Adrian Mahesa.
The name he had spent all this time trying to avoid.
The name that had never truly left his thoughts.
The name that carried too many memories.
Raka drew a breath.
Old memories returned.
Before everything ended, Adrian had been one of the people Raka spent the most time with.
They had sat in the same places. Talked about simple things. Joked around. Fought over little things.
And they had promised to meet again once everything was over.
But that promise had never been fulfilled.
Adrian had died.
Everyone said it had been an accident.
Raka had never truly believed that.
Not because he had evidence.
Not because he knew what had really happened.
But because he knew Adrian.
Adrian had not been perfect.
But he had not been careless.
He was not the kind of person who would make a reckless decision without a reason.
Raka still remembered the day he received the news of Adrian's death.
That day had felt unreal.
At first, he thought it was simply false information.
Then Adrian's name was repeated again and again.
Until reality could no longer be denied.
Adrian was dead.
And from that moment on, many things changed.
Raka never received a satisfying answer.
People only said one word.
Accident.
As if that one word were enough to explain everything.
As if there were no other questions worth asking.
As if the death of a student could simply be covered up with a report.
Raka slowly closed the book.
His hand remained on the cover.
He lowered his head.
“So you’re looking for him too.”
The voice from behind made Raka turn immediately.
He recognized it.
Arman Pradipta.
The new teacher stood between two bookshelves.
His innocent expression was back in place.
His shirt was still slightly wrinkled.
His hair was still somewhat messy.
At a glance, he looked like a teacher who had absolutely no idea why Raka was there.
But Arman's eyes were different.
His gaze went straight to the book in Raka's hand.
Raka stared at him for several seconds.
“Who, sir?”
Arman smiled.
“Don't pretend.”
Raka slowly stood.
He closed the book and held it at his side.
“I should be the one saying that.”
Arman's smile stopped.
For several seconds, the two of them simply stared at each other.
No other students were paying attention to them.
The library was nearly empty.
The librarian was far away at the front.
Arman stepped closer.
“So you do know.”
Raka did not answer.
Instead, he remembered what had happened the day before.
The archive room. The old folder. Adrian's photograph. And Arman pretending to search for student records.
Then what had happened that afternoon.
The old building. The top floor. The room no one was supposed to enter.
Everything was beginning to form a pattern.
Raka finally said, “You weren't lost when you went up to the top floor.”
Arman fell silent.
His innocent expression slowly disappeared.
For the first time, Raka saw Arman without the mask he had been wearing all this time.
No awkward smile. No confused expression.
Only a serious stare.
“You know a lot for a new student.”
“I just pay attention.”
“And what do you think?”
Raka did not answer immediately.
He walked to the nearest table.
Set the book on top of it.
Then looked at Arman.
“You’re looking into something you shouldn’t be looking into.”
Arman stared sharply at him.
“For example?”
Raka was silent for several seconds.
He knew that once he said the name, there would be no turning back.
But he had already gone too far.
“The case of Adrian Mahesa's death.”
The room immediately seemed to fall silent.
Even the rain outside sounded quieter.
Arman did not move.
His expression changed.
There was no longer any sign of a careless teacher.
No smile.
Only shock that he could not completely hide.
“How do you know that name?”
Raka looked at him.
“Because he was my friend.”
Arman fell silent.
Raka lowered his gaze for a moment.
Old memories surfaced again.
“Before I transferred here.”
Arman did not interrupt.
Raka continued.
“Everyone said his death was an accident.”
His voice sounded calm, but something was held back beneath it.
He clenched his fist.
“But I knew Adrian.”
Raka drew a breath.
“He wasn’t the kind of person who would do something recklessly.”
Arman studied Raka for a long time.
Now he was beginning to understand why Raka had seemed so attentive to his every move from the start.
It was not simple curiosity.
Raka had a personal reason.
Arman walked to the nearest chair.
He sat down slowly.
“So you’re looking for him too?”
Raka nodded.
“I’ve been looking since before I came to Zenith Warriors.”
Arman stared at the table.
Then he rubbed his face for a moment.
All this time, he had thought he was the only person who still cared about Adrian's case.
He had been wrong.
Someone had been carrying those questions long before coming to Zenith Warriors.
And that person was standing in front of him now.
A student.
Raka.
Arman looked at him again.
“You realize that the deeper you dig, the more people might not like it?”
“I know.”
Raka's answer was brief.
There was no hesitation.
Arman studied his expression.
“You know the risks?”
“I know.”
“And you’re still going to keep looking?”
Raka picked up the book.
His hand touched the page where Adrian's name was written.
“He was my friend.”
That was all.
His answer was simple.
There was no lengthy explanation.
No attempt to convince him.
Arman understood the statement.
There was a kind of determination that did not need many words.
Arman let out a breath.
“Then...”
He paused for a moment.
“Maybe we’re looking for the same thing.”
Raka looked at him.
“But for different reasons.”
Arman nodded.
“That’s right.”
He stood.
A few seconds later, he walked toward the table.
His gaze returned to the open book.
Adrian's name was still clearly visible.
Arman spoke quietly.
“Don’t believe everything written in the school report.”
Raka looked at him.
“You’ve read the report?”
Arman did not answer immediately.
He simply looked at Raka.
“I have.”
“And?”
“And there are too many parts that don’t make sense.”
Raka fell silent.
Arman did not explain further.
He knew that too much information could make the situation dangerous.
Raka did not press him.
He only stared at Adrian's name.
For the first time in a long while, he felt that what he had been sensing was not merely baseless suspicion.
Someone else had seen the same irregularities.
Arman then walked away.
But before leaving the library, he stopped.
His hand rested on the doorknob.
“And one more thing.”
Raka turned.
Arman looked toward him.
This time, there was no smile.
His gaze was completely serious.
“If you find something...”
He paused briefly.
“Don’t immediately believe that you’ve found the truth.”
Raka did not answer.
Arman continued.
“Sometimes something that looks like an answer can actually become the path to an even bigger question.”
After saying that, Arman opened the door.
Then he left.
The library door slowly closed.
Raka was still standing where he was.
He stared at the door.
Then he looked back at the book on the table.
Adrian Mahesa's name was still on the page.
Raka sat down.
He opened the book again.
This time, he read the notes around Adrian's name.
There were several notes about school activities.
Students' names.
Several dates.
But the section related to Adrian was extremely short.
Far too short for someone who had once been part of the school.
Raka turned to the next page.
Nothing.
The page after that.
Nothing.
As if Adrian's name had only appeared briefly.
Then disappeared.
Raka frowned.
“A forgotten name...”
He whispered.
Maybe that was what had happened.
Adrian had slowly been erased from the school's memory.
Not literally.
But from the records. From conversations. From documents. From the students' stories.
As if the fewer people who remembered him, the easier it would be to forget his case.
Raka closed the book.
His thoughts returned to Arman.
The new teacher had not come to Zenith Warriors without a reason.
He was looking for Adrian.
He had entered the archive room.
He had gone to the old building.
He had even nearly opened the cabinet in the room on the top floor.
And now Raka knew that Arman really was investigating Adrian's death.
But there was still one thing Raka did not know.
Why?
What connection did Arman have to Adrian?
Why would a teacher who had just arrived at the school care so much about an old case?
Raka stared at the library door.
Maybe Arman had his own reasons.
And maybe those reasons were no less important than Raka's.
Outside, the rain began to fall again.
Drops struck the window glass.
Raka stood and carried the book to the librarian's desk.
But before returning it, he opened Adrian's page one more time.
His finger touched the name.
Adrian Mahesa.
Once, that name had meant a friend.
Now, it had become a question.
What had really happened to Adrian?
Why was the report of his death incomplete?
Why was part of it missing?
Why was Adrian's name mentioned less and less often?
And why did Zenith Warriors look like a place that was hiding something about him?
Raka closed the book.
He returned it to the shelf.
But he did not forget where it was.
If he needed it again someday, he knew where to find it.
Raka then walked out of the library.
The school hallway was nearly empty.
The lights were already on as the sky began to darken.
He walked slowly.
His conversation with Arman kept replaying in his head.
“Maybe we’re looking for the same thing.”
Raka stopped.
He glanced back.
The library was partially closed.
He drew a breath.
Now he was no longer alone.
Strangely, that did not make him feel safer.
Quite the opposite.
If Arman really was searching for the truth, then someone at the school might also realize that they were searching.
And if that person truly wanted to hide the past...
Raka had no idea what they would do.
He continued walking.
At the end of the hallway, he saw someone standing there.
Alexander.
Raka stopped.
Alexander was looking toward the window.
Who knew how long he had been there?
Alexander's gaze slowly shifted to Raka.
The two of them stared at each other again.
Alexander said nothing.
Neither did Raka.
But this time, Raka felt that Alexander's stare was different.
As if he were trying to read something from Raka's face.
Raka showed no reaction.
He walked past Alexander.
Once he was far enough away, Raka glanced back slightly.
Alexander was still standing in the same place.
Raka continued on.
He did not know whether Alexander knew about Arman.
He did not know whether Alexander knew Adrian's name.
But after what had happened on the top floor, Raka could not ignore the possibility.
Meanwhile, elsewhere, Arman was also walking toward the teachers' lounge.
His innocent expression was back in place.
Several teachers greeted him.
He answered with a friendly smile.
No one knew what had just happened in the library.
No one knew that a student had spoken the name he had been searching for all this time.
Arman sat in his chair.
He opened his bag.
Inside was a small notebook.
Arman took it out.
He opened the page containing his notes about Adrian.
Then he added one sentence.
Raka Aditama knew Adrian.
Arman stopped.
He stared at the words.
Then he closed the notebook.
Meeting Raka had changed many things.
Before, he had been searching for a student who was dead.
Now he had found someone who had known him personally.
Someone who might know something that had never been recorded in the report.
But Arman also knew that Raka was still keeping many things to himself.
So was he.
They did not fully trust each other yet.
But they had the same goal.
The truth about Adrian Mahesa.
Arman looked out the window.
The rain was falling again.
In the distance, the old building was barely visible.
The top floor was almost impossible to see through the thin mist and rain.
Arman's thoughts returned to that room.
The cabinet. The room that was too clean. Alexander. And Raka.
Everything was beginning to connect.
Arman knew that the deeper he dug, the closer he came to something that might have been deliberately hidden all this time.
But he would not stop.
Not after finding Raka.
Not after learning that someone still remembered Adrian.
And not after seeing for himself how Zenith Warriors held too many pieces of the past.
Meanwhile, Raka had reached the school gate.
He stopped for a moment.
Then looked back.
The main building stood in silence.
The old building was dark.
There were no students.
No teachers.
No sign that anything was happening.
But Raka knew that the calm was only on the surface.
He remembered Arman's words.
“Don’t immediately believe that you’ve found the truth.”
Raka understood what he meant.
Maybe finding one fact did not mean finding the whole truth.
Maybe Adrian's name was only a small piece of something much bigger.
He tightened his grip on his bag strap.
“Adrian...”
The name slipped quietly from his lips.
Raka then walked away from the school.
But one question continued to follow him.
If Adrian had really died in an accident, why did so many people seem to want to forget his name?
And if someone really was trying to erase the truth about Adrian's death...
Who was that person?
Night slowly fell.
Zenith Warriors grew quiet again.
In the teachers' lounge, Arman put away his notes.
On the top floor of the old building, the dark room was locked once more.
And somewhere else, a name that had once been considered a closed matter began to surface again.
Adrian Mahesa.
A name that had almost been forgotten.
A name that should have become part of the past.
But now, that name was being spoken again.
And when a name that had been deliberately forgotten begins to be remembered, the secrets attached to it will not remain silent forever.
Raka might not have found the answer yet.
Neither had Arman.
They did not even know who they should suspect.
But since that afternoon, one thing had changed.
Raka was no longer searching alone.
And for the first time, he had someone who might be able to help him uncover the secret of Zenith Warriors.
But Raka also realized something else.
If Arman really was searching for the truth, then the teacher could also become a target.
And if Alexander knew more than he let on...
Then their search might already have drawn attention.
Raka stared at the road ahead.
He did not know what he would find with his next step.
But he knew one thing.
He would not let Adrian's name be forgotten again.
Not this time.
Because Adrian was not merely a name in a report.
Adrian was his friend.
And as long as there were unanswered questions, Raka would keep searching.
Meanwhile, deep inside Zenith Warriors, the past was still waiting to be uncovered.
And the closer they came to it, the harder it became to tell who was searching for the truth...
and who was trying to make sure that truth was never found.