Since their conversation in the library, Arman Pradipta had begun paying closer attention to Raka. Not as a teacher. At least, not only as a teacher. There was something about the transfer student that made Arman curious. It wasn't simply that Raka knew Adrian Mahesa's name, but the way Raka talked about him. There was an old wound in Raka's voice. Not a visible one. Rather, something buried too deeply and for far too long. Arman was used to reading people's reports. He knew that school records often revealed only a small part of a person. Grades, attendance, disciplinary records, achievements, and personal data provided only an outward picture. But someone could look ordinary on paper while hiding something much bigger in their life. Raka was one of them. Since their conversation in the library, Arman had begun looking into him. He didn't do it hastily. As a teacher, he had access to several school archives related to students. He began pulling up Raka's records. Full name. Educational history. Academic records. Disciplinary records. Everything looked normal. Too normal. Raka Aditama had no record of trouble at his previous school. He had never been involved in a brawl. He had never received serious punishment. He had never been listed as a problem student. His grades were fairly good, too. There was nothing that could explain why a student like Raka had transferred to Zenith Warriors. Arman stared at the data sheet for a long time. "So why did you transfer?" The document held no answer to that question. Arman opened another file. Nothing. He dug deeper. Still nothing. Raka seemed to have arrived at Zenith Warriors without bringing a past with him. But Arman knew that wasn't true. Someone couldn't simply come to a new school carrying the name Adrian Mahesa in his memory without a reason. Arman then began asking a few veteran teachers. Not directly. He didn't want to make anyone suspicious. "Mr. Dimas, where did Raka go to school before this?" One of the teachers answered while trying to remember. "If I'm not mistaken, it was a school quite far from here." "What was he like?" "Raka?" The teacher thought for a moment. "I heard he was quiet." "Quiet?" "Yeah. But he wasn't a problem kid." Arman nodded. "Was there ever any serious trouble?" "Not that I know of." "Adrian Mahesa?" The teacher immediately fell silent. Arman watched his expression change. "Why?" The teacher shook his head. "It's nothing." The answer came too quickly. Arman didn't push him. He only smiled. "Okay, sir. I was just asking." But after leaving the room, Arman was even more certain. Something was being hidden. Not only about Adrian. But about Raka as well.
Over the next few days, Arman continued watching. He observed how Raka acted in class. Raka didn't talk much. He spent more time watching his surroundings. When the other students joked around, Raka only smiled occasionally. When the teacher spoke, Raka listened. But his eyes often shifted. As if he was always making sure who was around him. Arman recognized the habit. People who were used to watching their surroundings usually had a reason. Maybe experience. Maybe distrust. Or maybe something bigger. The one thing that still made Arman most curious was the same. Raka's connection to Adrian Mahesa. Why would a friend try to uncover the truth about Adrian's death even after so many years? Why had Raka gone as far as transferring to Zenith Warriors? And had his transfer really been a coincidence? Or was there another reason? Arman didn't have the answers yet. But he knew he didn't have much time. The deeper he dug into Adrian's past, the more things felt wrong. An incomplete death report. Names left unmentioned. The old building. The top floor. And now Raka. Arman hadn't forgotten Alexander, either. Their meeting on the top floor had made him realize that the student knew more than he let on. Alexander hadn't asked anything directly. But the way he spoke had been warning enough. Arman wasn't supposed to come there too often. At least for the time being. So he chose to observe. He waited for the right opportunity. Until one afternoon, that opportunity came.
It was break time. The Zenith Warriors cafeteria was packed with students. Conversations carried from every direction. Some were eating. Some were joking around. Some were working on assignments while occasionally taking bites of food. Raka sat alone in one corner of the cafeteria. He hadn't brought much food. He was just sitting there, looking at his phone screen. Every so often, he glanced up. Watching his surroundings. Arman stood not far from the cafeteria entrance. He had two drinks in his hands. He watched Raka for a few seconds. Then he walked over. Raka noticed his presence before Arman reached the table. Arman pulled out a chair. "Sitting alone?" Raka looked at him. "Looks like it." Arman gave him a small smile. He sat across from Raka. He set one drink in front of himself. Then he pushed the other toward Raka. "Have a drink." Raka looked at it. Then at Arman. "For me?" "Yeah." Raka picked it up. "Thanks." Arman nodded. For several seconds, they simply sat there. The cafeteria was noisy. Yet their table felt slightly removed from the bustle. Arman watched Raka. Raka noticed. "What did you want to talk about, sir?" Arman smiled. "Are you always like this?" "Like what?" "Watching more than you talk." Raka didn't answer. He opened his drink. Then took a small sip. Arman leaned back in his chair. "I'm serious." Raka looked at him. "So am I." Arman let out a quiet laugh. "You're hard to talk to." "Maybe." "Your answers are always short." "Because not everything needs to be explained." Arman fell silent for a moment. Then he smiled. "Fair point." He picked up his own drink. But his thoughts weren't on anything light. He had come to the table for one reason. Raka. Arman looked at the student across from him. "I've been looking into you." Raka immediately set down his drink. His gaze grew more serious. "Why?" "Because I want to know whether I can trust you." Raka didn't answer right away. He stared at Arman. Then asked, "And?" Arman shrugged. "I don't know yet." Raka picked up his drink again. The answer didn't seem to surprise him. Arman continued. "Your school records are clean." Raka was silent. "No serious problems." Still silent. "Never involved in a brawl." Raka still didn't answer. "Never received serious punishment." Arman paused. "So I'm curious." Raka looked at him. "Curious about what?" "Why would someone with a record like that have to transfer to Zenith Warriors?" Raka looked away. For several seconds, he watched the other students. Arman waited. But Raka didn't give him an answer. Arman didn't pressure him. Instead, he slipped a hand into his pocket. Then he pulled something out. A photograph. An old photograph. Small and slightly faded. Arman placed it on the table. At first, Raka didn't look at it. But when his eyes fell on the photograph, his expression changed instantly. A boy appeared in the picture. A face Raka knew all too well. A face he had seen only in his memories all this time. Adrian Mahesa. Raka froze. The hand that had been holding his drink stopped. He stared at the photograph for a long time. Then slowly raised his eyes. "Why do you have that photo?" Arman didn't answer right away. He picked up the photograph. Looked at it for a moment. There was something different in his gaze. Not the gaze of a teacher. Nor the gaze of someone merely investigating a case. It was the gaze of an older brother looking at his younger brother. Arman drew a long breath. "Because Adrian was my little brother." Raka fell silent. For a few seconds, the sounds of the cafeteria seemed to fade away. The students. The spoons. The chairs. Everything sounded distant. Raka could only look at Arman. "Your little brother?" Arman nodded. "My biological brother." Raka said nothing. He looked at Adrian's photograph again. Suddenly, fragments of the past became clearer. Adrian laughing. Adrian talking to him. Adrian, who had once been his friend. And now Raka knew that the person sitting across from him had lost his younger brother. Arman placed the photograph back on the table. "His name was Adrian Mahesa." Raka nodded slowly. "I know." "After he died, I tried to find out what had really happened." Arman looked down at the table. "At first, I believed the school's report." He gave a bitter smile. "I thought it really was an accident." Raka didn't interrupt. "But the more I searched, the more things didn't add up." Arman raised his eyes. "Some information was missing." "Like you said in the library?" Arman nodded. "Yes." Raka looked at Adrian's photograph again. "Why didn't you tell me from the beginning?" Arman was silent for a few seconds. Then he answered, "Because I didn't know who I could trust." Raka understood the answer.
Zenith Warriors wasn't an easy place to trust. Arman continued. "I came to this school as a teacher for more than just teaching." Raka looked at him. "I wanted to see for myself the last place Adrian had been." He drew a breath. "I wanted to understand who knew him." "And find out what happened?" "Yes." Arman nodded. "Even after all these years, I still can't accept that everything ended with the word 'accident.'" Raka clenched his fist. "Me neither." The two of them fell silent. Nothing else needed explaining. For the first time, Raka felt that the person in front of him understood what he had been feeling all this time. Arman didn't regard Adrian as merely a name in a document. To Arman, Adrian was his little brother. To Raka, Adrian was his friend. But they shared one thing. Neither of them believed that the story they had been given was the whole truth. Arman then looked at Raka. "And after seeing you..." Raka waited. "I began to realize that you didn't come to Zenith Warriors just for school." Raka didn't deny it. Arman gave him a faint smile. "I'm right, aren't I?" Raka looked at Adrian's photograph. "I started looking into it before I transferred." "Why?" "Because I never believed the whole story." Arman nodded slowly. Raka continued, "I don't have any proof." "Not yet." Raka looked at Arman. "Not yet." The words brought a faint smile to Arman's face. Then Arman said, "I want to work with you." Raka didn't answer immediately. "To find out about Adrian?" "Yes." Raka looked around. The cafeteria was still crowded. No one seemed to be paying attention to their conversation. But Raka remained cautious. "What kind of partnership?" "We'll share information." Arman explained. "If I find anything connected to Adrian, I'll tell you." Raka nodded. "And if you find something, tell me." Raka stared at Arman for a long time. There were plenty of reasons not to trust him. But there was one far stronger reason to consider it. Arman was Adrian's older brother. If there was anyone who truly wanted to know what had happened, Arman might be the right person. Raka finally nodded. "Okay." Arman smiled. He extended his hand. "From now on, if you find anything, tell me." Raka looked at the offered hand. Then shook it. "Same goes for you." The handshake was brief. But to both of them, it was more than a simple agreement. It was the beginning of a partnership. Two people with different reasons. One had lost a younger brother. One had lost a friend. But both were searching for the same answer. What had really happened to Adrian Mahesa? They didn't realize that someone was watching them from the cafeteria's upper floor. Alexander Gavin Wibawa stood by the railing on the second floor. His gaze was fixed on their table. He watched Arman. Then Raka. Then their handshake. Alexander's expression didn't change. But his eyes grew more serious. He hadn't heard their conversation. But he didn't need to hear it to understand that something had just happened. Arman and Raka were now on the same side. Alexander slipped his hands into his pockets. He stood there for a few seconds. Then turned around. He walked away from the cafeteria's upper floor without saying a word. No one chased him. No one noticed him leave. Meanwhile, at the table below, Raka looked at Adrian's photograph again. He still found it hard to believe what he had just heard. Arman was Adrian's older brother. Suddenly, many things felt different. His meeting with Arman in the archive room had not been a coincidence after all. Arman's investigation wasn't merely the curiosity of a new teacher. And his visit to the old building hadn't been without reason. Arman was looking for his little brother. Looking for answers he had never received. Raka leaned back in his chair. "Why did you only come now?" Arman looked at him. "Because I didn't have the chance before." "The chance?" "To get into this school." Raka nodded slowly. Arman picked up Adrian's photograph again. "After his death, I tried to find information from outside." "And?" "Most of it ended with the official report." Raka understood. The same report. The report that said it was an accident. The report with far too many blank spaces. Arman said, "As if everyone had agreed that the story was over." Raka looked at him. "But you don't believe it." "And neither do you." "That's right." Arman smiled faintly. "At least now I know I'm not alone." Raka remained silent. He didn't say that, in truth, he felt the same way.
All this time, his search had felt like something only he understood. People considered Adrian part of the past. They told Raka he had to forget. But how could someone forget a friend just because other people told him to? Now there was Arman. Someone with an equally strong reason. Raka then asked, "Sir." "Yes?" "Did Adrian ever tell you anything before he died?" The question made Arman go quiet. He looked at the photograph. "A few things." Raka waited. But Arman didn't continue. "Not now." Raka understood. "Okay." Arman put the photograph back in his wallet. "I don't want us to rush this." Raka nodded. "Agreed." The bell signaling the end of break rang. The students began leaving the cafeteria. Arman stood. "Let's get back to class." Raka stood as well. They walked in opposite directions. Before leaving, Arman stopped. "Raka." Raka turned. "Don't tell anyone about our conversation." Raka nodded. "Same goes for you." Arman smiled. "Deal." Then they parted ways. Raka walked toward class. But his steps felt different. For the first time, he no longer felt that all those questions belonged to him alone. Now he knew that someone from Adrian's family was still searching for answers. There was Arman. And there was him. But Raka also remembered one thing. Alexander had seen them. He didn't know what Alexander knew. But he knew that the student missed very little. In class, Raka sat as usual. The teacher began teaching. The students began taking notes. Everything looked normal. But Raka wasn't listening completely. His thoughts were still on Adrian's photograph. He remembered his friend's face. Once, Adrian had simply been someone he knew. Then he became someone who lost his life. Now that name was at the center of a secret. And for the first time, Raka realized that Adrian's death might not be merely a school mystery. There was a family that had lost someone. There was a friend who had been left behind. There was an incomplete report. There was a hidden room. And there was someone who might be trying to make sure everything stayed buried. That afternoon, after class ended, Raka walked through the corridor. He saw the old building in the distance. The same building where Arman had nearly opened the cabinet on the top floor. Raka stopped. His thoughts returned to their earlier conversation. If Adrian was Arman's younger brother, maybe that cabinet contained something about Adrian. Maybe documents. Maybe photographs. Maybe evidence. But Raka wasn't going there right away. He had promised Arman he would be careful. Meanwhile, Arman was in the teachers' room. He opened his wallet once more. He took out Adrian's photograph. He looked at his brother's face. "Adrian..." His voice was quiet. "This time, I'm not alone." Arman put the photograph away again. Then closed his wallet. Outside the window, the sky was beginning to darken. The day was almost over. But for Arman and Raka, something had just begun. They didn't yet know who to suspect. They didn't yet know who was lying. They didn't yet know what had really happened on the day Adrian died. But now they had one agreement. They would search for the answer together. And without realizing it, they had already alerted someone to the fact that they were beginning to work together. Alexander Gavin Wibawa. He walked alone through the second-floor corridor. His steps were calm. His face remained expressionless. But his thoughts were clearly not as calm. Arman had begun searching. So had Raka. And now the two of them were working together. Alexander stopped beside a window. He looked at the old building. The top floor was dark. There was no light. No movement. Then he turned toward Raka's classroom. His gaze lingered for several seconds. After that, he left. No words. No threats. Not yet. For now, Alexander only wanted to see how far they would search. Meanwhile, in the classroom, Raka closed his book. He looked out the window. His gaze met the sky as it began to darken. Adrian's name surfaced in his thoughts again. But this time, something was different. Adrian was no longer merely a name written on the pages of an old book. Adrian was someone's little brother. Arman's little brother. And Arman had come to Zenith Warriors to search for the same truth. Raka drew a breath. From that day on, their search changed. No longer alone. No longer based only on suspicion. Now they had each other.
But they also had an unknown enemy. Someone who might have made sure Adrian's secret stayed buried for years. And as long as Adrian's name was spoken again, that person might begin to move. Raka didn't know who it was. Neither did Arman. But they would find them. Because to Arman, Adrian was the younger brother he had lost. To Raka, Adrian was the friend he had never had the chance to forget. And to Zenith Warriors... Adrian might be a name that was supposed to remain forgotten. But from that day on, the name came alive again. And with it, an old secret slowly began to unfold.