Mr. Wiryo awoke on the warehouse floor, gasping for breath.
Dawn was beginning to break.
His body had turned human again, but every bone felt shattered, as though he had just been beaten. Cold sweat dampened his forehead.
The first thing he thought of was Laras.
He ran toward the house.
“Laras!”
There was no answer.
His daughter’s bedroom door was still open.
The bed was empty.
Mr. Wiryo searched the kitchen, the bathroom, the yard, even the wooden shed behind the house.
Nothing.
“Laras!”
Mr. Wiryo’s voice cracked.
He ran out of the house and into the road.
Several neighbors began opening their doors after hearing him shout.
“Laras is missing!”
One neighbor, Mrs. Sarmi, came out carrying a broom.
“Missing? How?”
“I don’t know!”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“Last night.”
Mrs. Sarmi furrowed her brow.
“Wasn’t Laras sleeping at home last night?”
Mr. Wiryo didn’t answer.
He was afraid to tell them what had really happened.
But a few minutes later, the villagers began helping with the search.
They combed through the gardens, the rice fields, and the road leading to the river, all the way to the edge of the forest.
Laras was nowhere to be found.
Near noon, a young child found one of Laras’s sandals beside a banyan tree.
Mr. Wiryo ran there immediately.
The sandal really did belong to his daughter.
Beside it were footprints.
Human footprints.
Then they changed into the tracks of a pig.
Mr. Wiryo dropped to his knees.
His hands trembled.
“Oh, God...”
He knew what had happened.
That creature had taken Laras.
Toward evening, Mr. Wiryo went alone to Mbah Ranu’s house.
The old house’s door was shut.
Mr. Wiryo pounded on it.
“Mbah!”
There was no answer.
He pounded again.
“Open up!”
The door finally opened.
Mbah Ranu stood inside.
“You came.”
“Where’s my daughter?”
Mbah Ranu stared at him expressionlessly.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie!”
Mr. Wiryo grabbed him by the collar.
“If anything’s happened to Laras, I’ll kill you!”
Mbah Ranu didn’t resist.
“If you want to kill me, go ahead.”
He looked into Mr. Wiryo’s eyes.
“But that won’t bring your daughter back.”
Mr. Wiryo released him.
“What do I have to do?”
“Cancel the pact.”
“How?”
“Don’t complete the third night.”
Mr. Wiryo frowned.
“Didn’t you say I couldn’t cancel it?”
“You can’t.”
Mbah Ranu sighed.
“But you can refuse to pay the final price.”
“What about Laras?”
“If you manage to find where she is before midnight, she might still be saved.”
“Might?”
Mbah Ranu fell silent.
Mr. Wiryo grew even angrier.
“Where is she?”
“In the same place as everyone who has ever made a pact.”
“The forest?”
Mbah Ranu shook his head.
“No.”
“Then where?”
“Below.”
Mr. Wiryo stared at him in confusion.
“Below what?”
Mbah Ranu pointed at the ground.
“Below your house.”
Mr. Wiryo froze.
“What?”
“Your house was built over something much older.”
“What do you mean?”
“Go home.”
Mbah Ranu stepped closer.
“Find a room you never knew existed.”
Mr. Wiryo returned home before sunset.
He stared at the house with a strange feeling in his chest.
His family had lived there for decades.
His father had built it himself.
He had never found a hidden room.
But Mbah Ranu’s words kept echoing in his mind.
**Find a room you never knew existed.**
Mr. Wiryo checked the bedrooms.
The kitchen.
The shed.
The living room.
Nothing.
Then he remembered something.
The kitchen floor.
His father had once said that one section of the house must never be torn up because it covered the remains of an old well.
Mr. Wiryo picked up a hammer.
He tapped the floor one spot at a time.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Everything sounded solid.
Until he reached the corner near the stove.
**Knock...**
The sound was different.
Hollow.
Mr. Wiryo stopped.
He knocked again.
**Knock... knock...**
Hollow.
His heart began to pound.
He grabbed a crowbar.
With trembling hands, he pried up the tiles.
One.
Two.
Three.
The tiles came loose.
Beneath them lay old wooden boards.
Mr. Wiryo opened them.
The smell of wet earth immediately rose up.
Below the boards was a narrow staircase descending into darkness.
Mr. Wiryo switched on his flashlight.
The stairs descended quite deeply.
He picked up his machete.
Then he began to climb down.
One step.
Two.
Three.
The farther down he went, the colder the air became.
The walls were made of old bricks.
Strange symbols appeared in several places.
Circles.
Claws.
And drawings of pig heads.
Mr. Wiryo kept descending.
At last, he reached an underground chamber.
In the middle of the room stood a stone table.
A bowl sat on top of it.
The bowl was filled with black water.
Dozens of names were written on the wall to the right.
Human names.
Some had been crossed out.
Others were still clear.
Mr. Wiryo stepped closer.
He read them one by one.
They were the names of people who had lived in the village decades ago.
Then he saw a name that made his entire body freeze.
**Sulastri.**
His wife’s name.
Mr. Wiryo stumbled backward.
“That’s impossible.”
Beneath his wife’s name was a date.
Sulastri’s date of death.
Three years ago.
Beneath it were the words:
**Failed to fulfill the pact.**
Mr. Wiryo covered his mouth.
Suddenly, sobbing echoed from the far end of the room.
“Dad...”
Mr. Wiryo turned at once.
“Laras?”
The sobbing came again.
“Dad...”
He ran toward it.
At the end of the room stood a wooden door.
Mr. Wiryo opened it.
There was nothing inside but darkness.
“Laras!”
“Dad...”
The voice sounded closer.
Mr. Wiryo stepped inside.
The door behind him slammed shut.
**Bang!**
He turned around.
It wouldn’t open.
“Laras!”
Then he heard breathing.
Not one person’s.
Many.
Mr. Wiryo aimed his flashlight around the room.
Dozens of claw marks covered the walls.
And in the middle of the room...
Laras sat huddled on the floor.
“Laras!”
Mr. Wiryo ran to embrace her.
His daughter was crying.
“Dad... I’m scared.”
“It’s okay. Dad’s here.”
“There’s something in here.”
“What?”
Laras pointed behind him.
Mr. Wiryo slowly turned.
A shadow stood at the far end of the room.
Tall.
Black.
Its face was impossible to see.
But two red eyes glowed in the darkness.
Mr. Wiryo pulled Laras behind him.
The shadow spoke.
The voice that came out was not human.
“The pact isn’t finished.”
Mr. Wiryo tightened his grip on the machete.
“I refuse.”
“If you refuse...”
The shadow stepped forward.
“...your father will replace your daughter.”
Mr. Wiryo fell silent.
Laras grabbed her father’s hand.
“Don’t listen.”
The shadow spoke again.
“Choose.”
Suddenly, the floor began to shake.
Cracks spread across the walls.
Snorting sounds emerged from between the stones.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Mr. Wiryo looked around.
Pig-shaped shadows appeared behind the walls.
They had no bodies.
Only red eyes.
Then a voice sounded behind him.
“Wiryo.”
Mr. Wiryo recognized it.
His wife’s voice.
He turned around.
Sulastri stood there.
Her face looked just as it had when she was alive.
Mr. Wiryo began to cry.
“Sul...”
Sulastri smiled sadly.
“Don’t let them take Laras.”
Mr. Wiryo wanted to approach her.
But Sulastri shook her head.
“Listen to me.”
“What happened?”
“I made a pact once.”
Mr. Wiryo froze.
“With whom?”
“With the same one.”
Sulastri looked at the black shadow.
“I wanted to cure you back then.”
Mr. Wiryo stood speechless.
Suddenly, he remembered three years earlier.
When he had fallen ill and needed money for treatment.
When Sulastri had secretly gone out for several nights.
When she had died not long afterward.
Mr. Wiryo finally understood everything.
“Mom...”
Laras began to cry.
Sulastri looked at her daughter.
“Forgive me.”
Then she looked back at Mr. Wiryo.
“This pact never ends.”
“Then how do we stop it?”
Sulastri pointed toward the stone table.
“Burn the first coin.”
Mr. Wiryo stared at her.
“The one in the house?”
“No.”
Sulastri shook her head.
“The coin that was first given to our family.”
Mr. Wiryo understood.
The gold coin kept in the house.
He had to destroy it.
But before he could move, the black shadow lunged.
Mr. Wiryo wrapped his arms around Laras.
They fell to the ground.
The flashlight went flying.
The room plunged into darkness.
A growl echoed through the chamber.
Laras screamed.
“Dad!”
Mr. Wiryo groped around in the darkness.
His hand touched something.
A coin.
He gripped it tightly.
Then Mbah Ranu’s voice rang out from far away.
“Don’t burn it!”
Mr. Wiryo flinched.
Mbah Ranu appeared in the doorway.
“If you burn it now, the pact will seek a replacement.”
“Then what do I have to do?”
Mbah Ranu looked at Laras.
“Get her out.”
“How?”
“Don’t look back.”
Mr. Wiryo hoisted Laras onto his back.
They ran toward the stairs.
Behind them, the sounds of dozens of pigs gave chase.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The stairs seemed to grow longer and longer.
Laras cried against his shoulder.
“Dad, don’t look back.”
Mr. Wiryo kept running.
But when he was almost at the exit, he heard Sulastri’s voice.
“Wiryo.”
He stopped.
“Don’t go.”
Mr. Wiryo closed his eyes.
Tears fell down his face.
He knew that voice wasn’t meant to stop him.
It was his wife’s final goodbye.
“Goodbye, Sul.”
He didn’t turn around.
He carried Laras out of the underground chamber.
The moment they reached the kitchen, the wooden door beneath the floor closed by itself.
Silence.
Laras fainted in his arms.
Mr. Wiryo looked down at his daughter.
Then he noticed her wrist.
The black bracelet had changed.
There were now three red lines across its surface.
And in the middle, words had appeared:
**THIRD NIGHT.**
Mr. Wiryo closed his eyes.
He had only saved Laras temporarily.
But the night wasn’t over.
Because from outside the house came Mbah Ranu’s voice:
“Wiryo...”
Mr. Wiryo turned toward the door.
“You think you’ve saved your daughter?”
Silence.
Then came laughter.
“Tomorrow night, you’ll learn who really made the first pact.”
Mr. Wiryo stared at the door, his face pale.
And for the first time, he began to suspect that Mbah Ranu wasn’t the person helping him.
He was the one who had been guiding him toward the abyss from the very beginning.