In the corner of a forgotten small town stood an antique shop named "Time & Memories." Its owner, Mr. Seno, an old man always seen in a worn-out suit and fedora, was known for his fondness for storytelling. But among all the antiques, there was one item never for sale: a large wooden wall clock, its hands forever frozen at 3:17.
Legend said the clock stopped on March 17, 1973, the day someone vanished without a trace. Yet no one knew who it was — even Mr. Seno would only smile when asked, as if guarding a secret.
A Curious Visitor
One day, Dira, a history student, came to visit. She had heard tales of an unsolved riddle hidden within that clock.
"Sir, why is that clock never for sale?" Dira asked.
Mr. Seno smiled faintly. "Because that clock hasn't finished telling its story, my dear. But who knows, maybe you can hear it."
First Clue
Dira examined the clock closely. Beneath the number 3, there was a tiny engraving: "VN1-LIBRA." No further explanation.
She wondered: was it a code? Initials? Coordinates?
While lighting his tobacco pipe, Mr. Seno murmured, "Libra is a scale. Balance is essential in time. But something here is lopsided."
Second Clue
When Dira tapped the wooden surface, she noticed an odd chime — different tones on the right and left sides. On closer inspection, she found a small, almost invisible hole on the right side, like a hidden lever.
Carefully, she pressed it. At that moment, a small disc atop the clock rotated, revealing another inscription:
"3:17 is not time, but a sequence."
A sequence of what?
Third Clue: The Old Note
Mr. Seno handed her a fragile piece of paper with numbers:
> 3 - 17 - 19 - 5 - 2 - 15 - 15 - 11
9 - 19 - 1 - 14 - 15 - 20 - 8 - 5 - 18
Dira pondered. It looked like a simple cipher. She matched numbers to letters of the alphabet:
> 3 = C
17 = Q
19 = S
5 = E
…and so on.
The result formed a cryptic phrase:
> "C Q S E B O O K"
"I S A N O T H E R"
It didn't make sense. But then she recalled "Libra" hinted at balance. She thought: what if 17 (Q) should be adjusted to 12 (L), like recalibrating a scale?
The new result was:
> "C L S E B O O K"
"I S A N O T H E R"
Still odd, but now "SEBOOK" could mean "SEE BOOK."
Combined, the phrase became:
"CLOSE BOOK IS ANOTHER." Strange, yet intriguing.
Suddenly, Mr. Seno whispered, "Sometimes, to read, you must first close."
Fourth Clue: The Meaning of 'Close'
Dira glanced at the bookshelf across the room. She closed her eyes and reflected.
"CLOSE BOOK" might be an instruction, not a statement.
She approached the shelf, selecting an old book titled "Horologium: The Art of Reading Time," and gently closed it.
At that moment, a hidden panel behind the shelf creaked open, revealing a small box. Engraved atop were the numbers 1973 and an inverted Libra symbol.
Inside, there was an old photograph of a young woman in a vintage dress, smiling. On the back, a message:
> "For she who forgets, time will always return. – M.S."
Dira raised an eyebrow. Who was M.S.?
Mr. Seno smiled wistfully.
"M.S. was Murni Sari, my wife who disappeared in 1973. She wasn't kidnapped or lost… she left because I was too busy chasing time, forgetting to live it with her."
The Riddle's Resolution
The clock stopped at 3:17 was a metaphor: 03 for March, 17 for the day she left. But deeper still:
3 (heart), 1 (self), and 7 (awareness) — three elements that must remain in balance.
"VN1-LIBRA" wasn't geographical coordinates, but emotional ones. A personal message about balancing ambition and affection.
Mr. Seno said,
"Dira, the riddle is simple: if you're too busy measuring time, you'll lose the people within it. Don't become like me."
Dira left that shop with a valuable lesson: sometimes, the greatest riddle isn't in numbers or codes, but in remembering what truly matters — before it's too late.