Mr. Herman looked at Romo, who still appeared calm on the surface, although his eyes seemed slightly distant.
"It's good that you think that way," Mr. Herman finally said. "But don't forget, Romo… seeking the truth isn't just a physical journey—it's a spiritual one too. And that's the harder part, because sometimes you have to let go of things you thought you'd hold onto forever."
Romo gave a faint smile, this time a little more hesitant. "I'll do my best, Sir."
Deep down, he knew—this was more than just a research project. It was a journey that could change him, in ways he might not be ready to face.
Mr. Herman observed Romo carefully. The young man was still trying to maintain his composure, but something in his eyes had shifted. Something even Romo himself might not have realized.
"This kid still holds his ideals intact," Mr. Herman thought. "Too intact. As if the world is only made up of principles written in books and values that have been taught to him. He hasn't opened his heart or emotions to reality."
Mr. Herman took a slow breath.
"Out of the three of them, the one who'll be most affected by this research won't be Marlon or Riri. They already see the world through more flexible lenses. But Romo… Romo is still living in a fantasy of how the world should be, not how it really is."
"If this research shakes his beliefs, will he be able to stand firm? Or will he fall apart, lost? I've seen many like him—people who cling tightly to their ideals, only to break when the world doesn't live up to their expectations."
Mr. Herman glanced at Romo, who was still trying to sit up straight. He could see the small storm beginning to brew inside the young man.
"I hope you're ready, Romo. Because this journey will be tougher than you think."
Mr. Herman leaned back in his chair and gave a small, softer smile. "Alright, Romo. I hope this journey takes you somewhere meaningful."
Romo looked at him and nodded firmly. "Of course, Sir."
But behind that response, both Romo and Mr. Herman knew this was more than just a quest for answers. It was a journey of self-discovery—and sometimes, that's more terrifying than uncovering lies behind the truths we once believed.
Mr. Herman stirred his tea slowly, his gaze directed out the half-open window of his house. The night breeze entered, carrying the scent of earth and a faint trace of incense from a neighbor's home. The atmosphere felt quieter, with only the sound of crickets chirping in the distance.
"Romo," Mr. Herman said finally, his voice heavier than before. "Do you believe the world is only what we can see?"
Romo furrowed his brows, a bit surprised by the shift in topic. "What do you mean, Sir?"
Mr. Herman exhaled before continuing, "In your upcoming research—especially when you interact with Bu Siti—there's a chance you'll encounter things that can't be explained by ordinary logic. I'm telling you this because I know your background. Marlon and Riri? Ah, they'd reject anything supernatural right away. But you, Romo… I think you're open enough to consider things beyond human reason."
Romo paused for a moment. His eyes narrowed slightly, trying to read Mr. Herman's expression.
"Do you believe in that kind of thing, Sir?" he finally asked.
Mr. Herman chuckled softly and sipped his tea. "It's not about belief, Romo. I've just seen too many things that defy explanation. I'm old. I've heard stories from market folks, drivers, traders—people who live close to the rough edges of reality. And sometimes, reality isn't always rational."
Romo straightened his back. "So you want me to be cautious?"
Mr. Herman nodded. "Yes, I just want you to stay alert. If you come across something that goes against your logic, don't immediately reject it. But don't accept it blindly either. The world is bigger than what our minds can grasp."
Romo gave a faint smile. "I understand, Sir. I know this research may change the way I see the world. But when it comes to spiritual or supernatural things, I hope we don't encounter any."
Mr. Herman chuckled again. "Ha! That's your hope. But the world doesn't work according to our hopes, Romo."
Romo chuckled too, though deep inside, he knew this wasn't just a joke. There was something in Mr. Herman's voice that felt like a warning.
"So, how long do you think this research will take, Sir?"
"I think you can work with Bu Siti for about a week to a month. It depends on how well you can understand her daily life patterns."
Romo nodded firmly. "Alright, Sir. We'll do our best."
Mr. Herman looked at him deeply before giving a small smile. "I hope so, Romo. I really do."
Mr. Herman looked at his tea, now cooling. He tapped his finger on the wooden table, as if unsure whether to say what was on his mind. Romo, sitting across from him, could sense that something was bothering the older man.
"Is there something you're worried about?" Romo asked, trying to read the moment.
Mr. Herman sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I've been thinking about you three, Romo. I believe you have good intentions, great passion. But the world isn't always kind to those who seek the truth."
Romo frowned. "What do you mean, Sir?"
Mr. Herman slowly rotated his teacup before speaking again. "Bu Siti is probably safe. I've known her for a long time. She's not the type to stir trouble, and she knows how to handle her environment. But the people around her? That's another story."
Romo leaned forward, more intrigued. "So there's a chance we might get involved in something… we didn't expect?"
Mr. Herman nodded. "It's possible. The business world, Romo—especially at the lower level like the market—is sometimes harsher than it seems. There's rivalry, jealousy, people who want to bring others down. If you just come as students asking questions, maybe it'll be fine. But if your research touches on sensitive issues, someone might feel threatened."
Romo fell silent. He was beginning to grasp just how complex this research might be. This wasn't just about moral values or ideal concepts he'd studied in class. This was about real life—with all its conflicts and complications.
Mr. Herman looked at the young man seriously. "I'll do my best to watch over you during this research. At the very least, if something unexpected happens, you won't be alone."
Romo nodded, feeling slightly relieved. "Thank you, Sir. That means a lot to us."
Mr. Herman gave a faint smile. "You're welcome to come and go, or even stay at my house if needed. It might be easier if you're close to the research site—especially if you want to understand Bu Siti's daily life better."
Romo nodded again. "I'll talk to Marlon and Riri about it. But I think they'll agree."
Mr. Herman stared at his ceiling for a moment, then sighed. "Let's hope so. Just make sure you stay careful."
They both fell silent for a while. Only the sound of crickets echoed outside, accompanying their thoughts.
Mr. Herman placed his teacup on the table and looked at Romo with an unreadable expression. The night was getting late, the air in the modest house still warm—but something in Mr. Herman's gaze shifted the atmosphere slightly.
"I have to tell this boy," he thought. "He needs to know what he might be facing."
"I've seen a lot of strange things in my life, especially in the business world," Mr. Herman began abruptly, his voice heavier than before. "In the market, Romo, there's more than just buying and selling. There are things that can't be explained with logic alone."
Romo sipped his tea slowly, letting the words sink in.
"Once, I knew a rice vendor," Mr. Herman continued. "He was kind, honest, his food was delicious. He always had a crowd of customers. But one day, his stall suddenly became deserted. Not because of price hikes or new competition—people literally stopped seeing his stall."
Romo frowned. "What do you mean, Sir?"
Pak Herman let out a sigh, his eyes fixed on the table in front of him.
"Physically, the stall is there. I saw it, and you'd see it too if you passed by. But in the eyes of the people, it's as if the stall disappeared. Like it never existed."
Romo felt a chill run down his spine. "Maybe there's a psychological factor? People might unconsciously ignore it for one reason or another."
Pak Herman shook his head slowly. "I used to think that too. Until I started seeing more and more similar incidents."
He took a deep breath and continued, "There was another vendor who suddenly fell ill. It started with fatigue, then he couldn't get out of bed. No clear medical diagnosis. Within a few months, he passed away. And he had been perfectly healthy before."
Romo began to feel uneasy.
"There was one whose goods suddenly rotted overnight. Everything—stock, supplies—just spoiled for no reason. Or another vendor who seemed to lose their appeal—regular customers who used to be warm and friendly suddenly didn't want to stop by. Even though nothing had changed in the way they ran their business."
Pak Herman paused, staring blankly out the window. The quiet night outside felt even more silent.
"I used to reject all of it, Romo. I always tried to find rational explanations. But the older I get, the more things I see that make me question everything. Eventually, I just couldn't ignore it anymore. I couldn't keep denying that the world is wider than we think."
Romo swallowed. What had started as a casual conversation had turned into something deeper, something heavier.
"So…" Romo took a breath. "You believe those things are real?"
Pak Herman gave a faint smile, though his voice carried no mockery.
"I'm not going to force anyone to believe. I just want you to know that during this research, you might encounter things you never expected. And if that happens…" He looked Romo straight in the eyes. "Don't panic. Use your reason—but don't close your heart."
Pak Herman exhaled slowly, then continued.
"To be honest, Romo, nowadays these supernatural occurrences seem to be very rare. There's more trickery than actual events that truly defy reason."
Romo raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you mean, Sir?"
Pak Herman sipped his tea slowly, then set the cup back down. "Out of ten thousand so-called 'supernatural' cases, maybe not even ten are genuine."
Romo nodded. That sounded reasonable. "So most people are just taking advantage of others' fear and belief for their own gain?"
"Exactly." Pak Herman sighed. "Some pretend to be cursed to gain sympathy. Some shamans use simple magic tricks to deceive. Others spread myths just to scare off business competitors. There's a lot of dirty play out there—not all of it has to do with the other world."
Romo exhaled in relief. This explanation felt more grounded. But before he could respond, Pak Herman spoke again.
"But…" Pak Herman looked at him seriously, "Still, out of those ten thousand cases, some are real."
Romo's expression changed slightly. "You mean…?"
"Who knows, you might be unlucky and end up witnessing one of the real ones."
Romo felt the atmosphere in the room shift slightly.
"You can't underestimate something just because it rarely happens," Pak Herman continued. "A small chance doesn't mean zero. I'm not asking you to be afraid—I just want you to stay alert. Be prepared for the worst, even if we always hope for the best."
Romo swallowed hard. There was a subtle tension inside him, though he tried to remain rational.
"So, if we really encounter something beyond understanding… what should we do?" he asked quietly.
Pak Herman gave a faint smile. "First, don't panic. Second, don't believe it right away. Third, use your reason—and hold on to whatever faith or belief you trust."
He gently patted Romo on the shoulder. "The world is full of surprises, kid. Not all of them are pleasant—but the important thing is to stay calm."
Romo was silent for a moment, then nodded firmly. "I understand, Sir. Hopefully, we won't come across anything like that."
Romo glanced at the clock on the wall in Pak Herman's house. The short hand had passed eleven, and the long hand was nearing twelve. The night was getting late.
He felt a heaviness in his head—not from sleepiness, but from the depth and weight of their conversation. Tonight's talk had stirred so many things in his mind—about religion, philosophy, reality, even the supernatural he had only ever heard of in myths.
He took a slow breath and slid his empty teacup forward. "Sir, I think I should head home now. I'll come back tomorrow with Marlon and Riri to start getting to know Bu Siti."
Pak Herman looked at him, then nodded in understanding. "Good. You should familiarize yourselves with the environment before starting your research. Bu Siti is an open person, but still—be polite, especially when asking about sensitive matters."
Romo nodded and stood up. Pak Herman followed, walking him to the front of the house. The night air greeted him with a sharp chill, a contrast to the warmth of their earlier conversation.
As Romo slipped on his sandals, Pak Herman patted his shoulder gently. "Romo."
Romo turned.
"You've got a clear mind and a strong heart, but this journey might test both. Don't hesitate to step back if something doesn't feel right."
Romo gave a small smile. "I'll keep that in mind, Sir."
Pak Herman nodded with satisfaction. "Take care on your way home."
Romo stepped out, walking slowly along the small road lit by a few dim streetlights. Every step felt heavy—not from exhaustion, but from a mind still flooded with questions.
"Am I really ready for this?" he asked himself silently.
But one thing was certain: tomorrow would be a new beginning—and he had to be ready for whatever came his way.
Romo arrived home late at night. The house was quiet, with only the ticking of the wall clock and the soft hum of a slowly turning fan filling the air. He carefully took off his shoes, trying not to make a sound. But before he could head to his room, a deep, calm voice stopped him.
"You're home, son?"
Romo turned and saw his father sitting in the living room, dressed in casual clothes with an open book resting on his lap. His gaze was calm but observant.
"Yes, Dad… Sorry I got home so late," Romo said hesitantly.
His father gave a small nod. "It's alright. Sit with me for a moment."
Romo hesitated, but then obeyed. He sat across from his father, feeling the day's exhaustion slowly creeping over his body.
"Is something bothering you?" his father asked, still in that same calm tone.
Romo let out a deep breath before answering. "Dad… I'm starting to doubt a lot of things."
His father didn't overreact. He simply closed his book slowly and waited for his son to continue.
"It's only been a few days since I started this research with Marlon, Riri, and Pak Herman… but I already feel like I'm questioning the values I've held all my life. What used to feel absolute now seems… more complicated than I thought."
His father didn't respond right away. He observed his son's expression, letting the words settle.
"I used to believe that there was only one truth. That as long as we followed the rules, we were on the right side. But now, I see people with their own versions of truth. Some sacrifice things for what they believe is good. Others fall apart because they chose what was considered right. So… what's the real truth, Dad?"
His father gave a faint smile, then took a sip of water from the glass beside him before replying.
"Rama, questions like that have existed since the dawn of human thought. There are no easy answers. But one thing's for sure—you're not alone in your confusion."
He leaned back in his chair and continued, "You're going through a natural phase, son. Doubt isn't a sign of weakness. It's a sign that you're beginning to think more deeply."
Romo looked at his father, searching for some sense of certainty.
"But what if everything I believe turns out to be wrong? What if I have to start over from scratch?"
His father looked at him for a long moment, then spoke with a soft yet firm voice.
"Keep going, son. Continue what you've started. Keep searching for your answers. If you feel lost, bring whatever you find back to this house. We'll talk about it together. You don't have to carry everything on your own. And don't be afraid to walk the hard path, as long as your intention remains to seek goodness."
Romo was silent. His father's words felt like an anchor, keeping him from drifting too far into uncertainty. Slowly, he nodded.
"Alright, Dad..."
His father gave a small smile, then stood and gently patted his son's shoulder before heading to his room.
"Get some rest, Rama. You'll need more energy tomorrow."
Romo watched his father's back until he disappeared behind the bedroom door. He still didn't have all the answers—but at least, he no longer felt alone.
As Romo lay on his bed, his mind wrestled with the conversation he had just had with his father. His eyes were closed, but his thoughts continued to spin. Exhaustion eventually took over, pulling him into another realm...
In his dream, Romo was back at the boarding school.
The sound of Quranic recitations echoed clearly in his ears. He saw himself sitting among the rows of students, a book in his hand, listening intently to the ustaz's explanation. Every word delivered felt so clear, so convincing.
Then, the scene shifted.
Now he was inside a mosque, sitting cross-legged among other worshippers. His heart was calm, the verses being studied flowed naturally into his soul. The warm light from the lamps cast gentle shadows on the floor, adding to the peaceful atmosphere surrounding him.
But suddenly… everything vanished.
The light dimmed, the voices faded, and only darkness remained.
Romo stood alone. The darkness was so dense, it felt suffocating. He walked slowly, trying to find a way out.
"Where… is this?"
His feet kept moving, but he had no idea where to go. There were no boundaries, no sounds—only emptiness wrapped around him.
Until finally, he saw something in the distance.
A single point of light.
He quickened his pace, trying to reach that source of light. The closer he got, the brighter it became, until he realized it was a giant screen—like a movie screen.
And there, in front of that screen, were Marlon, Riri, and Pak Herman, sitting comfortably in cinema seats, waiting for something to begin.
Romo stood at the edge of the light, confused.
"What is this…?"
Before he could grasp the situation, he felt the presence of someone beside him.
When he turned his head, his father was there.
His face was as calm as ever, his gaze warm. With a deep, steady voice, he said:
"Come, Rama. Let's watch this together."
Romo looked at the screen in front of him. He had no idea what kind of film was about to play. But somehow, deep inside, he sensed that this was more than just an ordinary dream.
This was something that would change the way he saw the world.
Romo sat quietly in his seat, eyes fixed on the large screen before him.
The film that started playing felt familiar. He recognized the face of the actor—Jim Carrey in The Truman Show.
On screen, Truman Burbank lived a seemingly happy life, completely unaware that the world around him was nothing but a massive stage. The people he met, the job he did, even the love he felt—everything had been orchestrated by a director controlling that world.
Romo remained silent. Something about it stirred him deeply.
"Am I like that too…?"
Images of his childhood at the pesantren flashed through his mind. He remembered how he was raised with values handed down to him from the very beginning. Every lesson he learned, every belief he held—none of it came from within himself.
He had never truly questioned anything.
"I just accepted whatever was given to me."
On the screen, Truman began to suspect that something was wrong with his life. The people around him always said the same things, acted according to a script—nothing felt truly real.
"Am I the same? Is the world I live in one that's already been written for me?"
Suddenly, he felt small.
All the books he had read, all the verses he memorized, all the concepts he believed in—were they truly his own thoughts? Or were they merely lines from a script written by someone else?
A voice beside him snapped him out of it.
His father was still sitting there, calmly watching the film.
Romo glanced at Marlon, Riri, and Pak Herman. They were watching too, but they seemed relaxed, as if they already understood something he hadn't yet grasped.
He clenched his hands. Unease welled up in his chest.
"Then, if all of this is just a performance… how do I find what's real?"
Would you like this scene to continue with a dialogue from the father or a new shift in the dream?