At midday, the mansion felt calmer. Nadine had come home earlier than usual from work. She went up to Yohanes's room, planning to place a sweater she had just bought for him on his desk.
As she set the sweater down, her eyes accidentally fell on an open notebook lying on the desk. The pages were filled with Yohanes's handwriting—messy scribbles, ink smudges, and sentences that spoke straight from the heart.
Nadine began to read slowly, her eyes softening with every line.
"I realize now, I have two homes. One home that will never disappear—the memories with my father and mother. And one new home here, where I've learned how to laugh again."
Nadine's heart trembled. A smile and tears mixed on her face. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to contain the wave of emotion rising within her.
"My son…" she whispered softly. "You've finally had the courage to open your heart."
She didn't want to disturb the notebook, so Nadine simply closed it gently, as if protecting a precious secret. But in her heart, she knew: Yohanes was now truly part of their family. There was no more distance, no more doubt.
Later that evening, when the whole family gathered, Nadine planned to share what she felt—not by revealing the words Yohanes had written, but by showing even more warmth and love. She wanted Yohanes to know he hadn't just written about finding a home—he had already found it.
A New Atmosphere in the Old Corridor
The school corridor, which once felt suffocating, now seemed different. The chatter of students in every corner no longer carried mocking glances as before. Yohanes's name was no longer whispered as a joke, but mentioned with curiosity—sometimes even with a hint of respect, though still awkward.
Yohanes walked side by side with Arka. There was a kind of comfortable silence between them, different from the old days when their steps were always rushed, as if trying to escape Davka's shadow.
"Funny, isn't it?" Arka suddenly said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Back then, when I walked with you down this hallway, it felt like we were heading to an execution room. But now…" He turned with a crooked smile. "…it feels like walking to the canteen to buy meatballs."
Yohanes chuckled. "I feel the same. Somehow, that weight feels gone." He lowered his head for a moment, then added quietly, "Maybe because we're not alone anymore."
Arka patted his shoulder playfully, though his eyes were serious. "Exactly. You have me. And…I have you. We used to be victims, Han. But now, we're no longer shadows."
Those words warmed Yohanes's chest. Arka often joked, but when he spoke seriously, his words always struck deep.
Not long after, Kia appeared from the end of the corridor, followed by Dika who was half running. "Hey! You two didn't wait for us?" Kia walked up, slightly annoyed, her face flushed from catching her breath.
Arka grinned immediately. "Who told you to walk like turtles? If you want to join the heroes, you've got to be quick."
"Heroes?" Kia raised an eyebrow, half amused. "You think this is a movie?"
"Better than a movie," Arka replied lightly. "Look, we even have a soundtrack—" He started whistling off-key, making Dika burst out laughing.
Yohanes just shook his head, trying not to laugh. This warmth was new. Before, whenever Davka walked by, everyone froze. Now, their laughter filled the empty spaces that once felt frightening.
Kia looked at Yohanes more softly. "I'm glad you look more at ease, Han. You're different now."
Yohanes glanced at her, slightly surprised. "Different?"
"Yes," Kia nodded. "Before, your eyes always looked like… they were holding something back. Now, I see you can actually laugh." She lowered her gaze briefly. "That's a good thing."
Arka immediately cut in with a teasing tone. "Eh, don't tell me you like Yohanes, Ki?"
"ARKA!" Kia snapped, her cheeks red, while Dika nearly fell over from trying to hold back laughter. Yohanes finally laughed freely too.
The moment was simple, but for the four of them, it felt like a new door had opened. They had once been connected only by shared wounds—victims of Davka. But now, those wounds became the reason they could understand one another and build something stronger: friendship.
During break time, they sat together in the canteen for the first time. Yohanes was no longer alone in a corner, nor Arka hiding behind the noise of others. Now there was a small table full of their voices—Arka never stopping with his jokes, Dika quick to respond, Kia trying to balance them out, and Yohanes quietly feeling his heart grow lighter.
He looked at them one by one. I used to think school was only a place of pain. But it turns out, this is where I found a second family—after the mansion.
And this time, his smile was genuine, free of burden.
Shadows in the Back Warehouse
After school, the courtyard grew quiet. Students poured out through the gates with carefree laughter—some starting their motorbikes, others chatting about homework. The noise drifted farther away until Yohanes found himself walking alone along the side path of the school.
His steps stopped at a corner he hadn't visited in a long time. In front of him stood an old building, its paint peeling, some of its window glass shattered, the wooden door rusted and bound with dusty chains. The back warehouse.
He took a deep breath. This place…
Memories rushed back all at once: the cold night, Davka and his gang's jeering voices, Arka's frightened eyes that still chose to stay by his side, the pain of feeling utterly alone, and the moment their carefully planned trap with the Alister family finally caught the so-called little king.
Yohanes didn't step inside. He only stood before the old door, his heartbeat suddenly racing. His hand almost reached for the rusty handle, but he stopped himself.
"No," he whispered softly. "I don't need to go in anymore."
He closed his eyes. Silence wrapped around him, broken only by the evening wind that made the rusty chains rattle faintly.
"Back then, I almost broke here," Yohanes said quietly, as if speaking to his own shadow. "I thought I was alone. I thought everyone had turned away. But it turns out… I could rise. I could fight back."
A long breath escaped his chest, heavier than usual, but releasing something within him.
"If one day someone else goes through what I did," he looked at the worn-out door intently, "I hope they won't face it alone. I hope… they'll have someone to hold their hand. Just like I do now."
The sunset slipped through the gaps in the wooden boards, casting thin lines of light across the ground. The light fell right at his feet, as if marking a sign: this wound belonged to the past, not the future.
Yohanes stepped back twice, then bowed his head slightly—paying a small respect to the place that had once witnessed his suffering. Not because he honored what happened, but because he chose not to let fear control him anymore.
When he turned and walked away, his face looked calmer. The warehouse still stood, silent, but now it was nothing more than an old building—no longer holding power over him.
At the end of the path, Arka, who had been waiting by the fence, straightened up."You really came here," he said quietly, glancing toward the warehouse.
Yohanes nodded. "I just… needed to say goodbye."
Arka patted his shoulder gently. "Then let's go home. We'll never go back to the way things were."
A small smile tugged at Yohanes's lips. "Yeah. Let's go home."
And together they walked, leaving behind the old shadows, moving toward the much warmer light of the evening.
A Night of Long-Held Questions
That night, the long dining table felt more alive than usual. The aroma of warm soup filled the room, the crystal chandelier casting soft light across the faces seated around the table. Nadine was busy pouring sauce onto Deon's plate, Una chatted endlessly about school assignments that had kept her up late, while Jovian mischievously kept moving Yohanes's fork so he had to keep looking for it.
"Jovian," Nadine scolded gently, half-annoyed but still affectionate. "Let Yohanes eat in peace."
"Let him learn to stay alert," Jovian replied with a grin. "The world doesn't always leave the fork where it belongs."
Everyone chuckled, even Effendi, who was usually the calmest of them all. Yohanes smiled too, though inside him there was a restlessness he could no longer hide.
Tonight felt different. Perhaps because of the warmth in the room, or because he had carried a question in his heart for so long—one that had haunted him ever since he came into this house. He lowered his gaze to his soup, his spoon trembling slightly in his hand.
"Yohanes?" Nadine's voice was soft. "Are you alright? You've been quiet."
Yohanes slowly lifted his face. All eyes turned to him now: Gibson's calm gaze, Nadine's full of concern, Deon leaning forward as if reading the situation, Una watching with curiosity, and Jovian, who for the first time that evening, stopped smiling.
"There's something I want to ask…" Yohanes's voice was almost swallowed by the air, but he forced himself to continue. "About… my father and mother."
The room fell silent. Only the ticking of the clock filled the space.
"I… I remember working at Uncle Burhan's food stall. He was a good man, simple. He said he used to be a close friend of my parents. But… there's something I never understood." Yohanes drew a breath, his fingers gripping the spoon tightly. "I also once saw an old building… with the word Pointless written on it. That name… it's always tied to a blurry memory I can't quite grasp. And I feel… you know more than you've ever told me."
Nadine set her spoon down slowly. Gibson exchanged a look with Effendi. Something heavy hung in the air, something carefully hidden for a long time.
"Yohanes…" Gibson finally spoke, his voice deep but steady. "Your parents weren't ordinary people. They weren't just our close friends—they were part of something bigger."
Yohanes's eyes widened. "Something… what?"
Effendi, who had been silent all along, finally spoke. His voice was rough but full of weight. "Pointless. That wasn't just some old building. It was the birthplace of a small movement… a community of young people who believed the world could be lived without deceit. Your father was one of its leaders. Your mother—" he paused, then smiled faintly, "—she was the light in that room. She kept everyone going, in her simple way."
Yohanes swallowed hard, his heart pounding fast. "And… Uncle Burhan?"
"Burhan was your father's old friend," Gibson answered. "The two of them opened that food stall not only to make a living, but to look after one another. When your family fell apart after the accident… Burhan tried to protect what was left. You working at his stall wasn't a coincidence. It was his way of staying connected to the past he loved."
Yohanes lowered his head, his eyes burning. The memory of his sweat delivering food orders from that small stall now felt different. Not just part-time work, but a bridge to his parents.
"And you?" his voice trembled. "Why didn't you ever tell me directly?"
Nadine reached across the table, holding his hand gently. "Because we wanted you to find your own path, Han. We didn't want you to feel like you belonged here only because of your parents' past. We wanted you to feel… truly part of this family because of who you are."
Tears slid down Yohanes's cheeks. For the first time, the heavy burden began to unravel.
Effendi looked at him deeply, then said, "Your father once pulled me out of a pit. He saved me from a dark road. That's why when we met you again, I knew… this wasn't an accident. It was our turn to pull you up."
The room stayed quiet, but it was no longer an uncomfortable silence—it was one filled with meaning.
Yohanes exhaled, then smiled through his tears. "Thank you… truly… thank you."
Una, unable to hold back, hugged him from the side of his chair. Jovian, in his usual way, muttered softly, "If your dad was a hero, Han, then it's your turn now. But don't forget… you still left your fork behind."
Laughter burst around the table again, breaking the heaviness with warmth. But for Yohanes, tonight was no longer just another dinner. Tonight was the night he finally realized: he wasn't just a guest in this house—he was truly part of this family. And also part of his parents' long story, still alive within him.
Shadows in the Night Garden
The night air settled gently over the Alister mansion's garden. The garden lamps glowed softly, highlighting the leaves that swayed in the breeze. Yohanes sat on a wooden bench near the small pond, his shoulders slightly slumped, his gaze lost in the rippling water. Thoughts from dinner still circled in his mind—Pointless, Uncle Burhan, and most of all… his father and mother.
He drew in a long breath and lowered his head, folding his hands on his lap. For a moment, he felt like a child who had just opened an old box of family secrets, only to find more questions than answers.
The sound of a cane tapping slowly echoed along the stone path. Yohanes didn't need to turn his head to know who it was. Only Effendi walked with such steady rhythm.
"If you stare at the water too long," Effendi's deep voice came, calm yet full of weight, "you might see yourself sinking into it."
Yohanes turned slightly. Effendi was already standing beside the bench, his face lit by the garden lamps. Though age was clear on his skin and in his eyes, there was something firm in his presence—like an old tree unshaken by storms.
"May I sit?" Effendi asked.
Yohanes only nodded. Effendi lowered himself onto the bench, resting his cane against it. Silence fell between them, broken only by the sound of crickets in the night.
"I'm still confused, Grandpa…" Yohanes's voice was soft, almost breaking. "Everything you all said at dinner… about Pointless, about my father, about Uncle Burhan. It feels like pieces of a puzzle, but I don't know what the picture is supposed to be."
Effendi kept his eyes on the pond, its surface reflecting the lamp's glow. "It's not an easy puzzle, Yohanes. Even for us who lived inside it, the picture kept changing."
Yohanes frowned. "But… why hide it? Why not just tell me everything from the start?"
Effendi exhaled deeply, his voice heavy but gentle. "Because truth isn't something you can simply place on the table. Truth is like a sword, Han. In the wrong hands—or in hands not ready—it can cut deeper than any enemy."
Yohanes fell silent. The words pressed against his chest, sinking deep.
Effendi continued, his voice lower now, as though speaking not only to Yohanes but also to the shadows of the past."Pointless wasn't just an old building. It was a place… a place where young people, including your father, tried to create a new world. They believed there was another way to live, beyond money and power. But the world doesn't take kindly to young ones who challenge its rules. So they were struck down… harshly."
Yohanes turned quickly, his heartbeat racing. "Struck down? You mean—"
Effendi raised his hand, stopping the question. His eyes gazed far, far away, as if seeing something no longer within reach. "Some stories cannot be opened all at once, Yohanes. If you force them, all you'll hold are shards that cut you from the inside."
The silence returned. Yohanes lowered his head, fingers tangled together. "I want to know, Grandpa. I want to know everything about them. I've felt alone for too long without truly knowing."
Effendi finally turned to him. His eyes carried both tenderness and a heavy weight, like someone who had carried a burden for decades. He placed his hand gently on Yohanes's shoulder.
"You will know, my boy. But not tonight. What you need to understand now is this: your father and mother… they didn't just leave you. They left behind something far greater. And that part, in time, will find its way to you."
Yohanes bit his lower lip, his eyes burning. "Why… why does it feel like everyone else was saved by my father, but I never got to truly know him?"
Effendi drew in a long breath before answering softly, his voice trembling with meaning:"Because perhaps your father's duty wasn't only to save people in his own time… but to make sure someone would continue after him. And that someone—" he looked Yohanes straight in the eyes, "—might be you."
The words struck Yohanes like a hammer. He couldn't reply, only lowered his head and brushed at the tears welling in his eyes. Effendi said nothing more. He simply sat beside him, silent, yet as steady as a fortress.
That night, the mansion's garden felt like a sacred place—not because of the lamps or the pond, but because of the secrets still locked away, and the legacy slowly beginning to reveal its path.
A Morning That Turned
That morning, the Alister mansion felt warm as usual. Nadine was busy preparing lunchboxes, Gibson was already straightening his suit, Deon rushed with his college bag, Una scrambled through the living room looking for a book, while Jovian kept pacing around, struggling with shoelaces that somehow always ended up tied the wrong way.
Yohanes sat at the breakfast table, staring at the toast in front of him. But his eyes were empty. Effendi's words from the night before kept echoing in his mind:"Pointless wasn't just an old building… they were struck down harshly…"
Something stirred inside him, pressing against his chest. He felt that if he waited too long, the mystery would be buried even deeper.
"Han, are you ready? The car's leaving soon," Una called, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
Yohanes snapped out of his thoughts. "Uh… yes, just a second." He grabbed his bag in a hurry.
The family cars were already waiting in the driveway. The drivers opened the doors for each of them. But when it was Yohanes's turn, he stopped for a moment. A sudden thought struck him—wild, but impossible to resist.
Instead of stepping into the car, Yohanes quickly said, "I'll walk today, sir."
The driver blinked in surprise. "But young master usually—"
"Just once in a while. It's fine." Yohanes forced a small smile to cover his nerves. He waited until the cars drove out through the gates, then turned in another direction—the way toward the old town.
His steps quickened, his chest pounding. He knew this was reckless, but there was a pull he couldn't explain. He wanted to see that building with his own eyes.
Sneaking into the Old Building
The Pointless building stood in decay at the end of a narrow street, covered in wild bushes and peeling paint. The large word POINTLESS on its upper wall had faded, like a shadow of the past.
Yohanes froze in front of the rusted iron door. There was a strange chill in the air—not from the weather, but as if remnants of something once alive still lingered there.
Slowly, he pushed the door. It creaked loudly, sending shivers down his spine.
Inside, dim light filtered through broken windows. The wide room that might once have been a meeting place was now filled with broken chairs, torn posters on the walls, and faint scribbles. Yohanes stepped inside, dust rising with every movement of his feet.
His hand brushed against the wall. Strange symbols marked the surface, most of them faded. But one large sentence still remained clear:
"We will not bow down."
Yohanes's heart pounded. The words seemed to echo through the empty hall. He imagined his father standing in that very place, maybe writing or shouting those words with his friends.
He walked further, finding a small room at the back. A large chalkboard still stood there, covered in faint chalk marks that hadn't been fully erased. Names were written, blurry but still visible. He squinted.
One of them—though faint—he was sure it said: Burhan.
"Uncle Burhan…" he whispered.
A strange feeling crept into him. A mix of longing, fear, and curiosity. As if this building was hiding the answers, yet also pulling him deeper into a pit he didn't yet understand.
Without realizing it, the sun had already begun to lean westward. Yohanes wandered on, moving from one room to another, trying to piece together fragments of the past from the ruins left behind.
Coming Home Late
It was already dark when Yohanes finally stepped out of the building. The sky had turned from red to black, and the streetlights were glowing. That's when he realized one thing: he was way past his time to go home.
"Damn…" he muttered, then ran quickly toward the mansion.
Inside, the dining room was already full. Nadine sat with her arms folded, worry written all over her face. Gibson glanced at his watch. Deon tapped on his phone screen, Una paced back and forth, and Jovian was fidgeting with impatience.
The moment the front door creaked open, all heads turned. Yohanes stood in the doorway, his breathing uneven, his face pale from both exhaustion and nerves.
"Yohanes!" Una rushed to him. "Where have you been? We almost called the police!"
"Why didn't you take the car? Why didn't you send a message?" Nadine asked firmly, though her voice carried the deep worry of a mother.
Gibson's gaze was sharp, his tone heavy. "Young man, this house has rules. You can't just disappear for an entire day."
Jovian chimed in, half-annoyed, half-relieved. "If you wanted to run off, at least take me with you. Don't go alone."
Deon only studied him, his eyes sharp and analytical. "You don't look like you just came from school. Where did you go, Yohanes?"
The question made Yohanes freeze. His hand tightened around the strap of his bag, his heartbeat racing.
All eyes were now fixed on him, waiting for an answer.
A Night Full of Questions
The dining room that night felt different. Usually, warmth filled it right away—the gentle smell of Nadine's cooking, the clinking of plates, Jovian's mischievous laughter, and Deon's logical comments that often sparked small debates. But tonight, the air was tense ever since Yohanes came home late.
The crystal chandelier cast a warm glow over the long table, but to Yohanes, it felt more like a spotlight exposing secrets. He sat with his back slightly hunched, tapping his spoon against an empty plate as if the small sound could distract from the stares of the family around him.
Nadine was the first to speak. Her voice was soft, yet carried a clear note of worry."Yohanes… you came home very late. We were all worried about you. Can you tell us what really happened?"
Yohanes swallowed hard, his throat dry."I… I'm sorry, Mom. I just… got lost in my thoughts. The way home felt longer than usual."
Before he could add more, Jovian leaned back in his chair with a sly smile."Lost in your thoughts?" he teased, raising an eyebrow. "Is that an excuse from a high schooler or a heartbroken poet? Don't tell me you ran off to an internet café and lost track of time playing games."
"Jo," Gibson warned, his voice low but firm. Still, the slight twitch of his lips suggested he was holding back a laugh.
Yohanes tried to smile, though the tension was clear on his face."It wasn't like that. I… I just wanted to walk. Clear my head. Suddenly, the time was gone."
Across from him, Una leaned forward. Her gaze was warm, unlike the others."Han, we won't be angry if you tell the truth. You seem… different. Something is weighing on you, isn't it?"
Deon, who usually kept quiet during dinner, finally spoke in his logical tone."It wasn't just a walk, Han. Your shoes are dirty, and your pants are dusty. That's not street dust. You must've been somewhere that hasn't been used in a long time."
Yohanes's heart thudded hard. Deon's words hit the mark like an arrow. He tried to keep his expression steady, but his fingers trembled slightly around the spoon.
Silence stretched—until Effendi's deep, steady voice broke it. The old man's sharp, weathered eyes seemed to cut straight through Yohanes."Young man…" he said slowly, "don't be so quick to shut yourself off. This family has already placed their trust in you. If you're hiding something, sooner or later it will show. But if you share it, we'll carry it together. Secrets are lighter when shared."
The words pierced Yohanes. He wanted so badly to be honest—about the Pointless building, about the old board that haunted his mind, about Burhan's name appearing again. But his tongue was tied. Fear held him back: fear of burdening them, fear they might pull away.
He took a breath, then lowered his head."I… just walked too far. I didn't realize it was so late. I promise I'll let you know next time. I'm sorry I made you all worry."
Another silence followed. This one was heavier. Everyone knew he was hiding something, but no one pushed further.
Nadine sighed softly, then rose from her chair. She walked over to Yohanes, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her smile was warm, though her eyes still held worry."Alright. If that's your answer, we'll accept it. But remember, Han… in this house, you're never alone. Whatever you face, don't carry it by yourself."
Jovian, usually unable to keep his mouth shut, piped up while pretending to scoop rice."Fine. But if you come home late again, I'm coming with you. Then we can get 'lost in our thoughts' together. We'll start a club."
Laughter broke the tension at the table. The heavy mood lightened as Una covered her mouth to hide her smile, Deon shook his head in disbelief, and Gibson let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Effendi kept watching Yohanes for a long moment, as if trying to see through his heart. At last, he gave a slow nod and a faint, meaningful smile."Then enough. Tonight we continue as a family, not as investigators."
Yohanes nodded quickly, lowering his gaze again. His cheeks burned—not only from embarrassment, but from the guilt pressing inside him.
Inside, he whispered to himself: I owe them an explanation. Sooner or later, they'll know. But not now. I need to understand this mystery first.
Around the table, the conversation slowly returned to its usual warmth. But inside Yohanes, a small storm still churned. He knew the mystery of Pointless couldn't stay hidden forever.