The wall clocks in every classroom at Rajawali High struck exactly 09:00 AM. Usually, this was the time for changing periods, a moment where corridors filled with the sound of scraping chairs and brief chatter before the next teacher arrived. However, today was different.
Ding-dong. Ding-dong.
The usually cheerful school bell was this time followed by a sharp screech of microphone feedback from the central PA system, making everyone in the school cover their ears for a second.
"Attention. This announcement is addressed to all 12th-grade students. Once again, all 12th-grade students, from Science, Social, and Language streams. Please gather in the Grand Rajawali Main Hall immediately. Thank you."
Mr. Handoko, the Principal, sounded shaky. Not shaking from fear, but from suppressed excitement—or perhaps, concealed nervousness.
"That's unusual," Dani quipped, stretching his stiff body after two hours of History class. "Come on, Lim! I'm bored of listening to the Diponegoro War."
Salim closed his notebook slowly. His brow furrowed. "A sudden announcement during productive hours? Usually, cohort assemblies happen during homeroom or flag ceremonies. This is odd."
"Ah, you're always suspicious. Maybe they want to distribute foundation dividends," Dani joked, pulling Salim's arm.
The two of them walked out of the class, joining the stream of hundreds of students in gray-and-white uniforms flowing toward the Main Hall. In the corridor, Salim saw familiar faces. Maya walked with her girlfriends, smiling and waving slightly when she saw Salim. Rizki walked calmly with hands in pockets. In the distance, Rinto and his gang walked with an air of authority, bumping shoulders with juniors who blocked their way.
The Grand Rajawali Main Hall was the school's pride. A magnificent building with ten-meter-high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and polished teak parquet floors. Its capacity was enough for a thousand people, but today, only 200 red velvet folding chairs were set up in the center of the room.
"Sit according to your class! Don't spread out!" ordered Mr. Budi, the Counseling teacher, who was busy organizing the lines with a tense face.
Salim, Dani, and Rizki took seats in the middle row. Udin was seen sitting in the side row with the Karate club kids. Rehan, as usual, sought the corner-most position near a pillar, perhaps so he could lean back or hide. Alya sat upright in the front row with other PMR officers, including Ridha who was busy fixing her hair.
Salim observed the stage. There, Mr. Handoko stood at the podium. But it wasn't Mr. Handoko who caught Salim's attention.
Behind the Principal sat five strangers.
They weren't teachers. They weren't the school committee. They wore impeccable black slim-fit suits, stiff white shirts, and metallic gray ties. None of them smiled. They sat with perfect posture, hands on thighs, and their eyes... their eyes scanned the crowd of students like scanners at a supermarket checkout. Cold. Assessing. Calculating.
"Who are they, Lim? New boyband?" Dani whispered.
"No," Salim answered softly. "Look at how they sit. Look at how they stare at us. That's not the look of invited guests. That's the look of buyers choosing merchandise."
"Good morning, my proud students!" Mr. Handoko's voice boomed, cutting off Salim's analysis.
"Morning, Sir!" some students answered, while others just mumbled.
"Today, I bring extraordinary news. News that will change the history of your cohort," Mr. Handoko spread his arms, his face beaming. "The Rajawali Foundation, in collaboration with a highly prestigious international education consortium, has chosen your cohort—Cohort 27—as the recipients of an exclusive pilot project program."
The giant projector screen behind the stage lit up. A sophisticated multimedia presentation played. The video showed scenes of clear blue seas, exotic tropical forests, five-star resorts with infinity pools, and futuristic science labs.
Gold text appeared on the screen: "GRAND STUDY TOUR: INTEGRATED CHARACTER & SURVIVAL INTELLIGENCE PROGRAM."
Murmurs of awe erupted from the students.
"Crazy! That hotel is so cool!"
"Are we going to Bali? Or Raja Ampat?"
"Look at that lab! It's like something out of an Avengers movie!"
Mr. Handoko smiled with satisfaction at the reaction. "Correct. All of you, a total of 200 grade 12 students, will be dispatched to participate in a joint study tour program for seven days. The destination is a private island managed by our international partners, dedicated specifically to science and leadership development."
"And the best part..." Mr. Handoko gave a dramatic pause. "All costs—transportation, accommodation, meals, even pocket money—are 100% covered by the sponsor. FREE!"
The Hall exploded. Cheers, applause, and whistles echoed. Even Dani stood up and hugged the shocked Rizki.
"Free, Dude! My dad's money is safe! I can buy new rims!" Dani shouted excitedly.
Rinto and his friends also looked happy. To them, free wasn't about money, but about exclusive facilities to show off. Ridha was already busy typing a status on her phone: Going to private island, guys! Stay tuned!
Only a handful of people didn't clap.
Salim sat still, his eyes narrowing at the projector screen. His brain spun fast calculating numbers.
200 students. Plane tickets or cruise ships to a private island. Five-star accommodation for a week. Three meals a day. Instructors. Equipment. That's billions of rupiah. No company throws billions for high schoolers' 'character education' without a commensurate return. What's the return? Data? Labor? Or...
Salim turned to Udin. Udin wasn't cheering either. Udin's gaze was fixed on the men in black suits on stage. One of the suited men was staring back at Udin, then noting something on a thin tablet he held. Udin touched his own arm, feeling like a target had been placed on his forehead.
"Now," Mr. Handoko continued after the commotion subsided. "Let me introduce our partner. Mr. Adrian, representative of the Consortium."
One of the suited men stood up. He was tall, with sharp Eurasian features, and hair slicked back neatly. He walked to the podium, unsmiling.
"Good morning," Mr. Adrian said. His Indonesian was fluent, but stiff. Without regional accent, like a perfect AI voice. "We have studied your profiles. Academic. Extracurricular. Health. Psychology. You are superior seeds. And we want to see... how far those seeds can grow in a real environment."
He emphasized the word "real" with a strange intonation.
"In this program, you will not only have fun. You will learn about nature. About the limits of your abilities. We guarantee, after a few days, you will return as different human beings. Or..." Mr. Adrian paused, his cold eyes sweeping the room, "...you will discover a version of yourselves that has been hidden all this time."
"My team will distribute consent forms and waivers. Please sign them, both you and your parents. Submit them tomorrow morning. Without this form, you cannot participate. And remember, this is mandatory for all students as a graduation requirement for the integrated practicum subject."
Several other suited men came down from the stage, distributing thick sheets of paper with gold letterheads. Their movements were uniform, efficient, robotic.
Salim received the paper. His eyes immediately scanned the articles written in fine print at the bottom.
Article 4: The Organizer is responsible for maintaining the security and smooth running of activities during the program, including applying mentoring methods suitable to the participants' needs.
Article 7: Communication access with outside parties may be regulated to maintain order and participant focus, without eliminating the participant's right to contact family in critical situations.
Article 12: The School and Organizer are not responsible for incidents beyond reasonable control (force majeure) or resulting from safety rule violations by participants.
"Rubber articles," Salim muttered. "This isn't a permission slip. This is a custody surrender form."
"Ah, you're reading too much into it, Lim," said Dani, who had already signed his part without reading. "Just sign it. It's a graduation requirement. If you don't go, you want to repeat 12th grade? Besides, when else can we vacation with Maya?"
Salim looked at Dani, then at Maya in the front row who was also reading the form with a furrowed brow. Maya turned back, looking at Salim with a questioning gaze: Is this safe?
Salim sighed. Safe or not, they had no choice. Graduation requirement was a dead end for scholarship students like him. If he didn't graduate, his mother would be devastated.
"Okay," Salim whispered. "We're going. But I have a bad feeling about this 'free lunch'."
In the corner of the room, Rehan opened his laptop slightly, hidden behind his bag. He tried to scan for Wi-Fi or Bluetooth signals from the equipment brought by Mr. Adrian and his team.
No Device Found.
Rehan was stunned. In this day and age, every gadget must emit a signal. Unless... their equipment used military encryption or frequencies undetectable by civilian devices.
"Interesting," Rehan whispered. His fingers tapped the touchpad. He became more convinced to bring his homemade Signal Jammer. These people weren't just vacation Event Organizers. They were hiding something.
The event closed with a joint prayer. Mr. Handoko led the prayer for their safe and blessed journey. Salim bowed his head, but he didn't pray for travel safety. He prayed that his logic was wrong. He prayed that this was all just paranoia from reading too many dystopian books.
However, as they dispersed and walked out of the Hall, Salim crossed paths with Mr. Adrian near the exit.
The man stopped right in front of Salim. His height forced Salim to look up slightly.
"Salim Nur Hidayah," Mr. Adrian said. He didn't read a list. He memorized it. "Math Olympiad Champion. IQ 145. Low economic profile, high resilience."
Salim tensed. "You know a lot about me."
"We know everything about our assets," Mr. Adrian answered flatly. "I hope you don't disappoint our algorithm, Salim. Numbers never lie, but humans often do."
The man walked away before Salim could reply, leaving behind the scent of expensive cologne mixed with the smell of... antiseptic?
Salim stood frozen in the middle of the stream of students laughing about what clothes to bring.
"Asset," Salim repeated softly.
Mr. Adrian didn't call them "students." He called them "assets."
Beside Salim, Udin appeared, gripping his shoulder. Udin's grip was strong, signaling he felt the same tension.
"Did you feel it, Lim?" Udin asked softly.
"Feel what?"
"Them," Udin glanced at the backs of the suited men. "The way they walk. The way they stood during Mr. Handoko's speech. That's military 'at ease' stance, Lim. Feet shoulder-width apart, hands clenched behind the back. They aren't educators. They're soldiers. Or at the very least, paramilitary."
Salim nodded slowly. New data entered his calculation.
Unlimited Funds + Isolated Location + Military Organizers + Communication Restriction = War Zone.
"Din," Salim said, looking at his best friend seriously. "Tell your Dojo kids. When we leave later... don't let your guard down. Bring personal First Aid kits. Bring anything that can be a weapon but passes airport security."
"Are you serious?"
"I hope I'm wrong. But if I'm right... we're gonna need more than just swimsuits on that island."
In the distance, Dani shouted calling them. "Oy! Let's go to the canteen! My treat to celebrate the free vacation!"
Salim and Udin looked at each other, then forced a smile to join Dani. They had to keep looking normal. They had to blend in with the flock of sheep being herded to the green pasture... which, perhaps, at the end of it, was a slaughterhouse.
The stage was set. The players had signed the contracts. And the cold-eyed director was already holding the script.
Rajawali High's Study Tour was no longer just a plan. It was the beginning of the end of their teenage years.