The Midnight Shuttle

Chapter 15 : Marni

"Mom..."

Aditia caught sight of a lone figure standing near the narrow path that led out of the neighboring plantation toward the riverbank.

A woman dressed entirely in black.

His heart lurched.

He couldn't see her face from that distance, couldn't even be certain it was his mother, but hope was stronger than doubt.

"Mom!"

He ran toward her without hesitation, but the woman didn't respond and simply continued walking away. Only then did Aditia remember his phone. He fumbled it from his pocket and quickly dialed his mother's number. The call connected for only a moment before the same recorded message echoed through the speaker.

The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable.

His grip tightened around the phone as the woman kept walking.

"Mom!"

He broke into a sprint.

By the time he reached the edge of the plantation, the woman had already crossed onto the narrow path leading toward the river.

Her pace didn't seem hurried—if anything, she moved almost leisurely—yet no matter how fast Aditia ran, the distance between them never seemed to shrink, and his exhaustion was beginning to catch up with him: the battle against Begu Ganjang, the confrontation with Marni, the frantic search for his mother—his body had already reached its limit, still he refused to stop.

"Mom!"

His voice cracked as he chased the dark silhouette deeper into the night.

The path became increasingly uneven.

Banana trees and towering bamboo crowded both sides of the trail, their leaves rustling softly whenever the evening wind passed through them.

The farther he ran, the quieter the world became, until only the sound of his own footsteps and the steady murmur of the river ahead remained.

The woman never looked back.

There was something unsettling about the way she walked, her movements strangely stiff, almost as if her feet were dragging across the ground, yet she continued moving with impossible speed.

Aditia clenched his jaw.

"I said..."

"Mom!"

He pushed himself even harder, just a little farther, just a little more—he was certain he would catch her.

Just as Aditia thought he was finally close enough to reach her, his foot struck something solid—a large rock—and his balance gave way.

He crashed hard onto the uneven ground, gravel scraping against his palms as pain shot through his knees and shoulders.

"Damn..."

He forced himself upright, breathing heavily as the darkness around the river deepened, with no streetlights—only the faint silver glow of the moon filtering through the bamboo leaves. He looked ahead, but the woman was gone, vanished without a trace.

Only the soft murmur of the river remained, flowing peacefully as though no one had ever been there.

Aditia stood frozen, desperately searching the darkness.

"Mom..."

His voice was barely a whisper now, but there was no answer—only the wind rustling through the bamboo as his chest tightened, leaving him to wonder whether he had truly seen his mother or if Marni had been leading him deeper into the night, and with no other path forward, Aditia slowly turned back.

Rather than cutting through the plantation again and climbing over the wall, he chose the longer route along the front road.

It was brighter.

Safer.

And perhaps...

If his mother was still wandering somewhere nearby...

He might find her on the way home.

By the time he reached the house, Pak Dirga was already waiting outside.

"I asked around," Pak Dirga said before Aditia could speak. "None of the neighbors have seen your mother."

He paused briefly.

"The last time anyone remembers seeing her was at the neighborhood prayer gathering last night."

"Since this morning..."

"No one has seen either your mother or Dita leave the house," he said with a frown, adding that normally Aditia’s mother would buy vegetables from the traveling vendor every morning, but today the front door hadn’t even been opened.

Aditia lowered his head. "I thought I saw her."

Pak Dirga looked at him as Aditia continued, explaining how he had chased a woman dressed in black, calling out to her again and again, yet no matter how close he got, she always seemed farther away—until she suddenly disappeared.

Pak Dirga remained silent for a moment before placing a reassuring hand on Aditia's shoulder. "We'll wait until morning. If your mother still hasn't returned, I'll assign several officers to help search for her."

He then glanced toward the bedroom where Dita was being restrained. "But first, we have to save your sister. We don't know how long she's been trapped without food or water."

Taking out his phone, he added, "I've already contacted the neighborhood chief and asked him to call the community head. I'm afraid this situation may get even worse."

Aditia nodded. "You're right. We'll need everyone's help."

Just then, a voice called from outside the gate.

"Assalamu'alaikum, Adit."

Aditia looked up. "It sounds like Pak RT and Pak RW are here."

Without another word, he walked toward the front door and welcomed them inside.

"Wa'alaikumussalam."

Aditia opened the gate and greeted the two men before leading them into the house.

Pak RT entered first, followed by Pak RW, both wearing anxious expressions after hearing Pak Dirga's brief explanation over the phone.

"So..." Pak RW asked quietly, glancing toward Dita's bedroom. "Is it true?"

Pak Dirga nodded. "Marni has possessed Dita."

Neither man spoke for a moment. They exchanged uneasy looks before murmuring prayers under their breath.

Pak RT finally broke the silence. "What can we do to help?"

Pak Dirga looked toward Aditia before answering. "For now, we need witnesses. If things become worse... everyone here must understand exactly what happened tonight."

The two men nodded without hesitation. "We'll stay."

Pak Dirga gave a faint smile. "Thank you."

Together, they walked toward Dita's bedroom.

The moment Pak RT pushed the door open, everyone froze.

Dita was still lying on the bed exactly where they had left her. Her wrists and ankles remained tightly bound. Her eyes were closed.

For a brief moment, the room appeared completely peaceful.

Then a slow laugh echoed through the silence.

"Hehehe..."

Dita's eyes opened.

They were completely black. Not a trace of white remained.

She slowly turned her head toward the doorway. One by one, her gaze settled on each person standing there.

Finally, she smiled.

"So... you've brought more guests."

Her voice no longer belonged to Dita. It was unmistakably Marni—cold, mocking, and filled with unmistakable delight.

Pak RT instinctively took a step backward. Pak RW swallowed hard, his face turning pale. Neither of them had ever witnessed a possession with their own eyes—until tonight.

Pak Dirga stepped forward without taking his eyes off Dita.

"Everyone," he spoke calmly, "no matter what you see, no matter what you hear, do not answer her. Do not let her provoke you. And whatever happens, keep reciting verses from the Qur'an."

The room fell silent once more.

Then Marni laughed again.

This time, louder than before.

The laughter echoed through every corner of the room—starting as a low "Hehehe..." before twisting into a sharper, more unsettling "Hihihihihi..." that climbed higher and higher until it became an ear-piercing shriek. The bedroom lights flickered violently, and the curtains billowed despite every window being tightly shut. Pak RT instinctively stepped back, his lips trembling as he began reciting verses from the Qur'an under his breath, quickly followed by Pak RW. Pak Dirga, however, remained where he stood, his expression unchanged.

"Keep reciting," he said firmly. "Don't stop."

Marni tilted Dita's head to an impossible angle, laughing again. "You think... you can drive me out with this many people?" Her black eyes swept slowly across the room. "They're all afraid. They'll run. They always run."

"No," Pak Dirga answered calmly, stepping closer to the bed. "Not tonight. The only one leaving this house... is you."

Marni's smile slowly faded, irritation flickering across her face for the first time that night. She pulled violently against the ropes, the wooden bed creaking under the strain as her body arched upward. The veins along Dita's neck darkened, spreading like black roots beneath her skin.

Pak RT gasped. "Ya Allah..."

Pak Dirga raised one hand. "Keep reciting. Do not break your concentration."

The Qur'anic recitations grew louder, filling the room with verse after verse. Marni's expression twisted into fury.

"STOP!"

The scream burst from Dita's mouth with such force that everyone flinched.

Then came silence—a heavy, suffocating silence, broken only by the steady rhythm of recitation. For several long seconds, Dita lay completely motionless. Her breathing slowed, her face relaxed, almost as if she had fallen asleep.

But Aditia knew better. He never took his eyes off his sister. Neither did Pak Dirga.

Both of them understood...

Marni had not given up.

She was waiting.

Aditia led the three men into the living room.

Only then did Pak Dirga introduce the elderly man standing quietly behind Pak RT and Pak RW.

"This is Ki Kusno."

Aditia immediately bowed his head in greeting.

The old man returned the gesture with a gentle smile.

His back was slightly bent with age, and his hair had turned completely white, but there was a calmness in his eyes that was difficult to describe.

Judging by his appearance alone, he was well into his eighties.

"Please, have a seat," Pak Dirga said politely.

"I'm sorry for troubling all of you at this hour."

The three men nodded before taking their seats on the modest sofa in Aditia's small living room.

Without being asked, Aditia quietly walked into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later carrying five cups of black coffee, placing them on the table one by one. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "This is all I have to offer." Ki Kusno smiled warmly. "No apology is necessary. Your hospitality is more than enough."

For a moment, no one spoke, and the atmosphere felt strangely heavy until Pak RT finally broke the silence. "Dit..." He glanced around the house. "Where's your mother?"

Aditia lowered his gaze. "We don't know. The neighbors said the last time anyone saw her was at last night's prayer gathering. Since then... no one has seen her again."

Pak RT frowned as though trying to remember something. "Actually... my wife mentioned something." Everyone turned toward him. "Your mother left the gathering earlier than usual. She looked pale. My wife walked her to the front gate." He paused. "But just as they reached the road... your mother suddenly hurried away. She didn't even say goodbye. We didn't think much of it because the prayer gathering was still going on."

Aditia's heartbeat quickened. "Pak... was she wearing black?"

Pak RT slowly shook his head. "No. She was wearing a purple prayer dress. The same one the other women were wearing."

Aditia fell silent. So... the woman he had chased through the plantation hadn't been his mother after all. The realization sent another chill through his body.

Pak RT gently rested a hand on Ki Kusno's shoulder. "Dit... this is Ki Kusno. He's the eldest elder in our village. He knows this place better than anyone. If anyone can help us understand what's happening... it's him."

Ki Kusno slowly rose to his feet. "May I see Dita now?"

Aditia nodded immediately. "Of course." Without another word, he led everyone toward his sister's bedroom.

Aditia opened the bedroom door, and everyone stepped inside quietly. Dita was still lying on the bed, her wrists and ankles tightly bound with thick rope, her back turned toward them. For a brief moment, she didn't move.

Then a low giggle echoed through the room.

"Hehehe..."

The laughter grew louder.

"Hihihihihi..."

Her shoulders trembled as she continued laughing without turning around.

Pak RT swallowed nervously. "Assalamu'alaikum, Dita," he greeted gently.

There was no reply. The laughter only grew louder.

Ki Kusno took one slow step forward. "Marni."

The room fell silent.

Dita stopped laughing. Slowly, very slowly, she turned her head toward them. The moment her eyes met Ki Kusno's, her expression changed—shock, then rage.

"Kusno..."

The name hissed from her lips like a venomous snake.

"So... you finally dare to show yourself."

Her voice was low and rasping, carrying a hatred that had clearly survived far longer than death itself.

Ki Kusno stood calmly before her. "Marni," he said gently. "Why have you returned?"

Dita's lips stretched into a terrifying grin. "I want this child."

She pulled violently against the ropes.

"I WANT THIS CHILD!"

The bed shook beneath her struggle.

Aditia instinctively stepped closer to his sister, while Pak Dirga frowned. "What exactly happened between the two of you, Ki?"

Ki Kusno closed his eyes for a long moment. When he finally opened them again, they were filled with sorrow.

"It all began..." he said quietly, pausing before continuing, "...back in 1997."

...

1997

There was once a young woman named Marni, known throughout the village as kind, beautiful, and soft-spoken. At that time, Aditia's parents had only recently married, and his mother was carrying her first child. Marni was eighteen years old—an age when the future should have been wide open before her. She was intelligent, diligent, and devout. To everyone who knew her, she seemed like the perfect young woman... or so they believed.

"Father..."

Marni's voice trembled as she stood in the doorway, her hands clenched tightly at her sides.

"I don't want anything else."

"I only want the chance to go to college."

"I want to become a civil servant."

Her father let out a weary sigh.

The years of working at the shoe factory had taken their toll on him. His body had grown frail, and the persistent cough that haunted him never seemed to fade.

"I can't afford it, Marni."

"University is expensive."

"Find a job first."

"When you've saved enough..."

"Then you can continue your studies."

Marni shook her head immediately.

"No," she said, her voice growing firmer. "We still have this house. We can use the land certificate as collateral. I'll enroll as soon as I graduate from high school, and once I finish university, I promise I'll redeem the house myself."

Her father slowly lowered his eyes. "My child... putting this house up as collateral isn't as simple as you think. If we fail to repay the loan, we'll lose everything." He looked around the modest wooden house they had lived in for decades. "This is the only inheritance your mother has left. It belonged to her family. I have no right to gamble it away."

Marni's eyes filled with tears. "You call yourself a father? I'm your only daughter, and you can't even help me chase my dream? I want to become a civil servant!"

Before either of her parents could answer, she turned and ran into her room. The door slammed shut.

Moments later, the muffled sound of sobbing echoed through the small house.

Her mother quietly wiped away her own tears in the kitchen. She knew...

There was another reason Marni was so desperate to become a civil servant. A reason she had never dared reveal to her husband. It wasn't merely about ambition. It was something far more painful.

Marni's father remained seated in silence for a long time. Finally, he looked toward his wife.

"What if..." His voice was barely above a whisper. "What if we really did mortgage the house? Our daughter is all we have. We waited five years before Allah finally blessed us with her." He forced a faint smile. "After everything we've been through... how can I bear watching her cry like this?"

Marni's mother slowly shook her head. "And what if we can't repay the loan? What happens then? We'll lose this house. We'll have nowhere left to live."

The room fell silent.

Neither of them noticed...

Behind the closed bedroom door, Marni was still crying.

But her tears were no longer just for her dream.

They were for something much deeper.

Something she believed no one else could ever understand.

The silence that filled the house that night did not last forever. Several days later, Marni received news that changed everything: she had graduated at the top of her class, and not only that, she had also been awarded a scholarship prize for being one of the district's highest-achieving students. The entire village celebrated her accomplishment, neighbors came to congratulate her parents, and for the first time in days, smiles returned to their modest home. Marni believed her future had finally begun to open before her. She was wrong.

The following morning, as she was preparing to leave the house, a black sedan stopped in front of her gate. Such a car was a rare sight in the village, and children playing nearby immediately gathered around to stare at it. A well-dressed man stepped out of the driver's seat and approached her politely.

"Are you Marni?"

"Yes."

The man smiled and handed her a neatly folded piece of paper. "Our village head would like to meet you."

Marni blinked in surprise. "The Village Head?"

"Yes. He asked that you come to his residence at ten o'clock this morning."

The man bowed slightly before returning to the car, and within moments, the sedan disappeared down the dusty village road. Marni looked down at the note still clutched in her hand, her heart pounding with excitement. Could this be a scholarship opportunity?

She rushed back inside to tell her parents. Her father looked just as surprised. "The Village Head wants to see you?"

Marni nodded eagerly. "I don't know why. But perhaps..." She couldn't hide the hope in her voice. "...maybe someone wants to help pay for my education."

Her mother smiled faintly. "Then go. But remember, no matter what happens, never forget who you are."

Marni nodded with determination. "I won't, Mother."

That morning, just before ten o'clock, she arrived at Mang Sulaiman's coffee stall, exactly as instructed, and waited quietly. Nearly fifteen minutes later, the same black sedan pulled up in front of the stall. The man she had met earlier stepped out, opened the rear door with a respectful smile, and gestured for her to get in.

Marni climbed into the luxurious car, unable to hide her amazement. She had never ridden in such an expensive vehicle before.

"We're heading to the Village Head's residence," the driver said as the sedan pulled away.

"Yes... and thank you." She smiled politely. "Please, just call me Marni. I'm only eighteen."

The man chuckled. "Then you may call me Moko. I'm the Village Head's aide."

Marni hesitated before asking the question that had been on her mind since morning. "Mas Moko... why does the Village Head want to see me?"

Moko simply smiled. "You'll find out soon enough."

The sedan pulled through a towering iron gate before coming to a smooth stop in front of an elegant mansion.

Marni stepped out slowly, unable to hide her amazement.

The house was unlike anything she had ever seen.

Its spacious front yard was lined with carefully trimmed gardens, while luxury cars sat neatly beneath a covered driveway.

"This way, Marni."

Moko led her through the front entrance and into an opulent living room adorned with gold-accented furniture and polished marble floors.

Even the sofas looked impossibly soft.

Marni sat carefully on the edge of one, afraid she might dirty it.

"I'll let the master know you've arrived," Moko said with a polite smile. "If you need anything, just tell one of the housemaids. Please make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you."

After Moko disappeared down the hallway, Marni glanced around the room in quiet awe.

She had never imagined anyone could live in a house like this.

A few minutes later...

A graceful woman entered the room.

She was tall, elegant, and remarkably beautiful despite being in her forties.

She smiled warmly before taking the seat beside Marni.

"Marni... do you know who I am?"

Marni immediately shook her head. "I'm sorry, Ma'am."

The woman smiled. "My name is Mirasih. I'm Pak Lurah's wife. You may call me Mrs. Mirasih."

Marni bowed her head politely. "Yes, Mrs. Mirasih."

Mrs. Mirasih gently took both of Marni's hands into her own. The gesture made Marni slightly uncomfortable, yet at the same time she felt strangely honored.

For a fleeting moment, a hopeful thought crossed her mind. Perhaps this woman truly intended to offer her a scholarship.

Unfortunately, reality had something very different in store.

Mrs. Mirasih studied Marni's face for a moment before asking softly, "You know who Pak Lurah is, don't you?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Pak Lurah Miftahudin."

"Have you ever met him?"

Marni smiled shyly. "No. I've only heard his name. They once asked about him during a school civics lesson."

Mrs. Mirasih chuckled. "My husband and I attended your award ceremony yesterday. You didn't notice us?"

Marni looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. I didn't."

Mrs. Mirasih nodded understandingly before gently squeezing Marni's hands once again. "I've heard many wonderful things about you. They say you're intelligent, beautiful, respectful toward your parents, and that your greatest dream is to attend university."

Marni nodded quietly. "Yes, Ma'am."

Mrs. Mirasih smiled. "I can make that dream come true."

Marni's eyes widened.

"I know the scholarship money you've received won't be enough to carry you through university. But I can support you. Not just until you earn your bachelor's degree... I can help you study as far as you wish."

For a moment, Marni could hardly believe what she was hearing.

"Thank you, Ma'am," she said, her voice trembling with gratitude.

Mrs. Mirasih's smile remained gentle. "But... there is one condition."

Marni's smile slowly faded.

"A condition...?"

Mrs. Mirasih nodded. "Yes." She loosened her grip on Marni's hands before speaking again, her voice as gentle as ever. "I'm forty-three years old. My husband and I have been trying to have a child for many years. I've undergone countless treatments... but none of them have worked." A faint sadness crossed her face. "The doctors say the problem lies with me."

Marni listened quietly, unsure where the conversation was leading.

Mrs. Mirasih took a slow breath. "So... I need your help."

Marni blinked. "My... help?"

"Yes." Mrs. Mirasih looked directly into her eyes. "I want you to give my husband a child."

For a moment, the world seemed to stop.

Marni stared at her in disbelief, unsure she had heard correctly. "I'm sorry..." Her voice trembled. "I don't understand."

Mrs. Mirasih's expression remained calm. "I want you to become my husband's second wife."

The words struck Marni like lightning. Her face drained of color, and she instinctively pulled her hands away.

"Ma'am... no... I can't." Tears welled in her eyes. "That's impossible."

Mrs. Mirasih didn't appear offended. Instead, she gave Marni a patient smile. "Please listen to everything before you refuse."

Marni lowered her gaze but said nothing.

"My husband is a civil servant. I know what you're thinking—you believe he isn't allowed to have two wives. Leave that to me. I'll take care of everything. You would only need to enter into a private religious marriage."

She paused before continuing, "Once you become pregnant and give birth... I'll send you abroad. You'll be free to study anywhere you wish. I'll pay for every expense, as far as you want to go."

Marni's heart pounded wildly. The offer sounded like a dream, yet the price was far greater than she had ever imagined.

"What about my parents?" she finally asked.

Mrs. Mirasih smiled reassuringly. "I'll make sure they're well taken care of. They'll never have to worry about money again."

Silence settled between them.

Marni lowered her head. Everything she had dreamed of—university, a better future, a life beyond poverty—seemed within reach.

But only if she was willing to sacrifice the life she had always imagined for herself.

A gentle knock echoed from outside the living room, followed by a calm voice asking, "May I come in?" Mrs. Mirasih turned toward the doorway and smiled. "Please."

A tall man stepped inside, dressed in a neatly pressed khaki civil servant's uniform. Though he was in his mid-forties, his posture remained straight and dignified. There was nothing intimidating about him; instead, his calm expression and gentle eyes radiated quiet authority.

Marni immediately lowered her head. She knew without being told—this man was Pak Lurah Miftahudin.

"Please forgive me for keeping you waiting," he said with a warm smile. "I had a meeting at the district office."

Marni quickly rose from her seat. "It's... it's alright, Sir."

Pak Lurah nodded politely before taking a seat across from her. For a brief moment, no one spoke. Mrs. Mirasih quietly excused herself, leaving the two of them alone.

Pak Lurah folded his hands on his lap. "I imagine my wife has already explained everything."

Marni nodded, though she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry... I don't think I can do something like that. I've never even imagined becoming someone's second wife."

Pak Lurah smiled faintly. "I understand."

His answer caught her off guard.

"There is no obligation. No pressure. If you refuse... I'll respect your decision."

He paused for a moment before continuing. "My wife was the one who insisted we meet. I agreed because I didn't want her to carry this burden alone."

His voice remained calm. "I won't lie to you. I do hope to have a child someday. But not at the cost of another person's happiness."

Marni slowly lifted her head. For the first time, she looked directly at him.

He wasn't the arrogant, aging official she had imagined. There was kindness in his eyes—patience, humility. He spoke to her as though they were equals, despite the vast difference in their social standing.

"I've heard about your achievements," Pak Lurah continued. "You've worked hard for your dreams. It would be a shame to let poverty steal them away."

Marni bit her lower lip. She had prepared herself to meet a powerful man who would force his will upon her. Instead, she found someone who seemed unwilling to force anything at all.

Pak Lurah slowly stood. "I've said everything I needed to say."

He offered a polite smile. "Take your time. Think about it carefully. Whatever decision you make... I'll accept it."

He gave a respectful nod before turning toward the door. Just before leaving, he paused.

"Oh... if your answer is no... please don't feel guilty. I sincerely hope you still find a way to pursue your education."

The door closed softly behind him.

Marni remained seated in silence, her mind in complete turmoil. Everything she had expected had been proven wrong. For the first time since arriving at the mansion, she found herself questioning not the offer—but her own heart.

Marni remained at the mansion long after Pak Lurah had left the room, and when Mrs. Mirasih returned quietly to sit beside her, neither of them spoke for several minutes, the silence feeling heavier than any conversation. Finally, Marni took a slow breath.

"If... if I agree..." she hesitated, then continued, "...will you truly keep every promise you've made?"

"I will," Mrs. Mirasih answered without hesitation. "I give you my word. And my husband does as well."

Marni lowered her gaze as images of her parents flashed through her mind—their aging faces, their worn hands, and the house they had struggled to protect for so many years. Then she remembered her own dream: university, a better life, a future that had always seemed just beyond her reach.

When she finally looked up again, tears glistened in her eyes.

"I'll do it," she whispered. "I'll become his second wife."

Mrs. Mirasih closed her eyes for a brief moment, and when she opened them again, they were filled with relief. She gently embraced Marni.

"Thank you. You've given this family hope."

Marni didn't return the embrace. She simply sat there in silence, unsure whether she had just saved her future or sacrificed it.