045. The Gathering

"You look stunning in that dress!"
A loud, raspy voice made Jalu and Liriénka turn at the same time. Martin stepped out of a hatchback parked just a few steps away from Jalu’s car. The vehicle had been there when Jalu arrived, but he hadn’t noticed how long the wavy-haired man had been present. The dark-skinned man smiled as he walked toward them.
Martin looked dashing in faded blue jeans and a snug white shirt, the top two buttons casually undone. His long, curly hair was neatly tied back, and a pair of dark brown hiking boots added to the rugged charm of the Moluccan man. His polished appearance stood in sharp contrast to Jalu's more laid-back style.
While Jalu's hair was neatly tied up at the back of his head, his outfit told a different story. He wore a loose-fitting black T-shirt with Suicidal Tendencies emblazoned across the chest, paired with an unbuttoned white flannel shirt striped in black and blue. His khaki chino shorts hung loosely, sagging slightly below his waist, with a canvas belt left untucked from the loops. To complete the look, Jalu nonchalantly opted for flip-flops, indifferent to the occasion.
"The others have arrived," Martin said again in the Eldest Tongue. "Don’t keep them waiting."
They walked along the narrow footpath toward a building perched on the high plateau. The white-walled structure was surrounded by a tall brick wall, topped with barbed wire. The tea plantation’s management office—an isolated location, perfect for a clandestine meeting.
Martin locked the iron door, the only entrance to the office. He explained that his task was to wait for all former members of Division 96 before sealing the entrance. As they neared the intricately carved wooden door, Liriénka grew increasingly uneasy, fidgeting with the cap of a mineral water bottle—opening and closing it repeatedly without drinking or wetting her hands.
When Martin opened the door, thirty people were already gathered inside, seated on a mat-covered floor. All the chairs, tables, and other furniture were neatly stacked in one corner. Various drinks and snacks were laid out in the center of the circle formed by the seated group. As Jalu and Liriénka entered, the room's attention shifted to them, and one by one, the individuals stood up and nodded respectfully, their expressions serious.
"Everyone’s here," exclaimed a bespectacled man with yellowish-brown skin and neatly combed hair in Indonesian.
"Are you sure no one’s been overlooked, Erwin?" asked a woman in a soft-spoken tone.
"For the twenty-third time, Sekar, not a single person has been overlooked!" Erwin replied, his right hand moving up and down like a teacher tired of repeating the same lesson.
"Thirty-two people," Jalu murmured, quietly counting the group, excluding Liriénka. "The once-mighty task force, now reduced to a bunch of celibates."
"I initially counted thirty-one," Erwin responded matter-of-factly. "But Martin assured me you’d join when I contacted him."
"I believe I speak for everyone here in expressing disagreement with your life choices, Jalu," a woman wearing glasses suddenly spoke.
"I didn’t ask for anyone’s approval," Jalu replied calmly, his tone cold. "And I don’t give a shit about your disagreement."
"You’re betraying the oath," remarked a burly man with neatly combed wavy hair, his voice tense.
"Fuck the oath, Binsar!" Jalu snapped, his anger breaking through. "That bullshit oath is why you're all sitting on this damp mat while your seniors enjoy life-long vacations abroad! I’m getting my hands dirty to clean up this country’s trash—something neither you nor your seniors would ever do!"
"Our seniors are doing—" Binsar began.
"Killing uncategorized humans is the highest form of treason!" Sekar interrupted sharply.
"Fuck you and your useless regulations!" Jalu barked. "And fuck this meeting!"
"Jalu…." Though Liriénka didn’t understand the heated exchange, the intensity of Jalu’s voice made her uneasy. She clutched the edge of his flannel shirt as he turned to leave.
"Ah! Forgive our petty argument, Miss," Erwin said, shifting everyone’s focus to Liriénka. "Martin informed me Jalu would bring company, but I didn’t expect such a beautiful girl."
"She's not human," Martin added, surprising everyone. "Jalu found her in Situ Cukul."
"Situ Cukul? So, the deaths of Anton Legowo and the four Darah Juang members were your doing?" Binsar asked, glaring at Jalu.
"This girl, Liriénka, accidentally killed them in self-defense," Martin interjected. "Those five men tried to harm her."
Upon hearing her name, Liriénka offered a respectful nod to the group, her eyes briefly meeting theirs before lowering again. The niylath girl appeared timid, her gestures and expression marked by a quiet shyness that contrasted with the tension in the room.
"Do you mind if we continue this conversation in our language?" Erwin asked Liriénka in the Eldest Tongue, his voice gentle yet firm.
The question caught her off guard. Her wide eyes darted toward him before she quickly shook her head, lowering it with an awkward gesture.
"We’re not here to judge anyone’s choices," Erwin declared in Indonesian, his tone shifting to one of authority as his gaze swept the room, finally locking on Jalu. "And you might want to hear what I have to say."
Jalu’s brow furrowed, his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. "Why would I want to hear you?" he shot back, his voice sharp.
"Because," Erwin paused, his eyes narrowing, "your father entrusted me with a secret. A secret I was told to keep from you—until now."
The room fell into a tense silence. Jalu stood frozen, his earlier defiance melting into stunned curiosity. For a moment, he said nothing, his mind visibly racing.
"Take a seat, brother," Erwin urged, his voice softer but still commanding.
Jalu hesitated, glancing around the room before reluctantly moving toward the mat. Sekar, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, gently reached for Liriénka’s hand. She guided the niylath girl to sit beside her, offering a small, reassuring smile as Liriénka settled nervously next to her.
Once Jalu sat between Martin and Edo Rumkorem—whose dark, muscular frame seemed even more imposing in the dim light—Erwin began again, his tone measured but urgent. "They didn’t desert us," he said, his voice cutting through the silence. "Our seniors—those you thought had abandoned us—upheld the oath. They’ve been working behind the scenes, gathering resources, clearing paths to ensure we, including them, can move in and out of the country safely."
The words hung heavy in the air. Erwin paused, his breath catching as he fought back the weight of grief. “Two of our leading field operatives died in the line of duty,” he revealed, the words cracking slightly. “Each of them left a will… instructing that their death gratuity be given to us—what remains of Division 96.”
The weight of Erwin’s words pressed harder on the room, making the air thick with tension. Jalu’s chest constricted as if the revelation had knocked the wind out of him. His eyes darted, searching the faces of those around him, but he found no comfort—only the grim, collective grief that had settled over them all.
Erwin, calm but with a noticeable strain in his voice, continued. “Now, our only leader is Mr. Adiwira, who remained within the ISB. Thanks to his efforts, we’ve received enough financial support and resources to rise again.”
Jalu blinked, each word hitting him like a tidal wave. “W—why didn’t I know any of this?” he finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Erwin turned to him, a small, almost understanding smile playing on his lips. “Because of your father's order,” he replied, locking eyes with Jalu. “We’ve been watching you, brother. Not just us”—he gestured toward the group—“but every task force across the world. Mr. Adiwira has plans for you. That’s why the EPCU task forces haven’t touched you, despite how far your actions have veered from our oath.”