In the last third of the night, as the padepokan grew quieter, the disciples were resting in the Kacantrikan hall. Only a few people were still wrapping up the post-event cleanup.
In one of the rooms of the Kacantrikan hall, the three young men were already sound asleep on a bunk bed. Handoko slept soundly on the upper bunk above Joko sleeping below, with their gear for tomorrow already prepared beside the bed.
Agniran slept next to their bed, separated only by a small wooden drawer supporting a dimly burning ublik lamp. Above the drawer, a dark green flag with a leaf logo, affixed to the granite stone wall, hung loosely downward. Beside it, Agniran's sword leaned complete with its well-maintained scabbard—also ready to be taken on their journey tomorrow.
Agniran opened his eyes. He knew he could not sleep.
Slowly he got up, put on a black penadon-like shirt, and wrapped a batik sarong around his neck. He stepped out of the room.
He walked slowly down the quiet hallway, then climbed the stairs. Arriving on the third floor of the building, he stopped at the balcony. Holding the railing with both hands, he gazed around the padepokan illuminated by the bluish-white moonlight.
"Why aren't you asleep yet?"
A firm voice echoed from behind the dark shadows. Agniran recognized this voice.
"Forgive me, Ki..." Agniran immediately knelt with his head bowed, not knowing for sure where the person was located due to the dim surroundings.
"I am behind you. Stand up."
Agniran stood up. He saw the figure of a man with shoulder-length hair, thick eyebrows, and a sharp jawline wearing black beskap-like attire adorned with a golden leaf pin. He was Wandarimo Dhijoyo Respathi, a descendant of the padepokan's founder as well as the Grand Master and leader at that time.
"Why aren't you asleep yet?" he added.
"Forgive me, Ki... I woke up and tried to get some fresh air," Agniran replied politely.
"I can tell from your expression that you aren't looking for fresh air, and you haven't slept at all," he revealed, as if demonstrating his mystical ability to discern something merely from physical cues, as though testing Agniran's honesty.
Agniran took a quiet breath without saying a single word, not fully understanding what feelings he was experiencing.
"Of all the disciples at the start of this Year of Panandha, look, not a single one is off on their own on this night of Suro..." Wandarimo stepped closer slowly. "Tell me, what are you feeling right now?"
He stared at the thin-faced youth with deep curiosity. He felt something within Agniran.
"Mm... That's true, Ki. I just couldn't sleep because tomorrow I plan to go adventuring with my group," Agniran answered, still in a polite tone with his head bowed.
Wandarimo turned toward the balcony, gazing at the sharp crescent moon glowing in the sky among the twinkling stars. "Look... at that moon..." Wandarimo requested.
Slowly, Agniran looked for the moon in the sky. He gazed at the brilliantly white crescent moon in the clear, bright night sky.
For a moment, he recalled the Crescent Wanderer. However, due to his humble nature, he concluded on his own that the origin of the term Crescent Wanderer merely stemmed from the turn of the new year.
Wandarimo observed every inch of Agniran's face and posture as he watched the beauty of the crescent moon. He tried to recognize the figure before him, but it did not match what he knew.
No... it isn't him. His conviction was now shaken, even though the timing suggested he was the intended person. Wandarimo crossed his arms, his fingers stroking his beard as he thought: Who is he? And why does the timing point to the person I'm thinking of, yet his appearance isn't that person? "Come... follow me..." Wandarimo requested as he walked toward the stairs at the end of the hallway, followed by Agniran.