Levan turned his head slightly. His reply was calm, yet carried a coldness that cut through the room. "Yes. Someone you are not meant to face. If she wants you gone, nothing will stop her."
Livia finally found her voice, though it trembled with tears she could barely hold back. "This isn't fair... Big Brother Kaivan is a good person... he's not evil. Right?"
She looked around, searching for someone to agree with her. But no one answered. They were all swallowed by the realization that their world had just collapsed.
Levan took out his phone, switched on the screen, and played a video. His movements were steady, as if he had prepared this moment long ago.
"Watch this."
On the screen, Vella was being interviewed.
"...the person who tried to blow me up wasn't acting alone. He had others, four men and five women..."
Levan lowered the phone. His gaze swept through them one by one. "And the ones Vella meant... are you. Even planning to kidnap Kaivan tonight is already beyond reckless. This isn't teenage mischief anymore. You are criminals."
Felicia spoke at last, her voice quiet but firm. "That man... he's right. Vella did see us when Kaivan was being carried to the ambulance."
Silence settled over them once more. Her words echoed like a sentence passed. No one dared meet anyone's eyes. All they could do was look inward, searching for answers, excuses, or scraps of hope slipping away.
Outside the hospital, the night remained still. Under the veil of darkness, Levan stood at the center of their circle, laying out his plan. Each word was clear and resolute, leaving no space for doubt. The plan was simple in concept, but dangerously bold: they would break Kaivan out of legal custody and escape the country.
"If we fail, it's over for all of us," Levan said, his eyes tracing their anxious faces. "But if we succeed, this will be the first step toward freeing everyone, including Kaivan."
The next morning, dew clung to the edges of the leaves in Radit's garden. The sun had yet to rise, and a thin mist blanketed the city. A sleek black car parked in front of the small, tidy house. A man stepped out, dressed in a dark suit, hair neatly combed, a calm smile on his lips. But his eyes held nothing warm.
Levan knocked on the door, three gentle, measured taps. A woman in an apron answered, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"Excuse me, do you still remember me?" Levan's voice was soft, almost hypnotic.
The woman nodded hesitantly. "Yes, is something wrong? Did my son get into trouble again?"
Levan smiled, warm, yet empty. "I bring good news. Radit is an exceptional student. He has been selected for an international exchange program in Europe for three years."
The woman gasped, her eyes widening. "My... my son is that extraordinary?"
Behind Levan, Radit stood stiffly. His gaze toward his mother was filled with pain and resignation.
Levan extended his hand with polished grace. "As support, Radit will receive a monthly allowance of fifty million rupiah. You will receive half of that amount as well. All you need to do is fill out and sign this form."
He opened a black leather folder, revealing documents stamped with official seals. His movements were elegant, precise, like a violinist drawing his bow.
With trembling hands, the woman signed. The ink flowed smoothly, sealing an agreement she did not fully understand.
As they left, Radit walked beside Levan. The cold morning breeze brushed his hair.
"You'll really send money to my family... right?" he asked quietly, without looking up.
Levan replied without turning his head. "Of course. It's part of the promise Kaivan made."
He offered no further explanation, and Radit asked no more.
Here is the English translation:
The cycle continued. House after house. Smile after carefully crafted lie. Frans, Zinnia, Isabel, Ethan, Livia, Raphael, Thivi, Felicia, their parents welcomed Levan with a pure, heartbreaking trust. Levan played his part flawlessly. His voice held a warmth without cracks, his gestures flowed without a tremor.
Every parent signed the document. They smiled, proud of their children. They believed in the beautiful dream Levan sold them.
But behind the smiles of the children, there were wounds they hid. They knew the moment those signatures were written, the road home had disappeared. Beyond that so-called exchange program lay one goal: escaping the country.
Night fell again. Levan sat alone in his car, staring at the list of signatures now completed. He closed the folder gently, exhaling a long, quiet breath.
"One more step. Just one more... I hope they can pull it off."
Outside, the moon hung low. Its dim light brushed across the car window, casting a faint silhouette of Levan's expression. In the cold stillness of night, only the ticking of the clock could be heard, soft, patient, as if time itself was holding its breath for what was to come.
Clouds weighed heavy over the city, as though mourning the trial that should never have happened. The day of Kaivan's judgment had arrived. Sirens wailed in the distance, swallowing the streets in an uneasy silence. An armored police vehicle moved slowly, escorted by two cars in front and one behind. Inside, Kaivan sat bound tightly, his mouth gagged with cloth. His eyes, hidden beneath messy hair, carried an indescribable ruin: curiosity, fear, and a quiet ache of surrender.
Across the city, people watched through windows or television screens. Curiosity and disbelief blanketed their thoughts. Who was Kaivan? A villain, or a victim? A boy who challenged the system, or a scapegoat sacrificed for someone else's sake? No one knew. But that day, everyone felt it: something immense was unfolding, threatening to swallow countless lives.
Far from the city, near the Jatiluhur–Purwakarta route, Levan sat inside a box truck. His fingers tapped the steering wheel in a patient rhythm. His face was dim behind the glass, but his smile, cold and empty, was unmistakable. He wasn't anxious. He was waiting.
"Without Kaivan," he murmured, his voice like a serpent's hiss, "who would give the orders, I wonder..."
On the busy toll road, the diversion mission began. Raphael stood beside an old car with its hood open, giving instructions to Frans.
"Alright, Frans," he said, calm but firm. "Crash your car into the barrier. Make it look like the brakes failed. After that, run to the toll gate. We only get one shot at this."
Frans nodded, tension tightening his jaw. He climbed into the faded blue car and pressed the gas pedal with a brick. A violent crash tore through the air as the car slammed into a lamp post, sparks and metal bursting out in chaos. Panic spread instantly, people ran, some recorded the scene, others shouted for help.
The driver of the police vehicle carrying Kaivan slowed down, then turned sharply, choosing an alternate route toward the Jatiluhur exit. The road cut through a small forest, surrounded by old trees and abandoned wrecks on the roadside, standing still, as if waiting for the next act of a plan already in motion.
Suddenly, the roar of a chainsaw echoed from within the bushes. In seconds, a massive tree fell across the road, blocking every way forward or back.
"STOP!" one of the officers shouted, eyes wide as he grasped the situation. He lifted his radio to call for backup, but the signal was already disrupted. Their communication had been jammed.
Elsewhere, Raphael watched through a small pair of binoculars and gave the signal. "Radit, the cut was perfect. Felicia, Ethan, lock down the vehicle. Now!"
Radit grinned, dropping the chainsaw onto the ground. "Wuhuu... I really do feel like a terrorist right now..."
Felicia and Ethan leaped out from behind the bushes. Felicia pulled out a portable welding tool from her backpack, while Ethan closed off the opposite side of the vehicle. Sparks and the groan of melting metal filled the air as they welded the doors shut from the outside, reinforced by the steel frame behind the windows, trapping everyone inside.
From a distance, Levan watched everything unfold through a small pair of binoculars. A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Ah, Raphael… former terrorist. You really are well-trained. Very well, I'll help them. They're still amateurs, after all."
Inside the vehicle, panic spread among the officers. One of them struck the window with the butt of his rifle, but even as the glass cracked, the steel frame welded behind it kept them trapped. Sweat trickled down his temple; the tight space grew suffocating.
Suddenly, the rear door of the car opened with a soft click. Levan stood there, tall, composed, an automatic lock-breaker glinting in his hand. The officer in the back raised his M14, but Levan was faster. He pressed a stun device against the man's neck. A violent jolt ran through the guard's body before he collapsed, unconscious.