Lawang Sigotaka

Chapter 16

Dimas pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the museum, the familiar creak echoing in the still morning air. He had been here countless times, but today, something felt different. The atmosphere was charged, as if the very walls were humming with an unseen energy. The shadows seemed deeper, the corners darker, and every sound his footsteps, the rustle of his jacket seemed amplified in the silence.

He paused just inside the entrance, letting the door swing shut behind him with a muted thud. The dim light from the overhead lamps cast long, flickering shadows on the marble floor, making the museum's grand hall feel more like a cavern than a place of learning. The exhibits, usually silent and inert, seemed to loom larger, as if they had moved in his absence, inching closer, watching him with a patient, almost predatory interest.

Dimas took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He had come here with a purpose, but now, standing in the shadowed entrance, he felt a creeping unease. The museum had always been a sanctuary for him, a place where the past was preserved, where he could lose himself in the quiet study of history. But now, it felt different. The familiar sense of peace and order had been replaced by something else something darker, more unsettling.

He started down the corridor, his footsteps echoing off the marble, the sound bouncing back at him as if the museum were mocking his presence. The air was cool, almost cold, and carried the faint scent of old stone and musty wood. Dimas felt a shiver run down his spine, but he pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

He had spent the previous night poring over the texts and artifacts that had suddenly taken on new significance. Each piece, each symbol seemed to hold a clue, and he was determined to uncover the mysteries that lay hidden within the walls of Borobudur. But the more he delved into the museum's collection, the more he realized that he wasn't just searching for the Sigotaka. He was piecing together a much larger puzzle, one that connected the past to the present in ways he hadn't yet fully grasped.

As he approached the main exhibition hall, he noticed a figure standing in the shadows near the far wall. Dimas slowed his pace, his heart skipping a beat as the figure stepped into the light, revealing the familiar face of Pak Joko, the museum's curator. The older man's expression was unreadable, his sharp eyes fixed on Dimas with an intensity that made him feel exposed, as if every thought and emotion was laid bare for the curator to see.

"Dimas," Pak Joko greeted him, his voice soft but carrying a weight that belied his casual tone. "You're here early."

Dimas forced a smile, though his nerves were frayed. "I couldn't sleep. There's too much to think about."

Pak Joko nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Dimas's face. "I understand. The weight of knowledge can be a heavy burden."

Dimas swallowed, suddenly aware of the curator's scrutinizing gaze. There was something in Pak Joko's eyes, a knowing look that made Dimas feel as if the man could see straight into his soul, could sense the turmoil that had been building within him since the discovery of the Sigotaka. The museum, once a place of quiet study, now felt claustrophobic, the walls closing in around him, the air thick with tension.

"I've been going through the manuscripts," Dimas said, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the empty hall. "There's so much more to this than I realized."

Pak Joko's lips curled into a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Borobudur is a place of many secrets. It's easy to lose oneself in the pursuit of knowledge, to become consumed by it."

Dimas shifted uncomfortably under the curator's gaze, feeling the weight of his words. He knew that Pak Joko was right he had felt the pull of the Sigotaka, the growing obsession that had taken hold of him since he first deciphered the inscription. But it was more than just the pursuit of knowledge. There was something deeper driving him, something he couldn't fully explain. It was as if the Sigotaka was calling to him, drawing him deeper into its mysteries, and he couldn't resist.