A New Mystery

“If you don’t even remember what happened that night, then I’m canceling the contract! I want my grandmother’s recipe back right now!” Alya shouted, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the anger exploding in her chest became impossible to contain.

Arga didn’t move from his position, but his sharp, hawk-like eyes grew even colder, locking onto Alya as she stood trapped between the doors of his luxury car.

“The partnership contract is legally binding, Alya. You can’t simply take it back just because you’re emotional.”

How convenient for him to say that! So the repayment of that one hundred and fifty million rupiah debt was nothing but a trap to make me hand over the only valuable inheritance my family has? Alya cursed inwardly. Tears nearly spilled from her eyes as she felt her dignity and her grandmother’s legacy being treated like cheap merchandise.

“I don’t care! You deliberately took advantage of me when I was at my lowest just for your own business interests!” Alya accused, turning her face away, unwilling to look at the handsome man before her, who suddenly seemed like a heartless corporate monster.

“I need that recipe to prove my worth to Grandpa,” Arga said, his authoritative voice carrying a hint of restrained emotion. “He handed this entire company over to me and entrusted its future to my hands. This premium project is non-negotiable for me. I have to prove that I’m worthy of leading PT Rasa Nusantara Food.”

“And what does that have to do with me?! Why do I have to be the sacrifice for your ambition to impress your grandfather?!” Alya screamed in frustration, suddenly too exhausted to keep deciphering this man’s riddles. “Move, Mr. Arga! I’m going home! I’m not getting examined!”

Alya shoved both hands against Arga’s broad chest with all the strength she had left. Arga stood motionless for a moment before finally stepping back, giving Alya a path to escape.

Without wasting another second, Alya ran toward the main road and flagged down a passing taxi, ignoring Arga’s voice calling her name from behind.

Alya’s footsteps suddenly froze at the end of the alley leading to her small home. The cloth bag in her hand slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground.

Before her, thick black smoke billowed high into the sky, blending with raging red flames that were devouring the wooden house her parents had left behind. The panicked shouts of the neighbors, desperately trying to put out the fire with whatever equipment they had, filled the air in a chaotic uproar.

“My house... Grandma....” Alya murmured, her lips trembling violently.

Wait. Grandma is still in the ICU, so there shouldn’t be anyone inside.

Alya tried to calm her wildly pounding heart. But a second later, the face of her bastard biological father flashed through her mind.

That fugitive had still been hiding inside the house lately.

Let him burn. Let that bastard die in there. He’s the one who destroyed our lives.

The memory of the loan sharks who had wrecked their home and caused her grandmother to suffer a heart attack extinguished every trace of sympathy Alya had for her father.

Alya turned around, intending to leave and let fate punish her father on its own.

But she stopped again when she remembered something extremely important.

Her grandmother’s old leather-bound recipe book was still inside the drawer of her bedroom at the back of the house.

Grandma’s recipe book... the only valuable inheritance I have left... I can’t let it burn!

Ignoring every ounce of common sense, Alya turned around and sprinted back into the crowd, despite the neighbors shouting at her to stop.

She covered her nose and mouth with the sleeve of her work uniform, then recklessly leaped through the front door of the house, which was already beginning to collapse beneath the flames.

The heat inside was unbearable. Thick smoke immediately stung her eyes and filled her lungs, making her cough violently.

“Cough! Cough! Grandma... Alya has to get the book....” Alya whimpered as she crawled across the scorching floor toward the bedroom at the back.

After struggling through the flames, Alya finally reached her room and snatched the worn-out recipe book from inside the drawer.

She hugged it tightly against her chest, overwhelmed with relief.

But when she turned to leave, her steps suddenly stopped.

A middle-aged man lay near the kitchen door, barely alive and unconscious from inhaling too much smoke.

It was her father.

Leave him, Alya. He’s nothing but a parasite in your life.

The dark voice in Alya’s head urged her on as she stared coldly at the man who had abandoned her more than a decade ago.

Alya took one step forward, intending to walk past her father’s body.

But when her eyes fell upon his soot-covered, aged face, something inside her fiercely resisted becoming a murderer.

After all, this man’s blood still ran through her veins.

“Damn it! Why do I have to have such a soft heart?!” Alya cursed in frustration.

Alya dropped down beside her father’s body, then used all the strength her small frame could muster to lift and carry the middle-aged man.

She dragged her father’s legs slowly toward the exit, but his weight was far too much for her petite body.

The distance to the front door felt like thousands of kilometers as the surrounding flames grew larger and more intense.

CRACK...

The sound of the wooden roof splitting echoed loudly directly above Alya’s head.

She looked up, her eyes widening in terror when she saw a massive burning wooden beam break loose, ready to fall straight onto her body, which no longer had the strength to escape.

I’m going to die... Forgive Alya, Grandma....

Alya surrendered to her fate, squeezing her eyes shut while clutching her grandmother’s recipe book tightly against her chest.

CRASH!

The powerful body of someone suddenly slammed into Alya, sending them both rolling across the scorching floor.

One second later, the burning beam came crashing down exactly where Alya had been standing, accompanied by a deafening burst of flames.

Alya opened her eyes, gasping for breath.

She felt a pair of incredibly strong, broad arms wrapped tightly around her, shielding her head from the falling debris.

The scent of expensive tobacco cologne mixed with the smell of burning wood filled her senses, sending Alya’s already racing heart into an even wilder frenzy.

“Mr... Mr. Arga?!” Alya cried out in disbelief.

She stared at the stern face of Arga Mahendra, now covered in black ash, yet still radiating an overwhelming air of authority even amid the raging flames.

“Be quiet and hold on tightly to your recipe, Little Employee,” Arga ordered in his deep baritone voice, a small cough breaking through his words as the thick smoke filled his lungs.

Without wasting another second, Arga rose to his feet, grabbing Alya’s unconscious father with one powerful arm while using his other arm to wrap protectively around Alya’s waist.

With one dominant, calculated movement, Arga carried both of them through the remaining flames at the front of the house and leaped outside.

A second later, the house behind them collapsed completely, reduced to rubble.

Alya fell onto the grass outside, breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she clutched her grandmother’s recipe book tightly against her trembling chest.