Chapter 1: The First Case
"Ugh, I'm so bored. No money, no gigs. Just gotta keep pushing through life, even if it sucks," groaned a young man sprawled across a worn-out sofa, eyes fixed on the cracked ceiling above.
"What else can we do? No clients, no cash. And rent's due soon," replied a young woman, echoing his frustration with a sigh as she tapped her pen against the table.
The man lounging like he owned the place was, in fact, the founder of the Ghost Detective Agency—established during his very first semester of college. His name? Ardian Putra Wirawan.
Now in his third semester, Ardian was a curious mix of ambition and laziness wrapped in a tall, slightly light skin. About 175 cm, 69 kilograms—just enough to avoid being called either skinny or stocky. His slightly wavy black hair was often tousled, as if styled by sleep rather than intention.
The woman, seated nearby with papers scattered in front of her, was Putriani Angga Dewi—a newcomer to both the agency and college life. A blend of Javanese and Chinese heritage, she was petite at 157 cm, weighing 46 kilograms, with long, straight black hair and skin so fair it almost glowed under the afternoon light.
Putriani had joined the agency two weeks ago as the official secretary, taking over the phones and helping organize the growing—albeit still struggling—business.
The Ghost Detective Agency was founded with one goal in mind: to help people dealing with supernatural disturbances. Ardian had been knee-deep in the spirit world since high school, and what started as a hobby turned into something more structured over time. They had protocols now, procedures—even if they were written on scrap paper.
Some locals joked the agency was like a modern-day shaman service. But unlike traditional healers who dealt in black magic or charms, Ardian and his team focused strictly on identifying and solving paranormal disruptions.
"Hey, where's Rendy?" Ardian asked, lazily shifting to face the not-so-lazy girl beside him. "Haven't seen him all day. Got class or something?"
"Yeah," Putriani replied without looking up, still scribbling on what looked like an assignment.
"What about Nur?"
"She's still at school. High school, remember? Don't tell me you forgot about your precious junior?"
"Oooh, someone's jealous," Ardian teased with a grin.
"Ugh, in your dreams," she shot back without missing a beat.
"Just making small talk, Put. It's too quiet in here. Feels like a morgue. Guess our promotion didn't work, huh?"
"Well, what did you expect, Ar?" she scoffed. "You passed out flyers that looked like plumbing ads. Nothing about them screamed 'cool ghost hunters.'"
"I didn't have a choice! We burned through our budget just setting up this place. Be grateful Rendy gave us this warehouse—otherwise, we'd still be meeting at the campus cafeteria."
As if summoned by fate, the office phone rang.
Putriani instantly snapped into action, dropping her pen and grabbing the receiver.
"Good afternoon. Yes, this is the Ghost Detective Agency… Mm-hmm… Okay, I understand. Yes, sir. We'll send someone right away." She hung up with practiced ease.
Ardian was already on his feet, grinning like a cat spotting a mouse.
"Where?" he asked, heading toward the small closet to grab his field gear.
"Tumbularas Village, Anggara City. RT 03, RW 01. The client's name is Mr. Santosa Wijaya. About a 40-minute ride from here."
"Problem?"
"A woman in a tattered white dress with long hair shows up at night. Haunting the place. He's available for the next 24 hours."
"Perfect. Time to get spooky." Ardian began changing into his "official" work outfit—a crisp white shirt, black jacket, neatly knotted tie, and polished loafers.
"You look like you're heading to a job interview," Putriani muttered, raising an eyebrow.
"Style matters, Put. People trust someone who looks like they know what they're doing."
"Yeah, yeah. Just don't forget my cut if this pays off."
"You'll get it," Ardian said with a smirk, slinging his backpack over one shoulder as he headed for the door.
"You sure you're okay staying here? I can leave you, you know."
"I'm good. Nur will be back soon, and I've got work to finish. Besides, it's quieter here than the library."
"Alright then," he said, stepping outside.
Ardian hopped onto his aging Supra motorcycle—an inherited beast from his uncle—and strapped on his helmet. With a kickstart and a low rumble, he sped off toward their first official case.
Small Timeskip
In the quiet village of Tumbularas, Ardian had finally arrived at his destination: the home of Mr. Santosa Wijaya. It had taken a fair bit of asking around the neighbors, but he managed to find the place.
The moment he laid eyes on the house, Ardian sensed a strange, negative aura. Not overwhelming, but subtle—like a low hum of energy that was hard to pinpoint. It wasn't about the intensity, but more about the scale of presence.
To get a better read, Ardian knew he had to step inside.
"Excuse me! Kulo nuwun! Punten! Bonjour?" he called out politely from outside the gate, hoping someone was home.
A moment later, a woman in a long floral house dress stepped out of the house and approached him.
"Who are you looking for, sir?" she asked, eyes squinting slightly in the afternoon sun.
"Pardon me, ma'am. Is this the residence of Mr. Santosa Wijaya?"
"Yes, it is. May I ask what this is about?"
"I'm from the Ghost Detective Agency. Mr. Santosa contacted us about a supernatural issue in this house. Is he available?"
"Oh, you're from the agency! Yes, he's been expecting you. Please, come in."
"Thank you, ma'am."
She unlocked the front gate, allowing Ardian to enter. He nodded politely and followed her toward the house, stopping at the front porch.
"Please wait here for a moment," she said. "I'll go get him."
"Of course," Ardian replied, his eyes scanning the surroundings. He noticed several spirits wandering about—nothing unusual, just the average spectral activity. There was no indication that this village was a hotspot for paranormal traffic, which made him pause in thought.
His train of thought was interrupted when a middle-aged man in a casual T-shirt and a traditional sarong walked toward him.
"You must be from the agency?" the man asked.
"Yes, sir. Mr. Santosa Wijaya, I presume? I'm here in response to your request."
"Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat."
"Thank you, sir."
They both sat on the porch, exchanging a few words before Mr. Santosa looked Ardian over from head to toe and chuckled.
"You look... different than I expected."
"Different how, sir?" Ardian raised an eyebrow.
"I mean, are you here to hunt ghosts or attend a job interview? You're dressed like an office worker—tie and everything. Not like the 'paranormal experts' we've had before," he said with a low chuckle.
"Man, Putri said the same thing," Ardian thought to himself, scratching his head. "Is there something wrong with dressing sharp? I think I look cool."
"I just like to stand out, sir. And hey, looking sharp makes a good impression."
"Well, fair enough."
"So you've called others before?" Ardian asked, straightening his tie.
"Yes. The first one couldn't even detect the entity. The second tried and failed to find it. You're the third one we've called." Mr. Santosa let out a long sigh, clearly frustrated.
Ardian paused to think. The negative aura in the house reminded him of a needle in a haystack—present, but hidden. He wouldn't know more until he was inside.
Just then, the woman returned, carrying two mugs of black coffee. "Here you go..." she said, placing them on the table. "Thought you could use some coffee."
"Oh, you didn't have to go through the trouble," Ardian said with a slight bow.
"It's no trouble at all. You're a guest here. Honey," she turned to her husband, "I'll grab that peanut snack you bought yesterday too."
"Thanks, dear."
"Please, enjoy the coffee while it's hot," said Mr. Santosa.
"Thank you, sir."
They chatted over their coffee for a few minutes before Ardian leaned forward, taking a more formal tone.
"Let me introduce myself properly. My name is Ardian Putra Wirawan. Here's my card. As I mentioned, we're with the Ghost Detective Agency."
"Yes, I remember."
"Let's get right to it then. How long have the disturbances been happening?"
"About two months, ever since we moved in."
"What kind of disturbances?"
"Well, sometimes the TV turns on by itself. Around midnight, we hear water running, like someone's using the bathroom. And there are footsteps, but when we check—no one's there. It's unsettling."
Ardian listened carefully. He needed as much detail as possible before taking action.
"Any strange voices?"
"Oh yes. One time we were watching some, you know—comedy stuff—and right when we were laughing, we suddenly heard a woman giggling. Loud. Freaked us all out. Nobody laughed after that."
"I see… What about sightings? Have you seen any figures?"
"Not directly. But there was this one night. I wanted coffee with my cigarette, so I asked my wife to make some. She brought it over, and I drank it. But later I found out she had been at the neighbor's house the whole time. Said she never made any coffee."
"Oh wow. A ghost that impersonates your wife?"
"It happened again too. I wanted fried rice late at night. My wife 'made' it for me—but later I realized she was fast asleep the whole time. Snoring!"
"So… was the ghost's fried rice any good?" Ardian asked, eyes wide.
"Delicious! Better than my wife's, but please don't tell her I said that," he whispered.
"No worries, sir," Ardian chuckled, giving a thumbs-up.
"What are you two whispering about?" the wife returned with the jar of snacks, giving them a suspicious look.
"Ah—n-nothing, dear," Mr. Santosa stammered.
"Y-yeah, we're just chatting," Ardian added.
"Mm-hmm," she said, eyeing them both.
Ardian and Mr. Santosa nodded quickly. They both knew one universal truth: the most powerful force in the world isn't some of metaphysic being—it's an angry mother and their missile guided slippers. That's not a fight you want to pick.
Trying to change the topic, Ardian cleared his throat and asked, "Ma'am, have you experienced anything unusual yourself?"
"Well," she began, placing the jar on the table, "one time while watching a K-drama, I heard a woman crying. I was alone. It was scary."
"And you ran?"
"Of course! What do you think?"
"Any sightings?" Ardian pressed.
"There was one, just three days ago. My husband was out, the kids were at school. I left the stove on by accident when I ran to the store. When I came back—oh my God—the pan was on fire. Huge flames."
"And?"
"I panicked, ran to get water. When I came back… there was a woman in white, long black hair all the way to the floor, just standing there, staring at the fire."
"Ohh... and then?" Ardian muttered under his breath.
"Then—she vanished. Turned into a white mist. And the fire? Gone. Just like that. Like it never happened."
"…And where exactly is the terror?" Ardian asked, now mildly irritated.
From what he had heard so far, nothing seemed truly dangerous. There had been no attacks, no possession—just a lot of eerie but harmless incidents.
Mr. and Mrs. Santosa exchanged confused glances. Ardian knew this reaction well—normal people trying to make sense of abnormal events.
All he wanted was for them not to be foolish. That was enough.
"Instead of guessing around, I think it's time I took a look inside," Ardian said. "Maybe I can make contact."
"Yes, please," said Mr. Santosa.
"Before I begin, could you close all the curtains and turn off the lights? I need minimal light."
"Of course," the wife replied, heading back inside.
Within minutes, the house dimmed. Shadows stretched along the walls as the natural light faded. A cold breeze drifted through, raising goosebumps on the woman's arms as she hurried back outside.
"You alright, dear?" Mr. Santosa asked.
"I'm fine… I think," she said quickly, though her fast breathing betrayed her nerves.
Ardian stood at the doorway, facing the dark interior with a grin.
"Time to get to work."