Rica experienced a disorienting sense of time, unable to determine the hour or the date. At the moment, her head was covered with a cloth, her hands cuffed, and she sat in a moving car. The man—whose name she didn’t know—hummed a tune, whistling a song she couldn’t recognize.
The car jostled, her body shaking and occasionally bouncing in her seat as they traversed uneven roads. Rica couldn’t figure out where they were. Judging by the soreness of her body, though, she was certain it had been a long journey.
“We’re heading back to Jakarta. I have some important matters to attend to,” the man said.
She was startled, realizing her captor knew she was awake. She cleared her throat a few times before replying. “You’ll go to jail for daring to kidnap me.”
He chuckled mockingly. “Oh? Should I pretend to be scared? Then why haven’t the police found us yet?”
For a moment, Rica fell silent, her unease growing as the bitter truth sank in. Her mother and Indra weren’t ordinary people, yet days had passed without her returning home. What was going on with her family? Why weren’t they trying harder to find her? Her captor hadn’t physically harmed her, but being confined in such an isolated place was taking a toll on her mentally.
“If you knew who I was, you’d be shocked,” the man sneered.
Rica was fuming, helpless to do anything. But if she resisted, she feared he might do something far worse. The only way to survive and stay sane was to keep her mind occupied with happy memories: her mother, her sister Priska, her brother Indra, her friends, Ethan, and Bisma.
“So why did you date Ethan if you’re in love with Bisma?”
“That’s none of your business,” Rica snapped.
“Oh, I know you, Ca. You can’t stand being ignored and always crave attention. If you could date Ethan, there’s no reason you couldn’t be my girlfriend.”
Rica felt sick to her stomach at his words. She didn’t even know who this man was. Relationships couldn’t just start randomly with a creep like her captor. Ethan had been kind, respectful, and sophisticated—everything this man was not.
***
Two hours later, still blindfolded, Rica was escorted into an elevator. When they reached their destination floor, she was led into a room she couldn’t identify. Rica chose silence, unwilling to endure more emotional manipulation. For some reason, every interaction with this man left her feeling like her emotions were being toyed with, her resolve twisted by doubts. She even found herself wondering if her family had given up on finding her. But Rica knew how much her mother loved her.
“Don’t be shocked,” the man said, pulling the cloth from her face.
Rica blinked, her eyes adjusting to the light. She squinted for a moment before her eyes widened in surprise. The room was vast, featuring a set of sofas and a carpet beneath them. To her left was a panoramic view of towering buildings, the vehicles on the roads below appearing as tiny specks. But what shocked her most was the massive framed photo of herself displayed on the wall.
“Why would you put such an ugly frame on my beautiful picture?” Rica teased.
“Ugly? I bought it in Rome,” the man retorted, stepping closer and slowly removing his mask.
Rica frowned at the sight of the face beneath the mask. “Who are you?”
The man scoffed. “The owner of this building. The man whose marriage proposal your mother rejected, claiming you were too young to marry.”
“W-what?” Rica stammered, her mind blank. Her mother had never mentioned anything like that.
“Call me Greg. My name’s Gregorius,” he said, turning to a bottle of wine and a glass on the table. Pouring himself a drink, he inhaled the aroma briefly before taking a sip. “I had planned to fly to San Francisco, but something urgent came up, so I canceled.”
Meanwhile, Rica stood frozen in place. Who was Gregorius? What family did he come from? And why had she never heard of him before? Sure, some high-society types liked to keep their names out of the spotlight, but Rica couldn’t understand why Greg was so obsessed with her.
“You know… maybe if you’d approached me normally, I might’ve been charmed. I’m not that hard to win over,” Rica said, trying to coax Greg into revealing more about himself.
“Normal?” Greg murmured. “I don’t like small talk.”
“Well then, Greg, let me dress up nicely, put on a lovely outfit, and we can start with dinner and a movie tonight. How does that sound?” Rica tried once more to steer the situation in her favor. She wasn’t sure if it would work, but at least she was making an effort.
Greg sat on the arm of the sofa, gazing out at the city lights while sipping his wine. Rica watched him, trying to decipher what kind of person he was. “Probably a weirdo,” she thought.
Rica was talented in drawing and sketching. She was used to estimating the heights of buildings, the dimensions of spaces, and making numerical guesses about various objects. These skills helped her adjust the proportions in her sketches. She probably should’ve majored in architecture, but after hearing that architecture students rarely slept due to their workload, Rica chose graphic design, which was much more laid-back.