Silent Circle: The Vow of an Heir

The cold mountain air slowly gave way to the city's humid heat. Darian Atmaja, a well-built mountain boy with sharp eyes, stood at the Javaris City bus terminal.

The smell of vehicle fumes and the hustle and bustle of the city made him dizzy. The long journey from his village, which involved several public transportation changes, had exhausted his body, but his spirits remained high.

“Is this the famous Javaris City? It's amazing,” Darian murmured, his eyes widening at the sight of the towering skyscrapers. He breathed in the city air, different from the fresh mountain air.

The smell of vehicle fumes and crowds filled his senses. Before he could enjoy the view, a cry of “Help!” broke the silence. The voice came from a narrow alley, where an older man was lying on the ground, surrounded by three well-built thugs.

Darian, without hesitation, immediately ran towards the alley. Darian ran towards the source of the sound, his muscles tensed. He saw an older man, Grandpa Ronan, lying on the ground, three well-built thugs surrounding him. One of the thugs, the biggest one, pointed a knife at Grandpa Ronan.

Without hesitation, Darian shouted, “Don't touch him!” His voice was loud, echoing in the narrow alley. He immediately attacked, his movements fast and precise, like lightning.

His well-directed punch hit the knife-wielding thug in the stomach, sending him staggering backwards, the knife slipping out of his hand. The thug winced in pain, clutching his stomach.

The other two thugs, surprised by Darian's speed, immediately attacked. One swung a wooden club; the other lunged with a fist.

Darian dodged the club with incredible agility with a swerve, then parried the fist with his left hand.

A swift and accurate kick landed on the shin of the thug wielding the baton, sending him down screaming in pain.

The other thug tried to punch Darian again, but Darian caught him, flipped him over, and, in one swift motion, threw him to the ground.

Darian immediately moved to help Grandpa Ronan up and examined his wound. He looked shocked but not badly hurt, just a few bruises on his arms.

“Thank you, son,” Grandpa Ronan said, his voice trembling. “You saved my life. My name is Ronan.” Darian, breathing hard, just nodded.

He stared at the three thugs lying on the ground, his eyes sharp and alert. He didn't know what would happen next, but he had made his choice. She would protect the weak.

Grandpa Ronan looked at Darian with teary eyes, his soft voice soothing. “Son, you have a good heart. It's rare in this world,” he said, his hand patting Darian's shoulder warmly.

“You don't have to go. Come home with me. I can give you a job, a place to live, and a family.” His tone was sincere, showing genuine concern.

Darian, still shaken by the incident, initially refused. He had no problem living on the streets despite being poor. However, seeing Grandpa Ronan, who looked so hopeful, he relented.

It wasn't long before Grandpa Ronan's luxury car cut through Javaris City's traffic jam. The city's skyscrapers and hustle and bustle felt like a crushing blow to Darian, contrasting with the tranquillity of his village.

Grandpa Ronan's house, a magnificent mansion that towered like a palace, further emphasised the difference. Its opulence felt suffocating, alien, and frightening. Darian met Grandpa Ronan's family inside the house, who stared at her with unfriendly eyes.

The atmosphere was tense, suffocating. A beautiful young woman looked at Darian with a cold and contemptuous gaze.

She made no effort to hide her dislike; to her, Darian was like dirt stuck to her expensive shoes. She seemed to hold her breath as Darian approached as if Darian's body odour made her nauseous.

The woman's gaze was piercing, filled with hatred, behind a thin, contrived smile. Darian could feel the disgust bubbling up behind her sharp eyes.

Grandfather Ronan, a figure who should be respected, introduced Darian in a slightly nervous tone.

“Darian, this is Kirana, my granddaughter,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “Kirana, this is Darian, the young man who saved my life.” She hoped Kirana would be more polite, but she knew how stubborn her granddaughter was.

Kirana snorted. “Oh, how noble,” she said in a sarcastic tone, her eyes narrowed with contempt.

“A hero from nowhere, coming to the big city to look for work. It's heartwarming but also suspicious.” She let out a soft chuckle, a piercing sound full of unconcealed mockery.

Arum Wijaya, Kirana's mother, only observed with a sharp gaze, her lips pressed tightly together as if she were assessing Darian from head to toe.

She did not say a word, but her gaze was enough to make Darian feel like a judgmental person with no power to defend himself.

Satria Adinata, Kirana's father, was silent, but his jaw hardened, showing his undisguised dislike.

Only Sekar, Kirana's sister, seemed slightly more neutral, but her gaze was still full of cold curiosity. Darian felt a piercing chill, not only from the air of the room but also from the Adinata family's sharp gaze. It seemed like she had entered a nest of snakes.

“A man who saved an old man. That's great. Are you expecting a medal, boy?” Kirana sneered again, her eyes narrowed sharply, her nose wrinkled as if she smelled a foul odour.

She turned to Grandpa Ronan, her voice turning sharper, like a sharpened knife. “Grandpa, you have gone senile. Bringing a tramp like this into our home? You think I'd be happy sharing a house with a turd like this?”

She pointed at Darian with his chin, his beaded fingers glinting in the light of the crystal chandelier. “He must smell of mud and sweat, just like his shabby clothes.

It stings my nose!” She covered her nose with a hand adorned with a diamond ring. “You don't even know her background, Grandpa! He could be dangerous!”

Grandpa Ronan's face turned red, his hands clenched into tight fists. “Kirana! Enough!” he snapped, his voice trembling with anger. His body was shaking, but he tried to stay upright.

“Don't talk to Darian like that! he saved my life and deserves respect! You don't know what it's like to be on the verge of losing your life, and she saved mine!”

Kirana laughed mockingly, her voice loud and piercing like broken glass falling to the floor.

“Honor? For a poor, lucky man? Grandpa, you're old and senile! You can't tell good from bad! he's just taking advantage of your kindness!” She looked away, her heavy, angry footsteps echoing on the shiny marble floor.

Kirana turned and walked away, leaving Darian and Grandpa Ronan in a silence filled with anger and tension. Her shadow disappeared behind the door, leaving a strong scent of expensive perfume.

Grandpa Ronan let out a long breath, his face still filled with anger and disappointment in his granddaughter, but there was also a glimmer of worry. He glanced at Darian, seeing how surprised the young man was.

Darian, feeling uncomfortable with the tense atmosphere, opened his mouth. “Grandpa, I think...”

“Don't go, Darian,” Grandpa Ronan cut in quickly, his voice softer. “I know Kirana and the others are being unkind, but don't let it affect you.

I would appreciate your help. I can't face them alone.” He looked at Darian with pleading eyes.

“Stay here. I'll make sure you're comfortable.” He took Darian's hand, holding it tightly. “I promise.”

Darian paused, considering Grandpa Ronan's offer. He saw the sincerity in Ronan's eyes and, despite his doubts, the kindness behind the Adinata family's stubbornness. He nodded slowly. “All right. I will stay.”