Season 1,
Episode 1: "Braga, 03:00"
A City Breathing in Darkness
Bandung, 02:47. A thin fog creeps along Braga Street, erasing remnants of colonial grandeur now wedged between thrift stores and instant coffee stalls. At the end of the road, an Art Deco house—its roof leaking, paint peeling like dried skin—stands as a silent witness to Siti Nurbaya’s footsteps. The hijab-clad architect, her scarf patterned with chrysanthemums, slips through a rotting back door, her trembling flashlight cutting through the night. “This was Papa’s last home… or his grave,” she mutters, swallowing bitterness. Fifteen years ago, her father, an anti-corruption activist, vanished after leading protests against a construction project here. Tonight, Siti returns. Not to mourn, but to smash the bathroom wall where his final letter hinted: “The key lies behind the third tile.”
The hammer strikes. Plaster cracks, dust swirls. Behind crumbling bricks, a weathered plastic folder emerges. Siti’s heart races. Inside, a yellowed document unfurls: “PROJECT CEMARA: URBAN REDESIGN OF BANDUNG 2024”. The plan is meticulous—skyscrapers, mega-malls, underground tunnels poised to obliterate Braga. But what chokes her breath is the crimson seal in the corner: a neon butterfly with dagger-shaped antennae.
Outside, thunder growls. Rain hammers the corroded tin roof.
The First Corpse and the Exiled Detective
03:15. At a construction site near Gedung Sate, floodlights illuminate a man’s body hanging upside-down from a crane hook. His torso is carved with wing-shaped gashes, blood crusted on concrete. A glowing QR code stains his chest like ritual graffiti. Police and journalists swarm, but a man in a wrinkled shirt and frayed jeans strolls past the tape: Joko Warsito, a disgraced detective fired three years ago after being accused of murdering his wife.
“You’re snooping around crime scenes again, Jok! This is our turf!” snaps a young officer.
Joko grins, a clove cigarette dangling from his lips. “The dead are your business. The living…” —he points at the QR code— “…are mine.”
With a cracked phone screen, he scans the code. Red pixels flash: coordinates -6.9015, 107.6187. “Bandung Zoo?” he murmurs. Before he can pocket the phone, a notification blinks from an unknown number: “STICK TO WHAT’S YOURS. YOUR FAMILY DIED FOR THIS.” Joko’s jaw tightens. Three years ago, his wife and daughter burned alive in their car—butterfly-shaped wounds etched into their backs.
Collusion at the Instant Coffee Stall
06:00. Siti sits at a tarp-covered stall near Pasar Kosambi, clutching the Project Cemara documents until her knuckles whiten. A lanky man with brassy, faded hair sidles up: Mamat Partomuan, a back-alley hacker who’s nursed a crush on Siti since high school.
“Hey, heard you found some ‘nuclear files’ in Braga?” he whispers, eyes bloodshot from gaming all night.
“This isn’t a joke, Mam. The project plans to demolish half the city. Including…” —Siti stabs a finger at the map— “…where Papa disappeared.”
Mamat boots up his battered laptop, fingers dancing across keys. “Let me trace the project’s origin. But…” The screen floods with pulsating neon butterflies. “Hacked?!” he yelps. Before they react, motorcycle engines roar. Two masked men leap out, water pistols pressed to Siti’s temple. “Hand over the documents, or you’ll vanish like your old man!”
Siti hurls scalding coffee into an attacker’s face and bolts into a narrow alley. Mamat slips in mud but shouts: “Find Joko Warsito! He’s the only one crazy enough to fight this!”
Blood Trails in the Haunted Zoo
10:00. Joko sneaks into Bandung Zoo—the QR code’s coordinates. Inside a rusted tiger cage, he finds a 1940s ABC soy sauce bottle stuffed with a name list: governors, property tycoons, and… Bu Sukijah, CEO of Project Cemara, dubbed The Land Mafia Queen.
“Still alive, Joko?” Bu Sukijah’s voice slices the air. The gold-chained woman smirks, flanked by tattooed bodyguards. “This zoo’s becoming a luxury resort. Fancy bringing your next fling here?”
Joko squints. “Planning a PKK women’s gathering too, Bu? That butterfly symbol looks like their 1998 charity logo.”
Bu Sukijah’s face hardens. “Butterflies mean resistance. But rebels…” —she nods at her guards— “…get crushed.”
Joko sprints to a derelict aviary, bodyguards in pursuit. There, he finds corpse number two: a zookeeper with a butterfly tattoo on his neck. The QR code on his palm points to… Gedung Merdeka.
Secrets in the Forgotten Cinema
Nightfall. Siti—documents hidden in her cloth bag—meets Joko at the decaying Asia Africa Cinema. Flickering neon lights cast their shadows onto a torn screen.
“Trusting a washed-up cop like me?” Joko asks, flashlight scanning walls scrawled with butterfly symbols.
“They’re killing people just to leave clues,” Siti replies, pointing at a QR code in the corner. “This isn’t a project—it’s a game.”
Lights die. A metal door screeches. From an ancient projector, black-and-white footage rolls: a 1945 massacre at this very site. Dutch soldiers gun down crowds, and among the corpses—a man in a suit resembling Siti’s father.
“Project Cemara isn’t just destroying Bandung,” Joko whispers, “it’s burying history. They’re building a city over mass graves.”
Before Siti responds, the stench of gasoline floods the air. Black smoke billows from the back door. “Fire!”
Flames and Echoes of the Past
Trapped in a rear bathroom, Siti and Joko find chalk scrawled on cracked walls: “WiFi Password: KupuMerah1945”. Joko types it into his phone. A crackling audio file plays—Siti’s father’s voice: “If you hear this, I’m dead. Project Cemara is the Red Circle. Find Mister X at…” An explosion cuts him off.
Outside, sirens wail. Through the crowd, Bu Sukijah stands beneath a black umbrella, her smile razor-sharp.
“You still in?” Joko asks, flames reflecting in his eyes.
Siti crumples the documents in her fist. “They killed Papa. They’ll kill Bandung. I can’t back down.”
Screen fades to black. Crimson text bleeds: “PROJECT CEMARA BEGINS IN 7 DAYS.”
Post-Credit Scene: The Bunker and Mister X’s Shadow
In an underground bunker near Gedung Sate, an old man opens a steel vault filled with Project Cemara’s victim photos. His fingers—inked with neon butterfly tattoos—grasp a vintage phone. “Bu Sukijah, they’re close. But don’t worry… we have a final weapon.”
Bu Sukijah’s voice: “Make sure Siti dies like her father. The butterfly must keep flying.”
The man turns slowly. On the wall, a photo of Siti’s father hangs with a label: “MISTER X: ACTIVE.”
Thanks folks!
To be continued...