The rustling of snack packages and boisterous laughter instantly greeted anyone who opened the front door to Rian’s house. Exactly a week after their pact at the coffee shop, Rian’s living room had officially transformed into the most magnificent disaster zone on earth.

Sprawled across the twelve-by-sixteen-foot room was an absolute mountain of mountaineering gear. Two jumbo-sized hiking backpacks lay sideways, surrounded by a bright orange dome tent still wrapped in its fabric sack, four sleeping bags puffed up like giant cocoons, a mini portable stove, a nesting cookset, military-grade canteens, and sprawling piles of thick wool socks and waterproof jackets.

"I swear, Rian, are you seriously turning your house into a climbing basecamp, or is this just your secret excuse to run an illegal landfill?" Maya chimed as she stepped inside, hoisting a large plastic bag filled with pharmacy supplies. She had to tread carefully to avoid tripping over a rolled-up rubber sleeping mat stretching right across the middle of the room.

Rian, squatting next to a towering stack of instant noodle packs, looked up and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "My bad, May. My mom’s living room is basically the ultimate sacrifice every time we go on a trip. You’d rather hang out in my bedroom where it smells like a week's worth of gym socks?"

"Ew, gross!" Sita piped up, slipping in right behind Maya. She immediately sought out a relatively clean patch of the sofa to drop her tote bag, then stared in horror at the floor drowning in gear. "Are we seriously carrying all of this? It looks like we’re moving houses, not climbing a mountain."

"Relax, Sit. Rule number one of being a true mountaineer: it's always better to overpack than starve to death in the middle of a forest," Dika shot back with unearned confidence. He was sitting cross-legged on the rug, busily unzipping his own backpack and digging through it like a kid on Christmas morning.

Gani, just emerging from the kitchen with a tray of steaming hot tea, froze the moment he caught sight of Dika’s backpack contents. Gani’s thick brows knitted together sharply. He set the tray down on the table and strode over to Dika with a probing glare.

"Hey, Dik. Get over here. Is this a backpack or a convenience store wholesale bin?" Gani demanded sharply, pointing at the heap spilling across the rug.

Dika flashed a wide, toothy grin. "What’s wrong, Gan? It's comprehensive, right? So we don’t starve up there."

"Comprehensive your ass!" Gani snapped, pulling a massive package out of Dika’s bag. "What is this? Three jumbo-sized packs of balado cassava chips? And what’s this—two whole cartons of chocolate wafers, cheese balls, and sour candies? Are you climbing a mountain or going on a safari picnic, huh?"

Maya and Rian immediately burst out laughing at Gani’s exasperated expression.

"Oh my god, Dika! Are we hosting a neighborhood potluck?" Maya teased between laughs. "Where’s your thermal jacket? Your emergency blanket? Your rain poncho? You literally brought a whole snack aisle!"

"Gotta keep the soul happy, sweet Maya," Dika defended himself completely unbothered, snatching back his bag of chips. "Who knows, maybe we'll run into a romantic drama scene up at the summit, and snacks make the best viewing companion. Besides, my physical stamina is elite; I don't need a bulky winter jacket."

"Elite in your dreams," Rian scoffed, firing a wad of wet wipes straight at Dika’s face, which the guy swatted away with lightning reflexes. "Yesterday when we ran two laps around the campus track, you were gasping for air like you needed the campus ambulance."

"That was because the atmospheric conditions were unfavorable, Yan! The oxygen levels were compromised!" Dika argued stubbornly, sending the living room right back into a roar of laughter and flying snack wrappers.

Over on the corner of the sofa, Sita wasn’t laughing. She watched as Gani took over repacking Dika’s bag, systematically swapping out the useless junk food for spare thermal layers, extra wool socks, and a backup headlamp. Sita nervously twisted the hem of her shirt, her gaze locked onto Dika’s pack now looking significantly more rational.

"Alright, cut it out, you guys," Gani intervened once he finished reorganizing Dika’s gear. He stood up, stretching his aching lower back, then turned to Rian and Maya who were studying a printed topographic trail map of Mount Aruna. "Let's run through the core logistics one more time. We’ll split the water jugs evenly between my pack and Rian’s. The tent weight is split two ways, Rian's carrying the stove and cookset, and Maya's got the first-aid kit."

Maya hoisted her plastic bag high with fake pride. "Ready for duty! Antiseptic, elastic bandages, motion sickness meds, and fever reducers are all neatly packed in a dedicated case. Fully locked and loaded!"

"Good," Gani praised with a satisfied nod. He then scanned his four friends one by one, his expression hardening. The boisterous energy in the living room slowly began to drain away. "I just want to remind you all one more time. The Mount Aruna trail isn't a playground. Past Post Two, cell service drops to absolute zero. The weather can flip to extreme conditions in a matter of minutes, and most importantly... you respect local customs."

Dika, who had been gearing up to crack another joke, immediately fell silent at the serious tone in Gani’s voice. "What kind of local customs? Like local taboos and superstitions?"

"Yeah, taboos," Gani answered flatly. "Don't talk trash, don't litter, if you're tired, rest, but don't bitch and moan excessively, and above all—if you hear strange voices on the trail or hear someone calling your name in an empty place, do not look back."

Hearing Gani's words, Maya shivered. She rubbed her own arms as goosebumps broke out across her skin. "Ugh, Gani, stop trying to freak us out! We haven't even left yet and you're already dropping ghost stories."

"I'm not trying to scare you, May. I'm warning you," Gani said in a grim tone. "Mountains have their own rules. We're just guests in their home."

Rian offered a reassuring smile, trying to thaw the sudden chill in the room. He patted Gani’s shoulder lightly. "Relax, Gan. There's five of us, we'll watch each other's backs. Besides, our intentions are pure—we just want to enjoy nature and celebrate our graduation, not go looking for trouble."

"Rian's totally right!" Dika chimed back in, flashing dual thumbs-up with renewed enthusiasm. "As long as we've got Captain Gani and Dika the morale officer, we've got this in the bag! Our friendship isn't going to fracture over some mountain myth."

Optimism surged right back into the living room. Laughter bubbled up again, banishing the anxiety that had briefly lingered. They slung arms around each other's shoulders, utterly convinced that the bond forged over four years of college was an impenetrable fortress nothing could break—not even the wild unknown.

Time flew by. The wall clock in Rian’s living room struck 6:30 PM. One by one, all the gear finally found a secure home inside their respective backpacks. The living room floor, previously buried under a mountain of supplies, was visible once more, save for five massive packs lined up and ready to be loaded into the car before dawn tomorrow.

"Phew! Finally done," Rian groaned, stretching his arms high overhead until his joints popped audibly. "I'm dead tired, seriously. We need to regroup right back here before dawn tomorrow."

"Copy that, commander!" Dika announced, jumping up to grab his jacket as he prepared to head back to his dorm alongside Sita and Maya, who were also gathering their personal belongings.

After walking his three friends out to the porch and sending them off with a wave, Rian stepped back into the quiet house. He figured he might as well clean up the leftover bits of packing twine and plastic trash clustered near the sofa.

Humming softly to himself, Rian bent down to inspect his own hiking pack sitting closest to the TV stand. He wanted to make sure no essential items were left loose before zipping up the main compartment for the night.

Rian’s fingers brushed against the outer mesh side pocket on the left—the slot usually reserved for water bottles or quick-access gear.

Rian’s forehead furrowed in confusion. His fingers had just grazed a medium-sized hard object tucked inside that mesh pocket. He was certain he hadn't stuffed anything into that outer pouch all evening.

Curiosity piqued, Rian reached into the mesh slot and pulled the object out.

His hand instantly froze. His breath caught in his throat.

Sitting right in the palm of Rian’s hand, illuminated by the yellowish glow of the living room fluorescent light, was an antique wooden matchbox just the right size to fit inside a fist. The body of the matchcase was made of tarnished, blackened brass, decorated with intricate hand-carved spiral patterns that looked uncannily like a labyrinth or a swirling spring.

Rian stared at the object wide-eyed. His heart hammered violently against his ribs.

He slowly turned the antique matchbox over. No brand name, no factory markings, just those strange, chillingly cold engravings pressing against his skin.

Rian snapped his head toward the front door, which was securely deadbolted, then looked back down at the matchbox in his hand as a profound, creeping dread crawled upward from the soles of his feet straight to his skull.

He knew—with absolute, terrifying certainty—that not a single one of his five friends—not Maya, Dika, Gani, nor Sita—owned anything like this. And Rian himself had never, in all his life, laid eyes on it, let alone purchased such a bizarrely carved antique.