Julian chose not to return to the Governor's Palace that night. He followed Adrian and Anne Marie from a safe distance—not as Friedrich's spy, but as a man wanting to see the fragments of a life long hidden from him.
Julian kept a distance of about twenty paces behind his two siblings. He watched how Adrian remained constantly alert, occasionally stopping to adjust the dagger at his waist or simply to ensure Anne Marie hadn't fallen behind. They went deep into the crowded settlements behind the station, where the streets were merely narrow, muddy alleys filled with the sharp scents of firewood and spices.
Finally, they stopped in front of a small house with bamboo walls whose weave had begun to loosen. There, a middle-aged woman in a clean but heavily patched cotton kebaya was waiting by the door. That was Siti.
Julian hid behind a stack of wooden barrels, observing their interaction. There was no luxury, no servants. There was only a simple warmth as Anne Marie hugged her mother and Adrian handed over a small parcel of Kue Putu he had bought along the way.
"Why took you so long?" Siti's voice was soft, carried by the night wind to Julian's ears.
"There was a foreigner at the coffee stall, Mother. His eyes were blue, but he looked confused," Anne Marie replied as she stepped inside.
Julian felt his heart sink. They were talking about him. He saw Siti go silent for a moment, a look of deep-seated fear crossing her humble face before she closed the bamboo door.
That night, Julian stayed there, sitting on the damp ground while watching the glow of the oil lamp seeping through the cracks in their walls. He began to realize the bitter reality: twenty-year-old Adrian had to work as a dock porter in the morning and guard his sister at night. Eighteen-year-old Anne Marie had to help her mother sew for Peranakan merchants for a few cents.
They had no idea they had a claim to a throne in The Hague. And seeing the peace they possessed in that poverty, Julian began to doubt: was he bringing salvation with his presence, or was he bringing destruction?
He took a piece of Kue Putu he had bought himself from a passing vendor—the warm taste of grated coconut and palm sugar felt like a hug in the midst of the cold Batavia night. However, he knew this peace was numbered in days. Back at the palace, Friedrich was waiting for a report, and Friedrich was not a patient man.