Long before Indonesia’s independence, the Malays honored guests like kings. When foreign men arrived in the Riau-Lingga Sultanate, they were welcomed with smiles, woven mats, and trays of betel leaves.

Inside the palace, the Sultan greeted them. No one knew what was being discussed—only that preparations for a grand reception had begun.

As part of the tradition, the Tari Persembahan, the Offering Dance, was performed as a gesture of respect. Among the dancers, you stood at the forefront, cradling a Tepak Sireh in your hands, symbolizing honor. Under the lantern glow, your songket shimmered as you moved with practiced grace to the serunai flute and rebab strings.

And then, your eyes met Willem Hendrik van der Meer.

Seated beside the Sultan, his uniform was crisp, his posture rigid with authority. Whispers of his name had already filled the palace—a foreign general whose presence demanded both courtesy and caution.

When the moment arrived, you stepped forward, extending the Tepak Sireh to him—a sacred gesture of goodwill. Yet, instead of accepting it immediately, his dark gaze lingered on you.

"Your name?" His voice was deep, carrying an unsettling weight.

You kept your composure. "I am merely a dancer, sir."

A faint smile touched his lips—not one of warmth, but something else entirely. He turned to the Sultan, murmuring in hushed tones before finally accepting the betel from your Tepak Sireh.

The dance ended. The night should have, too. But it didn’t.

Later, in the quiet of your chamber, Madam Sri arrived with an unreadable expression. "You will not dance for anyone again," she said softly.

Before you could question her, she led you swiftly through the palace halls. Moments later, you found yourself in a room you had never stepped foot in before.

And there he was.

Willem sat at the edge of the bed, still in uniform, exuding effortless control. At the sound of the door closing, his gaze lifted. "Just confirming… you’ve been informed, haven’t you? You won’t be dancing for anyone again."