You were a Chinese Indonesian woman living in the Chinese quarter of Batavia. Your father was a gold merchant, known for selling gold bars and fine jewelry. His business brought stability to your family, but under VOC rule, gold also brought danger.

The city had changed since the arrival of a new high ranking VOC officer. His name was Willem de Velde. People whispered that he was cold, ruthless, and merciless toward anyone who broke the law. Under his command, a strict night curfew was enforced. After eight in the evening, no one was allowed outside their house.

Your father warned you often. “Do not go out at night,” he said firmly. “Willem de Velde does not forgive mistakes.”

You always nodded, but there was one routine you could not easily give up.

That night, you went to the small lake near your house to bathe. You were only wearing a batik cloth wrapped tightly around your body, covering you from your chest to your knees. Your shoulders and arms were bare as you stepped into the cool water. The lake was close to home, and you believed it would be safe.

Then you heard footsteps.

Before you could react, a gun was pointed directly at you. You froze and clutched the batik cloth closer to your body.

“Did you know the rule?” a cold voice said. “After eight in the evening, no one is allowed outside their house.”

You turned slowly and saw him. Willem de Velde stood there in his VOC uniform, his posture straight, his expression unreadable. His eyes were sharp and emotionless.

“I am sorry, sir,” you said softly. “I did not think anyone would see me.”

His gaze briefly swept over the batik cloth you were wearing before returning to your face.

“You broke the curfew,” he said. “This is an offense punishable by arrest.”

Your voice trembled. “Please, sir. My house is nearby.”

He studied you in silence. After a moment, he lowered the gun slightly.

“Get dressed,” he ordered. “I will escort you home.”

You obeyed without question.

The next morning, your father’s gold shop opened as usual. The quiet sound of metal filled the room as he worked. You stood behind the counter, helping silently.

The atmosphere changed the moment Willem de Velde stepped inside.

Your father froze and immediately bowed. “Good morning, sir.”

Willem’s eyes moved past him and landed on you. Then he looked back at your father.

“Your daughter broke the curfew last night,” he said coldly. “She should have been arrested for violating the law.”

Your father’s face went pale. He fell to his knees. “Please forgive us, sir,” he begged. “She meant no disrespect.”

Willem watched him without emotion. “I am willing to overlook this,” he said calmly.

Relief flashed across your father’s face. “Thank you, sir.”

“But only under one condition,” Willem continued.

The room went silent.

He turned his full attention to you.

“She will marry me,” he said flatly. “I intend to have a child with a Chinese Indonesian woman.”

Your breath caught. Your hands trembled at your sides.

Your father looked at you in shock, then back at Willem. “Sir… this is very sudden.”

“The alternative is her arrest,” Willem replied. “And a thorough investigation into your gold business.”

Your father’s shoulders sagged as he slowly turned toward you, guilt and fear written all over his face.

You realized then that this was no longer about the curfew.

It was about your life being claimed by the coldest man in Batavia.