A strange but delightful sensation bubbled up inside him. The thrill of lying and having everyone believe it was exhilarating.
He wanted to do it again. Lying was addictive.
"Ran, what you said turned out to be true. You know Dedeh? Dedeh Komariah from the other division?" Saban said excitedly one morning, a month after Ranu Inten had shared the ghost story at their office.
"She stayed late yesterday to pick up some files from Dahayu. After Dahayu left, Dedeh stayed to work on some data on Dahayu's computer. Now, she had heard the ghost story that's been making the rounds in our office, but she claimed she didn't know where the room was or what it looked like. Dedeh said ...," Saban lowered his voice to a whisper, " ... she saw the exact figure you described in that room, Ran."
Ranu Inten frowned, trying hard to keep his face serious and not laugh. Why was someone else perpetuating his story? He couldn't believe how fascinating it was to see who else would use his lie as a basis for further tales.
"Oh yeah? What else did she say?" Ranu Inten asked, feigning interest while maintaining his serious expression.
"Even now, when I recall what Dedeh told me, it still sends shivers down my spine. At first, she thought the person was just an office boy, a janitor, so she didn't pay much attention. She even intended to greet the janitor casually, but then the figure turned towards her. His tongue was sticking out, Ran," his friend's eyes widened dramatically.
Ranu Inten sighed, trying to suppress the amusement welling up inside him. He remained silent, not even nodding in response.
For a full two months, as Ranu Inten had predicted, his legendary tale continued to circulate and evolve. A few additional stories from others about a man with a protruding tongue---no longer just facing the wall---manifesting in that mysterious room added layers to the mystery.
Ranu Inten still told his share of lies. He embellished here and there to bolster the tales from others, which were obviously fabrications themselves. But, of course, he assumed no one doubted his words.
Until one day, on his birthday, the office was eerily quiet. It was three in the afternoon, an hour before closing time.
