Chapter 12: "Selling Kuih or Selling Secrets?"

That night, the air in Kampung Melayu Majidee was cool after the evening rain. The streets were still wet, reflecting the yellowish glow of the streetlights. Aiman, Badrul, Johan, and Din walked side by side towards the old playground near the surau. They had just finished performing Isyak and Tarawih prayers, but their minds were still filled with questions.

"Do you really think what Faizal said earlier is true?" Johan whispered.

Faizal, their long-time rival since primary school, had suddenly approached them after prayers, claiming to have important information about the missing kuih raya mystery that had been troubling Johor Bahru.

"That guy is not exactly trustworthy," Badrul scoffed, kicking a small rock in front of him. "Remember when he told us he had a new PS2? Turned out, he just borrowed it from his cousin."

"I think we should at least listen to him first," Aiman said. "This whole thing is getting stranger. Even my mom is starting to worry because some of her regular customers are asking why her kuih suddenly appeared somewhere else."

They arrived at the playground, their childhood hangout spot. Faizal was already waiting on an old wooden bench, absentmindedly playing with a small twig. His face was serious.

"You're late," Faizal said.

"You're not our boss," Din shot back, making the others chuckle.

Faizal gave them a sharp glare but didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned back and spoke in a low voice, as if afraid someone might overhear them.

"I heard something from my brother," he began. "He works at a printing shop in Bandar Baru UDA. Last week, some big-time businessman placed a huge order for stickers and kuih boxes. The company name didn’t exist before."

Johan frowned. "And what does that have to do with the missing kuih?"

"Relax and listen," Faizal said, twirling the twig in his fingers. "My brother saw the business name—Kuih Tradisi Sejati. But when he asked around, the workers acted clueless. The weirdest part? The logo on those stickers looked exactly like the one on the kuih that went missing from your mom’s shop and other bakeries."

Aiman swallowed hard. "You’re saying… someone is running a fake kuih business, stealing from real bakeries and selling them under a new name?"

Faizal nodded. "I think someone is manipulating the kuih raya market. They steal recipes, steal kuih, and then sell them with fancy packaging at a higher price. They probably have a factory or something."

"What? That’s insane!" Johan almost shouted but quickly controlled himself.

"A factory wouldn’t be able to mass-produce these traditional kuih so quickly," Din pointed out. "These kuih require delicate preparation."

Badrul, who had been quiet all this time, finally spoke. "If they’re stealing kuih, they must have an insider helping them. Maybe bakery workers or even bazaar sellers."

A tense silence fell between them. The sound of crickets filled the night air. Aiman felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn’t just about stolen kuih anymore. This was a full-scale fraud happening right before Hari Raya.

"We need proof," Aiman finally said.

"How?" Johan asked.

Faizal raised an eyebrow. "I can help. But you all have to promise not to mention my name."

"You have proof?" Badrul asked skeptically.

"There’s a place in Skudai selling kuih in Kuih Tradisi Sejati boxes. If we get pictures or receipts, we can prove that those kuih are the same ones stolen from your mom’s shop," Faizal explained.

"Where exactly?"

"The night market in Taman Universiti."

Everyone exchanged glances. The Taman Universiti night market was one of the largest in Johor Bahru, attracting sellers from various places. If someone was running an illegal kuih operation, that was the perfect place to do it.

"I have an idea," Din said. "Tomorrow night, we go there. We act like regular customers, inspect the kuih carefully. If possible, we buy one and compare it with the kuih from Aiman’s shop."

"Like a scene from 999 on TV3," Johan joked.

"No, more like Spy Kids," Badrul added, grinning.

Aiman took a deep breath. This was the boldest move they had ever attempted. But he knew that if they did nothing, his family’s business—and many others—would continue to suffer.

"Agreed," he finally said.

They shook hands, sealing the plan. Tomorrow night, they would head to the Taman Universiti night market. And maybe, they would finally uncover the truth behind the missing kuih raya.