Novels by Shiskaco

Dirga slipped out the door and hurried to the telephone box in the complex, safely out of his Father's sight. The night was cold and windy, causing Dirga, who was wearing pyjamas, to shiver violently. He took out two Rp 100 metal coins and dialled Dina's number.Dirga turned the rotary dial, his heartbeat echoing with every rotation. The connection went through, and a voice he knew well answered his call.“Hello? Who is this?”“Hello, Dina. It’s me, Dirga.”“Dirga? What’s wrong?”“I need a favour. Can you tell Mum I’m filming somewhere else? I have something I need to deal with with Dad. I don’t want Mum to know about this. And please investigate R. A. P. Consult. PT Short-Term & Futures Investment Consultancy. Office Address: Grand Sinta Building, 12th Floor. And tomorrow, around nine or ten, please call the police and tell them there’s a multi-billion rupiah fraud happening there,” Dirga said in one breath, panicked and nervous.Dina, confused, asked Dirga to slowly explain what was

Dirga stepped back. He spent the remainder of the week immersed in filming his new Fantasy Film (Double Glass), burying his financial anxiety within the new role.Yet, every morning upon waking, his primary mission—to save the family's money from the Ponzi scheme—reverberated louder than the Director’s shouts of praise. 240 days were left, and financial ruin could strike at any moment.He had to find information without asking his Father directly.Dirga observed his Father’s routine for three consecutive days. Every day after dawn, his Father would sit at the small living room table, sipping coffee and compiling a small report which he always stored beneath a stack of documents. Dirga knew this report concerned Rendra’s 200% project.That afternoon, Dirga went home early. Mother and Anya were at the market. Father wouldn't be home until six o’clock. He had 45 minutes before his Father arrived.The role of the junior detective began. Dirga quickly walked over to the small cabinet in th

“I will,” Dirga replied instantly, his eyes fixed on the prospect of a massive victory that would bring him closer to total freedom from the System’s threat."Excellent. I’ll send you the rough draft tomorrow," Dina said, her weary expression replaced by the keen enthusiasm of a professional.Dirga merely nodded, then turned to his Mother. That aura of humanity felt thickest as his Mum pulled him into a hug. Her jacket smelled of detergent and warm *telon* oil, calming the trauma caused by the system window earlier that afternoon."Let's go home, dear. You need some sleep," his Mum whispered.Dirga nodded and took his mother's hand.They arrived home. A small house they had purchased through a hard-won loan. The scent of night jasmine drifted through the window curtains, mingling with the aroma of boiled instant noodles his Mum had prepared for dinner. Their life was simple and sweet, like the chicken porridge from the previous afternoon.He went to the bathroom, pretending to wash hi

Filming resumed. Dirga no longer sought private moments. He acted with abandon, driven by a new motivation: Anya’s future death. That fear forged him into an actor employing a method cruel to himself.Director Ical noticed the new intensity. The speed at which Dirga learned the script left the entire crew speechless. In the following weeks, his popularity as the ‘child genius’ soared on set. Everyone praised his professionalism.Dina was always present, but Dirga’s mother grew increasingly distressed watching her son act like a madman, as if something unknown were chasing him.“Dina, be honest. Dirga never rests. He needs to come home and play outside, not just study these depressing scripts,” his mother urged one afternoon after Dirga had successfully completed a scene requiring perfect silence.Dina rubbed her temples. “Mum, that’s just an actor’s job. The set is designed according to the script’s scene. And honestly, your son is an absolute genius. Mr Ical has even promised to prom

“Where is the script? Let’s start now,” Dirga said in a very quiet, serious voice, ready to do battle again.Dina stared into Dirga’s eyes—the cold, determined, and demanding eyes of a seven-year-old. That aura stunned Dina, an ambitious millennial. It was as if the boy before her wasn't a potential client, but a senior negotiator from a conglomerate family.“I like your spirit. And I know you’ll definitely get a part in that film,” Dina said, pulling a dark blue document from her shoulder bag. It wasn't a script, but a thin printout of an agency contract.“But wait, let’s settle our business first. This exclusive contract for my little agency.”Mum immediately grabbed the document, reading it quickly. Her eyes narrowed with tension.“A three-year contract?” Mum asked anxiously. “This is very serious, Dina. I mean, we don’t know if Dirga is truly serious or if this is just a passing fancy,” she said worriedly. After all, Dirga was only a fickle seven-year-old boy.“Mum, I’m serious, a

The audition venue was a small studio filled with ten boys of similar height, hair, and energy. Nine of them carried real potato chips (their own props), enthusiastic and cheerful, exactly as the script described. Dirga sat quietly. Dina wasn't accompanying him. She was outside, taking a call, arranging another small deal. Only his Mother sat beside him, feeling guilty for bringing her son into this world. A boy, having finished his silly and endearing performance, exited the audition room with a joyful shout. Dirga observed the commotion with a cold, internal silence. Ridiculous, Dirga thought. "I'll give them an anomaly. Sadness amidst all this cheerfulness," he murmured softly. Queue number fifteen. His name was called. Dirga glanced at his Mother before entering the audition room. His Mother's gaze trembled nervously, but the smile Dirga offered made her anxiety dissipate. He stepped into the audition room. The aroma of damp carpet mixed with perfume. Facing him was