Novels by Alice

The smell of burnt ozone clung to Hanan’s hair, and his skin felt like it was being sandpapered by microscopic bits of data. He sat on the floor of an abandoned electronics shop, his back against a shelf full of empty hardware boxes. Outside, the streets of Jakarta were shivering. Not vibrating, not trembling—shivering, as if reality itself was cold and trying to huddle up against the inevitable arrival of the Void.Hanan gripped his left wrist. He couldn't feel his pulse. Instead, he could feel a rhythmic, mechanical hum pulsing against his bones—a steady, 60-cycle vibration. The Static Syndrome."Stop it," Hanan hissed at his own limb. He wasn't talking to his skin, but to the reality-construct he had foolishly folded into his own nervous system to save the data drive."You look like shit, boss."Hanan looked up. His 'pet' Glitch—a lingering anomaly of code he had partially shackled to his existence—was hovering in the corner of the room. It had fashioned a semi-humanoid shape,

The pavement under Hanan’s boots felt less like solid ground and more like a suggestion he had to repeatedly convince into existence. Each step he took required a subconscious calculation a subtle manipulation of local coordinates just to ensure the street didn't dematerialize under his weight.Beside him, his thrall—the glitched, shadowed humanoid was flickering with frantic urgency. It twitched, its silhouette tearing at the edges like burnt parchment, sensing the proximity of something fundamentally "other."The Whisper didn't start as a sound. It started as a pressure in Hanan’s teeth, a subsonic frequency that turned his spit into dry metal. Then came the voices. Thousands of them, overlapping like radio stations fighting for a signal, yet all carrying the same tonal despair."The Scaffold is fraying, Architect," the whisper leaked from the very air, vibrating against the storefronts. "The mortar is turning to sand."Hanan didn't break his stride, though his heart hammered a fran

The silence inside the former headquarters of Elysium was more oppressive than the sound of static outside. It wasn't just a lack of noise; it was the absence of a future. Hanan kicked through a layer of dust that turned out to be microscopic, degraded plastic fragments of server chassis. The sleek, ultramodern lobby of the Elysium facility once the pinnacle of humanity’s digital evolution looked like the skeleton of a prehistoric beast. Wiring hung from the ceiling like desiccated veins, and the walls, stripped of their decorative glass, revealed the ugly, porous concrete underneath.He kept his hand on the handle of the revolver he carried, not because it could stop a Glitch, but because the cold, heavy steel felt more real than the ghost of his own arm. His companion—the tamed Glitch-Walker—lurked near the entrance, a smear of agitated shadows that seemed to shudder whenever Hanan’s stability spiked or dipped."Keep a lid on it," Hanan murmured, glancing back. The creature didn't

The street beneath Hanan’s boots was no longer concrete; it was a patchwork quilt of memory and failing logic. Where gravity had returned, reality didn't just snap back, it shuddered, leaving jagged fissures in the air that looked like spiderwebs made of black light."Revoked?" Hanan spat, ignoring the phantom pain vibrating in his core. He kept his eyes locked on the Surveyor, but his peripheral vision screamed danger. Something moved in the cracks. Shadowy, translucent shapes detached themselves from the walls of a half-collapsed department store. They were Glitch-Walkers the inevitable fallout of the deconstruction. They didn't have lungs to breathe or muscles to move; they were predatory manifestations of unfinished thoughts and broken physical laws, drifting through the gaps in the world like predators through tall grass."Permits are for bureaucrats, not gods," Hanan said, stepping back, his hands glowing with the soft, failing blue light of the Universal Core he’d partially a

The shift didn’t happen with a roar. It happened with a sigh a weary, low-frequency oscillation that rippled through the central business district of Jakarta like a pebble tossed into a still pond. One moment, Hanan was mid-fall through the folding architecture of space; the next, he slammed onto the pavement of Jalan Sudirman. The transition wasn't smooth. His molecules lagged behind, his boots feeling heavy enough to crush the asphalt while his skin felt light, airy, and prone to scattering in the wind.He scrambled to his feet, but his balance was a lie. The ground beneath him didn't pull down; it felt optional. Across the street, a parked delivery truck tipped gently, not from a collision, but because gravity had simply decided to stop working. The vehicle drifted upward, rotating in the mid-morning air like a dead buoy in an ocean current. A driver, trapped in the cab, let out a throttled scream that rose in pitch as he floated past the third story of a glass-clad office buildi

The hum was everywhere. It wasn’t a sound you caught with your eardrums; it was a frequency you felt in your marrow, like the vibration of a subway train rumbling beneath an empty house.Hanan sat on the edge of the broadcast tower’s antenna, his legs dangling five hundred meters above the glowing sprawl of Jakarta. The city lights flickered—a strange, jagged rhythm that didn't sync with the hum of the power grid. To anyone else, it looked like a flickering fluorescent bulb. To Hanan, it looked like a dying heartbeat."You're hearing it too, aren't you?" Hanan didn't turn his head. He knew the voice. It wasn't Rendy, not exactly. It was the phantom scrap, the leftover recursive loop of the Trinity that he had foolishly kept when he absorbed the dimension's core. It sounded like glass sliding over wet marble."I’m hearing a mess, Rendy," Hanan muttered, picking at a loose thread on his hoodie. The fabric looked solid, but under his thumb, it distorted, briefly showing the sub-atomic c

Sony cut the engine in a dark corner of the hospital parking lot. Heavy rain hammered against the roof of the stolen sedan with a suffocating rhythm. His breath was still ragged, mingled with the metallic scent of dried blood on his fingertips. Beside him, Aruna stared straight ahead, her face deathly pale, like a cracked porcelain doll."You have another plan, don't you?" Aruna broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper.Sony didn't answer immediately. He reached into his jacket pocket, feeling the cold surface of the real flash drive. That object was their death warrant and their only ace in the hole to topple Mr. Baskoro's empire."Your plan was a lie," Sony hissed coldly. "You said you needed protection. Turns out you just needed a sacrificial lamb to distract the people chasing you from your past."Aruna turned, her eyes no longer pleading. There was a cold glint that made Sony's skin crawl. "Everyone in this world has a price, Sony. You chose to be the pitiable hero, and that

Sony’s phone vibrated violently in his pocket. A short message arrived, making his heart nearly leap out of his chest. "I already know where you’re hiding. Hand over the key, or Aruna dies in five minutes."Sony looked at Aruna, who sat huddled beside him. The woman was no longer crying. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, as if her soul had long since left her body. Outside, a torrential downpour lashed Jakarta, creating a curtain of water that limited visibility. They were in a car speeding toward the dark outskirts of the city, driven by an unknown man they only referred to as "The Driver.""Aruna," Sony whispered, his voice raspy. "What is actually on this flash drive? Why is everyone—from your father, to that man in black, to this guy seemingly ready to kill us for this little thing?"Aruna turned slowly. Her lips were dry and pale. "It’s not just data, Sony. It’s a transaction list of every Baskoro Group asset laundered through my mother’s charitable foundation. If that data reaches

The wide-open bedroom door left a sharp silence. Ratna stood frozen, her phone vibrating in a hand now deathly pale. The photo on the screen wasn't just a picture, but proof of a transaction between Baskoro and a black market syndicate to cover up Aruna’s past. At the threshold, the specialist doctor looked awkward, caught in a family drama that reeked of death.“What does this photo mean?” Ratna’s voice cracked, a far cry from the authority she had projected just seconds ago.Sony didn’t answer. He remained in a defensive stance, his eyes darting toward the window. The red laser dot was still dancing on Ratna’s chest moving nimbly from her heart toward her neck. Sony knew it wasn’t a laser pointer for a presentation. It was a long-range sniper scope. Someone was aiming for his mother-in-law’s life from the building across the street.“Get out of the room, Ma!” Sony shouted, his voice shattering the silence.Ratna stared at Sony with a hollow gaze. “You... you’re the one who sent this

Baskoro’s mother-in-law, Ratna, wasted no time. She entered the mansion’s master bedroom without knocking. Aruna, who had just finished removing her makeup, startled, nearly dropping her expensive serum bottle onto the marble floor. Ratna stood in the doorway, her gaze as sharp as a whetted blade."Where is Sony?" Ratna asked. Her voice was low, yet it held a gravity that made the air in the room feel heavy."He's in the study, Mom. Taking care of project reports," Aruna answered with a forced, playful tone. She tried to hide her nervousness by reapplying her lipstick.Ratna was not fooled. She stepped inside, scanning the room with the eyes of a scout. "Project reports? Don't talk nonsense, Aruna. I already asked your father’s secretary. Sony isn't at the office. He hasn't been in for two days."Aruna swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. "He... he might be out in the field, Mom. He's a technician, remember?"Ratna stopped right in front of Aruna. She grabbed her daughter's wrist,

The deafening explosion of shattering glass was ear-splitting. Crystal shards flew like jagged snow, raining down on the white marble floor now stained with dust. Sony held Aruna’s body tightly, rolling her behind the sturdy king-size bed. Their breath came in ragged gasps, joined in a suffocating panic."Dammit," Sony cursed under his breath. He glanced toward the window. The red laser dot was still dancing across the floor, as if hunting for the prey that had just vanished from sight. "Who are they? Did Baskoro really send people to kill his own son-in-law?"Aruna was shaking violently in Sony’s arms. Her usually haughty face was as pale as a sheet. "He’s... he’s insane. I only wanted to manipulate his position on the board of directors; I never thought he’d hire professionals to take me out along with you!"Sony didn't answer. His mind was racing. He was a technician; he knew how security systems worked. This mansion had to have

The crystal chandeliers in the ballroom seemed to shine directly into the pit of Sony's stomach. Ten minutes. That was all the time left before a specialist would take the stage and expose the most risky charade of his life.Aruna was still trembling on the balcony floor. Her expensive dress was rumpled, and she was gasping for air as if the oxygen in the room had been sucked out. Sony stared at the tightly closed glass doors. Behind them, hundreds of eyes from Jakarta’s elite were waiting for the "performance" Baskoro had prepared."Aruna, get up," Sony gripped the woman’s arm, pulling her up roughly. "We don’t have time for tears.""We’re finished, Sony," Aruna whispered, her eyes blankly staring at the glittering city lights. "The moment that doctor puts an ultrasound on my stomach, it's over. My father won't let us leave this building alive."Sony didn't answer. He glanced at his expensive watcha borrowed piece from Baskoro's personal collection. Eight minutes left. He racked his