All Chapters of 30 Days to Unmake a Monster: Chapter 1
- Chapter 10
12 chapters
The Debt Collector from the Future
The blue glow of the computer monitor was the only sign of life in Raka’s suffocating studio apartment. On the screen, the cursor blinked lazily over a catering company logo he had already revised seven times. Raka sighed as the scent of cold cup noodles hit him—a stale aroma mingling with damp socks and pure desperation.Twenty-seven years old with hair that looked more like a bird’s nest than a stylish undercut, Raka leaned back into an office chair that groaned in protest. His life was the textbook definition of stagnant. Ever since his breakup a year ago, his world had shrunk to four concrete walls, piles of empty soda cans, and utility bills that always arrived faster than inspiration.Love is total bullshit, he muttered, rubbing his face, which was rough with two days of stubble. Marriage? That’s just a legal contract to hurt each other with state approval.Just as he was about to shut his laptop and surrender to the lonely night, a heavy knock echoed from the door. Raka glanced
The First Curriculum : The Art of Hearrless Conflict
Raka woke up with a stiff neck and a back that felt like it had been run over by a cement truck. Pale morning light filtered through the dusty window curtains, illuminating dust motes that danced in the stagnant air. He groaned, trying to remember why he’d spent the night on a thin rug that smelled like a mix of stale cheese and old sweat.Then, last night’s memories hit him like a freight train.The hologram. The black rose. The woman from the future. The toxic marriage.Raka scrambled up, his head throbbing. It had to be a dream—a caffeine-induced fever dream, he muttered, rubbing his temples. But as his eyes drifted toward his bed, which was usually a disaster zone of tangled sheets, he froze.The bed was perfectly made. It was so neat that the sheets didn’t have a single wrinkle. His desk, previously a graveyard of soda cans, now held only a glass of water and the small silver device he had seen the night before.Luna was standing in his cramped kitchenette. She had ditched the tr
Simulated Jealousy and Adrian’s Shadow
The atmosphere in the apartment that morning felt like a battlefield where a fragile ceasefire had just been signed. Raka sat in front of his laptop, making a half-hearted attempt to focus on a logo design that now felt incredibly dull. His eyes, however, kept drifting toward Luna. She sat on the sofa, expertly navigating a small silver device that hovered in mid-air.The watch on Luna’s wrist was no longer flashing red, but the numbers were still cruelly ticking down. 31:11:05:12. Every passing second felt like the steady drip of a leaky faucet on Raka’s forehead, a constant reminder that this woman’s presence here came with an expiration date he didn't fully understand.Stop staring at me like I’m a ticking time bomb, Luna said, her voice cutting through the silence without her even looking away from her hologram.I was just... thinking about that Tragedy you mentioned last night, Raka admitted, swiveling his chair to face her. If you say my touch accelerates the timeline, why don’t
Chapter 4: Shadows of the Paradox and a Bowl of Cold Porridge
The world flipped on its axis in a heartbeat. A visceral wave of nausea slammed into Raka’s stomach, as if gravity had unceremoniously ripped his soul from his body and shoved it back in upside down. His ears rang with a piercing, high-frequency hum before a heavy, absolute silence swallowed the room.Raka collapsed onto the floor, still clutching Luna. She felt impossibly light in his arms, almost like he was holding a fading mist. He glanced at the clock on the wall. The second hand was ticking normally, but the digital calendar on his desk told a different story.Three days were gone. They had simply vanished into a chronological black hole, triggered by nothing more than a sincere embrace.Luna? Wake up, Luna! Raka gently tapped her cheek. Her face, which had been deathly pale moments ago, now looked almost translucent under the flickering glow of the overhead bulb.I told you, Luna whispered, her voice sounding like the rustle of dry parchment. Her eyes fluttered half-open, dim a
Chapter 5: The Poison of Convenience
The rapid-fire pinging of phone notifications shattered the morning silence in Raka’s apartment. It wasn’t that annoying default alarm, but the distinct chime of mobile banking alerts—the kind he usually only heard once a month when a payment for some cut-rate logo design finally cleared.Raka blinked, his hand fumbling across the floor for his phone. When the screen lit up, he nearly threw the thing against the wall.One... nine zeros... that is... nine zeros... Raka counted under his breath, his heart hammering in his chest. A billion? Luna! What bank did you hit?Luna was sitting at Raka’s desk, her back to the blinding window. She wore small, futuristic sunglasses, her fingers dancing through the air as she manipulated holographic elements only she could see.It is not stolen, she replied without looking back. It is interest from an investment you made in the future. I simply shifted the timeline a bit into your current account. Think of it as your allowance for today’s simulation
Chapter 6: A Deafening Silence
There was no scent of black roses that morning. No sarcastic remarks about his sleeping habits greeted him, and no laundry had been magically cleaned and folded.Raka was jolted awake by the obnoxious blare of his phone alarm—a sound he usually detested, but today it felt ten times more grating because it signaled a return to his grim reality. He glanced at the other side of the bed. It was empty. The sheets were cold, looking as though they hadn't been touched in a decade.Luna? Raka called out, his voice thick and raspy with sleep.Silence. The only sound was the steady drip of a leaky kitchen faucet—tick... tick... tick—counting down the seconds as a creeping loneliness began to set in.Raka sat up and rubbed his eyes, disoriented. He walked into the kitchen, half-hoping to find a plate of burnt toast or even a cold glare from her. Instead, the dining table was coated in a thin layer of dust, save for a single empty plastic cup from the night before. On his desk, Luna’s silver devi
Chapter 7: Past Baggage and the Cracked Mirror
The pungent aroma of dark roast coffee cut through the air, overpowering the familiar scent of dust and old paper that usually clung to Raka’s studio apartment. This morning felt different. There was no aggressive pounding on the door, no water splashed over his laptop. Instead, there was only a gentler, more inviting silence, punctuated by the soft clink of a silver spoon against porcelain.Luna sat perched on the windowsill, the morning sun highlighting her sharp yet achingly soft features. She had swapped her usual attire for something more contemporary—a black turtleneck and tailored trousers that gave her the effortless air of a successful architect on a weekend break. On her wrist, the crimson digits of the timer continued their steady, relentless countdown: 22:11:45:02.Raka took a slow sip of his coffee, his eyes still a bit puffy from sleep. Did you make this?Luna turned her head slowly. I used the beans you kept on the top shelf. They were nearly expired, but they still had
Chapter 8: A Date on the Brink of Ruin
The morning light filtered through the cracks in the tattered curtains, casting long golden streaks across the floor of Raka’s apartment. The place felt wider now, not because the square footage had changed, but because Raka had finally started clearing out the towers of instant noodle cups and moldy design magazines. He realized that if he wanted to fix his heart, he had to start with the space he lived in.In the corner of the room, Luna was still fast asleep. It was the first time Raka had seen her sleep past her usual hour. She was curled into a small ball, arms wrapped tightly around a flattened pillow. Her face, usually so guarded and masked in secrets, looked remarkably innocent, though the deep circles under her eyes betrayed a hidden exhaustion. Raka approached her with feather-light steps, practically holding his breath. He caught a glimpse of the watch on her wrist, which lay resting against the blanket. 22:11:55:00. The numbers were motionless. Static.Is that a good sign
Chapter 9: The Curriculum of Hate and the Fracturing of Hope
The silence in the apartment this morning felt like a dull blade being dragged slowly across skin. The warm aroma of fried rice was gone, replaced by the stinging, sterile odor of chemical cleaners. It felt as though Luna were trying to scrub away every lingering trace of humanity from the room.Raka sat on the edge of his seat, watching Luna’s rigid silhouette against the window. She hadn't looked at him once since they returned from the park. The clock on her wrist had stopped its frantic blinking, now settled on a chilling 12:15:30:45. They had gained fifteen hours, but the cost was an atmosphere so thick it was suffocating.Luna, Raka said, his voice a dry rasp. We don’t have to do this. There has to be another way besides making me despise you.Luna turned slowly. Her eyes, which had briefly flickered with warmth the night before, were once again two impenetrable blocks of ice. She held a thick red folder—some relic summoned from her future.Another way? She let out a short, acer
Chapter 10: The Price of a Cold Victory
That morning, it wasn’t the sunlight that roused Raka, but the sharp, rhythmic pulse of pain at the tip of his finger. He opened his eyes to find a pristine white bandage wrapped around the wound—far too meticulous to be his own handiwork. He glanced at the empty side of the bed; Luna was already gone. The apartment was deathly quiet, though the atmosphere had shifted. The lingering stench of neglected trash had been purged, replaced by the sterile scent of disinfectant and the heavy, bitter aroma of dark coffee. Raka sat on the edge of the mattress, staring at his bandaged hand. The memories of the previous night came flooding back: the shattered remains of his mother’s glass, and the raw, suffocating urge he’d felt to scream in Luna’s face.Stop staring at that bandage as if it’s a medal of honor, Luna’s voice drifted from the direction of the desk.Raka turned. She was sitting there, clad in a sharp, formal charcoal-gray blazer, her hair pulled back into a severe, polished style. T