The real estate world is one big, unfunny joke, and Freza was an audience member forced to pay for a VIP ticket just to have rotten tomatoes thrown at him.Following the "Fake Wedding Invitation" drama that officially made him persona non grata across his entire family tree, Freza now faced a problem more pressing than Aunt Mira’s cynical glares. His landlady, who seemed to have reached the pinnacle of capitalist enlightenment, had just taped a flyer to the front door of the boarding house:"ANNOUNCEMENT: Starting next month, this boarding house will implement 'Dynamic Pricing' based on the composite stock price index and the owner’s happiness index. Rent is increasing by 40%. Water facilities remain broken, but the WiFi will be rebranded as: 'WiFi of Hope'.""Forty percent?" Freza screamed at the door, his voice echoing through the narrow, damp-smelling hallway. "Ma'am! Is this a boarding house or a ticket to a Coldplay concert?!"The landlad

If there is one thing more dangerous than nuclear radiation or a deadly virus in this world, it is the thumbs of a bored middle-aged mother holding a smartphone in a neighborhood WhatsApp group. In the environment of Freza’s boarding house, the laws of physics do not apply; what applies is the law of "Mrs. Nur Says." If Mrs. Nur says the sky is purple, then every resident in the alley will immediately buy purple-tinted glasses just so they aren't considered heretics.Mrs. Nur was the neighbor across from Freza’s place, a middle-aged woman with the uncanny ability to know when your online shopping packages arrive, the exact amount of your electricity arrears, and who enters your room—even before you realize it yourself. She was an organic CCTV with artificial intelligence driven by spiteful curiosity.That morning, Freza was sitting on his floor, mourning his fate. He now owed ten million rupiahs to Koh Aliong due to the wet blazer incident at yesterday’s "wealth-flaunting" social gath

After his adventure as an amateur detective uncovering the double identity of Budi the Neighbor (who turned out to be a secret government agent), Freza felt his soul was split in two: half proud that he had managed to get through a day without arguing with the neighborhood moms, and the other half feeling very, very exhausted. The existential burden of being an "ordinary human" in the midst of people busy saving the country or pretending to be rich was, it turned out, far heavier than he had imagined.That morning, Freza woke up with an incredible thirst. Not for water, but for something "classy." He was tired of three-cent sachet coffee that tasted like old shoe water. He wanted to experience the "sunset coffee" that influencers always flaunted on Instagram—the kind of coffee they said could heal inner wounds and provide life enlightenment.He scrolled through his phone screen—which, fortunately, was still functioning after the failed "digital detox" incident—and saw a post from the

Freza stood in front of a pile of fabric that might have once been called clothing. He held up a white t-shirt that now looked more like a worn-out world map; it was covered in islands of yellow pit stains, tiny holes courtesy of hungry moths, and a large tear at the bottom from getting snagged on a fence while being chased by a neighbor's dog last week."Sat, do you see this? Is this a t-shirt or a retired fishing net?"Satya, who was busy picking leftover instant noodle seasoning from his teeth with a piece of a toothpick, looked over lazily. "That’s called natural ventilation, Fre. True breathable technology. That shirt has history, it has character. You should be proud.""Proud of what? If I wear this to the end of the alley, the meatball vendor will give me spare change without me even asking. I have a degree, Sat! I have dignity, even if my dignity is currently being pawned off to Koh Aliong.""Dignity can't cover your body, Fre. You sold all your other clothes or used them to w

"Wake up, Sat! Get up! The sun isn't even up yet, but our pride must be standing tall!""What is it, Fre? It’s three in the morning. Even the neighbor's chickens are still dreaming of becoming nuggets, and you're already screaming.""Today is the day of reckoning, Sat. The day my dignity as a trend observer will be tested. Did you see this on TikTok?""See what? Another video of someone eating soap?""No! This! The Cloud-Butter Truffle Brioche. Bread whose yeast is supposedly brought directly from the Alps and kneaded by hands certified in international happiness. There are only five hundred portions a day, Sat!""Bread, Fre? You want to wake up at three in the morning for bread that, at most, just tastes like flour and butter?""It’s not about the taste, narrow-minded Satya! It’s about exclusivity. It’s about the series of Instagram Stories that will make my ex regret her entire life for breaking up with a guy who has access to the most viral bread of the year.""Your ex has already