Night in Gang Senggol Barokah was usually filled with the sound of leaky motorcycle exhausts or the cries of mating cats that sounded like infants debating politics. However, tonight was different. Freza’s boarding house room felt colder than usual, even though his fan was off because he hadn’t been able to top up the electricity tokens that had been screaming since that afternoon.Freza lay on his thin mattress, staring at the "Most Average Human" trophy he kept on the wooden table. In the darkness, the plastic trophy reflected a bit of light from the streetlamp, giving off a cheap mystical vibe.Suddenly, there was the sound of claws scratching the wall. Sret... sret... sret..."Hey, Sat," Freza muttered without turning around. "If you want to borrow a lighter, just take it from the top of the cupboard. No need for the wall-scratching act like a cat going through withdrawals."There was no answer. Instead, there was a cold breath on the back

That morning, Barokah Alley didn't begin with the Landlady’s usual screaming, but with a bone-chilling silence. Freza was sitting on the floor of his room, trying to pick out weevils from his rice, when Satya kicked the door open with a face even paler than usual."Fre! Don't go outside! The world is over!"Freza didn't even look up. "Over why now? An internet apocalypse? Or did the food stall out front close down for good?""Worse, Fre! Zombies! There’s a zombie outbreak outside!"Freza chuckled, a dry sound. "Zombies? Sat, you’ve been watching too many illegal streaming movies. Where would you find zombies in Jakarta? It’s probably just people who haven't slept because they were playing online slots.""I’m serious, Fre! Look out the window!"Freza stood up lazily and pulled back his dingy curtains just a bit. In that narrow alley, he saw the Neighborhood Head walking stiffly. His skin was a pale green, his eyes were bulging, and he was letting out low, guttural growls. However, some

Freza's laptop screen flickered, in sync with Susi's heartbeat behind the wall, which occasionally emitted sparks of static electricity. Outside, the faint voices of vegetarian zombies could be heard debating the civil rights of ornamental plants. Freza stared at a blank document on his screen. The white cursor blinked, as if mocking the emptiness of his brain."Sat, do you know what sells better than food in this country?"Satya, who was busy trying to sew a hole in his political party t-shirt using thread from a gutted mattress, looked over lazily. "What? Political promises? Or celebrity cheating scandal apology videos?""No. Hope, Sat. False hope.""What do you mean?""I just looked at the bestseller list on an online bookstore. The top ten are all motivational books. 'How to Become a Money Magnet,' 'The Art of Being Happy for No Reason,' 'Manifesting Your Soulmate in Seven Days.' Isn't it crazy?""Well, it's normal, Fre. People are desperate now. They need something to hold onto, e

Freza huddled on his thin mattress, which now felt as hard as the pavement on Sudirman Avenue. His face, usually pale from malnutrition, had turned a sickly yellowish-green, resembling the color of the vegetarian zombie celery juice he had drunk in the previous chapter. Cold sweat soaked through his political campaign t-shirt, making the face of the candidate printed on his chest look like he was weeping over Freza’s fate."Sat... call... an ambulance..." Freza groaned, his voice nearly lost beneath the creak of a ceiling fan in desperate need of oil.Satya, who was busy trying to clean the dirt from under his toenails using Sebastian Vulto’s crumpled gold business card, only spared him a lazy glance. "An ambulance? Do you have two million for the gas and oxygen? If you don't, you might as well just pass out now. I'll drag you to the side of the road later so people think you’re a hit-and-run victim.""I’m serious, Sat! My stomach... it feels like a civil war is breaking out between ye

The neon lights on Freza's ceiling flickered three times before finally settling into an unstable, dim glow. In the corner of the room, Susi was busy tinkering with a power outlet’s wiring using her long fingernails, which were emitting blue sparks. The atmosphere of the room remained the same as it had been thirty chapters ago: mountains of laundry that had formed their own mountain range, a plastic "Most Average Human" trophy now coated in dust, and the scent of instant noodles that seemed to have become permanent wall paint.Freza sat cross-legged on his bed, staring at a cheap wall clock whose ticking sounded like a countdown to an execution. The long hand was slowly approaching the twelve."Sat, do you see that clock?"Satya, who was sitting on the floor trying to pry the remains of a sweet martabak from the corners of a cardboard box, looked up disinterestedly. "I see it. Why? Are you afraid the clock is going to explode because it can't handle the weight of your life anymore?"