A light drizzle fell on the hot asphalt of East Jakarta that night, but it wasn't enough to cool Amar's head, which felt like it was about to explode. He stood by the edge of the highway, his calloused hands clutching a crumpled termination letter soaked by the rain."Goddammit," Amar cursed under his breath, his voice raspy from the warehouse dust still coating his throat. "Two years of work, one misplaced pallet, and they kick me to the curb. The world really has no brain."The wallet in his back pocket felt incredibly light, as light as his hopes for breakfast tomorrow. It held only a single crumpled five-thousand rupiah bill and an ATM receipt with a balance that made him want to weep blood. At just twenty-one, Amar felt like he was finished. He'd dropped out of college because of the cost, and now even being a manual laborer was a failure."Hey, watch where you're going, idiot!" shouted a motorcyclist who nearly clipped his shoulder.Amar just watched the bike pull away with a ho

The scent of jasmine and musk from Erisia’s body was so close that Amar could count the individual strands of the woman’s long, curled eyelashes. Amar’s heart pounded like a drag racer’s piston. As a poor guy whose only entertainment was Netflix using his ex’s password, being within a four-inch radius of this dark-aura’d, sexy goddess was a true mental gauntlet.Erisia’s cat-like eyes stared straight into Amar’s pupils, searching for a lie, or more accurately ... searching for the trace of a god. At the same time, a slow heat crawled out from her gaze, a sort of magical allure that would usually make any man’s knees go weak in a plea for mercy.However, instead of kneeling or babbling with passion as Erisia expected, Amar’s response completely ruined the mood."A-chooo!"Amar sneezed loudly, spraying a gust of air right in front of Erisia’s elegant face.Silence filled the VVIP room. Erisia froze, her eyelid twitching slightly."Oh, jeez, sorry, Ma’am!" Amar stammered, hurriedly rubbi

That dirty, stuffy alley was left with a symphony of incredibly absurd suffering.Two elite hitmen from the Cult of the God of Deception, who usually took lives silently, were now sprawled out miserably. One moaned in a high-pitched voice while clutching his ruined future assets over a puddle of spoiled rendang oil. The other was lightly spasming, having nearly strangled himself with his own signature cloak.Amar stood frozen for a few seconds. He looked left and right, making sure no local CCTV was recording this nonsensical scene.As a former laborer and college dropout who'd been scammed plenty, Amar's first instinct upon seeing thugs go down wasn't to call the police, but to ... survive."Sorry, pal. Better I use this for my business capital than having the state seize it," Amar muttered as he crouched down.His thin hands deftly slid into the tactical pockets of the two killers. The first treasure was found: two thick leather wallets full of hundred-thousand bills that totaled fi