All Chapters of THE BLUE BOTTLE CONTRACT : Chapter 11
- Chapter 20
91 chapters
11. The Chemistry Teacher's Intervention
The scent of pine floor cleaner mixed with a sharp aroma of sulfur stung his nose. Arga sat in the very back row of the chemistry lab, struggling to keep his head from crashing onto the cold lab table. His eyes were bloodshot, underscored by dark circles. The events of last night—when his house was nearly destroyed by that suit-clad "Overseer"—still left a lingering trauma in every fiber of his muscles."Focus, Arga. You look like a corpse forced into a uniform," Zat whispered. His voice sounded lazy, echoing inside Arga’s skull. The jinn didn't manifest himself; he hid within the shadows of Arga’s bag, still feeling weak after the golden chain incident the night before."Shut up. My head is about to split open," Arga replied without moving his lips.At the front of the class, a tall man in a white shirt with neatly rolled sleeves was writing stoichiometry formulas on the whiteboard. Mr. Idris. The chemistry teacher was known for being quiet, rigid, and possessing a gaze that seemed t
12. Tests and Manipulation
Arga’s head felt like it was about to explode. The gash on his shoulder from last night's clash with Mr. Idris was still throbbing painfully beneath his school uniform, which was damp with cold sweat. The image of his tied-up mother was still etched clearly in his mind, haunting every blink of his eyes. Arga had just arrived in class, his breathing not yet stable, but the atmosphere in the room was already as grim as a mass grave."Everyone, put your books into your bags. Only a pen should be on your desk."The voice of Mrs. Nur, the math teacher nicknamed 'The Butcher,' sliced through the silence of Class 2-A. Instantly, grumbles and sighs of despair broke out. A surprise test. This was a nightmare more real than being chased by the ghost of an ancient general last night.Arga stared at the question sheet that landed on his desk with a blank expression. The numbers there looked like rows of ants laughing at his poverty. Trigonometry? Logarithms? Arga couldn't even remember the last t
13. The meeting On The Roof
A strong wind swept across the school rooftop, carrying the suffocating scent of rust and concrete dust. Arga kicked the iron door leading to the roof wide open. His breath was ragged, and cold sweat soaked through his tattered uniform. Before him stood Raka, his uniform still perfectly neat, as if he had just stepped out of a salon rather than planning to destroy someone's life.In Raka’s hand, a brand-new smartphone gleamed under the harsh midday sun."One click, Arga. Just one click, and the whole school—no, your entire neighborhood—will see the photo of your mom crying and begging at my dad's feet. A very... pathetic pose, isn't it?" Raka smirked, his thumb hovering right over the send button."You bastard, Raka! Delete that photo right now!" Arga screamed. He clenched his hands until his knuckles turned white.Raka laughed, a sound Arga desperately wanted to silence with his fists. "Shh... don't be so loud. I'm not alone today. Meet Galang. He didn't get his high school diploma b
14. A Bitter Victory
Blood seeped from the corners of Arga’s lips, dripping onto the rooftop concrete that felt scorching under the blazing sun. His breath came in gasps, short and sharp, as if his lungs had just been filled with shards of glass. In front of him, Galang—the illegal fighter—was still standing, though his steps were unsteady. Galang’s left eye was already swollen shut with blood from the impact of the iron pipe earlier, but the rest of his body still radiated a tangible aura of menace."You... aren't getting off this roof alive, kid," Galang growled. His voice was hoarse, thick with pure hatred. He lunged again, ignoring the pain in his cracked shin.Arga could no longer feel his legs. His entire body screamed for him to stop, but the image of his mother tied up in that photo made him refuse to go down. He glanced toward the giant water tank behind Galang. There was a rusted drain valve there, along with a mess of dangling electrical cables."Zat! I need just a little bit of kinetic energy!
15. Mr. Idris's Identity
Mr. Idris's IdentityWhite.The first thing that caught Arga's sight was a clean white ceiling, clashing with the pungent scent of eucalyptus oil and antiseptic. His head throbbed as if someone were beating a drum inside his skull. Every inch of his muscles felt stiff, as if they had been frozen and then forcibly thawed."You've been asleep for a long time. I almost thought you actually died and I'd have to find a new rental property in a corpse."That voice. Heavy, raspy, and laced with mockery. Arga tried to turn his head, but his neck felt as heavy as concrete. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pitch-black furry figure sitting casually on the windowsill of the nurse's office. A black cat with a pair of glowing blue eyes that were anything but normal."Zat?" Arga whispered hoarsely. His throat felt as if he had just swallowed sand."Nope. I’m my much more handsome twin," the cat replied—which was, of course, Zat’s manifestation. "I was forced to take this form because my energy
16. The Secret Offer
The smoke from the explosion in the chemistry lab still hung thin in the air, clashing with the metallic scent of blood and the sharp tang of ozone. Arga leaned his back against a cracked lab table, trying to catch his shallow breath. In front of him, Mr. Idris stood calmly. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, revealing a silver amulet that had now grown dim, but his gaze remained as sharp as a freshly honed razor."You've just seen the peak of it, Arga," Mr. Idris said flatly. His voice echoed in the now deathly silent room. "Without my help just now, The Judge would have already dissected your soul and taken Zat to be used as their energy battery. You didn't stand a chance. Not yet."Zat, who had returned to his black cat form, sat atop a pile of charred chemistry books. His fur was still standing on end, his glowing blue eyes fixed on Mr. Idris with pure hatred. "Please, stop acting so high and mighty, Specs. You're probably just afraid of losing your precious asset, aren't you?"M
17. Raka's Revenge Plan
Raka hurled a crystal flower vase—worth as much as a sportbike—against the marble wall of his study. CRACK! Shards of glass shimmered on the floor, reflecting Raka's flushed face and the veins in his neck bulging nearly to the bursting point. The smell of the spoiled soup that had drenched him the night before seemed to still cling to his pores, even though he'd scrubbed himself with expensive soap for three hours."Arga... that bastard has to die! I don't care how!" Raka screamed. His voice echoed through the vast, silent room.The heavy teak door at the end of the room opened slowly. A middle-aged man in a stiff black suit stepped inside. Surya, Raka's father, showed no emotion at the mess on the floor. He only glanced at the shattered vase for a moment before sitting in his executive chair."Quiet, Raka. You've already disgraced the Surya name in front of the whole school, and now you're throwing a tantrum like a toddler who lost his candy?" Surya's voice was cold, as sharp as ice
18. The Chaotic Birthday Party
The giant crystal chandelier in the main hall of the Surya family's estate reflected a blinding light, but to Arga, that light felt hot and judgmental. He stood in the middle of a crowd of teenagers dressed in designer clothes, wearing only a cheap shirt that had been ironed countless times but still looked limp. Around him, the scent of expensive perfume mingled with the smell of alcohol from the champagne glasses carried by servers."Look who's here. Our guest of honor," Raka's voice cut through the thumping EDM music.Raka walked over in a suit that cost as much as Arga's entire rental home. Beside him, a group of his lackeys snickered. Raka grabbed Arga's shoulder, squeezing hard enough that Arga could feel Raka's nails digging into his muscle."I thought you'd run back to the sewer hole where you live, Arga. But it turns out you're quite obedient when your mom's life is on the line," Raka whispered right into Arga's ear. His eyes glinted with triumph. "Smile. This is my birthday
19. Escape From The Party
Insane. Everything fell apart in a matter of seconds.Arga staggered back as the giant LED screen behind the stage exploded, spewing sparks and clouds of black smoke that smelled of burning plastic. Hysterical screams from the guests broke the tense silence that had fallen when the Surya family's corruption data was exposed. The birthday party that was supposed to be a symbol of luxury had now turned into an arena of mass panic."Hey, Mr. Pauper! Don't just stand there like a cow headed for slaughter! Run!" Zat’s voice boomed inside Arga's head, snapping him back to his senses.Arga shook his head, trying to clear the ringing in his ears. He saw Raka still sprawled on the floor, clutching his nauseous stomach, while Surya was screaming hysterically, trying to hide his face from the camera flashes of the shameless guests."Mom! I have to get to the back warehouse!" Arga pushed his legs into a sprint, leaping over overturned catering tables as champagne bottles shattered everywhere.How
20. Shadow Stalker
Shadow StalkerThat hand wasn't human. It felt more like a block of carved ice—sharp, freezing Arga’s blood instantly. The nerves in Arga's shoulder screamed, sending a danger signal that made his brain throb. He tried to struggle, but his body felt as if it were nailed to the damp, trash-scented asphalt of the alley."Don't move too much, Arga. I don't want to damage my client's merchandise," the voice was heavy, flat, and carried an accent far too refined for a common street thug.Arga forced his eyes to shift. In the flickering glow of the streetlight, he saw the man. A black tactical jacket, leather gloves engraved with strange symbols on the back, and night vision goggles perched on his forehead. He wasn't Mr. Bakri, nor was he one of Raka’s usual goons.He was the Collector."Zat! Hit him! What are you waiting for?!" Arga screamed in his mind, his chest tightening with panic.Usually, Zat would appear instantly with his sarcastic laugh, ready to incinerate anyone who dared touch