2026-04-08 10:34:11The 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 you just go back to your own time? If staying here only makes things worse, what’s the point?
Luna paused. She looked at Raka with an expression that was hard to read—a complex mix of resentment and longing, carefully hidden behind her icy exterior.
Because in my future, everything is already over, Raka. There’s nothing left but the wreckage of what we used to call home. Luna stood up, walked to Raka’s rickety wardrobe, and pulled out one of his old leather jackets. My goal isn't to save my future. My goal is to make sure that future never exists. And for that to happen, you need to understand the pain you caused me. Including the sting of betrayal.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
A rhythmic, elegant knock echoed from the door. It wasn't the frantic pounding of a debt collector or a rushed delivery guy. Raka frowned. Who is it now? Did you call the cops on me?
The second simulation begins, Luna said flatly. She walked toward the door, and her entire demeanor shifted. Her shoulders relaxed, and the stiffness in her face melted into a soft, glowing smile that looked... deeply in love.
When the door opened, a man stood there. He was about the same height as Raka, but that’s where the similarities ended. He wore a tailored casual suit that fit his athletic frame perfectly. His hair was impeccably styled, and his scent—damn it, Raka thought—he smelled like a mix of sandalwood and success.
Luna, sweetheart. Are you ready? the man asked in a deep, soothing voice.
Raka’s jaw dropped. Sweetheart? Wait, who the hell are you, man? You can’t just walk into my apartment!
The man turned to Raka, offering a friendly smile that felt patronizing. Ah, you must be Raka. Luna told me so much about you. She mentioned you were... an old friend going through a rough patch?
Luna slid her arm through the man’s, a gesture that made Raka’s chest tighten as if a heavy weight had been dropped on it. Raka, meet Adrian. He’s the man I should have chosen ten years ago instead of you.
Adrian extended a hand. Good to meet you, Raka.
Raka didn't take it. Instead, he stared at Luna in disbelief. What is this, Luna? This is your simulation? You bring some guy to my house—okay, my apartment—and rub it in my face?
This isn't just for show, Luna shot back, her tone turning sharp. In the future, you cheated on me for three years with your secretary. You brought the scent of her perfume into our bed, and when I asked about it, you told me I was crazy and possessive. Now, feel what it’s like to watch the person who is supposed to be yours give their attention to someone else.
Adrian pulled Luna closer, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. Let’s go, Luna. Our lunch reservation is waiting.
Raka felt his blood boil. He knew this was a simulation. He knew Adrian was likely a solid hologram or some actor Luna had recruited from the future. But seeing Adrian’s hand on Luna’s waist, seeing the way Luna looked at him with a warmth she never showed Raka, triggered something primal inside him.
No! You’re not going anywhere! Raka stepped forward, reaching out to pull Luna away from Adrian.
But before he could touch her, Adrian caught Raka’s wrist with lightning speed. His grip was like steel, making Raka wince.
Don't be rough with her, Raka, Adrian said, his polite smile never wavering. Isn’t that what you do in the future? Act out because you feel like you’ve lost control?
Get off me, you prick! Raka wrenched his arm away. He glared at Luna, his eyes stinging with anger and a feeling he didn't want to admit: jealousy. This is insane! You say you want me to be a better person, but you’re just torturing me? You think this is going to make me change?
Luna stepped away from Adrian and moved toward Raka until they were inches apart. For a brief moment, her mask cracked. Raka could see a deep, hollow ache in her eyes—an ocean of sorrow he had apparently created in a future he hadn't lived yet.
The pain you’re feeling right now is nothing compared to how I felt when I found those hotel photos, Raka, she whispered, her voice trembling but sharp. You know what hurt the most? It wasn't the affair. It was the way you made me feel like I was the reason you left. You destroyed my self-worth until I felt unlovable. So, look at Adrian. He’s a reminder that I had other choices, but I chose you anyway. And you threw it all away.
Luna turned and walked out with Adrian, leaving Raka alone in an apartment that suddenly felt ten times quieter.
Raka kicked his desk chair, sending it toppling over. Dammit! Hell! he screamed at the empty walls.
He slumped onto the floor, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His mind was a mess. He hated the way Adrian touched her. He hated the way she looked at him. But most of all, he hated the fact that in some other timeline, he really was the piece of work she described.
Hours passed. Raka couldn't work. He just sat there staring at the door, waiting for her to return. As the sun began to set, casting a gloomy orange hue over the city, the door finally opened.
Luna walked in alone. Adrian was nowhere to be seen. She looked exhausted, her face even paler than before. The watch on her wrist was blinking yellow, a sign that the synchronization was becoming unstable.
Where is... that guy? Raka asked, his voice hoarse.
Adrian has returned to his timeline, Luna replied curtly. She walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water, but her hands were shaking so violently that she dropped the plastic cup.
Raka instinctively stood up to help. Luna, are you okay?
Stay back! Luna snapped, her voice cracking. She leaned against the counter, trying to catch her breath. I told you... every time your emotions flare up because of me, whether it’s anger or jealousy... it shortens my time here.
Raka froze. So... jealousy counts as one of those feelings? I’m not allowed to care about you?
Luna looked up at the ceiling, her eyes glassy. Jealousy comes from a sense of belonging. Belonging comes from attraction. And attraction is the seed of what destroys us both. You shouldn't have felt anything while I was with Adrian. You should have been cold and apathetic, just like the man you become.
But I’m not him! Raka shouted in frustration. I’m the Raka who's here right now!
Raka, the guy who still eats instant noodles every day and doesn't even own a decent suit! Why are you punishing me for sins I hasn't even committed yet?
Luna turned slowly, a single tear finally tracing a path down her cheek. Because if I don’t punish you now, you’ll never understand the cost. You think success comes for free? It costs you your soul, Raka. And I’m here to make sure that price is more than you can ever afford to pay.
Luna swayed as she moved toward the bed, but her legs gave out before she could reach it. Ignoring her earlier warnings, Raka lunged forward, catching her just before she hit the floor.
The moment their skin touched, a violent jolt surged through Raka. He wasn't just seeing flashes of memory anymore; he was living them. He felt the biting chill of the rain from the night his future self abandoned her on the side of the road after a screaming match. He felt the hollow ache in her chest as she sat alone on their anniversary, staring at a dinner table full of cold food.
Most devastating of all, he felt the lingering embers of the love she still carried for him—a love so profound she was willing to tear through time and space, hurting herself just to change the man he would become.
Let me go... Luna whispered, her voice fading in his arms.
No, Raka whispered, pulling her closer even as his heart hammered against his ribs, terrified by the shifting reality around them. I’m not going to be that guy, Luna. I promise. I’ll make up for every ounce of happiness you lost, but not like this.
On Luna’s wrist, the glowing red numbers suddenly plummeted, as if time itself were being violently siphoned away. 28:05:14:59.
They had just lost three days in a single second of contact. And outside, in the dim shadows of the apartment hallway, a dark silhouette began to manifest—something that didn't belong in this timeline. It was something sent from the future to ensure that destiny remained on its predetermined track.
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Chapter 100: Last Memory: The End of the Beginning
The hiss of the steam wand was the only heartbeat Raka Satya cared about this morning. It was a rhythmic, mechanical sigh that cut through the humid stillness of Tebet, a sound that carried the weight of a thousand silenced paradoxes. He watched the white micro-foam vortex inside the stainless steel pitcher, the temperature rising until the metal bit sharply into the palm of his hand. It was a clean pain, a human pain, devoid of the cold, clinical sting of the void. Here, in the heart of South Jakarta, the only "severing" taking place was the crisp snap of a fresh pastry being pulled from the oven.The Last Memory cafe was bathed in the soft, honeyed glow of a sun that had finally decided to stay in its own lane. Outside the large glass windows, the city was a chaotic, beautiful mess. Motorcycle taxi drivers in their faded green jackets laughed over clove cigarettes near the intersection, the scent of their smoke drifting through the open door like a familiar ghost. The
Chapter 99: Dialogue at the Edge of Nothingness
The transition from the roar of the collapsing Timeline Zero to the silence of the void felt like a sudden plunge into a frozen lake. One second, Raka Satya was screaming into the prismatic storm, his fingers clawing at the golden thread of Maya’s life; the next, he was drifting in a sea of absolute, soundless white. The pressure in his chest, the frantic thrumming of the True Master Key, and the searing heat of the gold light—all of it vanished, replaced by an agonizingly hollow lightness. It was as if his very molecules had been scrubbed of their history, leaving him as nothing more than a singular, flickering thought in the dark.Raka blinked, his vision slowly adjusting to a world that was not white, but a thick, pearlescent fog. He felt something solid beneath him. He was sitting on a bench—the kind of weathered, wooden slats one might find at an old commuter rail station in the outskirts of Jakarta. The wood felt cold and damp against his palms,
Chapter 98: Final Fragmentation
The rainbow sky of the garden was the first thing to die. It didn’t fade; it shattered like a gargantuan stained-glass window struck by a celestial sledgehammer. Shards of prismatic light, each containing the ghost of a choice Raka Satya had never made, fell through the grey air like lethal confetti. Beneath his boots, the emerald grass—the peace his mother’s sacrifice had bought them—was being liquidated back into the monochromatic ash of Timeline Zero.The iron cage of the freight elevator shrieked, a sound like a million rusted violins being snapped at once. It was a jagged, ugly sound that vibrated through Raka’s teeth and into the marrow of his aching bones. The elevator wasn't just a machine; it was the only needle capable of stitching him back into the fabric of the reality he called home."Dad! The tree... it's chasing us!" Maya screamed, her small voice nearly swallowed by the tectonic grinding of the dimension.
Chapter 97: The Mother's Sacrifice
The absolute grey did not just occupy the space; it felt like it was erasing the very concept of a heartbeat. Raka Satya stood in the center of a hollowed-out eternity, his white hair no longer a symbol of sacrifice but a flag of surrender against the encroaching nothingness. The golden gear of the Reality Core had dissolved beneath his boots, leaving him suspended in a pressurized vacuum where the scent of roasted coffee was a hallucination and the warmth of Maya’s hand was a fading ghost. Across from him, the Archivist was a flickering silhouette of static, his tattered grey suit shedding pixels like flakes of dead skin, his silver scissors lying broken on the nonexistent floor like the discarded toys of a failed god."This is the end, Satya," the Archivist whispered, his voice no longer a resonant boom but a dry, rattling wheeze that sounded like wind through a ribcage. "You got what you wanted. Balance. But the price... the price is nothingness. No Jakarta. No
Chapter 96: Battle at the Core of Reality
The vibration beneath Raka Satya’s boots was no longer the rhythmic thrum of a city or the hum of a machine; it was the tectonic grinding of existence itself. Standing upon the gargantuan, golden-obsidian gear that served as the Core of Reality, Raka felt the sheer, crushing weight of every choice he had ever made. Above them, the nebula of glowing destiny threads—billions of silver and gold filaments—swirled in a panicked, kaleidoscopic vortex, reacting to the black roots of the Tree of Life Debt that were currently devouring the foundations of the void.The Archivist stood twenty paces away, his grey suit tattered, his clinical mask of boredom long since shattered into a million jagged shards of desperation. He no longer looked like a god of the archives. He looked like a man who had forgotten how to breathe, his skin the color of parched ash, his fingers twitching as they clutched the remains of his silver scissors."You have no idea wh
Chapter 95: Labyrinth of Regret
The prismatic radiance of the collapsing garden didn’t simply fade; it curdled. As the massive black roots of the Tree of Life Debt tore through the emerald grass of Timeline Zero, the world Raka Satya had just begun to hope for was swallowed by a brutalist, shifting architecture of shadow. The vibrant colors of unwritten futures were sucked into the dark wood of the tree, leaving behind a claustrophobic maze of charcoal-grey walls that felt less like stone and more like solidified grief.Raka stood in a narrow corridor that hadn't existed seconds ago. The air was thick with the scent of sulfur, stale coffee, and the sharp, metallic tang of blood. Beside him, Maya’s astral form flickered dangerously, her school blazer looking grey in the dim, pulsing light. Her psychometric aura, usually a steady white flame, was now a frantic, jagged spark, reacting to the tectonic weight of the memories embedded in the very walls around them."Dad... this plac
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