30 Days to Unmake a Monster

The First Curriculum : The Art of Hearrless Conflict

Raka woke up with a stiff neck and a back that felt like it had been run over by a cement truck. Pale morning light filtered through the dusty window curtains, illuminating dust motes that danced in the stagnant air. He groaned, trying to remember why he’d spent the night on a thin rug that smelled like a mix of stale cheese and old sweat.

Then, last night’s memories hit him like a freight train.

The hologram. The black rose. The woman from the future. The toxic marriage.

Raka scrambled up, his head throbbing. It had to be a dream—a caffeine-induced fever dream, he muttered, rubbing his temples. But as his eyes drifted toward his bed, which was usually a disaster zone of tangled sheets, he froze.

The bed was perfectly made. It was so neat that the sheets didn’t have a single wrinkle. His desk, previously a graveyard of soda cans, now held only a glass of water and the small silver device he had seen the night before.

Luna was standing in his cramped kitchenette. She had ditched the trench coat and was now wearing one of Raka’s oversized white button-downs. Somehow, the worn-out fabric looked like high-fashion on her. Her dark hair was pinned up in a messy bun, exposing the graceful line of her pale neck.

You’re ten minutes late, Luna said without looking back. Her voice was cold, flat, and absolute.

Raka gaped at her. I’m sleeping on the floor because of you, and the first thing you bring up is the time? Besides, that’s my shirt! That’s my lucky meeting shirt!

Luna turned slowly, brandishing a wooden spatula she had found somewhere—Raka had actually forgotten he even owned cooking utensils. Luck won’t save you from a miserable future, Raka. And this shirt smelled like desperation, so I cleaned it with the instant-wash tech I brought with me. Now, sit down.

Raka wanted to protest. He really wanted to scream and kick this woman out. But when Luna looked at him, he saw a flash in her eyes—the same look from the night before. It was an authority born from deep, jagged wounds. Raka finally gave in, sitting at his desk, which felt alien now that the room was so clean.

We begin the First Curriculum today, Luna said, sliding a plate of burnt toast in front of him. Topic: Failed Conflict Management, or The Art of Heartless War.

Raka stared at the charred bread with a frown. Luna—or whoever you are—I don’t get it. You said you came here to fix me so I don’t become a jerk in the future. So why are you teaching me about toxic marriages? Shouldn’t you be teaching me how to be a sweet husband, or how to buy flowers, or something?

Luna pulled up another chair and sat directly across from him. They were so close that Raka could smell the faint scent of black roses mingling with the aroma of burnt toast.

Being sweet is easy, Raka. Anyone can fake kindness when they’re falling in love. Luna leaned back, studying him with a sharp, calculating gaze. But in the future, you didn’t destroy me because you couldn't give me flowers. You destroyed me because you didn’t know how to handle your own anger. You used silence as a weapon and words as a blade. So, we’re going to simulate that right now. I’m going to make you angry, and you have to learn not to become the monster I knew.

Luna picked up her glass of water and, with a calm and deliberately provocative motion, poured it directly onto Raka’s laptop while it was still powered on.

Crap! What the hell are you doing?! Raka bolted upright, his heart nearly stopping. He lunged for the laptop, flipping it over to drain the water. That’s my work! I have client revisions on there! Are you insane?! You’re out of your mind!

Luna remained seated, unblinking. Your reaction is still too raw. In the future, when I’d make a small mistake like dropping your files, you wouldn’t scream like this. You would stare at me with such condescension for three hours without saying a word, making me feel like dirt beneath your boots.

I don’t care about the future! My laptop is trashed, Luna! Raka shouted, his face flushed with rage. His hands were shaking. You barge in here, upend my life, and now you destroy my livelihood? Get out! Get out right now!

Luna stood up, stepping closer until the tips of her shoes touched Raka’s bare feet. She wasn’t afraid. If anything, she looked disappointed.

Look at your hands, she whispered.

Raka looked down. His hands, still clutching the laptop, were shaking violently—but not just from anger. There was a flicker of fear there too.

Your anger is your weakness, Luna said, touching Raka’s wrist right over his racing pulse. In the future, success turns this fear into arrogance. You start feeling entitled to hurt others because you think you’re the strongest one in the room. You think this laptop is important? In ten years, you’ll break a human heart with the same cold indifference I showed when I poured that water.

Raka went silent. The anger was still there, smoldering in his chest, but Luna’s words felt like ice water forcing the flames out. He looked at his dead laptop, then back at Luna.

Why does it have to be this painful? Raka asked, his voice raw. If you want me to be a good person, why not start with kindness?

Luna looked away for a moment. For the first time, Raka saw her defenses crack. There was a shimmer of tears she was fighting to hold back.

Because kindness won't make you remember, Raka, her voice trembled. Only pain leaves a deep enough scar to change destiny. The debt of happiness you borrowed from me in the future has to be paid with tears today. It’s the only way the version of you that becomes that man is never born.

Luna pulled her hand away and reverted to her cold, professional demeanor. She pressed a button on her wrist. Suddenly, a small indicator light on Raka’s laptop glowed green.

Your laptop isn't broken. That was just a non-conductive insulating fluid that looks like water. I’m not stupid enough to destroy your only source of pathetic income, she said flatly.

Raka exhaled a long breath, nearly collapsing into his chair. Man... you really almost gave me a heart attack.

That was just the warm-up, Luna said, walking toward the window and looking down at the busy city streets below. Tomorrow, we move to the second simulation: The Infidelity Drama. I’m going to introduce you to someone who will pretend to be my lover. You need to learn how it feels to be betrayed before you decide to betray me in the future.

Raka stared at Luna’s back. She looked so formidable, yet so fragile at the same time. He remembered the holographic projection from the night before—himself in an expensive suit, cruelly berating her. Raka clenched his fists.

Am I really going to become that heartless? he wondered.

Suddenly, Luna stumbled. She gripped her head and leaned against the window frame. The digital watch on her wrist flashed red, blinking faster than before. The numbers on the display read: 31:14:22:05.

Luna? You okay? Raka instinctively stood up and grabbed her shoulder.

As soon as their skin touched, a sharp jolt of static electricity made them both flinch. Raka saw a flash of imagery in his head—a memory that wasn't his. He saw himself and Luna dancing in a garden of roses, laughing together under the rain. It was a beautiful moment, a staggering contrast to the chaos of the present.

Luna immediately shoved Raka’s hand away, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her face was deathly pale.

Don’t, she whispered, her voice barely audible. Don't touch me.

I told you—don't touch me with those kinds of feelings.

I was just trying to help! Raka protested, his voice thick with confusion.

Your sincerity is exactly what's accelerating the timeline synchronization, you idiot! Luna snapped, though her eyes were wide with a deep-seated fear. The closer we get now, the faster that Tragedy will arrive. The future doesn't want us fixing things with love. It only understands loss.

Raka stood frozen. You mean... if I start to care about you, it actually puts us in danger?

Luna didn't answer. She simply slumped toward the bed and curled into a ball, turning her back on him.

Raka stood in the middle of his pristine apartment, which suddenly felt colder than it ever had. He glanced at his laptop, now functional again, and then at the red digits steadily ticking down on Luna’s arm.

It hit him then: this wasn't some simple marriage simulation. This was a high-stakes race against time, where every moment of happiness only brought them one step closer to an inevitable collapse.

Toxic marriage... Raka muttered, staring down at his burnt toast. It’s a lot more bitter than I ever imagined.

Outside, the clouds began to bank together once more, as if the universe were bracing for the next storm the woman from the future would bring in her wake.