Cold-Blooded Barista

Rizal never imagined his life would end up in a small coffee shop on the streets of Medan. Five years ago, his name was feared in the mafia world—he was the best enforcer, a cold-blooded killer who never failed to finish a job. If someone betrayed the boss, Rizal was the one knocking on their door in the middle of the night. If someone played dirty in the drug or arms trade, Rizal was the one pulling the trigger.

But everything changed on one bloody night in an old warehouse near Belawan Port.

That night, Rizal faced a choice that altered his life forever. His old boss, Bang Karim, was betrayed by his own right-hand man—Bang Togar. As Karim lay on the floor, his chest soaked in blood, Togar made Rizal an offer: join him or die alongside Karim.

Rizal didn't respond with words. He responded with a bullet.

One shot to Togar’s shoulder was enough to bring him down, but not enough to kill him. Rizal wasn’t stupid. He knew that if he killed Togar then and there, he would become a target for everyone. So, he ran, leaving behind the world that had made him who he was.

Leaving the mafia world wasn’t easy. Rizal disappeared for a whole year, moving from city to city before finally returning to Medan with a new identity. He opened a small roadside coffee shop—a place where no one would ever suspect that a former hitman was now brewing coffee behind the counter.

His shop, "Kopi Hitam Rizal", became a favorite hangout for angkot drivers, broke college students, and office workers in desperate need of caffeine. Here, Rizal was no longer an assassin. He was just a barista, pouring coffee with steady hands and a sharp gaze.

But no matter how far someone runs, the past always finds a way back.

That morning, the sky over Medan was still dim, dew clinging to the shop’s window. Rizal had just finished grinding coffee beans when he heard the heavy footsteps outside. He didn’t need to look up to know that today’s customers weren’t here for coffee.

Two large men entered, their worn leather jackets and scarred faces revealing their nature. Rizal recognized their type—men who didn’t come to chat, but to deliver a message.

Ucok, his best friend and the shop’s only employee, swallowed hard. "Zal, I think we’re about to have a problem."

Rizal continued his work, calmly pouring hot water over the coffee grounds.

One of the men spoke. "Rizal, Bang Togar wants to see you."

The name made the air in the shop feel heavier. Bang Togar, the man who should have died that night, was now the most powerful figure in Medan’s underworld.

Without looking up, Rizal answered flatly, "Tell Togar I’m retired."

The man chuckled, but there was no humor in his voice. "If you’re really retired, then why does someone still want you dead?"

Ucok took a small step back, trying to distance himself from the inevitable fight. Rizal exhaled, set down his coffee pot, and finally looked up at the two men with cold, piercing eyes.

"If you want trouble, not here. I just mopped the floor."

Before the man could react, Rizal moved first. His hand gripped the man’s wrist, twisted it back, and in seconds, the man was on his knees, groaning in pain.

Ucok gawked. "Oh my God, you’re really serious about this?"

The second man reached for a weapon inside his jacket, but Rizal was faster. A sharp kick sent a table crashing into him, knocking him off balance. In an instant, both men were sprawled on the floor, groaning in pain.

Rizal calmly picked up his coffee cup, blew on it, and took a slow sip.

"Tell Togar that if he wants to talk, he should come himself. Don’t send two losers."

Ucok looked at them and whispered, "You guys still want coffee, or are you heading straight home?"

The men groaned in frustration before getting up and leaving.

Ucok shook his head. "Rizal, you just started a war."

Rizal stared out the window. "The war came to me. I just welcomed it."

And with that, the quiet morning at the coffee shop became the beginning of something much bigger.