Cold-Blooded Barista

DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

The cool night air brushed against Rizal’s face as he and Ucok sped away from the Maharaja Hotel on a motorbike. The vroom of the engine echoed through the empty streets of Medan, blending with the distant hum of the city that never truly slept.

Ucok clung to Rizal’s waist. “Next time, bro, can we just take a Grab? I swear my ass is gonna fall off.”

Rizal chuckled but kept his focus on the road. “Where’s the thrill in that?”

They pulled up at a small coffee stall tucked in a quiet alley. The neon sign flickered bzzzt, casting a dim glow over the wooden benches. It was one of Rizal’s usual hideouts—safe, quiet, and most importantly, serving the best black coffee in town.

Inside, an old man behind the counter greeted them with a nod. “Your usual black coffee, Rizal?”

“Two, please, Pak.”

Ucok groaned as he plopped onto a bench. “It’s not coffee I need, bro. I need a vacation.”

Rizal smirked. “You complain a lot, but you still follow me everywhere.”

Ucok let out a long sigh. “Because if I don’t, you’ll end up dead doing something stupid.”

Before Rizal could respond, the ding! of the doorbell made them turn. A burly man in a leather jacket walked in, followed by two others with equally hard expressions. One of them had a long scar running down his left cheek.

Rizal recognized them immediately. Pak Haris’ men.

Ucok gulped down his coffee quickly. “Looks like we’re not going home yet.”

The tattooed man—Anton, Pak Haris’ right-hand man—strode toward them, a cold smile on his lips. “Rizal. I hear you’ve been poking around in some big business.”

Rizal remained calm. “Just gathering information.”

Anton chuckled. “But not just any information, right?”

He sat down across from Rizal, staring directly into his eyes. “Pak Haris wants to talk. Now.”

Ucok whispered, “We can’t say no, can we?”

Rizal sighed, then stood up. “Let’s go.”

---

They arrived at an old warehouse on the outskirts of town. The air was thick with the smell of oil and cigarette smoke. In the center of the room, Pak Haris sat in a leather chair, surrounded by his men.

Rizal stepped forward. “Pak Haris.”

Pak Haris lifted his teacup calmly. “I hear you infiltrated Adi Sutrisno’s hotel.”

Rizal didn’t flinch. “I needed to know what he was planning.”

Pak Haris nodded slowly. “And what did you find?”

Rizal weighed his words carefully. “Adi is setting up something big in Jakarta. A deal that could make him untouchable.”

Pak Haris leaned back in his chair. “Interesting.”

He studied Rizal carefully. “I’ll be direct. I want you to deal with Adi.”

Ucok immediately stiffened. “Wait, by ‘deal with,’ you mean—”

Pak Haris smirked. “Erase him from the game.”

Ucok cursed under his breath. Rizal remained silent.

Pak Haris continued, “Adi isn’t just a business rival. He’s a threat. If this deal goes through, we’re all in trouble.”

His eyes locked onto Rizal’s. “Can you handle it?”

Rizal stared back. In his mind, he could still see Adi laughing at the hotel earlier that night.

Finally, he nodded. “Give me some time.”

Pak Haris smiled in satisfaction. “Good. You know where to find me.”

As Rizal and Ucok stepped out of the warehouse, Ucok immediately grabbed Rizal’s arm. “Zal, do you realize we just signed our own death contract?”

Rizal lit a cigarette. The first puff of smoke drifted out slowly.

“I know.”

Ucok stared at him. “And you’re still going to do it?”

Rizal exhaled the last of the smoke before flicking his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his shoe.

“We’re already in the lion’s den. Let’s see who makes it out alive.”