2026-04-29 13:31:34The weathered wooden door of Raditya's room creaked as he locked it tight. The atmosphere inside his house that afternoon felt like a never-ending cold war. In the living room, his father's voice, grumbling about an electric bill that had gone up by less than a dollar, mingled with the harsh scraping of a frying pan being stirred aggressively by his mother in the kitchen. To a normal person, it was just the background noise of daily life. To Raditya, it was a dawn raid on a mental battlefield.
"Damn, can someone turn this radio off?" Raditya sighed. He tossed his backpack into the corner and threw his athletic frame onto a thin mattress where the springs were already starting to poke his back.
Raditya closed his eyes, attempting "Experiment Zero." He took a deep breath, imagining a giant concrete wall sealing off his brain. He wanted silence. But instead of silence, he felt the sensation of tuning into a much sharper frequency. His new body, surging with energy after being struck by lightning, seemed to function as a superconductor for other people's thoughts.
He grabbed the noise-canceling headphones he had bought with his savings, put them on, and cranked the metal music to maximum volume. But it was useless. Human thoughts weren't sound frequencies; they were transmissions of pure energy. The distorted guitar in his ears was drowned out by his father's inner voice from thirty feet away.
That Raditya... did he secretly get plastic surgery? Where did he get the money? Don’t tell me he’s into some dark ritual. Tomorrow his allowance gets cut by twenty percent; he clearly doesn't need to eat much to look like that anyway. Besides, his room light has been on this whole time—the meter is spinning non-stop! Bastard!
Raditya snorted, both amused and annoyed. His father was truly a manifestation of god-tier stinginess. He then tried to focus his mental antenna on the bedroom wall shared with the neighboring rental—the home of a newlywed couple, Dimas and Lulu.
Normally, Raditya only heard them bickering about laundry. But this afternoon, the hormones in Raditya’s body were peaking, and it triggered his mental radar to pull in the hottest signals within a five-meter range.
Instantly, the visualization exploded before Raditya’s mind’s eye, as clear as a 4K LED screen.
He no longer saw the moldy walls of his room. Instead, he was forced to watch a scene unfolding on the bed next door. Within the mental transmission, he saw Dimas cornering Lulu against the wooden wall of the unit. The scent of sweat and cheap perfume mixed with heavy breathing.
Raditya could feel the brutal lust radiating from Dimas's brain. In the lewd visualization he had accidentally intercepted, Dimas was tearing the buttons off Lulu's nightgown with one violent tug, revealing Lulu’s pale, ripe breasts with nipples hardened from the afternoon chill and surging desire. Raditya saw himself—as a mental witness—watching how Dimas's rough hands squeezed those mounds of flesh, turning them red while Dimas’s tongue sucked on his wife’s neck with a wet sound that was real to Raditya’s inner ear.
"A-ahhh... Dimas, faster... the door isn't locked yet..." Lulu’s mental moan entered Raditya’s brain, full of demanding passion.
Raditya felt his body temperature spike. His manhood beneath his uniform pants stiffened, jerking reflexively. The visual projection became even more extreme: Dimas lifted Lulu's leg, resting it over his shoulder, and then with a rough motion, slammed his "heritage" into her already wet core. Raditya saw the scene in vivid detail; skin sticking and rubbing together with a savage rhythm, drops of sweat falling onto Lulu’s heaving chest, and the deep, rapid thrusts of his hips.
Every time Dimas's hips collided, the Lulu in the vision screamed out, her voice raspy with painful pleasure. It was as if Raditya felt that phantom heat spreading through every nerve, making him groan softly on his own bed. Their wild, uncontrolled climax from across the wall entered him as a surge of energy that nearly made his heart explode.
"Ugh, crazy... Stop, stop it!" Raditya stood up, grabbed a bottle of mineral water, and downed it in one go. He splashed his face at the small sink in the corner of his room, trying to scatter the image of Lulu moaning under Dimas's control.
"I can't live here if everyone's brain is this perverted!" he muttered, gasping for air.
Trying to shift away from his neighbors' influence, he decided to try another experiment: mental intervention. He walked out of his room toward the living room, where his father was busy tallying notes in a small book, while his mother sat on the sofa folding clothes.
"Dad, what’s for dinner?" Raditya asked, trying to act normal even though his mother’s radiation of anxiety was incredibly strong.
Look at this boy... why does he have to be so handsome? This must be a curse. Is it possible he’s on drugs that made his body so muscular? I saw red marks on his neck earlier— (it was actually just a mosquito bite, but his overprotective mother’s mind always created drama). Don’t tell me he’s already done it with girls at school? Oh God, if he gets someone pregnant, we’ll have to sell this house for the settlement! I have to check his bag tonight!
Raditya looked up, staring at his mother, who was still physically smiling sweetly while mentally screaming in terror.
"Mom, I’m not on drugs. And I didn't get anyone pregnant. So you don't need to check my bag tonight," Raditya said reflexively, his tone flat.
Instantly, his mother's hand, which had been folding his father’s nightgown, stopped completely. His father stopped writing, the tip of his pen digging deep into the paper. An incredibly uncomfortable silence smothered the room for several seconds.
CRAP! DOES HE KNOW WHAT I’M THINKING?! DID I SAY THAT OUT LOUD?! his mother’s mind shrieked in shock, the frequency so high it made Raditya’s ears ring painfully.
"Raditya... what did you just say?" his father asked suspiciously.
Raditya's Father's Thoughts: Did this kid plant a CCTV in his mother’s brain? Or did he secretly become a shaman? Whoa, if he’s a shaman, I can tell him to find lottery numbers or check the boss's wallet at the office! Money! Money! Money!
"No, it’s just... Mom’s lips looked like they were moving, I was just guessing. Besides, Mom looks all panicked," Raditya tried to patch over his mistake. He was breaking out in a cold sweat. Damn it, one careless sentence almost blew everything.
"Don’t act so smart, Radit!" his father snapped, trying to hide his own nervousness. "Besides, look at the time! The living room light is on, your room light is on, the TV is on with no one watching! You trying to bankrupt me?! Starting tomorrow, the water taps stay off at 8 PM! No more late-night showers!"
Raditya's Father's Thoughts: Good, shift the conversation to the economy. This way he won’t focus on why the water bill spiked yesterday because I forgot to close the tap in the bathroom.
Raditya felt an overwhelming wave of hypocrisy. He heard his father’s lies blaming him for a leaky tap, while simultaneously hearing the fake guilt in the man's brain. Meanwhile, his mother’s thoughts were still spiraling about urine tests and the possibility of throwing away his entire comic collection, which she viewed as a "source of sin."
"Oh man..." Raditya clutched his stomach, suddenly feeling incredibly nauseous.
The pressure from the explicit visuals of Mas Dimas still lingering in his memory, combined with the clamor of his stingy father’s and hysterical mother’s minds, made his head feel like it was about to split open.
"What is wrong with you?" his mother asked, though her thoughts immediately shifted: Dammit, are these early signs of drug addiction? He is vomiting?! Radit, do not you dare die before you pay back that tuition debt I borrowed the other day!
"My stomach hurts, Mom... I think I just had too much sociology at school," Raditya replied with dry humor. "I just want to sleep."
"Ate sociology? Has he actually gone insane?" his father muttered, but in his mind: If he ends up in a psych ward, how much is that going to cost? Can I use the cheapest health insurance? God, just what I need—one more burden on my life...
Raditya could no longer bear the volume of his father’s thoughts, which seemed to calculate the value of his life in cold, hard cash. He turned around and bolted back to his room, slamming the door hard enough to trigger his father’s shouting about how expensive it would be to fix a broken hinge.
He locked himself in again. His breathing was fast and shallow.
"Failure. This experiment at home is a total, absolute failure," Raditya whispered, leaning his back against the door.
The house that was supposed to be a place of rest felt more like a gruesome laboratory. He realized he could no longer distinguish between his mother’s love and her fear, or between his father’s sense of responsibility and his greed. Everything felt exposed in his head. Bitter.
Suddenly, from the unit next door, Mas Dimas let out a loud groan, followed by Mbak Lulu’s long, physical shriek that echoed all the way into Raditya’s room.
Oh God, finally let it out... Lulu feels so good this afternoon... Mas Dimas’s mind radiated an overwhelming sense of satisfaction, sending waves of phantom dopamine that were accidentally absorbed by Raditya’s brain.
Raditya closed his eyes, letting his body slide down to the floor. In the darkness of his room, behind the cacophony of his parents' voices and his neighbor’s lust, he longed for just one frequency: Bianca.
Why was it that in this crowded, noisy house, not a single person possessed the "stillness" that girl had? Bianca might be right; the world was already too loud with lies. And Raditya, the "pangeran" of all these mental hallucinations, felt profoundly lonely amidst millions of secrets he never asked to know.
"I need to get out of this house tomorrow morning," he muttered softly.
Raditya pulled up his blanket, tuning out the argument in the living room about a brand of detergent that was two cents cheaper, hoping that the next bolt of lightning—if there ever was one—could give him a "Mute" button that worked forever.
But beneath the exhaustion, at the tips of his nerves still vibrating from the remnants of Mbak Lulu’s phantom passion, he realized one thing: he was starting to get used to the chaos. And terrifyingly, a part of him was beginning to enjoy his role as an observer of this absurd stage called humanity.
The long afternoon at Raditya’s house finally came to an end, with thousands of mental voices slowly fading out, following the rhythm of his breath as he drifted into a dream world that was just as wild.
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Chapter 11: A Failed Experiment at Home
The weathered wooden door of Raditya's room creaked as he locked it tight. The atmosphere inside his house that afternoon felt like a never-ending cold war. In the living room, his father's voice, grumbling about an electric bill that had gone up by less than a dollar, mingled with the harsh scraping of a frying pan being stirred aggressively by his mother in the kitchen. To a normal person, it was just the background noise of daily life. To Raditya, it was a dawn raid on a mental battlefield."Damn, can someone turn this radio off?" Raditya sighed. He tossed his backpack into the corner and threw his athletic frame onto a thin mattress where the springs were already starting to poke his back.Raditya closed his eyes, attempting "Experiment Zero." He took a deep breath, imagining a giant concrete wall sealing off his brain. He wanted silence. But instead of silence, he felt the sensation of tuning into a much sharper frequency. His new body, surging with energy after being struck by l
Chapter 10: A Mysterious Figure in the Corner of Campus
Raditya walked with a slight limp, not because his legs hurt, but because his brain felt like it had just been soaked in a vat of boiling battery acid. The chaotic aftermath of the cafeteria incident left a parasitic ringing in his skull. Every whisper, every suppressed urge, and every petty grudge he had intercepted was still spinning like a broken record in his mind. Becoming ridiculously hot was a blessing, but being a walking receiver for other people's thoughts was a curse that was driving him to the absolute brink of insanity.He needed silence. He needed a dead zone where this cursed "thought-radio" would stop broadcasting everyone's filthy frequencies.Raditya steered himself toward the back of the old Biology greenhouses. It was Liberty High's ultimate blind spot. There was nothing back there but a row of overgrown oak trees, an old sports equipment shed that rarely got unlocked, and a high brick wall covered in thick ivy. There, in a corner nearly forgotten by the daily high
Chapter 9: A Small Act of Courage in the Cafeteria
The cafeteria at Liberty High during second lunch was an audio hellscape. The smell of lukewarm chili, the grease from the deep fryer, and the sweat of hundreds of teenagers collided to create a suffocating atmosphere. To Raditya, this wasn't just a dining hall; it was a frequency minefield. Ever since the lightning bolt rewired his neural structure, he felt like a radio with a busted antenna; picking up every signal with no way to turn it off.He picked a table in the farthest corner near a broken vending machine, hoping his telepathic range wouldn't catch too much emotional garbage. He just wanted to eat his soggy chicken nuggets without knowing who was cheating on who, or who forgot to wear underwear today. But his new looks made him a magnet. His brain's radar vibrated violently as a group of sophomore girls walked past him.Holy crap, his jawline is so sexy. I just want to lick from his ear all the way down his neck, whispered the internal voice of a girl who looked completely in
Chapter 8: Sudden Popularity and Devious Minds
The second-floor corridor of Liberty High felt like a personal catwalk that afternoon. Every heavy, confident step Raditya took in his boots sent ripples through the crowded hallway. He didn't need to keep his head down or pretend to be deeply engrossed in his phone to avoid getting shoved anymore. Instead, he had become the school's new center of gravity."Oh my god, is that really Raditya?! No way!" whispered a sophomore girl, nearly walking face-first into a bank of lockers because she was too busy staring at his razor-sharp jawline."He's ridiculously hot. I swear, I’d gladly stick a fork in a toaster right now if it meant I'd wake up looking like that," her friend replied, not even blinking.Raditya kept his expression perfectly neutral, but inside, his skull felt like it was going to crack open. His physical transformation was a miracle, but his "psychic hearing" was a bottomless pit of hell. The mental signals from across the corridor battered him without mercy.Damn, his ass l
Chapter 7: A Total Telepathic Failure
The smell of warm, freshly printed photocopies and the sharp chemical stench of dry-erase markers filled the AP Physics classroom. Mr. Vance, a teacher infamous for having a zero-tolerance policy for basically everything, stood at the front of the room with his arms crossed. The eyes behind his thick prescription lenses swept over the room like a predator drone’s camera."You have exactly sixty minutes," Mr. Vance’s voice boomed, making the already terrified students shrink even further into their plastic chairs. "Absolute silence. No sharing calculators, no borrowing erasers. If I see anyone's eyes wander even a millimeter toward their neighbor's desk, I will rip your test into shreds right in front of your face. Understood?!"Raditya stared down at the test packet on his desk. The equations for simple harmonic motion and linear momentum danced across the white paper, looking like a swarm of insects speaking a language he couldn't decipher. A day ago, he would have just accepted his
Chapter 6 The Genius's Secret
The smell of damp old paper and lingering floor disinfectant was Raditya's last line of defense. He stepped inside the Merdeka High School Library hoping for one thing: silence. To him, after the canteen drama that left his brain feeling baked by the collective lust of the entire student body, the library was supposed to be a sanctuary. A temple of quiet where his brain frequency could rest.But Raditya quickly realized that "silence" was the biggest lie on earth. Physically, the library was indeed as quiet as a hero’s grave at midnight, but telepathically, this place was a low-frequency battlefield, sharper and more dangerous.Bu Lia, the chubby librarian with glasses tethered by a chain around her neck, sat behind the circulation desk. Her mouth was busy chewing gum slowly, but her inner voice screamed something completely contradictory to her placid face.Damn it, whose armpit smell is this? Can't these snot-nosed brats go one day without making the library carpet stink even more?
