SORRY MISS CEO, YOUR BILLIONS ARE USELESS!

Chapter 2: The Ice Queen, a Mop, and Instant Coffee

   The sterilization corridor hummed like a jet engine. Disinfectant spray—smelling like a mix of bleach and cheap lemon—blasted from every direction, drenching Zahara Nasution.

   Zahara coughed hard, her eyes stinging. Her bone-white designer suit, which cost as much as a sports car, was now soaking wet, clinging to her body along with the washed-away remains of zombie blood. Her gold pistol had been snatched by a mechanical arm that had suddenly shot out of the wall the moment she’d fallen into the room.

A green light flickered above the steel door in front of her. It slid open without a sound.

   Zahara stepped out, her breath still ragged. She found herself in a vast room that looked more like a concrete showroom than a boarding house. The floor was polished cement, the walls were lined with steel panels, and in the middle of the room sat a man on a red "Lion Star" plastic chair.

The guy was wearing a faded t-shirt featuring a defunct political party and knee-length shorts. In his hand was a cup of steaming black coffee.

Rangga

Siregar.

   Zahara straightened her back. The survival instincts and dominance she’d forged over a decade in Jakarta’s underworld immediately took over. She swept her wet hair back, glaring at Rangga with the kind of look that usually made bank directors piss their pants.

"You," Zahara hissed, her voice trembling from a mix of cold and rage. "Give me back my gun. And explain what the hell is going on with this building."

Rangga took a slow sip of his coffee. Slurrrrp. The sound echoed annoyingly through the steel room. He set the cup down on a folding table.

"Welcome to Fort Pusako, Ms. Nasution," Rangga said calmly, scanning her from head to toe. "Your weapon is being held by the security system. And as for this building... let’s just say my prayers for a renovation were answered in a slightly dramatic way."

   Zahara stepped forward, her one remaining stiletto heel clicking loudly on the concrete. "I don’t care about your jokes. There’s a national biological disaster happening out there. I need access to your satellite comms, and I need you to open the way to the upper floors. My bodyguard, Rizal Harahap, is definitely looking for me with an evac chopper right now."

Rangga sighed. He pointed toward a massive holographic screen floating on the left wall.

   Zahara turned. The screen showed a live feed from outside. The streets had turned into a total hellscape. Thousands of zombies were piled on top of each other, blindly clawing at the bunker’s steel walls. In the distance, plumes of black smoke rose from the Sudirman area—the business district where the Nusantara Syndicate headquarters was located. Jakarta’s evening sky was blood-red, filled with burning helicopters falling from the air.

"No satellite signal. No evac chopper," Rangga said flatly. "And even if there were, they wouldn’t be able to punch through twenty centimeters of reinforced steel. Your old world ended ten minutes ago."

  Zahara froze. Her sharp eyes stared blankly at the screen. Her business empire, her trillions of rupiah, her hit squads... all gone, chewed up by those rotting monsters.

    "Interruption, Host!" a booming mechanical voice with a thick Sumatran accent suddenly broke the silence, making Zahara jump back. "First tenant successfully processed! System has received 10 Life Energy points! Alamak, this woman’s aura is dark, eh? Like a loan shark who’s short on collections! But whatever, energy is energy!"

"What was that?!" Zahara shouted, looking around for the source. "Who’s talking?"

"That’s... my property manager," Rangga answered dismissively.

In front of Rangga’s eyes, a green notification panel glowed brightly.

[TENANT STATUS: ZAHARA NASUTION]

[CLASS: MAFIA BOSS / CEO]

[AFFECTION: -90 (DESPERATELY WANTS TO KILL HOST WITH A RUSTY SPOON)]

[CONTRACT: LEVEL 1 DRUDGE]

[DAILY MISSION ACTIVATED: "CLEANLINESS IS PART OF FAITH, AND ALSO A SURVIVAL REQUIREMENT"]

[DESCRIPTION: Order the Level 1 Drudge to mop the first floor. If the floor shines, the System will grant a Reward: 2 Packs of Chicken Curry Instant Noodles & 1 Bottle of Mineral Water.]

[FAILURE PENALTY: Oxygen on the lower floor will be reduced by 50%.]

   Rangga’s eyes widened as he read the penalty. Damn, this system isn’t playing around.

Rangga stood up from his plastic chair. He walked to a metal locker in the corner, opened it, and pulled out a blue plastic bucket and a wooden mop.

He walked back toward Zahara and dropped the gear at the CEO's feet.

Clang. The mop handle hit the floor.

Zahara stared at the bucket and mop, then at Rangga, as if he’d just handed her a pile of cat crap.

"What is this?" she asked coldly.

"Your work gear," Rangga replied casually, sitting back down and crossing his legs. "Like we agreed outside. Rent is paid in labor. Your first task today: mop the entire first floor. I don’t want to see a single smudge from those dirty shoes of yours."

Zahara’s pale face turned red instantly. The veins in her neck popped. "You... you think I was joking out there?! I am Zahara Nasution! I employ five thousand people! I could buy your life, your family, and your entire bloodline! And you’re telling me to mop?!"

"Used to," Rangga corrected quietly. "You could do that back then. Now, you’re just a tenant crashing at my place. And at Kos Pusako, if you don’t pay rent, you sleep outside."

Rangga took a small remote from his pocket and turned a dial.

A heavy clank came from the main door. A red light blinked above it, signaling the locking mechanism was loosening. The snarls of thousands of zombies outside suddenly grew louder, closer, followed by the sound of claws scratching against metal.

Zahara’s eyes went wide. Pure horror replaced her rage. "Close it! Close the door, you bastard!"

Rangga turned the dial back. The growling faded again.

"I make the rules here," Rangga said, staring straight into Zahara’s eyes. There wasn't a hint of hesitation on his face. "You want to survive? Drop the ego, pick up that mop, and get to work. Or I’ll open that door and let them in. Your choice, lady."

  Zahara's teeth grounded so hard Rangga could hear it. Her fists clenched until her knuckles turned white. If looks could kill, Rangga would have been ashes five minutes ago.

But Zahara wasn't stupid. She was a survivor. She knew when to swallow her pride to stay alive. Revenge could wait until she had the upper hand.

With stiff movements and breath shaking from suppressed fury, the Ice Queen of the Nusantara Syndicate leaned over. The fingers that usually held Montblanc pens and champagne flutes gripped the rough wooden handle of the mop.

"I will remember this, Rangga Siregar," Zahara whispered, her voice laced with venom. "One day, I’m going to make you lick this floor with your own tongue."

Rangga gave a thin smile. "Great. Then make sure it's clean, so my tongue doesn't pick up any germs later."

   Zahara let out a frustrated growl. She wrung the mop head with extra force—imagining she was wringing Rangga's neck—and started scrubbing the concrete. Her movements were awkward and clumsy; it was clearly the first time in her life she’d ever held a cleaning tool.

Rangga watched her in silence. Honestly, seeing a woman with a high-level killing aura mopping the floor in a soaked designer suit was the most absurd thing he’d ever seen.

"Nice work, boy! Don’t let up!" the System voiced in his head again. "This woman definitely needs to be taught some manners! Keep it going!"

Just as Zahara finished about a quarter of the room, a loud warning alarm blared from the console on Rangga’s table.

The holographic screen showing the outside camera feed suddenly flickered red.

Rangga leaned in, his brow furrowed. The wave of zombies outside had suddenly parted. They weren't clawing at the door anymore; they were moving aside as if clearing a path for something.

From the end of the smoke-filled street, a figure emerged.

   It wasn’t a normal zombie. It was two meters tall, its muscles bulging so much they’d ripped through its clothes, and its skin was dark gray with black veins popping out like cables. But the most terrifying part was its face—part of its skull was exposed, and its eyes glowed with a dim red light, showing a level of intelligence the others didn't have.

It was carrying a snapped street lamp post like it was a baseball bat.

"What... what is that?" Zahara stopped mopping, her eyes glued to the screen. Her breath hitched.

[SYSTEM WARNING: MEDIUM-LEVEL THREAT DETECTED.]

[IDENTIFICATION: BRUTE-CLASS ZOMBIE MUTANT - "THE DELI CRAWLER"]

The giant creature looked directly at the bunker’s CCTV camera, then swung the lamp post, slamming it into the external steel door with the force of a truck crash.

BOOOM!

The entire bunker shook violently. Zahara was thrown off balance, dropping her bucket and spilling dirty water all over the floor she’d just mopped. Rangga’s coffee cup slid off the table and shattered into pieces.

Amidst the alarm bells and the shaking walls, a new green panel appeared in front of Rangga’s face.

[EMERGENCY MISSION ACTIVATED: DEFEND KOS PUSAKO!]

[DESCRIPTION: The Deli Crawler is trying to break in. Automated Defense Weapons are low on power.]

[POWER REQUIREMENT: Make your Lackey angry until her stress level reaches 100% to convert it into Kinetic Energy!]

   Rangga looked at the panel, then at Zahara, who was just getting back up, soaking wet from the dirty mop water, with a face that looked ready to start World War III.

"Ms. Nasution," Rangga called out softly, trying to hide a stiff smile.

Zahara turned with a murderous glare. "WHAT?!"

"The floor's dirty again," Rangga pointed to the puddle of water. "Please mop it again. And this time, could you clean up my broken coffee glass too?"j

Zahara screamed in pure frustration, and at that exact moment, the turret cannons on the bunker’s roof began to hum to life.