POV Aisha
A few days had passed since that chaotic afternoon. Life had settled back into its usual rhythm, and Aisha found herself at Ruqayyah's home, buried in her studies and daily routines. Yet, no matter how busy she kept herself, the memory of that encounter on the bus kept surfacing, vivid and persistent.
The system's voice suddenly cut through her quiet thoughts. "Master, Ardan is one of your missions. Affinity: impressed +20."
Aisha's eyes widened so abruptly that her spoon trembled midair, nearly spilling the soup she had just scooped. The system continued, calm and matter-of-fact: "Even though you only just met him, you have already earned +20 affinity points from him. Reward: one set of beauty cream."
Ruqayyah's parents looked up from their plates, eyebrows raised in mild surprise at her shocked expression. "Are you alright, Ruqayyah?" they asked, voices gentle but tinged with curiosity.
Aisha blinked rapidly, cheeks warming, and quickly nodded. "I-I'm fine…"
Then, almost against her will, her gaze shifted back to the system, eyes wide and sparkling. "System… is Ardan… someone special for me?"
A soft, amused chuckle filled her mind, like a whisper of wind through the trees. "Master… I cannot predict fate. But it seems the two of you share a bond. Currently, I detect that Ardan is thinking of you as well."
Aisha's pupils widened even further, her heartbeat skipping a beat.
Far away, in another city, Ardan couldn't seem to erase the memory either. Lectures and library sessions filled his days, but his mind often wandered back to the bright, cheerful girl—the one who had tugged at his bag, looked up at him with those sparkling eyes, and handed him a riddle so absurd it had somehow made him laugh. Her laughter, free and radiant, resonated more vividly than the rustle of pages or the quiet shuffling of students around him.
A faint smile tugged at Ardan's lips. His fingers traced idle patterns on the edge of his book as he recalled her small, earnest confession: "One day, I'll repay your kindness—I don't like relying on others."
He shook his head, as if trying to sweep the thought away. "What's wrong with me? She's just a cheerful girl who got lost… I meet plenty of girls. This shouldn't impress me," he muttered to himself, almost defensively.
Meanwhile, Aisha leaned back slightly, curiosity pricking at her as she eyed the system. "System… what exactly is this reward, this set of beauty cream?"
A playful chuckle echoed softly. "It's… well, it's a modern skincare set. For your use."
Aisha's eyes lit up like stars. "Oh! Alright, I'll give it a try. This world really is modern… they even have skincare like this." She smiled, picturing the small indulgence, and that night, after dinner and washing up, she carefully applied the cream before slipping into bed, savoring the tiny thrill of this new experience.
The next morning, Aisha stepped into the pesantren, ready to begin her first full day. She was completely taken aback when she was immediately appointed as the leader of Ruqayyah's team. Eyes from classmates followed her—some filled with irritation, others with curiosity, and a few with hesitant admiration.
Aisha straightened her shoulders, gripping her bag strap, and drew a deep breath. This was more than just another day at school—it was a test of her leadership, her patience, and her resilience. And deep down, a quiet flutter stirred in her chest: if fate could intervene once on a bus ride, who knew what surprises this new chapter might hold?
And, by all accounts, it was the worst day of her life.
Throughout her life, she had hardly ever stepped into a kitchen to cook—her experience had been limited to eating. Yet that morning marked the first time Aisha bint al-Fadl entered the pesantren kitchen for cooking duty.
An entirely unfamiliar world stretched before her: charcoal-blackened stoves, oversized cooking pots, and the faint scent of raw rice lingering in the air.
Her first step faltered slightly. The kitchen door creaked as she pushed it open, and the anxiety lurking in her mind trickled down to her hands, making them tremble. This was not a palace. Not a kitchen with servants obeying her every command. This was… something completely different.
Calm down, Aisha. It's just wood and fire. Not a council of scholars, she murmured to herself.
She approached the stove and stared at the firewood piled haphazardly inside. Then she picked up a match, her movements stiff and uncertain. As she bent down to light it, a soft giggle rose from behind.
Rasi and Fara.
The two members of Ruqayyah's team exchanged glances, their expressions far too obvious to ignore.
"See? She can't do it," Rasi whispered, barely holding back his laughter.
"Then help her! She's your team leader, isn't she?" Fara shot back, her gaze sharp and mocking.
Aisha heard them. Of course she did. But she clenched her jaw, muttering under her breath: Not a single finger moves, yet their tongues run like scribes in a busy market.
Summoning what little dignity she had left, she tried again to light the fire. Once. Twice. A small flame appeared—but smoke immediately billowed into her face, stinging her eyes. She staggered back, coughing.
Gasping for breath, Aisha addressed the system she could hear alone. "Have I committed a great sin… that they would speak of me this way?"
The system responded, as usual, silent to anyone else. "No, Aisha. Most people here dislike Ruqayyah. They see her as quiet, withdrawn, and friendless. So whatever her team leader does… it usually becomes the subject of gossip."
Aisha furrowed her brow. "Really? That's the reason…?"
She took a deep breath. There was no use being angry now. She needed another approach.
As the fried rice for the students' breakfast neared completion, Aisha heard more mocking—this time from a group of male students.
"Heh… This rice probably tastes awful. I'm not eating it," one said, followed by others.
Aisha felt a spark of frustration rise within her. Fara and Shinta remained silent, though secretly chuckling. Whenever Ruqayyah was on kitchen duty, if the food wasn't perfect, they always made sure to tell the students it was Ruqayyah who had cooked, not them—they only helped.