Kaivan's voice was steady, a contrast to the air thick with unease. "Raphael, former terrorist. Ethan, ex-gangster."
The room fell silent. Frans pocketed the bolt. Zinnia's eyes narrowed. Raphael stood tall and stiff, gaze unwavering. Ethan appeared more relaxed, though the twitch of his neck and restless hands betrayed his nerves.
Zinnia's tone dropped, cautious but cold. "You're sure bringing them here is the right choice?" She took a few steps forward, standing nearly face to face with Raphael. Her eyes tested him like blades, and her right hand lifted slightly, ready to react.
Kaivan grabbed a rag from the table, wiping blood and dust off his hands. He shot a sidelong glance at the newcomers, lips curling faintly. "You're not terrorists or gangsters anymore, right?"
Raphael shook his head slowly. Ethan nodded firmly. Their voices followed almost at once, Raphael's hesitant, Ethan's steady and clear.
"I'm sure," Kaivan said to Zinnia, short but firm. His gaze didn't waver, and his tone alone silenced her. His words weren't lofty, but they were unshakable.
Radit chimed in with a crooked smile. "Didn't make sense to me at first either. But now... I trust him." His voice was casual, yet his eyes burned with conviction.
Frans stood, crossing the room to clap Ethan's shoulder. "Welcome. Around here, chaos is normal. You'll get used to it." His tone sounded easygoing, but his gaze carried an unspoken warning.
Ethan simply nodded. "Relax. I'm used to noisy places," he replied, low and steady, no bravado, just truth.
Felicia, who had been standing near the door all this time, finally stepped forward. Her movements were graceful but firm, her eyes focused on Raphael. "You saved Kaivan," she said softly yet clearly. "Thank you."
Raphael bowed his head slightly, uneasy under the weight of gratitude. "I just did what needed to be done," he murmured, his voice tinged with conflict.
Kaivan stood in the center of the cluttered workshop, once an ordinary space, now filled with meaning. Behind him, Raphael and Ethan watched every corner, taking it all in. Kaivan spoke calmly, "We dismantle old phones here. Extract the gold from the circuits. Then sell it."
There was no pride in his voice. And yet, that was what made his words reassuring. It felt as though this simple work was the quiet foundation of something far greater.
Raphael and Ethan listened in silence. They understood, this place wasn't just a workshop. It was a beginning. Kaivan turned toward them, his voice calm yet filled with purpose. "You can leave… or stay. And find the meaning of life with us."
The room fell quiet, the only sound the soft hum of machines breaking the silence. The dim neon light cast long shadows. Kaivan stood in the center, an unmoving point between two restless pasts.
Raphael stared at him. His face was calm, but his eyes held a storm. "What do you want from me?" he asked. The question wasn't just about Kaivan, it was about the world that had once rejected him.
Ethan, more direct, added, "What's the endgame here, Kaivan? Why should we follow you?" His voice trembled somewhere between doubt and curiosity. He was used to control. Now, he felt drawn into a path he couldn't yet see.
Kaivan met their gazes for a long moment. His eyes were steady, but behind them lay exhaustion. He took a breath, glanced around at the faces that had chosen to stay, and spoke softly, each word carrying both pain and hope.
"Everyone here has a story," Kaivan said, his voice low yet heavy with truth. He gestured toward Radit, who was busy repairing a machine. "He used to be a thief, emotional, reckless, but only because he wanted to survive." Radit smiled faintly, a quiet peace glinting in his eyes.
"Zinnia," Kaivan continued, looking toward the girl in the corner. "She doesn't trust men. Doubt is her last defense." Zinnia paused, turning her sharp gaze toward him, but didn't deny it. Their eyes met, honest, wordless.
Kaivan's gaze shifted to Frans. "Frans… the hopeless romantic with too much ambition. Always torn between love and purpose." Frans exhaled softly and smiled, as if accepting both his wounds and his pride as part of who he was.
"Thivi… she's not here, but I once saved her." Kaivan looked toward the empty corner. "Confident, sharp-tongued… but her heart still longs for home."
Felicia stood quietly near the back. Kaivan's expression softened. "A strong girl, bound once by her past." Felicia smiled faintly, warm, though still carrying the weight of old scars.
Finally, Kaivan looked back at the two newcomers. "Raphael. Ethan. You're not here by chance. You're part of this story, not because I chose you, but because the world did."
He raised the Tome of Omnicent. Its wooden cover was worn, yet it radiated mystery. "This book… chose us."
Ethan chuckled softly, recalling something. "Ten million, and you almost smashed that shop's glass case for it." Yet beneath his humor, his eyes were sharp, questioning: what exactly was this book? And why were they all drawn into the same orbit of fate?
Kaivan nodded. "This isn't just a book. The Tome of Omnicent gives me direction. Everything I've done, everyone I've met… it guided me here."
His words lingered. The room sank into a silence heavy with mystery.
Raphael, still uncertain but intrigued, asked, "Can I see it?"
Without hesitation, Kaivan handed him the book. Raphael opened it, only to find nothing. Page after page, blank and empty.
"There's nothing here," he murmured, frowning.
Kaivan smiled faintly, the weight of his knowledge hidden behind his calm. "Only I can see it."
When night fell, Kaivan stepped outside. The sky was dark, the road quiet. Each step carried the weight of an unfulfilled promise. In his mind, a single question echoed softly in the dark.
The next day, the workshop came alive again. The machines hummed softly. That afternoon, after school, Kaivan returned, to the place where his life kept spinning like a wheel that never stopped.
In silence, he remembered what he had whispered the night before:
"I just want to help people now. I don't want to be apathetic anymore."
He never imagined that such a small wish would drag him into a storm far beyond his reach.
In the corner of the room, Frans was reading the newspaper. His brows rose.
"Damn, that's rough," he muttered. "A government official's kid had his motorcycle stolen. In Cimahi, too."
Frans's voice shattered Kaivan's thoughts. His heart pounded, those words pierced deep, awakening an old memory: the motorcycle he had smashed in a fit of rage… turned out to belong to a high-ranking official's son, a notorious gang member. The memory lingered like a nightmare suddenly brought into focus.
His phone vibrated. Just a small buzz, but enough to shake his fragile world. He picked it up, and Ethan's panicked voice burst through the line:
"The police are looking for you. They say you're involved in that stolen bike, the one you pawned to buy the Tome Omnicent."
The world stopped for a heartbeat.
Kaivan's face turned pale. His breath caught. He knew it was true, his desperate act for a book that claimed his fate. He had chosen a thorned path, and now the thorns were beginning to pierce back.
The call ended, but its echo wouldn't fade. With what little hope remained, Kaivan opened the Tome Omnicent. The white pages, blank to everyone else, began to glow faintly, as if drinking in his anxiety.
Words appeared, sharp and undeniable:
"Turn yourself in at Purwakarta. There's a photo linking you to the explosion. This will lessen your involvement. Meet Raphael. Speak to him."