Ring! Ring! Ring!

6:00 AM. The pages of that Thursday unfurled once again. Yet this time, there was no nausea, no panic, and no emptiness dragging Arif's soul down into the abyss of despair. He opened his eyes with absolute serenity—as calm as the gentle chill flowing in seamless harmony from the surface of the Frost Circle ring on his ring finger.

Arif rose from his thin mattress, gazing at the stack of red-lined bills in the corner of the desk with a soft smile. Those sheets of paper no longer looked like terrifying monsters, but merely minor set decorations for a theatrical stage whose curtains were about to fall.

He stared down at the ancient silver ring in his palm. The cryptic words spoken by the old beggar on that first day now echoed clearly inside his head, bright as dawn slipping through the ventilation slats of his room.

"This object freezes your mistakes until your heart finds true warmth."

"This ring will never release me, and the outside world's time will never thaw, as long as my own heart remains frozen by arrogance and vengeance," Arif murmured softly.

All this time, he had been looking at it all wrong. He had thought that gathering confidential information, extorting Pak Malik, raking in hundreds of millions, and feasting atop his enemy's misery meant he was mastering the day. In reality, all those actions stemmed purely from his hardened urban ego and pride. He was trapped because his heart refused to let go of the heartache from being fired, refused to accept reality, and ignored the single source of pure warmth waiting for him at the other end of the line: his mother.

Today, on a repetition numbering in the hundreds, Arif engineered a brand-new plan. This blueprint no longer revolved around corporate exploitation or petty revenge. This was a cleansing operation—a final scenario to settle his worldly affairs in Jakarta as swiftly as possible, granting him the remainder of a full day unhindered, focused entirely on his soul's homecoming.

At 7:45 AM, Arif arrived on the fourth floor of the office. His steps felt as light as the morning breeze. He no longer carried a pocket camera or a concealed voice recorder. His ultimate weapon now was a sincerity no cunning could argue against.

He walked past Dani's cubicle just as his friend set down his bag. "Morning, Dan. Please tell the team, thanks for three great years working together. You guys are an awesome crew," Arif said genuinely, patting his buddy's shoulder.

Dani furrowed his brow, staring at Arif with a strange look. "What are you talking about, Rif? You sound like a guy about to say his final goodbyes."

Arif merely offered a mysterious smile without answering, then strode straight toward Pak Malik's dark glass office, long before the cubicle intercom had a chance to buzz at 8:02 AM.

Knock, knock. Arif pushed the door open without waiting for permission.

Pak Malik, who had just settled into his leather chair, startled in shock at the uncommonly early arrival of his administrative staffer. Atop the mahogany desk, the white envelope containing the termination letter was already laid out, primed to be tossed dramatically.

"Arif? Where are your manners, just barging in like—"

"Pak Malik," Arif interrupted in a calm, gentle voice carrying an echo of quiet authority that instantly silenced his boss. Arif sat in the chair across the desk uninvited, looking at the middle-aged man not with a threatening glare, but with a gaze brimming with profound understanding.

"I know about the four point two billion rupiah tactical fund diverted to PT Garuda Nusantara Logistik under your wife's name, Mrs. Miranda," Arif stated flatly, delivering the crucial intelligence in a single, emotionally unburdened breath.

Pak Malik's face instantly turned ashen, mirroring the script from previous chapters. His hand, reaching for his cigarette lighter, trembled violently mid-air.

"Y-You... how did you—"

"You don't need to know how I found out," Arif cut in again, leaning forward with a peaceful smile. "And you don't need to panic. Today, I am not here to extort you for three hundred million like I used to... ah, what I mean is, I'm not interested in your money. Nor will I be forwarding these files to the board of commissioners or the police."

Pak Malik froze, his jaw hanging half-open. Overwhelming confusion crashed across his mind. This bluff proved infinitely more terrifying precisely because Arif demanded zero material compensation.

"Then... what do you want, Arif?" Pak Malik hissed hoarsely, cold sweat beading across his forehead.

"I only want two things, sir," Arif answered firmly. "First, process my severance payout officially according to labor laws, no more and no less, so my administrative record is clean. Second, scrub my name from the northern branch logistics scapegoat drafts you engineered. Find another way to wrap up your audit without destroying the life of an innocent, ordinary person."

Arif stood from his chair, smoothing his faded blue work shirt, which suddenly felt immensely honorable.

"If you fulfill those two simple conditions within the next hour, I guarantee your secrets will be buried forever alongside today. My employment contract ends here, and I forgive everything you've put me through over the past three years."

Pak Malik stared at Arif with an expression shifting from sheer terror to involuntary respect. Before the junior staffer he had routinely trampled upon, he witnessed a greatness of spirit that couldn't be bought with all his billions.

"Fine... alright, Arif. I'll handle it with HR right this second," Pak Malik said with a shaking voice, yielding honorably.

By 9:00 AM, all office business concluded to absolute perfection. Arif walked out of the skyscraper carrying zero vengeance, zero anger. The heavy burden that had clogged his shoulders for years vanished the moment he chose to forgive.

Arif walked back toward his cramped boarding room. Stopping by a traditional market near the alley, he bought several traditional snacks—the exact treats his mother used to make when he was a child. Arriving at his room by 10:00 AM, he cleaned up, swept the cement floor, and tidied the pile of bills, now fully prepared to settle them legitimately using his official severance pay once time began flowing again.

When everything was immaculate, Arif sat cross-legged atop his thin mattress. Before him, the cheap smartphone lay passively.

The remaining fourteen hours of this Thursday belonged entirely to his mother.

Arif reached for his phone, drew a deep breath, and dialed his mother's number. As the ringing tone hummed through the line, Arif felt an extraordinary warmth surge from the pit of his chest, crawling steadily down to his left palm.

On his finger, the Frost Circle ring began to shed a brighter bluish glow, yet its freezing chill slowly thawed, transforming into a warm pulse ready to carry his soul safely home to a genuine embrace.