Ring! Ring! Ring!

The alarm from the cheap smartphone on the triple-plywood desk slammed into Arif's eardrums like a sledgehammer. Arif bolted upright. He gasped for air, his body drenched in cold sweat. The wall fan whirred loudly above him, merely cycling the stagnant, heavy air inside the nine-square-meter boarding room.

Arif blinked his gritty eyes. "Wait..." he whispered softly.

He stared at the peeling ceiling. Why did this sensation feel so painfully familiar? He quickly glanced at the glowing digital numbers on his phone screen. 6:00 AM.

Arif furrowed his brow. He hurriedly checked the date on his phone. The digits stamped there made his heart skip a beat. It was the exact same date as yesterday. The day he got fired.

"Ah, damn it. So yesterday was just a nightmare?" Arif rubbed his rough face, letting out an immensely heavy sigh of relief. "Thank God... holy crap, that dream felt so real down to my bones."

He lowered his feet onto the cold cement floor, sending a shiver through his frame. When he turned toward the small table in the corner, his eyes locked onto the stack of papers topped with thick red lines. Boarding rent bills, credit card bills, and the electricity bill bearing a final disconnection warning. Their placement, their angle, even the dust settled on top of them were identical to what he had seen in his dream last night.

Buzz... Buzz...

The phone on his thin mattress vibrated. The screen lit up, displaying a name that sent an odd ripple through Arif's chest.

Mom is calling...

Arif stared at the screen with a creeping sense of disbelief. "How... how is this even possible?" he muttered.

He picked up the phone, preparing to press the green button. Yet, the memory of the guilt from his dream stayed his finger. Plus, the wall clock let out a soft click, pointing to 6:15 AM.

"Ah, there's no time. I have to hurry if I don't want Pak Malik's firing dream to come true," Arif grumbled. He swiped the red button harshly, rejecting the call, and tossed the phone back onto the bed.

As he reached for his towel, the corner of his eye caught something on the ring finger of his left hand. A dull silver shimmer rested there. Arif froze. He lifted his left hand before his face. Encircling his finger was a thick metal ring carved with ancient ice crystal motifs. The ring felt intensely cold, sending a faint, aching chill straight to his bones.

"This ring..." Arif's blood suddenly rushed. "That old beggar... wasn't a dream?"

Arif shook his head hard, trying to chase away the insane thoughts poisoning his mind. No, no. Maybe I bought this ring while drunk or I just forgot. Logically, time doesn't loop. Whatever, time to shower!

The commute to the office felt like rewinding the exact same video cassette tape. The sea of people at the busway shelter, the scent of medicated oil from the middle-aged man on the bus, right down to the sudden brake jolts that made everyone curse—it all happened sequentially with horrifying precision.

Arif arrived in the fourth-floor lobby of his office. He glanced at the wall clock. 8:02 AM. Two minutes late.

"Morning, Rif," greeted Dani, a coworker in the adjacent cubicle holding a coffee mug.

"Morning, Dan," Arif replied with a shaking voice. He set down his backpack, his eyes darting restlessly. "Dan, what date is it today?"

Dani chuckled, treating Arif's question as a morning joke. "Have you been working too much overtime, Rif? It's the same date as yesterday, obviously. Why? Scared the boss is gonna hound you for the northern project report?"

Before Arif could reply, the intercom on his desk buzzed loudly. Pak Malik's heavy, sharp voice cut through the air, precisely as recorded in Arif's memory.

"Arif, my office. Now."

That voice made Arif's hair stand on end. Dani patted Arif's shoulder with a grimace. "Well, good luck, bro. Sounds like the hungry lion is hunting for prey again."

Arif walked down the corridor on legs that felt as weak as jelly. Every inch of this space, the fading apple air freshener scent, to the towering stacks of files on the secretary's desk, confirmed his greatest fear: This was no ordinary déjà vu.

He pushed open the dark glass door of Pak Malik's office. The biting AC air pierced his skin. Pak Malik sat right there behind the mahogany desk, signing documents before tossing a thick white envelope onto the center of the desk.

"Sit down, Arif," Pak Malik ordered expressionlessly, not even looking up at his face.

Arif sat stiffly. This time, he decided to test the waters. "This is the northern branch logistics report you requested. I finished it last night."

"No need," Pak Malik cut in coldly. He crossed his arms and fixed Arif with a condescending glare. "The company is restructuring. And after evaluating your sluggish performance, compounded by your messy attendance this morning... management has decided to terminate your employment. Effective as of today."

That dialogue. The tone of voice. Even the tapping of Pak Malik's pen against the desk. Everything was exact. Arif felt as though he were watching a movie whose script he had memorized by heart.

"Why, sir?" Arif asked, trying to keep his emotions from exploding too early. "I always work overtime. The northern project was finished right on deadline. This 'sluggish performance' excuse makes no sense."

Pak Malik scoffed dismissively, leaning back into his leather chair. "Don't argue, Arif. The decision is final. You aren't competent enough for this company's standards. Sign that severance letter, pack your things, and get out."

Arif reached for the white envelope, opened it, and saw the insulting compensation figure. One month's salary with zero tenure benefits.

"Sir, this is wrongful termination," Arif said, his voice rising an octave. "According to labor laws, my rights amount to more than this. I've been here three years!"

Pak Malik let out a cynical laugh—a laugh that made Arif's chest rumble with suppressed fury. "Laws? You want to talk law with me? Get real, Arif. You're just a low-level staffer. If you don't want to accept that amount, go ahead and sue us. But remember, the company has a legal team that can drag this case out for years in court. As for you? You're probably stressing over how to buy food tomorrow. Sign it now, or walk out of here with nothing."

Arif stared at the arrogant face before him. On his finger, the Frost Circle ring suddenly pulsed, sending a sub-zero chill coursing through his entire body, quelling his panic and replacing it with a cold, razor-sharp clarity.

If today really repeats itself... Arif thought, a bizarre smile nearly twitching at the corner of his lips, that means whatever I do today will have zero consequences tomorrow.

"Arif! Why are you daydreaming? Sign it!" Pak Malik snapped, slamming his desk in irritation at Arif's unusual calmness.

Arif placed his pen back down on the desk. He stood up, locking eyes with Pak Malik in a way that made the boss flinch backward slightly.

"I won't sign it now, sir," Arif said calmly, his voice sounding entirely different from his cowardly self in the previous loop.

"What did you say?!" Pak Malik's face flushed red.

"I said no," Arif repeated, stepping backward toward the door. "Keep this trash letter for now. We'll see about that."

Without caring about Pak Malik's enraged roar echoing inside the air-conditioned office, Arif turned on his heel and walked out with a firm stride. He knew today would end with a heavy storm, and he knew he would wake up tomorrow morning in that exact same bed.

If this world was handing him a time curse, Arif decided to turn that curse into his very own playground.