Ring! Ring! Ring!

6:00 AM. The pages of time rolled back to zero. The same scenario, the same alarm, and the same pile of bills. Yet for Arif, every second of this morning was preparation before a storm. He no longer cared about the cold cement floor of his room or the whirring of the dusty fan. His mind raced far ahead, stitching together the lines of words he would use as bullets in the upcoming negotiation room.

Arif deliberately followed his usual commute rhythm to the office. He let himself get crammed inside the TransJakarta bus, observing the robotic details of the passengers around him. The difference was that this time, a new resolve burned in his eyes. The Frost Circle ring on his finger fit snugly, pulsing softly as if supplying a stream of chilly energy that kept his head razor-sharp.

The moment he arrived on the fourth floor at precisely 8:00 AM, Arif headed straight for his cubicle. This time, the termination procedure shifted slightly from Pak Malik's private office to the HR department's room enclosed by transparent glass partitions in the center of the floor. Pak Malik apparently wanted this process to look formal and administratively legitimate so his scapegoating scheme could run without a hitch.

Buzz... The intercom vibrated. "Arif, please report to the HR room now," Siska the secretary's voice sounded flat.

Arif stood, straightened his shirt, and stepped inside. Inside the pristine white HR room, Pak Malik already sat alongside Bu Sarah, the stiff-faced HR head. Atop the round table between them, the thick white envelope sat waiting.

"Sit down, Arif," Bu Sarah said formally. "The company is restructuring, and based on your performance evaluation—"

"Let's skip the administrative pleasantries, Bu Sarah," Arif interrupted calmly, locking his gaze directly onto Pak Malik, who was pretending to check his phone. "We all know why I'm here. And it's not because of my work performance."

Bu Sarah startled, casting an awkward glance at Pak Malik. Pak Malik slowly lowered his phone, his eyes narrowing at Arif with a flash of suppressed anger. "Arif, watch your tongue. This is an official proceeding. Sign this letter or—"

"Or what, Pak Malik? Will you report me for the northern branch logistics losses?" Arif leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know about the tactical fund flows to PT Garuda Nusantara Logistik. I know that dummy vendor belongs to your wife, Mrs. Miranda. Four point two billion rupiah didn't just vanish due to my administrative error; it was deliberately funneled away."

The atmosphere inside the HR room instantly froze. Bu Sarah held her breath, her eyes widening in disbelief as she stared at Pak Malik before shifting her gaze back to Arif.

Pak Malik remained silent for several seconds. A flush of red crept up his neck, yet as a slick and cunning executive, he didn't blow up like in previous loops. He took a deep breath, reined in his shock, and let out a short, deeply dismissive chuckle—a bizarre, intrigue-laden laugh.

"Garuda Nusantara? Miranda?" Pak Malik shook his head with a faked expression of bafflement. "Arif, Arif... your creativity in inventing fantasy stories is turning out higher than your office performance. Sarah, do you see this? A frustrated employee who got fired is starting to hallucinate and drag my family's name into this."

"I have the transfer data, sir," Arif insisted, raising his voice to press the point.

"What data?" Pak Malik challenged, leaning forward with a winning smirk. "Where is the data? Go ahead and show it right now in front of Bu Sarah. Is it on sheets of paper? Or a file on your flash drive? You know, Arif, making fake tables in Excel or faking bank account names on the internet is child's play for anyone who's desperate."

Arif froze. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He realized a fatal flaw in today's strategy: he had launched a bluff without bringing valid physical proof in his hands in real-time. In this loop, he hadn't had the chance to sneak into Pak Malik's computer to copy data or swipe the wet-stamped document from his right desk drawer. He had relied entirely on memory from the previous loop.

Pak Malik, recognizing Arif's hesitation, struck back decisively. "Sarah, please record this as an act of slander and defamation. Arif, if you don't sign this severance agreement peacefully right now, I won't hesitate to call the company's legal team to drag you through court for defamation and extortion against a superior. We have witnesses, and we have your messy digital footprint."

Bu Sarah cleared her throat stiffly, fixing Arif with a cold glare. "Arif, a bluff without evidence like this only worsens your position. I suggest you sign the letter and leave amicably."

Arif stared at Pak Malik, who now wore a triumphant, cynical smile across the table. His bargaining position collapsed instantly. His bluff was too raw, too hasty, and lacked preparation. He lost round one because he underestimated the psychological cunning of a veteran corruptor.

With clenched fists, Arif stood from his chair without touching the pen. "This meeting is over," he muttered hoarsely.

Without caring about Bu Sarah calling out to him, Arif turned on his heel and walked out of the HR room, passing the bewildered stares of his coworkers, and headed straight out of the office building into the drizzling Jakarta streets.

That afternoon, Arif locked himself inside his cramped boarding room. The fragments of today's failure lingered in his head, yet they didn't shatter him like before. He sat on the cement floor, leaning against the bed while gazing at the Frost Circle ring shimmering with a cold light.

He began evaluating his mistakes with a cool head.

"I was too impatient," Arif muttered into the silence of the night. "I thought just dropping the name of that dummy vendor would make him crack instantly. I forgot he's an old fox with a thousand excuses to deflect in front of others."

Arif picked up a blank sheet of paper and a pen. He began mapping out the weaknesses in his negotiation just now:

1. Verbal bluffs fall flat without physical proof visible to third parties (like HR or upper management).

2. Pak Malik weaponized that lack of proof to flip the narrative, framing me as a stressed, hallucinating employee.

3. I must secure the wet-stamped document in his desk drawer BEFORE that termination meeting ever takes place.

Arif closed his eyes, feeling the cool aura from his ring creep up to his forehead, soothing the remnants of his frustration. Today's failure wasn't real. Tomorrow morning, all of Pak Malik and Bu Sarah's bad memories of his bluff would be completely wiped, resetting to zero. Only Arif carried these hard-earned lessons into tomorrow.

"Round one of the negotiations may belong to you, Malik," Arif whispered, staring at the wall clock slowly ticking toward midnight. "But tomorrow, I won't come with a story. I'll arrive holding a leash tailored precisely for your neck."