The morning sun had just begun to peek over the tiled roofs of Suka Maju Village, casting a warm glow across the front porch of Barokah Jaya Convenience Store. However, the atmosphere inside the house that morning was lightyears away from normal.

Bagas hauled himself out of bed much earlier than usual—even shattering the personal wakeup record of the traveling vegetable vendor. With dark circles under his eyes from a complete lack of sleep, he marched straight into the kitchen with a mission of monumental, crushing importance: executing Operation "Keep Mum Alive."

Mum, who had just stumbled out of her bedroom rubbing her eyes and dragging her trusty coconut-fiber broom along, abruptly froze right in the kitchen doorway. She jolted backward in shock at the sight of Bagas standing at attention, decked out in a worn-out plastic apron, clutching a warm glass of tea in his right hand and a plate of sliced ripe papaya in his left.

"Hey! What forest spirit or banyan-tree ghost possessed you this early in the morning, Bagas?!" Mum squawked in alarm, taking a cautious step back while raising her broom like a defensive spear. "Why are you dressed like a five-star restaurant waiter? Are you trying to poison me with rat bait, huh?!"

Bagas instantly slapped on the most devoted, saintly smile known to humanity, though his lips twitched nervously. "Goodness, Mum! Why would you say that to your own flesh and blood? This morning, Bagas is here to offer VIP concierge service exclusively to the reigning Queen of Suka Maju Household!" Bagas purred in a super-soft, oily tone. "Here, Mum, have a seat right here at the dining table. No overworking allowed."

Mum narrowed her eyes, studying her middle child from head to toe with a level of high-grade suspicion usually reserved for con artists. "No way, no way! There’s definitely a fishy plot behind all this! You wouldn't suddenly wake up acting like a pious model son unless you were hiding a colossal sin!"

"I swear on an entire month of mobile data quotas, Bagas hasn't done anything wrong, Mum!" Bagas protested, gently guiding Mum by the elbow until she sank into a wooden chair. He immediately dropped down into a half-kneel beside her, carefully massaging her calves. "There, just stay quiet. Enjoy this budget-hotel reflexology massage. Mum is forbidden from getting tired today. No lifting water jugs, no sweeping, and most importantly... absolutely no cooking spicy food!"

Mum instantly yanked her leg away from Bagas’s grip and glared daintily. "What?! No spicy food?! Hey, you know my homemade chili paste is the spiritual fuel of my daily existence! Without it, my tongue tastes like I'm chewing on a sheet of newspaper!"

"Period, full stop, no comma—starting today, our household menu is officially downgraded to plain clear spinach soup with zero salt and zero chilies!" Bagas declared with overprotective intensity. "For the sake of your stomach lining and... uh, for the greater good!"

Mum’s suspicion officially hit critical mass. She glared down at Bagas, her chest heaving with suppressed fury. The middle-aged woman stood up from her chair, pointing the wooden handle of her broom straight at Bagas’s face like an elite police interrogator.

"Sit right there! Don't move an inch!" Mum commanded with absolute finality.

Bagas swallowed hard against a rising lump in his throat, freezing rigidly in his wooden chair.

Mum paced back and forth in front of Bagas like a supreme judge tearing into a high-profile corporate corruption suspect. "Alright, Bagas. Time's up on this fake sweet-talking performance. Now tell Mum the truth! What massive crime did you just commit out there in the real world?!"

"What crime?! I swear I'm a good boy..." Bagas squeaked out defensively.

"Don't you lie to me!" Mum barked fiercely, waving her broom handle dangerously close to Bagas's nose. "Mum is wildly suspicious of this sudden total personality flip into a super-alert, dutiful son! Confess right now—what trouble are you plotting? Are you trying to secretly elude my permission to elude off and marry the scrap-metal tycoon's widow next door? Or did you hock the title deed to this house to fund online slot machine gambling? Or... don't tell me you got some poor girl pregnant?!"

Bagas gasped in horror, nearly tumbling backward out of his chair at the sheer absurdity of the accusations. "Good grief, Mum! Secret marriage with who?! I don't even have a girlfriend, my entire life is just rotting away on a bamboo cot! Online gambling? My e-wallet balance is sitting at two thousand rupiah from a toothpaste cashback promo!"

"Then if nothing is wrong, why are you acting all overprotective, trying to boss me around like a prison warden?!" Mum pressed relentlessly, her eyes narrowing down on him for a confession. "Nothing in this house stays hidden from Mum! Confess before this broom handle makes direct contact with your skull!"

Bagas sat frozen in place, his head spinning wildly. He desperately wanted to blurt out the whole truth about the expiration-date curse and Mum's rapidly shrinking lifespan, but he knew with absolute certainty that if he said those words, she would haul him straight to a psychiatric ward on charges of acute mental collapse.

Right in the middle of Mum's aggressive interrogation—while she continued to brandish her broom handle—suddenly...

Ring... ring... ring!

The shrill chime of an incoming cell phone call tore through the heavy tension in the room.

Mum halted her interrogation momentarily, digging into the pocket of her batik house dress to pull out her smartphone, whose screen was glowing brightly with an incoming video call.

"Hold on, we're not done with this interrogation yet!" Mum warned Bagas with a sharp glare before glancing down at the display.

Mum’s brow furrowed deep. The video call was originating from an unknown number featuring an unfamiliar foreign area code, completely devoid of any caller ID name.

"Whose number is this calling via video chat this early..." Mum muttered in confusion, pressing the green button to accept the call and hoisting the phone up in front of her face. "Hello? Who is this?"

Bagas, sitting rigidly in his chair with his heart hammering against his ribs, reflexively snapped his gaze toward Mum’s phone screen.

Inside the small video window, there was no human face to be seen. Instead, the screen displayed a pitch-black room against a background of cold grey concrete, centered around a glowing, spinning purple hourglass symbol.

Before Mum could demand an answer, a cold, flat, emotionless voice echoed out from the phone's speaker, clearly stating Bagas's full name before dropping a lethal bombshell that instantly turned Bagas's blood running ice-cold:

"Morning, Ma'am... We are calling from the Department of Destiny Verification. Has the 'lifespan warranty' for the subject named Bagas and his mother at Barokah Jaya Convenience Store been successfully renewed for this month's billing cycle?"

Mum jolted violently, pulling the phone away from her ear with her eyes blown wide open in sheer bewilderment. "What?! Lifespan warranty?! Who talks about a warranty like this is an appliance store?!"

Bagas sat paralyzed in his chair, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at absolute attention. The curse... was entirely real, and they knew precisely where he was hiding.