Evening in Suka Maju Village descended slowly, carrying along a cooling, damp breeze that offered sweet relief after a long day beneath the punishing sun. The western horizon cast a brilliant splash of reddish-orange hues blending harmoniously with fluffy white clouds, creating a breathtaking, serene view above the tightly packed rooftops of the villagers' homes.

The atmosphere on the front porch of Barokah Jaya Convenience Store that afternoon was deeply peaceful, standing in stark contrast to the previous days filled with cosmic panic, loan-shark pursuits, and inter-family countdown dramas.

Atop the creaky bamboo cot that served as the silent witness to Bagas’s absolute mastery of slackerdom, the young man sat cross-legged in a relaxed posture. Before him, a small tray resting on a faded plastic table mat presented the ultimate worldly luxuries: a ceramic mug of warm sweet tea sending up wisps of thin steam and a full plate of crispy-on-the-outside, soft-on-the-inside corn fritters freshly whipped up by Mum.

"Ah... This right here is the ultimate definition of living life without inner turmoil," Bagas muttered softly, taking a deeply appreciative sip of his sweet tea.

Not far from where Bagas sat, Rara occupied a small plastic chair while clutching her favorite pink calculator. The vocational accounting student tapped away energetically at the buttons, while the thick, neatly organized daily shop ledger lay open before her.

"Big Bro Bagas, stop spending all your time just sipping tea!" Rara protested, casting a sharp glance sideways without tearing her eyes away from the calculator display. "Help me analyze this week's profit and loss statement! Thanks to last night's block party celebration, our grocery stock might be wiped out, but today our sales turnover spiked threefold because everyone came back to shop here again!"

Bagas chuckled softly, biting into half of his corn fritter. "Financial analysis is best left to our resident economic minister, Minister Rara. Big Bro's department is strictly professional fried-snack consumption consultancy."

"Ugh, his slacker habits are acting up again!" Rara scoffed, rolling her eyes in deep annoyance. "Just watch, when monthly dividend profits get distributed, don't come crying to me when you don't get your internet data quota allowance!"

"Whoa, whoa, leave the internet quota out of this! That's Big Bro's lifeline!" Bagas defended himself instantly, earning a light chuckle from Rara.

The cozy ambiance of the porch grew even more complete with the arrival of Dad, who had just sauntered over from the security post, casually sipping black coffee from his favorite tin mug. Dad settled into a wooden chair beside Mum, resting his tilted cap on the table.

"Say, do you guys know the latest news from the security post this afternoon?" Dad kicked off with fiery enthusiasm, eyeing his children expectantly.

Mum, who had just stepped out of the shop carrying an extra plate, instantly let out a cynical scoff. "What wild conspiracy theory is your old man cooking up now? Don't tell me aliens started broadcasting radio signals through the neighbor's TV antenna again."

"Not aliens, Mum—this is way more scientific!" Dad argued back, refusing to back down as he straightened his spine. "Cak Edi said this week's rice price hike is directly tied to a secret spy satellite movement deliberately funneling hot weather onto local farmers' fields! If we aren't careful, before long the very oxygen we breathe is going to be slapped with a monthly subscription fee by outer-space entities!"

Bagas and Rara spontaneously burst out laughing at Dad's signature brand of nonsense.

"Oh, come on, Dad, you're retired from the village office, but your detective conspiracy side-hustle just keeps getting stronger," Bagas joked with a wide grin. "Forget about alien satellites. Drink your warm tea so your karma stays balanced."

Mum shook her head gently at her husband's antics, though the corners of her mouth twitched, threatening to betray a smile. She then flicked her gaze toward Bagas, tapping her clean cleaning rag against her middle child's shoulder. "You too, Bagas. Sitting there grinning like a starving shellfish. What are you daydreaming about? Fretting over the rival store's tab, or stressing out over your hopelessly directionless future?"

Bagas turned to look at Mum. The middle-aged woman looked fresh, radiating a fiercely warm maternal aura entirely free from any terrifying translucent numbers hovering across her brow.

"I'm not daydreaming about anything, Mum," Bagas replied softly. He cast a sweeping gaze across Dad, Mum, and his younger sister. "Big Bro was just reflecting... just feeling grateful that we're all still sitting here together, drinking tea, bickering over pointless nonsense, and enjoying the afternoon without any supernatural entities crashing the party."

Mum huffed softly, though warmth danced in her eyes. "That's why you shouldn't go around picking fights with destiny. Life is meant to be lived as it comes, appreciating whatever you have in front of you without all that overthinking nonsense."

Hearing Mum's words, Bagas nodded internally in quiet agreement. The absurd adventure he had endured over the past several weeks—from witnessing expiration numbers, getting terrorized by mysterious text messages, being dragged through a fake shaman's shophouse, to nearly drowning in a blocked sewer—had delivered a profound philosophical breakthrough fitting for a true master slacker.

Bagas smiled faintly, reviewing his journey through life.

Human existence is remarkably short, Bagas dialogued inwardly. We spend so much time overthinking when our clock is going to run out, chasing status, fighting over trivial things—when the time we actually get on this earth is barely a blip. Expiration numbers and countdown clocks aren't worth stressing over, because at the end of the day... life expectancy discounts are never available at any store.

Time couldn't be bought, couldn't be haggled down like market chili prices, and couldn't be extended via discount coupons. All a human being could do was cherish every ticking second, laugh alongside the people they loved, and savor a warm mug of sweet tea on a lazy afternoon with their dearest family.

"Hey, stop zoning out! You were told to help clear the plates, not stare up at the sky like a heartbroken poet!" Mum scolded, snapping Bagas out of his reverie.

"Right, right, Madam Shop Queen! These plates are headed out!" Bagas replied with a cheerful laugh, pushing himself up from the bamboo cot.

Bagas closed his eyes for a brief beat, welcoming the soft afternoon breeze sweeping gently across his face. Amidst the tranquility of dusk, he caught the familiar sound of Mum yelling from inside the shop for Rara's blunder with the cracker jar—a noisy racket he had once dreaded losing, but which now stood as the most beautiful, comforting sound in the entire world.

Bagas smiled broadly. He knew that true chapter-by-chapter living—free of numerical curses, sci-fi drama, and cosmic panic—was only beginning today, anchored by a genuine smile carved across his face.

The End