The sun had barely climbed high enough to start searing the asphalt of Suka Maju Village, yet inside the Barokah Jaya Convenience Store, the air felt suffocatingly hot—not because of the weather, but because Bagas’s head was moments away from exploding.

All night long, the young man hadn't been able to close his eyes. The cryptic text message from an unknown number echoing in his mind like a broken cassette tape: "Stop looking at their numbers too often, or your own numbers will start to fade away."

"Ugh, my head is going to split open..." Bagas groaned, burying his face in his arms across the cash register counter, trying to banish the haunting image of the translucent digits that had been burning into his retinas since yesterday.

Before Bagas could even catch a breath, the deafening roar of an oversized, modified scooter exhaust ripped through the morning air right outside the shop porch. The rider was intentionally revving it as loudly as possible, as if announcing to the entire village that he had finally leveled up his social status.

Vroom... vroom-vroom-vroom!

"Morning, Bu Haji! And a special morning to her golden child whose only job description is professional horizontal resting!" announced an arrogant voice from the doorway.

Bagas wearily raised his head. Standing there with supreme, punchable swagger was Mas Joko, the next-door neighbor who had blown through his grandfather's inherited land money two days ago to finance a brand-new, oversized scooter. Mas Joko was decked out in an oversized synthetic leather jacket, cheap sunglasses worn indoors where lighting was scarce, and stood leaning on one foot while lazily twirling a keyring featuring the logo of a luxury motorcycle brand around his index finger.

Mum, who was busy tidying up a jar of crackers, forced a plastic, corporate-grade smile to greet the visitor. "Well, if it isn't Mas Joko. Quite early for a visit. Here to show off your installment plan again, or just picking up a cheap coffee packet?"

Mas Joko offered a condescending chuckle, swaggering into the shop with his chest puffed out. "Ah, Bu Haji loves to joke around. Installments are child's play for a young entrepreneur like myself, Ma'am! A scooter worth over ten million rupiah is nothing—just swipe the card and drive it home!" he declared, tossing his motorcycle keys onto the wooden cash register with a loud clatter.

Mum let out a soft huff, biting back the urge to hurl a bottle of soy sauce straight at her neighbor's skull. "Sure, sure, Mr. Entrepreneur. So, what on earth brings you here on such a fine morning, Mas Joko? Don't tell me you're here to buy cigarettes on credit like last week?"

"Oh, come on, Mum, why bring up the dark ages!" Mas Joko protested with a proud chuckle, digging into his jacket pocket. "Today I'm paying cash, no credit! Get me two packs of the expensive filtered smokes and an energy drink. Gotta keep my CEO energy dialed to maximum all day!"

Bagas, sitting right beside the cash register, suddenly stiffened. Without thinking, his eyes snapped toward Mas Joko's forehead. The moment his vision locked on, Bagas's heart leaped straight up into his throat.

Hovering right above Mas Joko's head was a string of translucent, dark red digits flashing aggressively, ticking down a terrifyingly brief remaining lifespan:

000:03:12:45

Three hours from now?! Bagas screamed internally. Mas Joko had barely three hours left to live, yet the guy was standing here flexing a scooter installment plan like he was a street-corner mob boss?!

Bagas bolted upright from his plastic chair with a violent jolt, sending the chair skidding harshly across the floor. "Mas Joko!"

Mas Joko, mid-way through catching a pack of cigarettes from Mum, glanced over with a single eyebrow raised high behind his sunglasses. "What's your deal, Gas? Shocked to see your neighbor leveling up and riding a big bike? That's what you get for spending your life rotting away on a bamboo cot instead of buying cool toys like me!"

"It's not about that, Mas..." Bagas stepped forward, his face completely drained of color as cold sweat began beading on his temples. "I swear, for the sake of your life and limb... please, just don't go anywhere today. Do not ride that motorcycle!"

Mum narrowed her eyes, fixing her son with a deeply suspicious, thoroughly annoyed glare. "Hey, Bagas! What kind of nonsense are you spewing? The man wants to go out for a ride, and you're trying to ban him! Did your brain short-circuit from a chronic lack of fresh air or what?"

"It's not nonsense, Mum! I'm dead serious, I swear!" Bagas grabbed Mas Joko by both shoulders in a blind panic, causing the neighbor to aggressively swat Bagas's hands away with an offended grimace.

"Whoa, chill out, Gas! Stop grabbing my clothes, it's creepy!" Mas Joko snapped, angrily straightening his leather jacket. "What is wrong with you? Are you seriously that jealous just because I got a new bike? Afraid I'm going to out-charm you?"

"I am not jealous, Mas Joko!" Bagas's voice shot up in pitch, fueled by sheer terror, while the numbers ticking over Mas Joko's head relentlessly marched backward: 000:03:10:20. "Listen to me! If you stubbornly ride that bike right now down the main highway, you're going to get... look, you're going to suffer a massive accident! Seriously, just leave the bike here and go take a nap on my bamboo cot!"

Mas Joko stared at Bagas as if he were looking at an inmate who had just broken out of a psychiatric ward. He burst out into a loud, mocking laugh. "Hahaha! I swear, this kid gets crazier by the day! Are you seriously wishing a car crash on me, Gas? Wow, you're pathetic—hate to see a player win, huh?"

"I am not wishing it on you, Mas! I'm trying to save your life!" Bagas pleaded desperately, grabbing the hem of Mas Joko's jacket.

Mum’s patience finally ran out entirely. She reached out and grabbed Bagas’s ear, twisting it hard until the young man yelped in pain. "Ow! Mum! Ouch, that hurts, Mum!" Bagas cried out, clutching his burning red ear.

"This kid definitely needs to be drop-kicked this early in the morning!" Mum growled fiercely, planting her hands on her hips in front of Mas Joko. "Ignore him, Mas Joko. My son has had a loose screw in his head since birth; he loves talking absolute rubbish. Just pretend he's possessed by an amateur psychic spirit."

Mas Joko puffed out his chest, sneering scornfully at Bagas. "That's why, Bu Haji, you've got to discipline your kids properly. Don't let them hallucinate all day. Anyway, I'm heading out to cruise the village and show off my new ride! Time to catch some fresh air, not take free fortune-telling sessions from a deadbeat!"

"Right, Mas Joko, go ahead. Drive safe," Mum replied pleasantly.

Mas Joko snatched his pack of cigarettes, shoved them into his pocket, and strutted out of the shop with his signature obnoxious swagger. He straddled his oversized scooter, turned the ignition, and threw Bagas one last dismissive smirk from behind his sunglasses.

Bagas, whose ear was still trapped in Mum's iron grip, thrashed against her hold and screamed at the top of his lungs from the front porch. "Mas Joko! Don't take the dangerous corner at the crossroad! Don't speed, Mas!"

"Whatever! Go worry about your own unemployed life!" Mas Joko mocked back.

Vroom!

Mas Joko twisted the throttle deep, making the engine roar with an ear-splitting scream. Without wasting another second, he launched forward, rocketing straight out of the convenience store yard and leaving behind a thin puff of morning exhaust smoke.

Bagas stood frozen in place, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs.

At the exact second Mas Joko's front tire crossed the blind corner at the edge of the alley, the translucent dark red digits hovering above the man's head flashed with blinding, strobe-like fury—and then vanished completely, swallowed up by the empty air.

Crash!

A horrific sound of heavy metal colliding echoed from the direction of the main highway, instantly followed by the hysterical screams of villagers pouring out of their homes.

Bagas stood petrified, while Mum—standing right beside him—instantly dropped a plastic jar from her hands, her eyes blown wide open in sheer horror.