Palmerah District, Early Morning
The morning sun reflected golden gleams atop a grand European-style mansion—white marble walls, tall pillars, and a sprawling garden with a fountain pond. A palace in the heart of the city.
In front of the carved iron gate, dozens of reporters jostled, cameras ready to flash. But a large guard wearing dark sunglasses blocked them like a living wall.
*Creak—*
The gate swung open.
A woman in a black silk gown and diamond jewelry stepped out, followed by a teenager in a high school uniform—but clearly custom-made fabric, a classic cut that made him look like a young prince.
[ZEIN, Leader of Palmerah District]
Reporters immediately shouted:
"Mrs. Clarissa! What is your opinion on the Palmerah development project?"
"Zein! Is it true you will inherit the Governor's position?"
Clarissa simply waved, a perfect smile on her face. "Sorry, my child has to go to school first~"
But inside her heart:
"Photograph me, worship me, you parasite media. You are just dogs thirsty for sensation."
Zein ignored the commotion, his eyes cold like glass.
"Zein, dear," Clarissa held his shoulder. "Is your allowance enough? Would you like me to buy you a new car? Or a vacation to Switzerland?"
Before Zein could answer—
*CRASH!*
The guard suddenly shoved the reporters until one fell. The way was cleared for a carriage—an antique golden-covered vehicle, pulled by two pure white horses. The driver was a man in a soldier's hat, his uniform neat like a royal soldier.
Zein stepped into the carriage without a word. The servants bowed 90 degrees.
"Don't forget to eat, okay! Even bad grades are fine!" Clarissa shouted.
"HIYAH!"
The carriage sped away, leaving the reporters who began protesting:
"You are violating the Press Law!"
"We have recordings! Even the Governor's family can't defeat us!"
Clarissa looked back, her smile suddenly sharp.
*Whoosh!*
A bundle of banknotes fluttered in the air like dirty snow. The reporters immediately turned into a pack of wolves—they elbowed each other, some even tumbling around.
Clarissa turned away, whispering coldly:
"Eat up, you filth of society."
The gate closed.
Inside the Carriage
Zein gazed out the window, expressionless.
Suddenly, the driver spoke:
"Whew, Young Master. Life on top? Trampling on others as you please?"
Zein slowly turned his head.
"You... dare to be insolent to me?" His voice suddenly like ice. "Dogs like you should only bark when commanded."
The driver laughed—a hoarse sound like rusted iron.
"Oh, this old heart aches so much~"
Zein took out his phone, his finger hovering over the security chief's number.
But—
*Slap!*
A letter flew into his lap. It read:
"Meeting of District Leaders... West Jakarta?"
Zein froze.
"Y-you... envoy of Him?"
The security call connected:
"Young Master Zein? Is there a problem?"
"No. Wrong number." Zein closed his phone, trembling.
The driver smiled, his hat covering eyes that suddenly glowed red.
"Next time... be careful with your words, Young Master."
Tambora District, Afternoon
A luxurious restaurant inside the government complex. The Governor of Tambora—a fat man with diamond rings on every finger—was ordering his secretary:
"I don't like dog meat. That's tacky."
Suddenly, the door opened.
"Look! The Rogue Leader of Tambora has arrived!" The Governor cheered.
[BIMA, Leader of Tambora District]
Bima entered in cowboy style—leather hat, black gloves, dusty boots. Without preamble, he sat on the best chair and threw his legs onto the table.
"You all—out!" The Governor dismissed his staff.
As the food arrived, they began eating, but in the middle of it, the chef—a man wearing a hat whose face was hidden—whispered to the secretary:
"This... is dog meat."
"WHAT?!" The secretary immediately ran to the Governor. "Don't eat this, Sir! It's dog meat!"
The Governor immediately vomited.
"You wretched—!"
But Bima was faster. He already grabbed the chef's collar.
"You did this on purpose, didn't you?"
The chef smiled. From under his hat, only teeth were visible; his eyes closed.
"Yes~"
Bima raised his fist—
But the chef showed him an open letter:
"Meeting of District Leaders... West Jakarta?"
Bima released his grip.
"Wow, I almost died, you know~" the chef then straightened his hat and left. "Relax, it's not dog meat. Just a joke~"
As he left, the Governor whispered to the secretary:
"Fire him. But secretly."
Tamansari District, Late Afternoon
The orange sky was brushed with colorful fireworks. On the reservoir embankment stood a group of teenagers drunk on alcohol and girls—except one.
[HALI, Leader of Tamansari District]
"Hali, you freak! Go find a woman! You have unmatched power here! I'm sure no one would dare refuse you," his friend mocked.
Hali gulped down a bottle of vodka straight.
"I just want this whole city to be drunk—that's all, I don't need a woman!"
*Wiuu-wiuu!*
Police sirens approached. Everyone ran—except Hali.
A chubby policeman stepped down, trembling:
"I-I'm sorry, Hali! But some of our officers tried to arrest you!"
From the car, a man in police uniform stepped out. His hat covered his eyes.
Hali drew a dagger.
"You dare disturb me? I'll burn down every police post in Tamansari, you know!"
Suddenly—
*Bang!*
The policeman was already behind him, embracing Hali like an old friend.
"Playing with knives is dangerous, especially for a high school kid like you~"
He showed Hali a letter:
"Meeting of District Leaders... West Jakarta?"
The policeman disappeared as quickly as he came.
Hali stood still—his vodka bottle dropped, shattered like the fate that had just stalked him.
--TO BE CONTINUED---