Phuby had started streaming mostly out of desperation. He had tried job hunting for nearly a year after graduating, but rejection after rejection drained his motivation. Every morning felt heavier than the last. His mother, Mrs. Wulan, had always supported him quietly, even if her eyes showed worry. Om Luky, his stepfather, never pressured him either, but Phuby could tell they were both hoping he'd find his way.
One evening in early 2025, after receiving yet another impersonal rejection email, Phuby set up his makeshift streaming station in the corner of their temporary kitchen space at the newly rented shophouse. The space had potential—three floors with an open rooftop—but it was still half in boxes, half in dreams.
He went live with the title: "Baking the Past – Reviving Toko Kue Palm Sari". The camera showed him preparing simple pastries—kastengel and lapis legit—from old family recipes passed down from his grandfather. The scent alone reminded him of childhood, of better days when the shop bustled with customers.
His first stream only had three viewers. But one username stood out: @HanaHoshi.
She commented in a mix of English and Japanese: "このレシピ,懐かしい感じがします (This recipe feels nostalgic)."
Phuby smiled nervously and typed a reply using his Japanese dictionary app: "ありがとう… ゆっくり作ります!(Thank you… I'll make it slowly!)"
Hana responded with a laughing emoji and a sticker of a smiling cat. She didn't leave the stream.
That first stream ended with only four viewers, but it felt like a victory. He made Rp200.000 in donations—small, but more than he had earned in a long time.
The next evening, Hana returned. This time, she asked about the recipe, about Indonesia, about why he started baking. Phuby answered slowly, sometimes typing, sometimes speaking. His Japanese was rough, his accent clumsy, but she was kind.
They started messaging off-stream. Then emails. Then late-night video calls.
He learned that Hana was a Japanese teacher who had moved to Cirebon a year ago to work at a local university. Her father had worked in trade and had visited Indonesia often, so when a lecturer position opened, she applied without hesitation. She loved the language, and she loved sharing it with others.
Phuby told her about Toko Kue Palm Sari—the shop his grandparents opened in 2001 in their old house. He spoke of how it was shut down during COVID and how his grandmother had sold the family house in 2020 for Rp2.000.000.000, a decision that still lingered in everyone's heart. His grandfather passed away on May 5th, 2022, and since then, Phuby, his mother, Om Luky, and his mom's younger brother had been living with his grandmother.
Now, after saving from the mysterious Cashback of the Heart System, they had moved into a large three-floor shophouse, finally reopening the bakery.
Phuby found himself smiling more. He started looking forward to the mornings. He cleaned more, walked outside more, and even practiced spoken Japanese.
One day, after a busy livestream and a flurry of cake orders, Hana sent him a message:
"You know… If you ever need help at the bakery, I'd love to learn how to bake too."
He stared at the screen, his cheeks burning. He typed: "We'd love to have you. The kitchen is open—just like the rooftop."
Phuby didn't know where this path was leading yet. But for the first time in his adult life, he wasn't scared of the future.
It was rising, slow and golden, like bread in the oven.