Morning sunlight streamed through the large glass windows of the campus café, casting geometric patterns of light across the floor.
The place was bustling; the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee mingled with the spirited chatter of students. The warm light bounced softly off the wooden tables, creating an impression of peace that stood in stark contrast to the riotous morning.
This bright, clear day was the total opposite of the desolate café battered by the storm the night before.
Arka sat alone at a table near the window, slowly savoring his first cup of hot black coffee of the day. Thin wisps of steam rose from the dark liquid, greeting his nose with a soothing, bitter fragrance. He felt fresh, full, and—most importantly—rich.
At the next table, a group of female students had gathered, their voices, feigning sweetness, audible enough to overhear. Their laughter broke out occasionally, slicing through the warm atmosphere of the café with high-pitched notes.
"Crazy, right? Did you see Noel Sanjaya's story last night?"
"Oh my Goood! In the middle of that storm, he still managed to look so fashionable! So cool, right?"
"He is literally the definition of perfection, you know. Insanely handsome, stylish, and the son of a wealthy tycoon to boot! The Sanjaya family is no joke..."
"I wonder when I'll at least bump into him in the lobby..."
Arka sipped his coffee, glancing at them from the corner of his eye. His brow lifted slightly, an expression hovering between amusement and boredom. Noel Sanjaya? The name sounded vaguely familiar, perhaps from the news or campus gossip.
He rolled his eyes slightly.
Dramatic.
He didn't care who Noel was. But one word from their conversation triggered something within him.
Wealthy.
A cocky, lopsided grin instantly bloomed on his lips. The corner of his mouth quirked up slowly, as if responding to an unseen challenge.
"Hmph," he muttered softly into his coffee cup.
"I'm rich too."
He patted the pocket of his jeans, where his thick wallet and his new phone which was still in his online shopping cart were supposed to be. A brilliant idea, sparked by his Grandfather's voice echoing in his head"Spend your money! Grandfather is very rich!", suddenly surfaced.
Arka's chest shook with a suppressed chuckle, like someone remembering an old prank.
As if reminded of a sacred duty, Arka laughed softly.
He set down his coffee cup. With deliberately casual movements, he pulled out his old phone, opened his online shopping app, and viewed the cart he had partially filled on his way to campus. The screen's glow reflected on his face, highlighting eyes sparkling with a mad enthusiasm.
"Okay, let's begin," he whispered.
He hesitated no longer.
Click. The highest-spec gaming laptop he had been eyeing for six months? Check out.
Click. The latest flagship phone released just last week? Check out.
Scroll, scroll, click. A barrage of limited-edition sneakers, imported hoodies, a new leather backpack. Check out.
He paused for a moment, thinking of what else he "needed."
Ah, right.
He typed into the search bar: "High-Quality Imported Bokken Wooden Sword."
He found several practice swords made from Japanese white oak and incredibly expensive ebony, complete with descriptions of their balance and durability. The product photos looked elegant, seemingly challenging him to train like a professional swordsman. Perfect for hitting Grandpa during training.
Click.
Three wooden swords of different models.
Check out.
He leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. The tapping of his fingers on the table signaled an excitement he could barely contain. He had just spent a ridiculous amount of money—probably equivalent to a year's tuition—in less than five minutes.
"That was just a warm-up," he murmured.
He took another sip of his coffee, feeling infinitely better than the Noel Sanjaya being gossiped about nearby.
Arka's laughter burst out in the café, causing several nearby students to turn their heads. Some frowned, but Arka paid them no mind. He didn't care.
"Spend it! Spend it all! Hahahaha!" he muttered to his phone screen, his eyes glinting with madness.
He had just burned through a fantastic amount of money. He had left only a few banknotes in his wallet—his old allowance—just enough for good food and motorcycle taxi fares for a few days.
"Crazy... absolutely crazy..." he sighed, leaning back with a feeling of pure euphoria.
"It feels so good to be rich."
He glanced at his order summary. All packages would arrive tonight. He had intentionally ordered everything from sellers in the same city who offered instant delivery services. Technology and same-day delivery were the best things about the modern era. Tonight, his room would be full of new toys.
He sipped his cooling coffee. The bitterness that was previously enjoyable now tasted sharp, as if his body were giving a subtle warning. A mischievous idea crossed his mind. He opened his messaging app, finding the contact 'GRAMPS'.
With a cheeky smile, he typed:
Arka:
Grandpa who is kind and loving, Arka's money is all gone, Gramps...
He pressed 'send'.
Ping.
His phone chimed instantly. A reply from Grandpa. Only one word, all caps.
GRAMPS:
WAIT
Arka chuckled. "Wait for wh—"
PING!
A different notification appeared at the top of his screen. Not a text message. It was a notification from his mobile banking app.
[TRANSFER SUCCESSFUL] - You have received funds in the amount of ... Carsius (Kingdom of Carta Currency)
Arka didn't need to look at the sender's name. But his eyes were glued to the amount.
His fingertips holding the phone slowly tensed. He went silent. His smile vanished.
He counted the zeros behind the number. One, two, three... there were... there were too many zeros. This wasn't a monthly allowance. This wasn't gift money. This amount was enough to buy an apartment. Cash.
The coffee in his mouth suddenly tasted like sludge.
His hand trembled slightly as he exited the shopping app and pressed the phone icon. His breath hitched, his throat constricting. He called Grandpa.
The line was picked up on the first ring.
"Gramps..." Arka's voice sounded hoarse. He ducked his head, whispering frantically into his phone, not wanting the people in the café to hear.
"Grandpa isn't going crazy, is he?"
A moment of silence.
"Grandpa... did you sell our house?!"
A harsh intake of breath was heard on the other end, followed by a familiar roar, which was thankfully muffled by the phone's volume.
"STUPID GRANDSON!" Grandpa yelled from the other side.
"DO YOU THINK YOUR GRANDFATHER IS A PAUPER?! Spend it all!"
"Gramps, this is too much! This is—"
"Spend it all on girls!" Grandpa cut him off, his voice full of manic conviction.
"Bring home as many great-grandchildren as possible!"
Arka's eyes widened in horror. His face went pale. Great-grandchildren?!
"HUH?! ARE YOU INSANE!!!" Arka shouted involuntarily.
The female students who had been gossiping about Noel Sanjaya turned, staring at Arka with strange looks.
BEEP.
His grandfather hung up.
Arka still held the phone to his ear, staring blankly at his coffee cup.
He no longer felt rich. He felt terrified.
"Crazy..." he whispered, his heart pounding.
"Grandpa... has truly gone crazy."
The bright morning suddenly felt a little darker. The sunlight that was previously warm now felt piercing to his eyes. He had just been given an impossible task: to spend an exorbitant amount of money, by a grandfather who was clearly insane and now obsessed with having great-grandchildren.
Arka stared at his phone screen, the bank transfer notification seemingly burning his retinas. Too many zeros.
"He must have sold something," Arka whispered to himself, a cold panic starting to spread in his stomach, overpowering the café euphoria.
"He sold the house. Oh God, Grandpa sold the wooden house."
Images of their old home flashed in his mind—the lush trees, the damp yard after the rain, and the silent temple in the back. The thought made him nauseous.
He had to call Grandpa again. He had to stop this madness.
His index finger hovered over the screen, ready to press the phone icon again.
...But, his finger stopped right over the online shopping app icon that was still open in the background.
His shopping cart.
Gaming laptop. Flagship phone. Three imported wooden swords. Dozens of sneakers and hoodies.
All those items seemed to call his name from within the screen. Like sirens singing in a storm. The total price was indeed insane, but... the amount Grandpa had just transferred made it look like pocket change.
Arka swallowed hard.
"No, no, I have to confirm about the house..." he muttered.
But his index finger didn't move to the phone icon. His finger trembled.
Slowly, very slowly, that shaking finger moved past the phone icon and pressed the online shopping app. His cart reappeared, full and glittering.
At the bottom of the screen, the bright orange button seemed to mock him:
[PAY ALL]
Arka stared at the button. He stared at his absurd new balance in the bank notification. He thought of his Grandfather screaming, "SPEND IT!"
"Damn it," he hissed.
He squeezed his right eye shut, as if to say that if he didn't fully see it, it didn't count.
With one eye closed, his trembling index finger stabbed the screen.
Click.
The screen blinked for a moment, processing the instant payment. Then bright green text appeared:
[PAYMENT SUCCESSFUL]
Everything paid for. in one second.
Arka froze.
He lowered his phone slowly, placing it on the café table.
He took a deep breath, a very long one... then exhaled slowly. His chest and shoulders rose and fell, like someone who had just survived a minor disaster.
"...I lost," he mumbled to his empty coffee cup.
"I completely lost... utterly defeated... by the seduction of the online cart."
The worry about the house remained, but it was overshadowed by guilt mixed with the satisfaction of acute consumerism.
Arka dropped his head onto the table, his forehead landing softly on the cold wooden surface. The smell of wood mixed with coffee made his head spin. He was completely drained. His phone, now an instrument of financial crime, lay beside his empty cup.
"I've become an ungrateful son," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the table.
"Heritage house sold... and I bought a gaming laptop instead."
The guilty silence was suddenly interrupted by the sound of forced giggles from the next table.
"Hey, look at that..."
"Who is he? Looks like he's from the engineering faculty..."
"He's actually kinda cute if you look closely. Nice body too, athletic..."
"Yeah, seems like he's super stressed. Poor guy..."
Arka lifted his head slightly, glancing sideways. His hair was messy, a few strands falling over his forehead. The group of students who had been busy gossiping about Noel Sanjaya were now partially staring at him, whispering and giggling softly.
Arka's eyes met one of theirs; she immediately blushed and looked away.
Usually, Arka would feel a little flattered or at least indifferent. But this morning, the words "cute" and "athletic" triggered a terrifying memory.
The memory of his Grandfather's thunderous voice on the phone:
"Spend it all on girls! Bring home as many great-grandchildren as possible!"
Arka's face, previously lethargic with guilt, now turned to horror. His pupils shrank, his shoulders tensed.
He stared at the girls. They smiled shyly.
He imagined his Grandfather at home.
He imagined great-grandchildren.
"AAAAHHHHH!"
Arka groaned in frustration, though this time he stifled it. He lifted his head from the table and immediately ruffled his already neat hair with both hands, messing it up again like he had just woken up.
He took a deep breath, ignoring the confused stares from the female students.
"Crazy family," he hissed softly, full of conviction.
"Everyone is crazy."
Arka buried his face in his palms, ignoring the curious whispers from the next table.
"What kind of logic is this?" he thought, his frustration mounting, nearly making him dizzy.
He peeked through the gaps in his fingers, staring at the empty coffee cup.
"Dad wants many wives," he muttered softly into his palms.
"The fact? I'm his only child. He failed."
"Grandpa wants the old house to be lively," he continued, his voice growing more desperate.
"The fact? Dad is an only child. He failed too!"
He lifted his head from his hands, staring bleakly out the window of the bustling café. The busy campus traffic blurred behind the glass, seemingly mimicking the chaos of his mind. His eyes widened with a horrifying realization.
"Wait..."
"So... two generations that failed miserably at multiplying... are now dumping the entire duty of 'making great-grandchildren' and 'prospering the clan' onto me?"
He swallowed hard.
"Onto me. The guy who just spent money that might be from the sale of the house just to buy wooden swords?"
He glanced again at the table of female students next to him. They smiled shyly.
Arka immediately looked away, terrified. The skin on the back of his neck felt hot.
He suddenly realized something. The money his Grandfather transferred... it wasn't a gift. It wasn't pocket money.
It was an investment. His Grandfather was trying to "buy" great-grandchildren.
"Lunacy," he hissed.
"No. Nope. Not gonna happen."
He snatched his backpack roughly, standing up from his chair so quickly he startled the girls. The chair scraped sharply against the café floor.
"I have to get out of here."
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