Night has fallen. Baskara, with the meager skills he had, tried to rig up some lighting. He started putting together something he'd learned back in school, using a light stolen from the village hall terrace, a potato he swiped from the village head's garden, and a wire he found in a neighbor's package—he'd taken the initiative to "store" the package after the courier dropped it off.
Smart, right? Yeah, smart at racking up sins.
Cruel stared at his older brother in disbelief, still wearing that signature blank expression. He was probably wondering what kind of crazy stunt his brother was pulling now.
"What are you making, Bang?" Cruel asked curtly.
"Making light so we aren't sitting in the dark, Dek. It's mosquito-infested, stuffy, and dark as hell—kinda like the system's face," Baskara replied, though he said the last part in his head.
[You looking for a fight, kid?]
Looking for a fight, huh? Let's go, you think I'm scared? I've killed mosquitoes, you know, Baskara retorted mentally, while his hands stayed busy assembling his masterpiece—well, a masterpiece in Kara's eyes, anyway.
Yes, you read that right, Kara was making a potato-powered lamp. Give him a break; in his first life, he only listened to his teacher sometimes, so let's take a lesson from Kara: if you don't want to end up like him, actually listen to your science teacher if you don't want to be confused while trying to build an emergency lamp. Just kidding.
[Acting serious for once, you burden? Usually, you're just giggling like someone possessed by a demon.]
I look even hotter when I'm focused, that's why you're obsessed with me.
[Ugh, so narcissistic.]
Whatever. I'm thinking about other stuff, Tem.
[Since when do you think? Did your brain finally get fixed?]
It's not like that. I'm just wondering—why are so many big shots out there busy yapping about how the youth today aren't nationalistic because they choose to work abroad? They're like, 'Build your own nation!' How are we supposed to build it if the foundation isn't even laid? We need rice, not just empty campaign promises!
[Isn't that a form of service, Burden?]
"Service my foot! Abroad, we're valued with strong currency; here, we're valued with a 'thanks for your dedication' while the salary is below minimum wage. Jobs are scarce, and the competition is all nepotism. When we look for luck in someone else's land so our family doesn't starve, we get blamed. What do they want? They tell us to be independent, but when we finally are, they say we don't love our country!"
[Just be grateful, Burden. That's what it's like living in Indonesia. Here, you can't just laugh; you can also suffer because of the pressure to be rich.]
Kara nodded in agreement, but didn't take his eyes off his project.
After nearly two hours, Baskara finally finished his project. He managed to make the light turn on—well, it was dim, kind of like our collective memory from the past. Just kidding.
"Dek, look, isn't your brother amazing? This is what you call a halal lamp," Baskara grinned, showing off the work he thought was cool and aesthetic.
[Proud of something you stole.]
Shh, shut up, you dog. You're a minimum-wage system, don't act like we're friends.
Baskara glanced at the system with a judgmental look. He felt so annoyed. Look at that system's smug face; it really looked like it needed a punch.
[It's a sin to insult the system, you know.]
Kara finally sighed. He felt a bit sorry for it; it seemed pointless to argue with that annoying system. Even until the 100th World War, that system wouldn't shut up.
"Bang," Cruel called out, snapping Baskara out of his thoughts.
"Oh, yeah, El?"
"Why are you spacing out?"
"Oh, nah, not spacing out. Let's sleep—yawn." Baskara stretched.
"Sleeping sounds good. Oh yeah, grab my skincare in that plastic bag, will you?" he continued, pointing to the bag next to Cruel.
"What skincare, Bang? Do you even have money?" Cruel asked, curious, though his hand reached for the bag anyway.
Baskara just grinned.
"Yeah, skincare. Low-budget skincare. Want to know what it is?"
Cruel nodded.
"Tada!! Autan (mosquito repellent)!! Besides moisturizing, it protects us from mosquitoes, you know," Kara smirked, completely shameless, while his brother just stared at him with an extremely flat expression.
I think Bang Kara's brain needs service. Where do I find a brain repair shop? Or should I just perform surgery and check inside his head? Cruel thought.
Kara looked at his brother, confused.
"What are you thinking about?"
Cruel shook his head.
"I'm just thinking about where to find a brain repair shop."
"Whose brain do you want to fix?"
"Yours, Bang."
[Warning! Small demon is planning a manual brain surgery scheme. Target: The burden of the world who loves bothering the admin (Baskara).]
Damn you, system!!
"E-eh, Dek, my brain is normal, okay? Just a bit slow, it's 2GB RAM, so no need to find a repairman. Come on, just go to sleep."
Baskara tried to stay calm and laid down on the thin carpet—as thin as the system admin's ATM balance.
Cruel didn't answer. He just sat beside Baskara.
[Are you scared, Burden? Tsk tsk, looks like you're afraid of your own brother. Tip of the day: If you get insulted, don't fall; but if you have to fight your own brother, I'll back down, Bang.]
Shut up, you've been yapping all this time. Are you a system or a ghosting artist?!!
Baskara was fast asleep now. After the long drama, he finally found peace after giving his brother a book—yes, a book. You'll find out where he got it later.
Since there was no clock in Baskara's shack, it was probably 1:00 AM, and Cruel was still busy reading the book his brother gave him. He said he found it on the village head's terrace.
"System... have mercy..." Baskara mumbled in his sleep, making Cruel stop his reading. He turned toward his brother who was sleep-talking.
"No!! Not the floor!!! It's... it's the laundry line!! The laundry fell!!"
"Bang—"
"I can't believe I died because I got crushed by an aluminum laundry rack. It's so unaesthetic, damn it. At least make it a hit-and-run so I can get insurance, like in anime."
Cruel froze. He didn't want to wake Baskara up. Did he hear that right? Died from being crushed by a laundry rack?
"It hurts, System... the metal went into my nose..." Baskara mumbled again, holding his flat nose.
"And the neighbors' underwear and bras were caught on my face during my death throes. The embarrassment follows me to the afterlife, damn. And they smelled, I suspect they hadn't been washed in a month..."
Cruel looked at Baskara with suspicion.
"Bang," Cruel's voice was deep and pressurized, his sharp gaze never leaving the person in front of him.
His feeling was strange. All this time, he thought his brother had changed because he found salvation or his brain had short-circuited, but somehow Baskara's muttering made him waver.
Before he could think any further, a loud snoring sound erupted from Baskara.
It was a snore so unaesthetic that anyone would immediately cover their ears because it was so "harmonious."
(I really want to stuff a sock in his mouth.)
Cruel thought again. Maybe his brother was just talking in his sleep because he was exhausted. Yeah, probably. Whatever, he'd investigate further tomorrow.
After a long time thinking about it, Cruel decided to just sleep. He laid down beside Baskara.
He only had one principle: Anyone who dared to lie to him or change him would never be let go, forever.
Obsessive, you say? Maybe. We don't know, do we? Let it be known only by the author and God.
[Notification! Death-Child Level 2 activated.]