Chapter 2

Ezra couldn’t sleep that night.

It wasn't because of the lingering rain that occasionally rattled their zinc roof, nor was it because of the old fan in the corner of the room that kept creaking rhythmically as if it were about to fall apart. It was because of the three short lines of text still staring back at him from his cracked phone screen.

I can solve all your problems.

Hotel Aruna. Suite 2701.

Come if you want to remain a student.

Even as the clock ticked past 2:00 AM, Ezra remained wide awake, staring blankly at the moldy ceiling. His logic was spinning out of control, trying to find a rational explanation for this mysterious threat. But the more he racked his brain, the more bizarre and impossible it all seemed.

Who was behind that number? How could they know the exact amount of his tuition debt? What was their true motive? Was this a new kind of scam? Blackmail? Or... something far worse and more dangerous?

Ezra tossed and turned anxiously. Through the thin bedroom wall, he could hear Nino’s soft, stifled coughing. Instantly, Ezra felt a heavy weight crush his chest. He closed his eyes tightly, then opened them again. Sleep refused to come. Caught between fear and desperation, a decision slowly began to solidify in his mind.

A Walking Corpse

The next morning, Ezra went to campus with a bone-tired body and a head that felt as heavy as lead. He didn't even touch the breakfast his mother had prepared. Throughout the ride on the overcrowded bus, his mind was constantly pulled back to the mysterious message from the night before.

The moment he stepped into the classroom, Raka—his best friend—immediately noticed something was wrong.

"My god, Zra. You look like a walking corpse," Raka remarked, staring in horror at the dark circles under Ezra's eyes.

Ezra dropped his backpack onto his chair, completely drained. "Thanks for the compliment."

"I'm serious, Bro." Raka frowned, sliding his seat closer. "Did you not sleep all night? Is it the tuition money again?"

Ezra remained silent, choosing instead to busy himself with pulling out his notebook. Raka knew some of his struggles—about his sickly mother and Nino. But not everything. Ezra was too proud to dump the entire burden of his life onto someone else.

"Have you found a way out?" Raka asked again, his voice softening with sympathy.

"Not yet," Ezra replied quietly, almost a whisper swallowed by the noisy classroom.

Raka let out a long sigh, patting Ezra's shoulder compassionately. "I wish I could help, Zra. But my savings are tight this month too."

Ezra forced a faint smile to reassure his friend. He knew Raka was sincere. But they were both just college students surviving on meager allowances. There was nothing Raka could do about fifteen million rupiah.

A few minutes later, the lecturer entered and class began. But for Ezra, the classroom suddenly lost its sound. His eyes stared straight at the whiteboard, but his focus was somewhere entirely different. A place called Suite 2701.

The Grand Lobby

After classes ended, Ezra ran straight to the cafe to start his shift. That day, time moved with absolute cruelty. The hands of the clock seemed to slow down on purpose just to test Ezra's mental endurance.

5:00 PM... 6:00 PM... then 7:00 PM. Every time his eyes glanced at the wall clock, his chest tightened further, and his oxygen supply felt depleted.

Finally, his shift was over. Ezra stepped out of the cafe after changing into his regular clothes. The cold night air immediately whipped against his haggard face. With slightly trembling hands, he pulled his phone from his pocket. No new messages. No follow-up calls. There was only the chat history from last night, which felt like an invitation from a bleak future.

Ezra stared at the screen for a few seconds, taking a deep breath as if gathering the last remnants of his courage, and raised his hand to hail a passing taxi.

The Aruna Hotel loomed tall and magnificent in the heart of the city's business district. The building was dominated by massive glass walls that reflected the glittering lights of the metropolis.

Ezra stood frozen in front of the grand main entrance. Suddenly, he felt incredibly small. His worn-out sneakers, slightly torn at the toes, felt completely unworthy of stepping onto such a luxurious floor. The people walking in and out of the lobby wore sleek suits and expensive dresses, while he was wrapped in a simple flannel shirt that had faded from being washed too many times.

A neatly uniformed security guard opened the large glass door for him with a polite smile. Ezra muttered a stiff thank you and stepped inside.

The atmosphere in the lobby instantly made Ezra hold his breath. A gigantic crystal chandelier hung from the soaring ceiling, casting a lavish golden glow. The marble floor beneath his feet was so highly polished that it acted like a mirror. Even the scent of the air—a blend of sandalwood and expensive perfume—felt alien to his senses.

For a moment, Ezra's instincts screamed at him to turn back. This isn't your world, Ezra. You shouldn't be here, a voice whispered in his head.

But just as he was about to turn on his heel, the memory of the final warning letter from campus and the pale face of his coughing brother flashed through his mind. Seven days. Time was running out. Ezra clenched his jaw tightly, pushed down his insecurity, and walked purposefully toward the elevators.

Suite 2701

Ting.

The elevator doors slid open as the indicator lit up with the number twenty-seven. A long corridor with thick carpeting that muffled the sound of footsteps stretched out before him. The atmosphere on this floor was dead silent—the kind of silence that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Ezra walked slowly, checking the numbers on each solid oak door. 2703... 2704... 2705... Until finally, his steps came to a complete halt in front of a door with an embossed brass plate: 2701.

His heart hammered violently, racing against the fear that began to creep into his icy fingertips. For nearly a minute, he just stood there like a statue. Hesitant. What if this is a trap? What if behind this door is a dangerous criminal intending to hurt him or harvest his organs?

But once again, the image of his mother counting crumpled cash at the dining table flooded his mind. Ezra closed his eyes, exhaled a long breath, and raised his heavy hand.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound of his knocking was tentative in the quiet corridor. There was no instant reply. But a few seconds later, there was a soft, mechanical click. The door swung inward.

A middle-aged man in a sharp black suit stood there. He looked nothing like a criminal or the terrifying figure Ezra had imagined; this man radiated the aura of a highly educated, professional assistant.

"Mr. Ezra?" the man asked in a polite baritone voice.

Ezra nodded slowly, his throat suddenly dry. "Yes, that's me."

"Please, come in." The man stepped back, making room for Ezra.

As he crossed the threshold, Ezra could swear the living area inside this suite was far larger than the entire plot of the small house he shared with his family. A massive glass wall stretched from floor to ceiling, offering a breathtaking panoramic view of the Jakarta skyline at night.

The door shut firmly behind him with a decisive click. The suited man gestured toward a plush leather sofa in the sitting room. "Please take a seat and wait for a moment."

"Excuse me, what is this about?" Ezra gathered the courage to ask. "Who invited me here?"

"My master will see you shortly," the man replied with a thin, formal smile before turning and disappearing into another room, leaving Ezra completely alone.

Silence enveloped the luxury suite once more. Ezra chose to remain standing, far too tense to sit on a sofa that looked entirely too expensive. On the wall, an analog clock ticked softly. One second... two seconds... three seconds...

Then, came the sound of footsteps. Calm, measured, and authoritative. Approaching the living area.

Ezra turned toward the sound, and in that exact moment, his entire body froze.

The Devil's Deal

A tall, powerfully built man stepped out from the adjacent room. A custom-made black suit hugged his well-proportioned frame flawlessly. He had a sharp, symmetrical jawline—the kind of face that looked almost too perfect to be real. However, it wasn't the man's striking looks that left Ezra speechless, but his eyes. A pair of dark, sharp, and icy eyes that felt capable of stripping away and reading Ezra’s deepest secrets in a single glance.

The man stopped a few meters away from Ezra. Their gazes locked in the air. For the first time, the man spoke.

"You finally came," he said. His low, deep baritone voice echoed through the spacious room.

Ezra swallowed hard, trying to patch together the remnants of his shattered dignity. "Who... who are you? And how do you know about my situation?"

The man curled the corner of his lips into a faint smile that didn't reach his ice-cold eyes at all. Without answering Ezra's question, he walked over to a single armchair and sat down with fluid grace, radiating an aura of absolute dominance, as if the entire world were under his control.

"Darren Wijaya."

The name struck Ezra’s consciousness like a bolt of lightning out of a clear blue sky. Ezra recoiled a step. Who didn't know that name? Darren Wijaya was the youngest CEO whose face graced the covers of business magazines and television news almost every week. A billionaire genius who spearheaded one of the largest conglomerates in the country.

But before Ezra's brain could even process why someone of Darren's caliber would summon a broke college student like him to a luxury hotel, Darren spoke again.

"I don't like wasting time pointlessly," Darren said, his sharp eyes locking onto Ezra's movements without mercy. "Fifteen million rupiah... is not a significant sum to me."

Ezra's heart battered against his ribs.

Darren crossed his legs, resting his elbow on the armrest in a casual yet intimidating gesture. "But you must know the fundamental law of this world, Ezra. Nothing is free."

A suffocating silence fell between them once more, making the ticking of the wall clock sound louder by the second. Until finally, Darren delivered his next sentence in a calm tone—one that successfully froze the blood in Ezra’s veins instantly.

"I want to make you an offer. A contract." Darren paused, staring intently at Ezra before continuing, "I want you to be mine."