The crack of dawn.The air was still chilly, and the sun peeked shyly from behind the towering buildings. The streets were empty, except for one figure that stood out.
A girl walked with unwavering confidence—her high ponytail swayed with each step, a cropped hoodie folded at her waist, a sling bag hanging effortlessly across her body, and pastel-colored sneakers that practically screamed, "Look at me!"
This was SRADA—a girl born with a factory-installed friendly smile. Since she was a baby, she had been smiling for no reason, and that's probably why her life had been smooth sailing.
But then...
As she walked toward Krish and Krishna's house, a group of guys loitering on the sidewalk suddenly switched to predator mode.
"Yo, sweetheart! Where you heading this early lookin' all fine like that?" one of them called out, flashing a cocky grin.
"Are you blind?" Srada shot back, deadpan.
The guy didn't back down. In fact, he doubled down on the cringe. "Damn, I thought you were going to a wedding… or maybe off to see your big strong man~" he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.
Srada stopped.
Her smile grew sweeter.
She tilted her head slightly. "Hey, you guys… come here for a sec. Do you… wanna kiss me?" she asked, voice soft as silk, eyes glinting like a coupon-hunting auntie at a 90% off sale.
The guys froze. Brain functions crashed. Error 404: Logic Not Found.
"WH-WHAT?! A KISS?!" They quickly wiped their drool with their sleeves, lips puckering up like a school of goldfish gasping for air.
"You serious, babe?" One of them stepped forward, eyes shining with hope and desperation.
Srada nodded. "Absolutely. My lips are premium today. Go on, close your eyes."
The guy shut his eyes tight, grinning like he just won the lottery, ready to receive paradise on earth.
And then…
A FIST KISS LANDED RIGHT ON HIS FACE.
BAM!
METEOR PUNCH! One guy was sent flying straight to the sky—probably searching for WiFi on the moon.
BOOM! A BRUTAL UPPERCUT! The second dude crashed chest-first into a tree, had an instant spiritual awakening, and was now considering a career in monkhood.
SMACK! A LIGHTNING-FAST BACKHAND! The third guy spun around Saturn, took a selfie, and then crash-landed right into the arms of his sins.
The rest?
They ran. Sobbing. Regretting every decision that led them to this moment.
Srada dusted off her hands, then turned to the camera (a.k.a you, dear readers of E.Y.E.S).
"See? Morning exercise is important for a healthy lifestyle," she said, grinning mischievously.
Then, she leaned closer to the camera, voice dropping into a teasing whisper.
"Or… would you rather get a real kiss instead? Hihihi~"
JLEB.
And with that, she casually walked away, continuing her journey to Krish and Krishna's house.
Srada walked faster, feeling an odd sense of urgency today. Normally, she'd either leave for school ahead of time or wait for Krish to pick her up. Not that she hated riding with him—in fact, she loved it—but her pride wouldn't allow it.
Because, well… she was a queen.
But still—
Krish's motorcycle was an abomination.
A relic from the Majapahit era.
As she picked up her pace, one goal was clear in her mind: Get to Krish and Krishna's house.
Not because of anything special.
But because—
HER SCHOOL NOTEBOOK WAS STILL WITH KRISHNA.
And inside that notebook?
EVERY. SINGLE. IMPORTANT. LESSON.
"Hell no, if I don't get that book back today, my future in class will be as bright as a broken flip-flop," she muttered.
She could already imagine the nightmare scenario: standing at the front of the class, the teacher pointing at her, demanding an answer…
And her brain?
Completely empty.
A full-blown 0.
"NO! I CAN'T LET THAT HAPPEN!"
Her strides quickened. She needed to retrieve that book from Krishna's hands—assuming he was still alive and hadn't turned into a gorilla from sniffing glue all day.
BUT.
Something in her brain suddenly clicked.
Her footsteps stopped.
Her breath hitched.
A horrifying realization dawned on her.
She had just remembered something.
HER EYES WIDENED.
HER BODY FROZE.
"Wait… WAIT A DAMN SECOND—" Srada stopped dead in her tracks, her breathing suddenly heavy.
"THAT NOTEBOOK—"
Her hands shot up to her head, gripping it like she had just realized she accidentally sent a cursed meme to the family group chat.
She had drawn Krish.
And it was BAD.
Krish, in her artistic masterpiece, looked like a scarecrow with brain damage.
A massive bobblehead, eyes so crossed they were staring into another dimension, arms like electrocuted worms, and legs as straight as popsicle sticks.
And the worst part?
Right below the drawing, in BOLD, MASSIVE, UNDENIABLE LETTERS:
"SRADA LOVES KRISH. AWWW SO SWEEEET 💖💖💖"
"...I'M DEAD. I'M SO DEAD. I AM ALREADY A CORPSE—"
Srada collapsed to the ground, gripping the dirt.
"DEAR GOD, PLEASE ERASE THIS WORLD'S MEMORY!!!"
Her mind immediately spun up the WORST CASE SCENARIO IN HUMAN HISTORY:
What if…
KRISHNA HAD ALREADY SEEN IT?!
HE WOULD LAUGH UNTIL HE GOT POSSESSED.
HE WOULD HOST A DAMN PRESS CONFERENCE.
In her nightmare vision, Krishna was standing on national television, wearing a full suit, speaking in front of thousands.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, ALLOW ME TO PRESENT THE GREATEST MASTERPIECE IN HUMAN EXISTENCE."
A giant screen flickered to life.
And there it was.
THE CURSED SCARECROW KRISH.
STOCK MARKETS CRASHED.ART PROFESSORS CHANGED RELIGIONS.NASA CALLED FOR AN EMERGENCY MEETING.
Srada shot up at the speed of PANIC GOD MODE.
"I HAVE TO SAVE THAT NOTEBOOK!!!"
SHE DIDN'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE.
If she had to headbutt through Krish's house wall, so be it.
This was no longer about pride.
This was about survival.
And the dignity of her overpriced lipstick.
Without hesitation, Srada sprinted like her life depended on it toward Krish and Krishna's house.
Srada ran. No—this wasn't just running.
This was the kind of sprinting you do when rent is three months overdue.Or when your mom is chasing you with a broom.
Her legs moved like a malfunctioning sewing machine—CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK—zero cooldown.
She reached Krish's house.
Her eyes locked onto the target.
"THIS IS IT…"
In front of her stood the Great Wall of Krish—his house gate, towering like a medieval fortress.
Srada stroked her chin.
"Easy."
DEEP BREATH IN.
And then—
SHE LEAPED.
No—this wasn't a normal human jump.
This was POSSESSED KUDALUMPING MODE.
Legs spread. Mouth chanting. Battle cry incomprehensible.
"UWEKKK UWEKKK HUAAARGHH!!!"
BOINK!
Her foot bounced off the wall, launching her into a 360-degree mid-air flip, striking a Kung Fu Panda pose as a dramatic dust cloud exploded beneath her.
—SWIIING!—
Srada landed perfectly on top of the gate.
One leg. Flamingo stance.
(Also, in her mind, she was holding a legendary shadow katana.)
No time to waste.
She bent her knees, preparing for the next phase.
"NO FEAR, NO COST, FULL SEND!!!"
JEBRAK!
She launched herself again—
Performing PARKOUR LEVEL GOD MODE.
Wall jump—✓360 flip—✓Ninja slide—✓
And finally…
Srada stood in front of Krish's door, smiling sweetly—like she had just attended a self-improvement seminar.
She took a slow, deep breath.
"Okay… chill… chill… Be calm, Srada… Be a sweet girl… Not a raging bull…"
She nodded to herself, her expression serene.
Her hand slowly rose.
Knock, knock, knock— a polite, gentle tap.
"Assalamu'alaikum…"
Her voice was soft. Sweet. Angelic.
Inside, Krish was still half-asleep. His hair looked like a bird's nest in a hurricane, and dried drool was stuck to his cheek.
He dragged his feet lazily to the door, yawning.
When he opened it, his eyes squinted against the morning light.
And then—
"Huh? Srada?"
Krish blinked twice, slowly waking up.
"Srada, you're here?"
Srada smiled again, calm and composed.
"Hmm… yeah… I… came to pick up my notebook… The one Krishna borrowed yesterday."
The moment the word "I" left Srada's lips, the earth's axis shifted by 0.5 degrees.
Krish scratched his head. "Oh… okay. Come in."
Srada stepped inside slowly, her movements delicate—as if she were in a slow-motion scene from a chill lo-fi study beats video.
But inside her head?
"F*CK!!! DID HE SEE IT OR NOT?!!!"
She kept her calm exterior, but internally, she was screaming.
"Relax, Ra… chill… there's no way he saw it… maybe Krishna didn't open the book yet… maybe—"
But then.
Her mind betrayed her.
A vivid, horrifying image flashed in her brain:
Krishna, rolling on his bed, laughing so hard he was about to die.
Her notebook in his hands.
And beside him, Krish, watching in confusion as Krishna wheezed—
"AHAHAHAHAHA BRO, WHY DOES YOUR FACE LOOK LIKE A F*CKING BROOM?! WHAT IS THIS?! 'SRADA LOVE KRISH'?! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
And then—
Back to reality.
Srada kept smiling.
But her eyes?
Slightly trembling.
Krish casually adjusted the sandals at the door, sneaking a glance at Srada—who was now sitting way too properly in the living room.
Perfect posture. Hands on her lap. Expression calm.
She looked like a passport photo with trust issues.
"I'll be right back," Krish said.
Srada nodded softly.
"Hmm… okay…"
Her smile remained sweet.
But inside?
"DEAR GOD, PLEASE DON'T LET HIM FIND MY AIB! AMEEEENNN!!!"
Krish walked toward Krishna's room, slowly.
The ticking clock in the living room suddenly felt like a countdown timer on a bomb.
Tik… tik… tik…
He reached the door.
Pushed it open carefully.
CREEEAAAK—
The door squeaked like a horror movie sound effect.
Krish hissed, "Ssshh… what is this, Paranormal Activity?"
And sure enough—
Inside, Krishna was dead asleep.
Face down.
Shirt half-riding up.
Drool spilling onto his pillow—forming a detailed map of Sumatra.
His breathing was heavy. Occasionally, it sounded like—
HRRRKKKHHH… FHHHRRKKK…
Like a cursed demon pig that just clocked out after an exhausting night shift.
Krish grinned.
He tiptoed forward.
Step… by step…
And then—
PAIN.
His foot landed on something sharp.
"AAWWWW!!!"
Krish barely held in his scream.
He looked down.
A LEGO.
"KRISHNA! YOU'RE A GROWN-ASS MAN, WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STILL PLAYING WITH LEGO?!"
Krishna?
Still snoring.
But now scratching his ass.
Krish rolled his eyes.
Whatever.
He focused back on the mission.
His eyes scanned the study desk.
A messy pile of books, random papers sticking out, pens scattered everywhere—even a freaking PS controller chilling there for no reason.
Krish carefully rummaged through the stack.
Right hand flipping books.
Left hand holding his breath.
"Where is it…"
And then—
BINGO.
Srada's notebook.
The cover?
Drowned in highlighter doodles.
And right in the center—
"DO NOT OPEN! 100% PRIVATE!"
Krish raised an eyebrow.
"Private? Well, NOW I wanna open it even more."
But then—he remembered.
Srada was still waiting outside.
Better not push his luck.
He turned to leave, but then—
Krishna MOVED.
Krish froze.
"Oh sh*t."
Krishna stretched, face still buried in his pillow, drool trailing across his cheek.
And then—
"Mmmhh… Sraaadaaa… don't goooo…"
Krish's brain blue-screened.
"HUH?!"
Krishna nuzzled into his pillow. Drool everywhere.
"Sraaadaaa… please… don't leave meeee…"
Krish slapped his forehead.
"Oh my freaking—what kind of dream is this guy having?!"
Nope. Nope. NOPE.
Krish power-walked out of the room, gripping Srada's notebook like he just retrieved classified government documents.
He reached the living room.
Srada instantly shot up from her seat.
Her eyes darted straight to the notebook.
"Is it safe?"
Krish held it out lazily.
"Safe. Still intact… kinda like Krishna's feelings for you."
Srada's fingers twitched.
Her whole body glitched.
"W-what…?"
Her voice cracked like a bad internet connection.
Krish just smirked, casually dropping himself onto the sofa.
He flipped the notebook in his hands.
"Here, take it."
He handed it over, then leaned back, his grin turning slightly smug.
"But seriously… what made you rush over here so early in the morning? Missed me, huh?"
TIME STOP.
Srada: Small, stiff smile.
Inner monologue: ABSOLUTE MENTAL BREAKDOWN.
"F*CK. DOES HE SUSPECT SOMETHING? WHAT DO I SAY? WHAT DO I DO?!"
After severe buffering, her mouth finally moved.
"Hmm… no, not really…"
Flat. Expressionless.
But inside?
"BULLSH*T! OF COURSE I MISSED YOU, YOU DUMBASS!!!"
She coughed lightly, trying to cover up the awkwardness.
Krish chuckled, stretching. "Alright, whatever. Let's eat breakfast."
Srada nodded.
Still frozen like a public park statue.
A few minutes later…
Krish munched on plain toast, scrolling through his phone.
Srada sat across from him.
Eating, gracefully. Slowly.
Bit by bit…
Sipping her tea…
Bit by bit…
Stealing glances at Krish…
Bit by bit…
"WHAT IF HE SAW THE SCARECROW DRAWING?!""IF HE KNOWS, I'M GONNA HANG MYSELF WITH A PHONE CHARGER!!!"
She chewed in pure agony.
Krish, completely unbothered, finished his toast and stood up.
"I'm gonna take a shower real quick."
His calm, carefree smile made Srada wanna punch something.
She nodded mechanically.
Still in statue mode.
Krish grabbed his towel and walked off to the bathroom.
The sound of running water. The bathroom door clicked shut.
Silence.
Srada sat alone at the dining table.
A cool morning breeze drifted in through the window, bringing a refreshing chill.
But inside her head?
"HOLY SH*T, MY LIFE IS HANGING BY A DAMN THREAD!!!"
She picked up a spoon.
Plink.
Plink-plink.
She mindlessly tapped it against her cup.
Then—
BAM!
A loud CRASH-THUMP-RATATATA-GEDUBRAK!!! echoed from above.
Srada snapped her head up.
"WHAT THE F*CK WAS THAT?!"
She squinted toward the ceiling—
And then…
A head popped out from the damn window.
Paman Takashima.
Half his body hanging outside.
Other half casually petting the roof.
Hammer in hand.
"Oh! Srada, huh?"
His voice boomed—like a flea market auctioneer on a megaphone.
"Ohoho! Didn't expect to see you here this early!" He grinned, flashing two visible teeth—the rest lost to the abyss of time.
Srada's soul left her body for a second.
She forced a stiff smile. "Eh… yeah, Uncle… Just, uh, dropping by for a bit."
But inside?
"WHY THE F*CK IS HE INTERROGATING ME LIKE A DETECTIVE?! WHAT DO I SAY?! LOOKING FOR INSPIRATION?! SEARCHING FOR LOVE?!"
Takashima, completely unbothered, kept hammering away.
"Well, good good! Have you eaten yet?"
His ninja-ass gaze zeroed in on her from above.
Srada slowly turned toward the table.
Empty plate.
Barely any tea left.
Srada forced another smile, panic barely concealed.
"I-I have, Uncle!"
Takashima snickered, nodding.
"Good, good. Oh yeah, tell Krish to stop pushing my bike to full throttle, will ya? Yesterday, that damn thing almost took off—I thought it was about to reach the f*cking moon!"
Srada just nodded mechanically as Takashima disappeared back over the roof.
She clutched her chest.
"DEAR GOD, CAN I HAVE JUST ONE NORMAL DAY?!"
A few minutes passed.
Srada was still sitting alone in the living room, stirring her now expired tea like a fortune teller reading her own cursed fate.
"Calm… Everything's fine… The notebook is safe… No one knows… I'm still a normal person…"
Then—
Footsteps.
Tok… tok… tok…
Srada's head snapped up.
And there—
Krish emerged from the hallway.
Slow.
Slow-motion.
Like a boyband member making his grand entrance in an MV.
His hair was still slightly damp, styled in a messy-but-effortlessly-cool slick-back.
His school uniform? Crisp, clean white.
Tie? Loosely hanging—rebellious but stylish.
His signature denim jacket, half-open, the left shoulder slightly sliding down—the perfect "I didn't even try but still look hot" look.
Backpack slung over one shoulder, one hand in his pocket, walking slow and casual.
Eyes sharp. Expression unreadable.
Certified heartbreaker mode: ACTIVATED.
Every girl in the neighborhood would kill for this man.
Srada froze.
Her mouth almost dropped open—
But her pride slapped it shut real quick.
Her face heating up.
Not just pink.
FULL-BLAST METALLIC MAROON.
Like she just ate a whole chili pepper while choking on her feelings.
"WHAT THE F*CK. HE'S HOT AS HELL."
"THIS ISN'T THE KRISH WHO SPENDS HOURS FIXING HIS CRUSTY MOTORBIKE."
"THIS… THIS IS… WHO EVEN IS THIS?!"
But then.
Something felt… off.
Something was wrong.
Her eyes drifted downward.
She was expecting to check his shoes.
And then—
She froze.
Krish.
The ridiculously handsome Krish.
The one who just walked out looking like a whole K-drama male lead…
WAS STILL WEARING HIS F*CKING BOXERS.
School pants? NOWHERE TO BE FOUND.
Black boxers.
Polka dots.
Softly swaying in the breeze from the nearby fan.
Krish?
Walking casually as hell.
Completely unbothered.
Like everything was fine.
Like he wasn't standing there in a state of fashion EMERGENCY.
He turned to Srada, flashing a slight smirk.
"You ready? Let's go now so we don't get late."
Srada?
Still frozen in time.
Her eyes accidentally darted down again.
Boxers.
Polka dots.
The details were glowing under the light like a f*cking UV lamp in a nightclub.
Inside her brain:
"I AM NOT PREPARED FOR THIS SH*T!!!"
"HOW IS HE THIS HOT, BUT HIS LOWER HALF IS NOT OKAY?!!!"
Srada stood there, turning into a literal stone statue.
Her face? Red.
Her neck? Red.
Her ears?
EXPLODING.
Krish tilted his head again.
"Ra, come on. Why are you just standing there? I'm waiting."
He lifted his bag higher on his shoulder and—
Casually wiped the leftover water from his neck using the sleeve of his jacket.
BIG. MISTAKE.
Srada's brain crashed.
Her nose almost bled.
But she REFUSED.
Her PRIDE wouldn't allow it.
Srada quickly looked down, pretending to fix the strap on her bag.
"E-eh… y-you sure you're ready?" Her voice was dry. Like stale bread left in the sun.
Krish nodded casually. "Yeah, of course. I mean, I look great, don't I?"
He flashed a lethal smile, confidently pointing at himself.
Srada's soul internally screamed.
"GREAT?! BRO, YOUR BOXERS ARE FLOATING IN THE GODDAMN ATMOSPHERE!!!"
But her mouth?
"Y-yeah… I guess… you look… good…"
And at that moment—
She wanted to swallow a spoon and just end it all.
"Eh—I mean… neat… uh, no! I mean… yeah, just… like that!"
Krish chuckled.
And then—
He stepped closer.
Srada froze.
Her heart forgot its job.
"Relax, Ra. You look cute too."
BAM.
THE WORLD COLLAPSED.
BUT—
THE BOXERS.
THEY WERE STILL THERE.
STILL POLKA DOT.
STILL SCREAMING "HELLO, WORLD!"
Srada couldn't hold it anymore.
She coughed lightly. "Krish…"
Krish tilted his head. "Hm?"
Srada slowly pointed her chin downward.
"Pants."
Krish looked down.
Pause.
And then—
"HOLY SH*T!!!"
He jumped half a meter into the air.
And then—
SPEED-RAN BACK INTO HIS ROOM.
"F*CK, I FORGOT MY DAMN PANTS!!!"
SLAM!
His door shut violently.
Srada covered her mouth—
Holding back a hurricane of laughter.
Tears of joy pricked at the corners of her eyes.
"THIS IS OFFICIALLY THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE."
A few moments later…
Krish re-emerged.
Now FULLY EQUIPPED.
School uniform? CHECK.Pants? PRESENT.Boxers? No longer publicly displayed.
Black sneakers.
Socks mismatched—but he didn't care.
Denim jacket back on.
Backpack slung over his shoulder.
He casually ran a hand through his hair.
"Alright, let's go." His voice was calm, composed, totally unfazed.
Srada squinted slightly.
Just to make sure—
"Okay, pants are there. We're safe."
She nodded quickly, jumping to her feet.
But the moment they stepped outside…
Srada instantly froze.
Her eyes widened.
Her mouth slightly open.
Because…
A TWO-LEGGED MONSTER WAS WAITING FOR HER.
A motorcycle.
No—Paman Takashima's motorcycle.
Ancient.
Color? Hard to tell. Somewhere between moldy green and "cursed artifact from the Majapahit era."
The handlebar? Crooked.
The headlight? Only one left. And even that one looked like a zombie eye.
One mirror missing. The other? Cracked like a long-distance relationship.
License plate? Bent into a perfect boomerang shape.
Krish casually patted the gas tank—some paint peeled off and crumbled into dust.
"Relax, Ra. This is a warrior's bike."
He said it proudly.
Like it was some legendary beast instead of an undead corpse.
He picked up an old helmet, its surface scribbled with "CLASS 6-A" in permanent marker.
Srada just stared.
Sweat forming.
She whispered under her breath, "A warrior's bike? More like a demon's wedding chariot!"
She exhaled.
"Krish…"
"Hm?"
"You sure?"
Krish nodded. "One hundred percent."
Srada:
"I'M A HUNDRED PERCENT SURE THIS THING WANTS TO RETIRE, AND YOU'RE MAKING ME RIDE IT?!"
Just as Krish was digging through his bag for the keys—
A head popped out from the rooftop.
PAMAN TAKASHIMA.
Still holding a hammer.
Still smoking.
Breathing out smoke like a factory chimney.
From above, he glared down at them.
"OI, KRISH! YOU'RE TAKING THAT DAMN BIKE AGAIN?!"
His voice boomed so loud an innocent chicken in the neighbor's yard panicked and fell into a ditch.
Krish casually looked up, raising a hand. "Yeah, Uncle! I'm taking Srada to school!"
Srada's soul almost left her body.
"I-Ih, Krish, don't say it like that—"
But inside?
"HOLY SH*T, THIS MAN DOESN'T JUST HAVE A FACE THAT MAKES ME WEAK—HE ALSO HAS A DEATH WISH?!"
Takashima smirked, cigarette still hanging from his lips.
Then—
He pulled the motorcycle keys out of his pocket.
And—
THREW THEM.
SLOW MOTION. DRAMATIC CINEMATIC ANGLE.
Srada thought it would gently fall into Krish's hands.
NOPE.
IT SHOT THROUGH THE AIR LIKE A F*CKING SHURIKEN.
BOK!!!
Landed perfectly in Krish's palm—hitting hard enough to make him step back.
Takashima cackled. "DON'T OVERREV IT AGAIN, KRISH!"
Krish grinned. "Got it, Uncle!"
He stuck the key into the ignition.
Srada?
Still silent.
She swallowed.
"IS THIS BIKE EVEN ALIVE?!"
Krish tried to start it.
First try.
NGRRRREEEEK!
Silence.
Second try.
NGEEEEENG!!
The bike coughed.
Third try…
NGENGENGENGENGENG—BRUUUUUUUUMMMM!!!
Srada flinched.
The bike roared like a dinosaur with asthma.
Black smoke exploded from the exhaust.
Birds on the power line immediately took off.
One of them fainted mid-air and crash-landed.
Krish patted the seat. "Hop on, Ra."
Srada stared at the seat.
The leather was torn.
The foam inside? Probably a mouse nest by now.
She took a long, deep breath.
"If we crash on the way…"
Krish turned to look at her. "I'll take responsibility."
…
…
She still got on.
She held onto the back of his jacket.
Krish revved the engine.
The bike lurched forward.
They were moving.
But then—
The front wheel tilted slightly.
Srada screamed.
"KRISH!!!"
Krish just grinned.
"Relax. It's a feature."
And then—
THE BIKE TOOK OFF.
Krish slowly revved the engine—
But to Srada, it sounded like a dying tractor taking its final sh*t.
The entire bike vibrated like crazy.
So much that Srada swore she could feel her internal organs bouncing around inside her body.
But she said nothing.
She just held on.
Her fingers clung onto Krish's denim jacket—
Which, surprisingly, smelled really freaking good.
Like some expensive TikTok-endorsed detergent.
But then—
Just a few meters down the road—
Something felt off.
Too much noise.
Loud.
Way too loud.
Srada glanced at the side mirror.
And—
"WHAT THE F*CK?!"
A WHOLE DAMN PARADE WAS FOLLOWING THEM.
A line of kids marching like it was August 17th Independence Day—
Except this was specifically an event for escorting ancient motorcycles to their final resting place.
The chaos:
One kid was waving a laundry banner flag.
One was banging on an empty bucket like a war drum—using a spoon.
Another was holding a broken electric fan—WAVING IT LIKE A RELIGIOUS RITUAL.
It looked like Mad Max, but village edition.
Krish casually waved at them.
"Yo! Morning, little gremlins!"
The kids:
"MORNING, KING KRISHHHH!!!"
They cheered, some doing flips, some doing splits on the muddy ground—
AND THEY DIDN'T CARE.
Srada's jaw dropped.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?! WHY DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M BEING PARADED LIKE A BRIDE?!"
She immediately ducked her head.
Her face burning.
Not just embarrassment—this was full-on TikTok Live-level humiliation.
Then—
The kid in the front, holding an empty water gallon, suddenly STOPPED.
His eyes widened.
He pointed at Srada.
The rest of the kids:
"HUUUUUUUUHHHH?!!!"
And then—
THEY ACCELERATED LIKE A SWARM OF ENDORSEMENT-HUNGRY ZOMBIES.
They stared at Srada—
Scanning her from head to toe.
Helmet? Borrowed.Oversized jacket? Check.Sling bag? Check.
And then—
BOOM.
Their eyes locked onto her lips.
Kid 1:"DUDE, HER LIPS LOOK RICH AS HELL! LIKE A DAMN ONDEL-ONDEL!!!"
Kid 2:"YO, DID THE LOCAL OFFICE SPONSOR HER MAKEUP?!"
Srada stopped breathing.
Her temple twitched.
Her chest rose and fell.
Inside her brain:
"I WANT TO MURDER THEM, BUT THEY'RE STILL IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL—"
Krish just glanced back, grinning.
"Relax, Ra. They're my fans. A bit chaotic, but loyal."
Srada exhaled slowly.
"FANS?! BRO, THESE GREMLINS JUST ROASTED ME!!!"
Krish just laughed, ruffling the head of the loudest kid.
"Alright, alright, scram now. I'll treat you guys to meatballs later."
The kids:
"MEATBALLSSS!!!"
They immediately disappeared, speeding off on their ancient bicycles—
Some with three people crammed on one seat.
Some riding with fully deflated tires.
And just like that—
Krish revved the engine again.
Srada lowered her head even more.
Her face? Completely tomato red.
She gently pinched Krish's waist.
"Krish…"
Krish tilted his head slightly. "Hm?"
"Do you really… REALLY… have to take this bike?"
Krish grinned.
"Yup."
But then he added—
"Why? Wanna walk instead?"
Srada glitched.
"THIS ISN'T ABOUT WALKING, BRO—MY A** HURTS!!!"
The bike rolled forward.
Its exhaust wheezed, letting out thin clouds of smoke.
Krish stayed relaxed, his left hand casually checking the side mirror—making sure Srada didn't fall off.
He smirked.
"If you keep holding on like that, I'm afraid you're gonna fall… for me, Ra."
Srada refused to reply.
She just took a sharp breath, trying to suppress the heat creeping up her face.
But she didn't let go.
The wind brushed past them, cool and refreshing.
Too refreshing.
And that was the problem.
They didn't notice.
Something…
Someone…
Had been following them from the start.
Far away.
On a small hill, overlooking the road—
A man stood still.
Draped in a long, black cloak, covering his entire body.
His face—buried in shadows.
Except for his eyes.
Faintly glowing.
Red.
Dim.
Like embers on the verge of fading.
Unblinking.
In his hand—
A metal staff, standing perfectly upright.
The tip—sharp.
The base—grazing the earth.
Not piercing it.
Just touching.
And yet—
Cracks began to crawl outward.
Like shattered glass.
Spreading—
Without a sound.
A wisp of cigarette smoke coiled around his head.
Thick.
Heavy.
He inhaled, slow.
Exhaled, slower.
Like a man with a thousand years to die.
The smoke rose…
But did not drift.
Did not scatter.
It stayed—right where it was.
Still.
The man spoke.
His voice—
Low.
Dry.
No intonation.
No emotion.
"Finally…" he whispered.
He tapped his staff.
Once.
Softly.
Yet—
The air trembled.
Leaves fell from the trees.
Not from wind.
From pressure.
He looked ahead.
Far away—
Two silhouettes.
A boy and a girl.
Riding a dying machine.
Moving slow.
Casual.
Clueless.
Foolish.
"It's time," he murmured.
He twisted his staff.
Slowly.
The tip trembled.
Like an instrument searching for something.
Or someone.
The cigarette smoke descended.
Slithering down to the ground.
Spreading across the asphalt—despite the distance.
And at the very end of his staff—
A light appeared.
Blue.
Pulsing.
Once.
The man gave a single nod.
His eyes, once burning—
Now empty.
"Miracle of Technology," he breathed.
And then—
He vanished into the smoke.
cliffhanger? Sure. But don't worry, We're still good… right? 😜
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