I’d found a soldier
between the shrieks of Panzers,
looking straight to hell.
I’d found relish in
killing men and ravish as
I pull the trigger.
Red came pouring out.
It was either him or me,
that I told myself.
----------------------------------------
I minimized the document, staring silently at the cityscape-themed wallpaper as I left my cursor to hover. My mind was empty, and I thought of nothing as my vision slowly lost focus. It was only after the monitor screen decided to phase into the warm tinge of a desert’s colors that I finally snapped back to reality.
“Arya, what in the world did you just make me read?”
Arya awkwardly ogled, chattering his gums as he struggled to find his words. “It’s a haiku I came up with… ten minutes ago. I wanted to show it to you first before… you know. Didn’t you like it?”
“I know it’s a haiku, but I didn’t know that you had a thing for poetry.” I lightly sighed, caressing my temple. “It’s a bit jumpy and elementary—straightforward, too. I’d say it’s decent enough, for a beginner at least. What do you want to do with it, exactly?”
“No, it’s nothing, Mr. Raka. I just want you to—“
“Check if something is wrong with it, and help him fix it before Mr. Justin comes back so he can show his idol the little poem he made?” Rin kept focusing on her work, her eyes locked to the screen and her fingers deft as they clack and glide across her keyboard. “You’ve worked with him for almost a year at this point, Arya. I think you’re beyond prattling him with halfhearted honeying, so just tell him as it is and not waste his time.”
Heh, that’s classic Rin for him.
The Director had discovered Karina Hasyim Atmadja, lovingly nicknamed “Rin”, when she was still a sophomore. Two years ago, to be exact, she wrote a controversial piece of editorial regarding a well-known GPA forgery scandal in her high school’s monthly magazine. Her tongue’s sharp enough, yet somehow her penmanship is even sharper still. Apparently, the thing had been going on for decades at that point, and after she became the first to speak out, the school had tried to blackmail her with the threat of expulsion. And did she cower and apologize? Nope. Instead, she told the entire school of the debacle and the entire student body rallied against their faculty. Then, as if she hadn’t had enough, she fired her last coup de grace: an essay that named all those involved in the scandal—directly addressed to the student body, the school’s alumni, and even the Ministry of Education itself.
Needless to say, the school faculty hated her dissent, while Director Sanca really liked her daring do. So much so that before the smoke had even cleared up, he already secured for her and her family to be brought from her hometown of Kediri to the former capital. In exchange for her employment with Surya once she graduated, the Director gave her a new school to enroll in and her family the funds and connections to start anew and better, all free of charge. That might sound like an absurdly exorbitant transaction for someone unproven, sure, but no cost had ever been too much that it stopped Director Sanca from earning the talents he strongly desired and deemed beneficial to Surya’s overarching cause.
“Right, you want to show this to Justin so… what? So he can scuttle your three-verse haiku to pieces because he found out you imitated his way of writing?” I smirked, looking plainly to the now-nervous Arya. “Here’s a word of advice: Kwie Fong’s poems, well, work because he’d always use his settings in a tongue-in-cheek way. He never told ‘war stories’, only stories set in war but with problems of his own—ones that he and his audience can relate to.”
I stood up, lightly tapping the boy’s shoulder. “You’ve watched him work, and you yourself work under him now, so you definitely can do better, alright? Cheer up.”
Arya’s eyes brightened up as he nodded and he pranced back over to his desk. As I went to sit, Rin just shot me that look of hers that practically whispers “Come on, that could’ve been so damned funny”. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I would rather not listen to the so-called “Ragin’ Justin’” just right after lunch.
Speaking of lunches and Justin, he’d told both Matias and I that he also invited Anne to have lunch with us this time around. But they both are yet to return, and I’ve yet to receive the storm of chats saying that they’re sorry for standing us up. They’ve finished more than half of the applicants yesterday, so they should’ve finished sooner this time around. Did they finally find another prodigy? Or did they let so many applicants through that they’re not even close to being done with the final round of interviews? A little bit of both perhaps, who knows. The pair of them can enjoy their cold burgers and stale fries for all I care.
A couple of minutes later, my phone buzzed once. Probably just some random text.
Then just two seconds later, it buzzed again. And then for a third time.
Then it vibrated rapidly and continuously; I’m pretty sure my phone would’ve fallen off my desk if I hadn’t managed to grab it as quickly as I had. This time, it was a call from none other than Justin, and the call immediately connected the moment I set my phone next to my ear.
“Yea-“
“My prepaid is out of balance, so either call me back or just read your damned LINE.”
Ah, this son of a—and he hung up, great. Damn him and his Chinese-ness…? Orientality? Asian…ness? I don’t know how to make myself seem less of a racist, but I assure you I’m not.
I flicked my phone on and unlocked it with a light caress on the side scanner, then a flash of white briefly came to view before it finally displayed the screen. I navigated through the UI, before pressing the green square with the company's icon on it and waited no time for the chat to finally open.
Team A_Justin : hey, Rak
Team A_Justin : oi
Team A_Justin : OI
Raka.Darsana : ?
Team A_Justin : sorry for lunch, but there’s still something urgent
Then a brief pause.
Raka.Darsana : ight’
Raka.Darsana : …i guess you want your fries microwaved, then?
Team A_Justin : Sanca wants to see you, it’s pretty important so best hurry
Team A_Justin : you know what’s coming and you know where we are, ASAP
Damn. Damn it. Damn it.
I shouldn’t have jinxed myself. Thank you very much, the me from yesterday.
I immediately tried to compose myself before standing up and grabbing my suit on the way out. Checking my shirt for any creases, I then straightened the collar as I headed towards the second-floor elevators near the front atrium. The moment before my hand pressed the cold metal button, the doors came to open as they revealed two editors from Team B exiting, Ronnie and Nella, to be exact. They both were visibly dazed, and their eyes looked like they had just seen the Devil himself.
“Raka? Man, if you’re here…” Ronnie groaned, his voice whimpering. Nella helped her colleague up, looking into my eyes as we switched places.
“Good luck, Raka. Though you have your Midas’ Touch, I don’t think that’d help you that much against… whoever that was.” The elevator doors closed before I could ask her about what she’d meant, and I started my ascent up to the fourth floor.
I leaned back on the steel railing just in front of the glass cab walls, enjoying what little time I had in my short trip. My eyes came to a close, and I emptied whatever thoughts I had left with a long sigh.
Ding.
The elevator doors came to open, and I was once again greeted with the sight of more editors walking back to their offices, all in various states of emotion. Reza from Team B, two temps working for Team C, another temp working for Team B, and lastly, Mr. Karta—the Head Editor of Team C, who specifically specializes in Surya’s novel publishing.
“Midas...” He stopped at one word, shaking his head as he decided to not reveal what awaited my fate. We didn’t exchange more words, I continued on my way and let them continue with theirs.
The gray clouds of Hyades that blanketed the skies foretold the coming storm, and the rumbling din of thunder forecasted its time of arrival. The open setting of the fourth floor’s halls had also allowed the cooled winds to come through, and a particularly strong gust embraced my face as I turned the final corner.
I could see Justin directly outside the conference room with his black vape device in hand. In front of him was our very own Matias. The creative lounges are a mere stone’s throw away from the conference room, sure, but it’s still worrying that even he would bother to check what the commotion is all about.
“Justin, Matias.” I greeted them, and they responded with a nod.
“Well, Senior’s here, so I’ll take my leave.” Matias took a step back and turned. “Good luck, and see you two around.”
His stare’s calm and usual, indifferent. But that’s understandable, for why should he bother himself with the plight of us editors? Why should he share the agony that now runs amok inside Justin’s head?
Said superior paid mind to my presence, yet chose to again bite his jaws unto the device in his hand. The coil heated at the slight pressure of his middle finger, and the device’s muzzle released the vaporized liquid. He paused for a moment, letting the nicotine tingle his nerves into order, then immediately jetted out the white haze halfway up to the ceiling. He closed his eyes, letting the substance flow its course. The scent was sweet and tangy, immediately assaulting my sense of smell as it slowly bowed to gravity and faded into thin air. Strawberry yogurt, or is it blueberry this time?
“By the look you’re shooting, I guess you already have a slight idea about what’s behind that door. Right, mas?” Justin opened his eyes, revealing the steel-colored contacts and the pair of solemn black eyes underneath.
“A bit,” said I, “but you could just… not call me, right? We talked about this yesterday, after all.”
“Wish I could’ve done that, but I’m sure Sanca’s going to mount my head on a spike if I let this one go away.” Justin pocketed the device, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, though. If your thoughts on this matter don't change after you see her, then I promise to have your back.”
With a small kick to bring him back to posture, Justin turned to the door with me in tow. The lit-up room seemed even brighter than the open corridor, yet it felt gloom when first felt. Air conditioning cooled the room, yet the setting that lacked any spoken words was more chilling still. Every single person in the room came to realize our presence, but out of all a single person caught my eye—the only stranger in the room, that is.
The girl contrasted everyone in the room. A fiery youth surrounded by grizzled experts of the field. She was sitting down, but judging by her posture, I could tell that she’d only be as tall as my shoulders. Her black hair reached her waist save for the front, which barely reached the base of her neck. A black cardigan shrouded her petite figure, and black jeans framed her slender legs. And as she turned around to see who had just entered, her youthful features were brought to my immediate attention.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Midas,” Director Sanca called. “Sit down, then we’ll start.”
I nodded, eyeing the rest of the room in the short trip from the door to the only available seat. Mr. Mukmin held a stack of paper in his hands, systematically cycling through its contents not unlike reading a monthly budget report. The file in front of the Director’s side of the table was already re-sealed. Rian, as well as the just-returned Justin, calmly examined the room as they waited for me to take my place. Anne, who was still reading the files given to her, gave me the look that mostly exuded concern, yet it’s really understandable as to why she was giving me that look.
“Anne and Justin had insisted on not bringing you here, Midas, But, at this point… you’re my only hope.” The Director spoke, crossing his arms as he leaned back on his leatherette chair.
“That’s expected, but what I didn’t expect was you making a Star Wars reference at this time of urgency.” I drily chuckled at my own retort as I sat down, setting my hands on the tips of the chair’s armrests. “So is it this one?”
The old man nodded, and that confirmed it. Sitting on the chair beside the girl, I took a moment to examine her a little closer. Her dark eyes followed as she turned to the side, and our eyes met as she caught me staring at her. She didn’t seem to mind, though. No, actually, as a matter of fact, she’s also doing the same to me. The editor observes the prodigy, and the savant eyes her supposed inferior. Not an unusual dynamic, sure, but I digress. By what right do you dare judge me through your green and callow lens, dear savant?
“Well, look at you, sir.” The girl suddenly spoke, her voice as smooth as a well-tuned harp. “Seems like you’re a different cut from the rest.”
“And why is that?”
“You’re the first to not greet me, that’s one. And judging by the looks you’re giving me, you’re also the first one who’s not even eager to meet me. Reluctant, if I may say… I don’t know if I should like or hate that about you, to be honest.”
“Pretty bold to say that right in front of my face, considering that I've become your apparent last hope here in Surya.”
“A savior with one hell of an ego, right. It seems that the antihero trope has found its way to the real world.”
“Oh, look at little Ms. Kettle here calling Mr. Pot black back to his face. I wonder if anyone ever called you a nerd for bringing big concepts like ‘tropes’ to casual convo? Oh, right… probably everyone.”
“Getting a bit hypocritical here, aren’t we? The narcissist in front of me just labeled me a nerd, forgetting the fact that he called a perfectly normal remark by his boss ‘a Star Wars reference’ like an old fart that grew up in the nineties.”
“...Care to run that by me one more time?"
“The part about you being a narcissistic geezer? Sure.” She smiled. “Narcissistic. Geezer.”
“Oh, says the cocky, nerdy imp.”
“Narcissistic geezer.”
“Cocky imp.”
“Narcissisti—”
“Ahem.” Sanca let out a single, annoyed cough. ”Can you two just… stop for a moment? The both of you can get to know one another once we’ve settled this.”
You’re clearly not paying attention here, O’ almighty Director. We are getting to know each other here, though it seems that your little scheme here is your utmost priority. Prick.
She shot me a smirk and nothing more as she turned her attention back to the jury in front of her. The girl had finished her judgment, yet she had allowed me to continue with mine. It took less than a second before I too turned, but that was more than enough for me to remember the rest of her facial features.
Judging by looks alone, and if I had to guess, then I’d say she’s seventeen or slightly over—barely of age. She’s young, sure, but those are not the things that caught my attention. Her eyes. The way they convey emotion, with fiery temper—but that’s not what I was concerned with either. Those eyes burn, dangerously so, yet the fire is common in youths as she. No, it’s the eyes themselves. I’ve seen them before. The shape, focus, the glare… all I’d known.
Judging. Spiteful.
Those were the first things that came to my mind, yet it’s obvious none of the things I’ve just said can be seen in her eyes. The girl’s indigo-black eyes are filled with nothing but her resolve to fight, even if her mouth runs snarkily as an obvious point of contrast. Common, as I said, but still dangerous. She’s your typical teenage writer, and not the type I’d like to deal with right now. Ever, most likely.
“Well, to reiterate what I’ve said many times before, Ayu, the board of judges has unanimously concluded the interview process as satisfactory. Ignoring… whatever you both just did, Raka, we’ve deemed her character as suitable with Surya’s values and vision, and we’ve found her works… well, they certainly speak for themselves.” The Director took a moment as he went and addressed the prodigy. “Ayu, you’ve rejected every available editor we have, and I understand why a woman of your talent might choose to do so.”
“But if you’ve been reading the books we’ve published over the last three or so years, then you might’ve encountered the name Raka Aji Darsana credited in some of our best-selling books. People here and in the larger industry call him Midas, and his touch of gold isn’t just mere hearsay.” The old man proudly proclaimed as he rambled on as if I was his property to sell in the first place. Seriously, though, I still can’t stand the ridiculousness of that nickname. Did none of you bother to read about what happened to the son of Cybele?
“If I recall right, Midas has had a hand in more than half of the ten works we deem as our best-sellers. Tourney of Tessellations: a hundred and forty-thousand copies. Samudra: two hundred thousand. Heidelberg—“
“We get it, Sanca. I believe there’s no need for your spiel to be pitched for the umpteenth time this afternoon.” Mr. Mukmin shook his head. “Miss Ayunda, lass, this might be the only chance you have at landing a contract with us. So you can either accept—“
“I’ll accept.” The promptness of her words stopped Mr. Mukmin mid-sentence, and the sheer confidence between them stunned the whole room, including me, to abrupt stillness.
“Pardon me… but, what the fuck?” I whispered, letting out the single thought I had at the moment.
“Even without the persuasive pitch, I already think that we’ll make a better pair than any of the editors you’ve called so far, and I promise you that the work we’ll put out will outdo any of the books that you’ve sold thus far.”
Ayunda’s smile did not relent; the girl thought that she single-handedly sealed the deal. Then again, I want to see if the flair this girl’s giving is truly her own, or is it only a bluff?
“Really? The best pair that will produce the best work Surya’s ever put out?” asked I. “Tell me something, please. Are you that confident in your talents, or do you just want to impress us with your bravado to cover up your lack of skill?”
The girl stood up as she kept her countenance, and she closed in on me with a step. “Both, Mr. Darsana. The truth lies in between both of those things. It is precisely because of my talent that we’ll have a sturdy base to work upon, and it is because I lack the necessary skills to succeed that I need you to help me accomplish my promise.”
Ayunda inched ever closer, stopping as she offered the palm of her hand, revealing a handful of bracelets and a watch with a beige calfskin strap underneath the hem of her sleeve. “With no words do I mean to exaggerate, but it is as if our meeting was carved deeply within the tapestries of fate, Mr. Darsana.”
I was taken aback as soon I heard that line, and I was only able to stifle myself momentarily before breaking out into laughter. The room didn’t share my sense of humor, though, but that’s understandable.
“With no words that I mean to exaggerate, but it is as if our meeting was carved deeply within the tapestries of fate.” Wow, that was indeed a good line. Some people enjoyed it—I did too, at first. But I still didn’t expect for someone like her to use it in such a cavalier manner. I’m impressed, but that just made it all the more simpler.
Now that she mentioned it herself, there wouldn’t be much guilt on my part to just reject her outright.
“I thought, in the case that you are writing teenfics, I could just persuade Anne to debut as an editor instead. Aside from that notion being highly selfish of me to say, it appears that you don’t write teen fiction at all. Do you, little Miss?”
“No,” Ayunda politely answered, “I write a lot of things, Mr. Darsana. That alone should be clear if you had bothered to read my portfolio first.“
“And I didn’t, yet I somehow already know. Now tell me, what book and which page?”
“Pardon?”
“You know what I meant. The words you just said—what book is it from, and which page?”
The girl’s eyes twitched, ever so slightly, before she herself relented with a sigh. “Descension of the Lunar Gates, page 26.”
“Exactly.” I turned towards the main desk. “Genre fiction, and a hardcore Sci-Fi geek at that. Director, you know I’ve never liked editing genre fiction books, yet you pressed Justin to involve me all the same.”
“And what of it, Midas?” Director Sanca’s tone shifted as he leaned into the desk. “There’s always a time where one must compromise, and it’s not like there’s any choice other than you.”
“So all of a sudden you’ve gone back on the words you said when you hired me, Director? Have you purposefully forgotten the fact that you promised that I wouldn’t have anything to do with fics if I signed up with Surya? That’s classic Sanca Suryabuana for you—out with the old, in with the new. And apparently, his promises can also be renewed as long as it isn’t written down in ink.” I gritted my teeth, hoping my resolve was enough to deter the old man’s own. “I don’t care what you think of it. I still refuse.”
The room got quieter, but we all could feel the sheer heat coming from Director Sanca’s general presence.
“Raka,” he plainly muttered, “I still remember your request to stick to soft and non-fiction books when you accepted my job offer. For if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have given any of your colleagues the chance to take this opportunity. But I am not going to let a talent like hers go to waste.”
“Her talents won’t go to waste; she’ll grow eventually, I can assure you that.” I turned to look at Ayunda, her smile had thinned slightly. “But it’s not like we’re the only publishing house in the capital. I don’t want her, and so she must find somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else?!” Director Sanca gawked; his mouth came agape as it seethed with bridled rage.
Then he stood up straight, with a force so excessive that his left hand left a graze as it slammed against the desk. “Somewhere else, you say?! You dare?! You’re telling me to let this one go just because you refuse to not be selfish for once? The board of judges has the unanimous, uncontested say, and you’ll make your peace with it!”
The Director slowly tried to bring himself composure, and the room fell to silence once more. I took a glance at Justin, and it seems that he’s also made up his mind as well.
“This is an order, Midas, and you’ll do as I command.” The Director scoffed. “Now that it’s in place, and since the talent has no further objection, I suppose there's no need to extend this any–”
“Not so fast, Director.” Justin begins his move, and that’s the sign for us to end this, lest all turns to pain. “While it is true that we’ve unanimously agreed that Ayu’s work meets Surya’s standards, you’ve yet to call the vote on whether or not we agree on Raka taking her on as his apprentice.”
“And before you get any ideas to weasel your way out of this, sir. I disagree.”
As those words exited his lips, most of the room turned their eyes upon the Managing Editor of Surya’s defiant stand. Most notably, the girl—whose name was apparently Ayu, as I’d just learned before the whole carnage ensued—had her smile replaced by a face of surprise; even fear, if only slightly. Save for those who already expected such an outcome, including Director Sanca, most of the room shared her expression of bewilderment. A notable exception to the rule was Anne, who kept staring sternly into the girl, as if contemplating something.
Wait, there’s no way that he—Oh god, how did you even do that?
“Well, even if you do disagree, then what of it? You remember that the vote this time around requires only a simple majority, don’t you?”
“Which is why I also disagree, Director,” Anne spoke in response, coming to her editor’s aid. “While I do see the same potential in them as a pair, one that you’ve also seen and fought for so far, it’s meaningless if one of them lacks the commitment and willingness to pull it off. Instead of allowing Ayu to grow, a mentorship under Raka could hinder the girl’s progress in this field.”
“Even you?! Damned bastard…” Director Sanca turned his head for a moment as he heard that response, before returning his ireful gaze to the suspected chief of the conspiracy. “You’re clever, I'll give you that. Insolent, but clever. I respect that very much, even if I do wish to let the paramedics handle your aftercare right now after I’m done with you.”
“But you’ve forgotten the fact that I have the tiebreaker in this, Justin. No matter what you try to pull off, no one’s stopping this from happening.”
It was obvious that Sanca’s trying to hold back, seeing as he was clenching the middle of his walking stick tightly. Still, Justin’s unwavering expression shows despite the threats and odds that he’s probably got another card up his sleeve.
Which was soon revealed to be a gamble, rather than a true ace.
“Erm, Director?” Rian’s turn to budge came, as he finally made up his mind on how to deal with the predicament at hand. “I don’t know Raka that much as a person, but I do trust the pair’s judgment on this one. I’ve seen my share of rookies crumbling down, and not a few of those were caused by a lack of proper support. Raka’s also right on this one. We’re not the only good publisher in Jakarta, and I’d rather see her flourish somewhere else rather than fizzle into nothingness in our hands.”
“Which is why I am also saying no to this one.”
I could practically hear my heart race as complete silence followed Rian’s statement. The board itself was surprised, as our famously compassionate HR Manager turned out to be the independent variable in Justin’s grand equation. Mr. Mukmin, the only member of the board who’d most likely side with Sanca, eyed his direct superior with pure bafflement. Whilst Anne still had a tinge of surprise in her face, Justin could only display relief at the fact that his gambit had paid off. That leaves Sanca, whose bridled rage had practically turned the cold room into the seventh circle of hell.
“I—I…” Ayu’s cracking voice was the first to break the stillness, followed by the noise of her chair’s slight retreat. Her black hair covered her face as she kept her head down, she gave a final bow to the board of judges.
“I’d like to thank you all for the kindness, and I wish that we could work together in the future.”
She headed towards the exit in orderly steps, before stopping just shy of the door itself. Her legs started to tremble, with the tremors in her hands greater still. Ayu then broke into a sprint, storming off before anyone could do or say anything about it.
As I turned my attention back to the board, I could see Sanca already standing right in front of my seat with his eyes still darting from Justin to Anne and back.
“Nastalim, Hutahaean, I’ll be waiting for you in my office. I have a few words I’d like to say over some coffee.”
“As for you, Darsana.” He brought his gaze unto me, letting me stare back at his bloodshot, hazel eyes.
“Finish your work, then pack your things. You’ll be joining the three of us in my office once the workday’s done.”