Chapter 3

A light drizzle fell over San Diego Hills Cemetery, as if the heavens were mourning the tragic passing of the husband and wife. Black umbrellas lined the rows of newly engraved marble headstones.

Rian stood at the front of the gathering, dressed in a black suit that hung slightly loose around his shoulders. His eyes were swollen, and his gaze remained fixed on the two graves now covered with fresh soil. He no longer cried. It seemed his tears had dried up the night he had spent at the hospital.

Only a handful of people stood behind him. Uncle Hendra and Aunt Sari were sobbing quietly. Several other uncles and aunts wore expressions that revealed more discomfort than grief. Three or four of his father's business associates had also attended, offering brief condolences and quick embraces before leaving with their umbrellas.

Rian glanced toward the cemetery gates, hoping to see Dika, Vania, or at least one of the friends who had sworn their loyalty to him the night before. But none of the familiar faces from his nightlife appeared.

That morning, when he had tried calling Dika because he needed someone to sit with him in the now-empty house, the number was already inactive. As for Vania, she had read his WhatsApp message without replying. Her Instagram showed her checking in at Bali, partying with a bottle of champagne that had probably been paid for by some new wealthy man.

They had all abandoned him, like smoke carried away by the wind.

To them, Rian was no longer a source of money. He was nothing more than a useless shell of a man.

"Rian, let's go home," Uncle Hendra whispered, gently patting his shoulder.

Rian stiffly nodded.

Home. Back to the enormous house in South Jakarta's elite neighborhood. The only place that still felt like home to him.

---

However, that feeling of being home did not last long.

The day after the funeral, while Rian was still sitting motionlessly in the spacious, cold living room, the doorbell rang sharply.

He opened the front door with sluggish steps. Five men stood on the porch. Three wore neat suits and carried thick folders, while the other two were muscular, dressed in black shirts, and wore intimidating expressions.

"Good afternoon, young master Rian," said the man at the front in a flat, professional voice. "My name is Notary Haryono. I represent the consortium of creditors and the bank. We are here to execute the court's ruling concerning your late father's assets."

Rian frowned. His mind, still clouded by grief, struggled to process the man's words.

"What do you mean? Execute? This is my house! I just buried my parents yesterday!"

The man sighed before opening his folder and handing him a document.

"We understand that you are grieving, Mr. Rian. However, legal matters cannot be postponed. Three months ago, PT Karya Utama, your father's company, defaulted on an investment loan worth two hundred billion rupiah. To cover the liquidity shortfall, your father pledged all his personal assets as collateral, including this house, two apartment units, and his entire vehicle fleet."

Rian felt the world spinning around him again.

"What... what do you mean? Papa's company went bankrupt?"

"Not just bankrupt, kid," interrupted one of the muscular men in a deep voice. "That company has been dead for a year. Your parents secretly sold off the remaining company assets to cover the interest on their debts, but it still wasn't enough. They owe us money, and now this house belongs to us."

"But... but I'm their only child! This is the only home I have!" Rian shouted, his voice cracking.

He tried to snatch the document, but the suited man swiftly pulled it away.

"The law makes no exception for an only child in bankruptcy proceedings, Mr. Rian. You have two hours to pack your personal belongings. Clothes, identification documents, and sentimental items. Everything else, including the furniture, electronics, and jewelry, will be seized and auctioned off."

Rian froze. His feet felt as though they had been nailed to the cold marble floor.

This house. The place where he had grown up, where every corner held memories, where he had celebrated his seventeenth birthday with a lavish party... None of it belonged to him anymore.

Even the clothes he was wearing might be taken away by tomorrow.

"What if... what if I refuse to leave?" he asked, his trembling voice sounding like that of a little boy making an empty threat.

The muscular man stepped forward, looking down at him with contempt.

"You can either walk out on your own two feet, or we can call the police to drag you out for trespassing on private property. Which would you prefer?"

Rian swallowed hard.

He had no money. He had no connections. He had nothing.

The arrogance that had once reached the heavens had now crumbled into dust.

With trembling hands, Rian rushed upstairs. He grabbed a sports backpack and began stuffing clothes into it haphazardly. He took his laptop, a few books, and a framed photograph of his family from when he was little—the only picture in which he could see his father smiling sincerely, without the usual pretense of business.

Two hours later, Rian stood outside the gates of his former mansion. He carried only a backpack and a wallet containing a few hundred-thousand-rupiah bills.

The tall iron gates slowly closed behind him. The sound of the repossession team's vehicles echoed through the property as the men began moving the household belongings.

Rian remained on the sidewalk, staring at the house that was no longer his.

He tried calling Uncle Hendra, but the number was inactive. He tried calling another aunt, but a housekeeper answered instead.

"I'm sorry, sir. Madam is out of town and cannot be disturbed."

They all knew.

They all knew Rian had fallen, and not a single one of them was willing to shoulder the burden of a teenager who had nothing left.

---

Rian walked without a destination in mind. His feet eventually carried him back toward the rear of the property, where a small garden was enclosed by high walls. The area had not yet been fully monitored by the men seizing the house because it was hidden behind a cluster of palm trees.

He sat on an old stone bench beneath his father's favorite mango tree.

When Rian was little, his father used to sit here and teach him how to peel mangoes. But ever since Rian had entered his teenage years and started spending more time at shopping malls and clubs, his father had rarely returned to this bench.

Rian hugged his knees and stared at the dry ground.

"It's all ruined..." he whispered to himself. "Everything is ruined."

He had nowhere to live. He had no money. The future that had once seemed so bright— inheriting his father's company and living comfortably for the rest of his life—had vanished, swallowed by debts he had never even known existed.

Rian began to cry again.

This time, however, his sobs were no longer as violent as they had been in the hospital. His tears fell silently, filled with a deep and unbearable despair.

He felt like an animal trapped in a cage, waiting for the moment it would finally die.

He remained there for a long time, sitting motionlessly as the hours passed and grief slowly consumed him. He did not even know what time it was anymore.

He no longer cared.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something.

A bird was perched on a dry branch of the mango tree.

It looked nothing like the sparrows or pigeons he was accustomed to seeing in the city. Its feathers shimmered in shades of deep red and gold, as though they had been made from frozen flames. Its long, elegant tail swayed gently with the breeze.

Its black eyes were fixed on Rian with a strange expression—one far too intelligent for an ordinary bird.

Rian blinked and rubbed his swollen eyes.

Am I hallucinating? he wondered.

But the bird remained where it was. It tilted its head slightly, as though studying him.

Even in his broken state, Rian's materialistic mind began to work again.

An exotic bird... Its colors are unusual... If it's a rare species or some kind of mutation, it must be worth a fortune. Collectors in the black market would pay a lot for feathers and colors like those.

A cunning thought emerged from the remnants of his old personality, the part of him that had always viewed everything in terms of financial gain.

If I can catch it and sell it... maybe I'll have enough money to buy dinner tonight.

The thought was pathetic, yet Rian could no longer afford to be picky.

Without realizing it, he got to his feet and began creeping toward the mango tree, his eyes locked on the beautiful creature.

The bird did not fly away. Instead, it hopped onto a slightly higher branch, as though deliberately teasing him.

"Come here, little bird..." Rian whispered, reaching out his hand. "Your new owner needs some money, you know."

The bird chirped softly, its voice ringing like a tiny bell. Then it spread its wings and flew away, gliding toward a small wooded area behind the residential complex that had yet to be developed.

"Hey! Wait!"

Driven by desperation and the remnants of his greed, Rian immediately ran after it.

He paid no attention to his clothes snagging on thorny bushes or to his increasingly ragged breathing. His attention remained fixed on the red-and-gold bird, hoping the little creature might become his ticket to escaping hunger that night.

He had no idea that chasing the bird would lead him to something far greater than a mere piece of bread.

It would take him to the very edge of the world he knew.