The atmosphere in the bedroom shifted from "hostile standoff" to "clinical interrogation." Maki had forced Agung to sit on the edge of the king-sized bed, his feet dangling as she methodically tapped his joints with the heavy rubber reflex hammer. Umi stood by the window, her arms crossed, her shadow falling over him like a judge's gavel.
"Pekalongan?" Maki repeated, her voice sharp as she tapped his left knee. "A city in Central Java known for batik? That's where this 'other life' supposedly happened?"
WHACK.
"Ow! Yes!" Agung yelped as his leg kicked out involuntarily. "It's a coastal city! It's hot, the food is spicy, and the traffic is... well, the traffic is what killed me!"
Umi narrowed her eyes. "You mentioned your occupation. You had a quadrillion dollars in your dream, but what were you in this 'Pekalongan'?"
Agung hung his head, his slightly chubby shoulders slumping. "I was a street sweeper. I'd been doing it for two years. Every morning, before the sun was even up, I was out there with a bamboo broom, clearing the dust and the plastic off the asphalt. It wasn't glorious, and it didn't pay much, but it was honest. I just wanted to earn enough to buy my figures and pay for my internet so I could watch you all."
WHACK.
Maki hit his other knee harder this time. "A street sweeper? The man we knew was a billionaire media mogul who owned half of Akihabara! You're telling me you went from sweeping gutters in Indonesia to having 'Creation Magic'?"
"I didn't choose the promotion, Maki-chan!" Agung cried out, rubbing his sore kneecaps. "I told you, I was just a guy. My childhood... it wasn't a light novel. My dad left when I was a kid. He just walked out one day and never looked back. I spent thirty-five years trying to be the man who stayed, the man who worked hard even if it was just sweeping streets, so I wouldn't end up like him."
He looked up at Umi, his eyes glistening with a sudden, raw honesty.
"I grew up in a small house with a leaking roof. I studied by candlelight when the power went out. My only escape was the stories. When Love Live started in 2013, I was already struggling, but seeing you nine fight for a dream gave me the strength to keep sweeping. I didn't have a wife. I didn't have kids. I just had a 24-year-old collection of memories and a hope that maybe, in the next life, I wouldn't be so lonely."
The room went silent. Even Maki paused, the reflex hammer hovering mid-air. She looked at his hands—they were soft now, thanks to the 'Creation' body, but he held them like a man who was used to the rough texture of a broom handle.
"Then the truck happened," Agung whispered. "I was crossing the street after my shift, thinking about the new anime season, and then... BAM. The 'Operator' gave me a choice. I asked for the money so I'd never have to sweep a street again. I asked for the magic so I could protect the things I loved. But I never asked to steal another man's life."
Umi walked over, her expression softening just a fraction. "You say your father was a man who disappeared. And you wake up in the body of a man who did the exact same thing to us. Do you realize how cruel that irony is, Agung-san?"
"I realize it every time I look in the mirror," Agung said, his voice barely a murmur.
Suddenly, the door creaked open. A tiny, red-haired girl no older than four—a perfect miniature of Maki—peered into the room, clutching a worn-out alpaca plushie.
"Mama?" the little girl whispered, her eyes wide as she looked at the chubby man on the bed. "Is that the Papa from the pictures? Is he finally awake?"
Agung froze. His heart hammered against his ribs. He had a quadrillion dollars and the power to reshape reality, but as he looked at the little girl, he felt like the poorest man on Earth.