The village morning was gloomy, covered in black clouds—as dark as Baskara's future. The wind blew hard, successfully making the "Ice Fruit Mix Available" banner from the shop next door flutter like a literal war flag.
Baskara was busy frying crackers he'd scavenged from Old Man Brewok yesterday. He was deep-frying them in used cooking oil that had turned pitch black.
If you're wondering where he was cooking, obviously behind his shack using a traditional stone stove. As for Cruel, the kid was currently at the river. Apparently, he was hunting frogs to use as subjects for some poison experiment.
Flashback
Baskara had just returned from the village hall after returning a lamp he'd stolen. He walked with heavy steps, followed by his little brother who loyally trailed behind. If you're curious why he returned it, well, for the past few nights, he'd been haunted in his dreams by the hall's guardian spirit, protesting and demanding the lamp be put back.
"Bro, I'm gonna hit the river for a bit," Cruel said as they passed a road near a fast-flowing stream.
"Eh? For what?"
"I want to dissect those frogs," Cruel pointed at several frogs lounging by the riverbank.
Baskara swallowed hard. Seriously? He had to witness an impromptu animal surgery first thing in the morning? He wasn't ready.
"Hey, kid... have some mercy on the frogs. They have mothers, you know. What if the mom gets mad and starts a protest in front of our shack? You want that?"
Cruel gave Baskara a sharp, icy stare.
"If the mom shows up, we'll just dissect her too so she can join her kid."
'Holy crap, this kid is a total psycho,' Baskara thought, racking his brain for an out.
"In that case, be careful. I'm heading straight home."
"Don't you want to see the frog's internal organs, Bro?"
"NO!! I mean—I still have a lot of work to do."
"Aren't you unemployed?"
'This kid is way too honest. And he's right. Dammit! I better leave before I puke here.'
"Uh, our roof is leaking, so I gotta go patch it up. Alright, I'm off. Bye!" Baskara immediately bolted, leaving Cruel staring at his retreating back.
Flashback End...
"Ugh, why is the wind so strong? The smoke's going everywhere, and it's about to rain too. Such a hassle."
[Do not speak like that. It is impolite. Remember, you are a burden. Rain is a blessing (Rahmat).]
"Rain is Rahmat? You mean Rahmat, my primary school friend who skipped class all the time? Since when did he change careers to become a rain shaman? Impressive, he can make the whole village wet."
The System shot a cynical look at Baskara, who was still busy flipping the crackers so they wouldn't burn.
[Not Rahmat the human, you idiot! I mean Rahmat as in a blessing from the heavens!]
"Oh... I thought you meant the guy. His face always looked gloomy and depressing anyway. If he fell from the sky, it wouldn't be a blessing—the whole village would get raided by the school discipline office."
[The fate of helping a moron... not only stupid, but a gold-digger too.]
"What did you say? Gold-digger? Hey, better a gold-digger than your boss. He's stingy, gives insane rewards, and loves torturing people."
[Watch your mouth, oh Burden of the World. Just because my boss is frugal doesn't mean he's stingy. He literally saved his minimum wage salary just to create me. If I wasn't created, who would keep you company? You'd end up like a stray crazy person.]
"Stop yapping. Fine, look—Blackie, you wanna help me out?"
[What help do you need? I helped you yesterday. Today I'm feeling lazy, so don't boss me around. Remember, nothing in this world is free. My server needs electricity subscriptions. How about I swap your reward for some 'thoughts and prayers' instead?]
Baskara glared at the system, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
"Seriously, a lazy system? What do you want to be when you grow up, huh?! Look, just help me this once, please. Help me become a fake shaman. I'm confused about what other job I can even do."
[Adding to your sins and inviting me along, I see.]
"Please! If you help me and I get some cash, I'll help pay for your electricity sub."
The System went silent, listening. It didn't sound like a bad idea. It was just worried its "beloved boss" would find out it was helping this creature add to his sins. Oh well, if caught, it could just say it was trying to cover the electricity bill to stop being a burden on the boss.
"If you don't want to, then fine—"
[Fine, I'll do it! When do we start?!!]
Baskara smirked mischievously. Looks like the plan worked. Well, we'll see how this goes...
"Okay, so the plan is..."
BASKARA'S POV:
The most dangerous job in the world isn't being a bomb disposal expert—it's being a scammer in a den of thieves. The thing is, today I officially made my debut as Ki Kara Gugel, the legendary shaman who (allegedly) can summon a rain of money, even though I usually get ignored by the meatball soup vendor.
My name sounds powerful, right? At least if people ask about their fate, I can just say: 'Sorry, my prophecy quota is full, please contact the customer service of the afterlife.'
Preparing the "War Gear"
I stared into the mirror, adjusting my batik headband which was slightly crooked. The room was stuffy, and the smell of cheap incense I bought by the kilo at the market was stinging my nose.
I wore a black robe that was maybe... too big? Whatever, it's fine. I borrowed it from the neighbor anyway. Besides the robe, I also wore a giant wooden prayer bead necklace and a toy kris dagger painted gold. Not bad—I managed to swipe it from the toy store earlier.
I had to wrap this up before my brother got home. My image would be ruined if he saw me like this, and worse, I'm afraid he'd follow in my "lost" footsteps.
"Remember," I whispered to my reflection. "You don't need to be magical. You just need to look like you know more than the person who's panicking."
The wooden door creaked. A woman entered with a designer bag that probably cost enough to feed me and Cruel for a year. She looked anxious.
[Target Name: Mrs. Ratna. Complaint: Husband is being "disturbed" by a homewrecker.]
"Ki... please help me," she sobbed, placing a thick envelope on the wooden table.
I closed my eyes, mumbling nonsense—actually, I was just reciting the lyrics to Heavy Rotation in Javanese—while occasionally moving my hands as if catching mystical energy from the air.
The System stared at me, holding back laughter. Truly a brat.
"Hmm... the aura around you is very heavy, Ma'am," I made my voice as deep as possible, sounding like an old man who smokes too much.
"There is a spiritual 'send-off' following you... it smells like jasmine perfume mixed with gasoline."
Mrs. Ratna gasped.
"You're right, Ki! His mistress always wears jasmine perfume!"
Bingo! I totally guessed that. Jasmine is basically the go-to scent for anything "mystical" or "other woman" related.