.Tarot

Because the woman insisted, I gave in and sat back down on the old bench I had just left.

“You said it was cheap earlier... how cheap?”

I knew a little—tarot readings like this usually weren’t cheap. To some, it might look like just a card game, but in truth, it was closer to a counseling session.

The woman, who had been standing with her body slightly bent, now sat beside me. She was close, only an arm’s length away.

“How much money do you have, sir?” she asked bluntly.

With a heavy sigh, I reached into my pocket, pulled out my wallet, and checked the bills still folded inside.

"I've only got a hundred thousand left..." I said, holding up two fifty-thousand rupiah.

Without waiting for permission, her hand snatched the money from my grasp.

"More than enough," she said, tucking the bills between her breasts. “Tonight, I’ll give you a discount.”

I exhaled and leaned back against the bench.

“So... what kind of tarot reading do you actually offer?”

She adjusted her seat, then looked at me with calm eyes.

“I can offer you three spreads. You’re free to choose—love, career, or perhaps your fate ahead. Even a simple yes-or-no question, if that’s all you want.”

Doing something like this right now felt pointless—nothing would change, nothing would be fixed...

But I decided to treat it as some kind of final offering from someone who no longer knew what else to do. After all, money would soon mean nothing.

She studied my face for a moment, then spoke, her tone still warm but now tinged with seriousness. “So, what kind of reading do you want?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll go along,” I answered briefly.

“From your expression, you seem to be carrying a heavy burden,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “Then let me read your fate.”

I paused, then let out a faint laugh. “Sure, go ahead.”

She reached into her small bag and pulled out a medium-sized box—her tarot deck. Slowly, she opened it, took out the cards, and handed them to me.

“Before I shuffle, place your right hand over the deck,” she whispered.

I nodded and followed her instruction, placing my hand on the cards. “Done,” I murmured.

"Now, imagine all the problems you're currently facing. Feel, with your whole heart, every emotion you've been holding in. Then, in silence, say to yourself that you wish to know what your future destiny holds."

As soon as she spoke, chills ran across my skin. Perhaps it was because the night had grown late, and the streets around us had gone quiet—leaving only the two of us. The silence made my chest tremble.

And yet, in that stillness, I felt strangely at peace. No more raging emotions, no more haunting wounds. It was as if... everything had settled.

“I’ve imagined it,” I said softly.

“Alright, then I’ll begin shuffling,” she replied with a calm nod.

She shuffled the deck slowly—too slowly—smiling in a way that felt a little suggestive. Even the way she held the cards... ah, no need to explain further. It was deliberate.

Honestly, I began to lose focus. My gaze wandered, my thoughts drifted. “Sorry... could you go a little faster?”

“Patience, sir... I’m shuffling the cards that will decide your fate,” she said, her voice smooth and teasing.

Then her movements quickened, until one card slipped from the deck and fell to the ground—separating itself from the rest.

The card fell precisely between us—it lay face-up, aligned perfectly perpendicular to the bench where we sat. As if it truly wanted to reveal itself. Not a coincidence, but a kind of cosmic intuition.

The card was—

Major Arcana: Death.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke. Silence. A strange emptiness hung between us, as if a hidden veil had been torn away.

We exchanged a brief glance—long enough for me to see her expression change. Quickly, she turned away, hiding her face. Nervous. Her eyes darted, her lips parted as though to explain, but no words came out.

Without saying much, she snatched up the card and slipped it back into the deck. Her hands moved fast, almost frantic, as if erasing what just happened.

“Th-That... card doesn’t count,” she stammered, her voice trembling. “It’s just... random. Means nothing.”

But seeing that card made me smile faintly. It felt like a sign—like my subconscious had already known, long before I could admit it, what I was meant to do. Maybe... this was the answer.

She spread the cards again, fanning them into a half-circle across her palms. “P-Please pick three cards, sir. Place them here, in order.”

Without thinking too much, I chose at random—one from the right end, one from the middle, and one from the left. I placed them in a row on the bench.

She set aside the rest of the deck and focused on the three I had chosen.

Her hands moved slowly, brushing the surface of each card as though feeling the energy within. Her lips moved faintly, murmuring words I couldn’t catch.

Then, one by one, the cards were revealed.

Left—Major Arcana: The Devil.
Center—Minor Arcana: Nine of Swords.
Right—Minor Arcana: Four of Wands.

“Alright,” she said, glancing at me briefly, “I’ll read them in order.”

I gave a small nod, staying silent.

“Everything happening in your life now ties back to your past. Something strong—an attachment—that keeps you from moving forward. You may not realize it, but it’s like chains binding you.” She pointed at The Devil, her gaze heavy.

“It could be trauma, obsession, or unresolved guilt. Because of it, you are haunted by anxiety, regret, fears without shape—burdens that grow heavier each time you try to forget.” Her finger shifted to Nine of Swords.

“But...” her eyes moved to the last card, “if you endure this, if you don’t give up, then there is hope. A light that can lead you to happiness.”

I remained silent.

Her words sounded rehearsed, too perfect for what I might want to hear.

For a moment, I even suspected—maybe she was just weaving phrases to soothe me, to make things seem alright.

“That’s it? Then I’d like to continue my journey.”

Without waiting for her reply, I turned, ready to stand and walk away.

Suddenly, her body leaned toward my back. I felt her trembling breath through my clothes. 

In that closeness, she whispered softly:

“Whatever you’re facing... please, don’t give up. Don’t do something that will chain sorrow into the hearts of those who still love you.”

Silence. Her breathing was heavy.

Then she continued, her voice softer than before.

“I believe you are a wise man. And a wise man... always finds the best path for himself—even when the world seems to leave him no choice.”

I froze.

I wanted to reply, to say something. But all that escaped was a trembling at my lips, unable to form words.

I raised my arm, wiping away the tears that fell again.

Still with my back turned, I stood. Without a word. Then I walked away, slowly, leaving her behind.

With each step, I cast away my doubts. With each step, I made peace with my fear of death. And for once, I gathered what little courage remained.

For a moment, I glanced back. She was still standing there, watching me with soft eyes—pitying, sorrowful.

But...

I must not falter. Not tonight.

I won’t allow anyone to shake this resolve.

Because if I falter now, all these wounds will remain. And I... will keep living only to repeat the same pain.