Chapter 4 – The Truth Revealed | Part A

In the workshop that smelled of metal and echoed with the steady hum of machines, the evening light slipped through a cracked window, bathing the room in a faint golden glow. Dust floated lazily in the rays, giving the cluttered space an almost sacred shimmer. It wasn’t just a workshop—it was a place of dreams, built with sweat, shared meals, and bursts of laughter. Among the piles of tangled cables, rusting tools, and towers of scrap metal, the rhythm of labor and playful banter pulsed like the heartbeat of a family. Every corner held a memory: the burn mark from an old welding mishap, the stool missing a leg but still stubbornly in use, the faded poster of a racing car that someone had taped to the wall years ago.

Zinnia stood in the center, her violet hair tied high, giving her a sharp, capable look. The light caught strands of her hair, glinting like sparks.“This week’s gold: 212 grams,” she said, pointing to the digital scale. Her voice carried authority, cutting through the background noise of clattering tools. “Plus 67 grams from last week, that makes 279 grams.”

Radit leaned back casually against a beam, flipping his pocket knife shut with a whistle. His movements were lazy, but his eyes gleamed with satisfaction.“Guess all this slave work finally paid off,” he muttered, slipping the knife away before spinning it once more for show.

By the window, Kaivan raised his hand lightly, his face calm under the shaft of sunlight painting him in a soft glow. “Current price is 325 thousand per gram,” he said evenly. “That’s nearly ninety million in total.” The words rolled off his tongue as though he were simply stating the weather, but the weight of the sum settled on the others like a heavy blanket.

Frans, who had been lounging lazily in a chair with one leg dangling, straightened up in an instant. His grin broke wide across his face, eyes shining with eagerness.“So how’s the split this week?” he asked, leaning forward with anticipation.

“And… we’re having a feast again, right? Like last time?” he added, rubbing his chin as though already tasting the memory of grilled meat and overflowing drinks. His voice carried a boyish hope that drew a chuckle from Radit, who reached out and clapped him firmly on the shoulder.

But the laughter quickly faded when Zinnia narrowed her eyes, her sharp gaze slicing through the air. Her arms crossed firmly over her chest, body rigid as steel.“But… why is that girl sitting on Kaivan’s lap?” she demanded, her tone like a spark landing on dry wood.

All eyes turned in unison toward the corner. Felicia sat comfortably on Kaivan’s thigh as though it were the most natural place in the world. Her long hair spilled down in silken waves, her fingers idly twirling the ends of a strand. She only smiled, calm and unbothered, her expression daring anyone to challenge her.“Thivi, everyone’s staring at you now,” she said softly, though a glimmer of fire flickered in her gaze, betraying her playful words.

Thivi shot back immediately, her hands snapping to her hips, voice loud and sharp enough to cut the tension.“Hah? Why me? You’re the one glued to him,” she quipped, her tone half-playful, half-provocation, while her eyes held an undeniable challenge.

Zinnia stepped in before the air could ignite. She planted her feet firmly, her voice ringing with authority that left no room for defiance.“I was talking to both of you!” she snapped, her finger stabbing toward Felicia and Thivi in accusation. Her words sliced through the rising tension like a blade, making the others instinctively straighten their backs.

Kaivan let out a quiet sigh, the sound barely audible against the hum of the machines. His face remained composed, detached, as though he refused to be dragged into the firestorm brewing around him. His calm presence was like a silent wall, the one unmoved figure in a room brimming with sparks.

Frans never missed a chance to joke. “Must be nice, being pampered by two pretty girls like that,” he muttered with a mischievous grin, sparking a ripple of laughter among them.

Radit, quick as always, jumped in. “Bring Tira, your girlfriend, then you’ll know what it feels like!” he teased, laughing as Frans chuckled in satisfaction.

In the middle of the noise, Kaivan rose slowly to his feet. His voice was calm but steady, every word carrying weight. “We’ll sell part of the gold. The profit’s enough for a feast—and to buy four sacks of phone parts for the next batch.” All attention shifted toward him at once.

Frans, now serious, nodded. “I’ll get the car ready. But… is it okay if Tira joins us this time?” His tone softened, warm and sincere.

Kaivan gave a faint smile and nodded. “Of course. The more the merrier.”

The setting sun slipped through the cracked window, washing the workshop in liquid gold. The light danced across the piles of treasure they had forged with their own hands, glinting like dreams beginning to take shape. Laughter and conversation blended with the hum of machines, turning the place into more than a workshop—it was a space where resolve and joy grew side by side, shaping hope.

That Saturday night, Kaivan planned their celebration. Ludwig Café, with its sweeping view of the city sky, became the perfect stage. Usually quiet beneath the blanket of stars, the rooftop turned lively that evening—filled with laughter, warm chatter, and the hum of gratitude.

From above, the city lights shimmered like a sea of jewels, echoing their triumph. The night breeze carried the scent of food and a thrill of unseen excitement, weaving an atmosphere both intimate and almost magical. The moment became a memory in the making.

Normally, it was just Kaivan, Radit, Frans, and Zinnia at these gatherings. But tonight was different. Two new faces joined them: Thivi with her bright cheer, and Felicia with her quiet mystery. They didn’t just add to the numbers—they shifted the rhythm, changing the mood into something new. The celebration was no longer about gold or numbers, but about belonging. About becoming one.

Plates of tempting food crowded the table, drinks gleaming beneath the soft lights. Conversation jumped from jokes to dreams, from strategies to secret confessions. Laughter bound them together, an unspoken promise: none of them would walk alone again.

In the midst of the cheer, attention fell on Felicia. Sitting easily on Kaivan’s lap, she fed him with casual grace, as if it were second nature. Kaivan accepted it without fuss, as though their closeness required no explanation.

From another seat, Tira—sitting beside Frans—watched with curious eyes.“Who is she? The one on his lap, feeding him?” she whispered.

Frans smiled, a touch of pride in his voice. “That’s Felicia. And the guy is Kaivan—my most loyal friend. He was there even when I confessed to you.”

Tira frowned slightly. “Are they… dating? Isn’t that a bit much, in public?”

Frans shrugged lightly. “No. They’re not dating. But Felicia’s always like that—looking after Kaivan like he belongs to her. I don’t know why.”

Tira nodded slowly, though her curiosity lingered. Across the table, Zinnia caught a piece of their exchange but replied only with a faint smile, choosing silence over judgment.

Above them, the night sky spilled stars across the city, as if blessing the moment. No one thought of tomorrow. They lived fully within the passing second, letting smiles and laughter warm the rooftop.

After seeing Tira home, Frans returned to Ludwig. The streets were hushed, streetlights glowing dimly, his steps thoughtful as he replayed the night. When he arrived, the others were still gathered, joking and chatting under the gentle light.

Suddenly, Radit lifted a bottle from the table, his grin turning mischievous.“How about we play Truth or Truth? If there’s a Dare, people can dodge the real questions. Not fun at all.”

The circle formed: Kaivan, Zinnia, Thivi, Frans, and Radit sat around the table. Felicia, still near Kaivan, smiled faintly, choosing to stay an observer. The bottle spun slowly under the touch of Radit’s hand, marking the beginning of a game that would peel back secrets hidden beneath laughter and the night’s glow.

The bottle turned, its scrape soft but enough to stretch the silence tight. Time itself seemed to hold its breath as every gaze fixed on it. At last, it slowed… and stopped, pointing directly at Zinnia.

Zinnia straightened her back, a faint smile brushing her lips, though her eyes held something unspoken. Radit grinned, seizing the moment. “Zinnia, what makes you so relentless? Something happened?”

Silence. Zinnia lowered her gaze, her eyes sweeping over the faces around her. The night, once filled with laughter, gradually fell quiet.

“My life used to be ordinary,” she said softly, her words firm. “School, hanging out. But slowly… the men I trusted all disappointed me. Every relationship ended in wounds. Even after my sister got married, I saw the same in my brother-in-law. That’s when fear took root. Even with you guys, I need distance. At least one hundred and twenty centimeters just to talk.”

Her voice was calm, yet it cut deep. Each sentence peeled back layers of hidden scars, heavy enough to weigh down the night air.

“My father died when I was little,” she continued. “So I never had a man to look up to. Over time, men became something like a threat that never sleeps.”

The rooftop turned still. No jokes, no laughter. Only the wind and their hushed breaths. For a brief moment, everyone felt closer—not through games, but through the truth finally laid bare. Zinnia’s wounds touched them all, binding their hearts in shared silence.

Radit, usually lighthearted, now looked at her with steady eyes. “Thank you, Zinnia,” he whispered, sincere. No one answered with words. Only their gazes met, offering strength in silence.

The bottle spun again. Tension grew, as if the night itself held its breath. Many silently wished it would stop at Kaivan, that the mystery of the Tome Omnicent would finally surface. But fate chose otherwise—the bottle pointed at Radit.

Zinnia’s smile was faint, but her gaze sharp. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

Radit hesitated, a flicker in his eyes, but he didn’t look away. Under the broken moonlight, he began to speak.

“My life was far from pretty. My family was poor. I was hungry, angry, desperate. So I stole. Anything, from anyone. Just to survive.”

He lowered his head briefly, then looked at his friends again. “It was wrong, I know. But back then, it felt like the world gave me no choice.”

A pause.

“One afternoon,” he continued, “I was about to steal again. But Kaivan stopped me. He didn’t report me. Didn’t punish me. He talked. He believed in me. His hand was open… and I chose to trust it. From that day, I stopped.”

The rooftop grew heavy with quiet warmth. The moon seemed to listen, city lights flickering in rhythm. Kaivan only smiled faintly, not claiming credit, just offering a proud glance.

The bottle spun once more. The night wind brushed past softly. When it stopped, its neck pointed toward Felicia.

Radit’s gaze fixed on her, not to challenge, but to wait—for the honesty hidden beneath her perfume and cool smile.

He asked quietly, his voice weighty, shaking the silent night. “Why were you with Julian?”

Felicia’s eyes grew distant, lost in corridors of the past. Shadows of bitter memories crept across her face. The starlight dimmed in her eyes as she lowered her gaze.

“My father…” Her voice was faint, nearly breaking. “He cheated often. My mother was sick. And then… he left us.”

Silence fell again, her words hanging like dust that refused to settle. She clutched the coffee cup in front of her, grounding herself in its fragile warmth.

“Since then, I believed… women must obey. Must submit, or be abandoned. I lived in fear—that if I resisted, I’d be discarded, like my mother.”

The rooftop was rigid. No one spoke. The night itself seemed to lean in and listen.

“Then Julian came,” she whispered. “He was the first to reach out. I obeyed him. I thought it was love—to give everything without question.”

She sipped her coffee, now lukewarm. It tasted dull, but it anchored her.

“I endured. For years. Not out of love, but fear. Until… Kaivan appeared.”

The word hung in the air. She lowered her head, gathering fragments of broken memories.

“He promised…”

Radit leaned closer. “Promised what?”

Felicia gave no answer. Her eyes drifted away. Suddenly, her hand seized the bottle at the center of the table, spinning it fast. The scrape of glass on wood drowned out the question, sealing away a wound that had nearly been exposed.

They fell silent. The bottle spun slowly, slicing through the tension. Every gaze clung to its motion, as if fate itself balanced on the tip of its rotation. Finally, it stopped—pointing directly at Thivi.

Thivi lifted her eyes to the moon, its silver light framing her calm face. Felicia, still caught in the undertow of her own emotions, turned to her. Her voice softened, like a blanket gently brushing against an open wound. "So, what was your life like before this?"

The night breeze stirred, becoming the music behind the story waiting to be told. Thivi’s gaze stretched beyond the rooftop, reaching for a distant village in her memory.

“Simple,” she said quietly. “I grew up in a small village. Quiet days, no pressure—just family, friends, and an old motorbike.”

A faint smile touched her lips. But behind it, something deeper waited.

“I almost fell into a ravine once. My bike slipped out of control. I thought that was the end. But then he came—Kaivan. He pulled me back from death, held me, saved me.”

Silence cloaked them. Each imagined that moment—wind, cliff, and the courage to act.

Kaivan only smiled, as always. He needed no recognition, only the quiet truth of being there when it mattered.

“Since then, my life changed. There are things you only begin to see when you’ve come close to losing everything. Sometimes, tragedy gives birth to miracles.”

Moonlight washed over Thivi’s face. The girl who usually shone with cheer now seemed deeper, more fragile, more human.

She exhaled slowly, her trembling hand setting the bottle into motion again. No one spoke, watching destiny’s dance. The bottle slowed, spun… and landed in front of Felicia.

Felicia sat upright beneath the dim light of the moon. Her gaze was calm, but the fine line on her brow betrayed something heavier. She knew—Thivi’s eyes carried not just curiosity, but jealousy.

“What promise did Kaivan make to you?” Thivi’s voice was soft, yet heavy with tension. The rooftop shifted, no longer a place of warmth but a silent courtroom. All eyes waited for an answer that might shake the bonds between them.

Felicia turned slowly to Kaivan, drawing in a breath. “That day at the old mall,” she whispered, her voice tender yet piercing. “Kaivan said: ‘I’ll keep protecting you, against everything you cannot fight. In return, protect me from every threat that comes for you.’”

She lifted her gaze to the sky. A small smile curved her lips, though it did little to hide a wound only half-healed. “For me, that wasn’t just a vow of protection… it was a bond. Not because I am weak, but because we promised to protect each other.” Her words fell like the season’s first rain—gentle, yet trembling with power.

Silence returned. Not empty silence, but one heavy with meaning. Kaivan lowered his head. Words pressed at his throat, but he knew: even one could unravel everything. Felicia’s gaze was too honest, too deep. So he chose silence. Painful, but safer.

The tension spread quietly. No laughter, no murmurs. Only held breaths and the rhythm of hearts. Felicia lowered her eyes to the bottle and spun it once more—forcing time forward, hiding her truth within the spin.

Under the star-dusted night sky, the bottle turned across the table, reflecting the pale glow of the moon. When it stopped, its tip pointed at Kaivan. The rooftop froze; their laughter drained into a fragile stillness.

Felicia broke the silence. “Kaivan, that book you always carry… what is it?”

The question lingered in the air. That wooden-covered book—always clutched close, as though part of him—now stood at the center of every gaze.

Kaivan smiled faintly. He knew the moment had come. Calmly, he lifted the book and placed it in the center of the circle. "Curious? Take a look."

Zinnia was the first to touch it, opening the first page. "Empty…"

Radit quickly leaned in. "You kidding? I took a photo, and in the picture there were words and drawings! But the moment I looked with my own eyes, they vanished."

Kaivan only watched, silent yet sharp. When Felicia reached out to touch, he stopped her gently. "Don’t. It could give you a headache."

Felicia drew her hand back. "Why? What is this book, really?"

Kaivan breathed in. "It’s called the Tome Omnicent. Not an ordinary book. It shows information only to its owner—not just what you want, but what you truly need."

Silence spread. The night wind slipped through, as if listening.

"I got it from an old woman. I helped her—and she told me her husband was the previous owner. This book only passes into the hands of those deemed worthy."

Frans raised an eyebrow. "So… you were chosen? Like fate?"

"Maybe. But its pages don’t come for free. Every piece of information carries a price. Sometimes I have to do something I don’t even understand at the time."

The mood thickened. Under the pale light of the moon, the book looked alive—not just whispering about the past, but hinting at their future.

Frans leaned forward, trying to grasp it. "So, you can learn anything from it? Even the future?"

Kaivan shook his head. "Not like that. It’s not about knowing—it’s about following. The book gives directions and commands. Without it, I wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t have met."

Silence. Even the laughter of the city night seemed far away. The stars froze in the sky. The wind against their skin only deepened the chill rising from within.

Kaivan exhaled, his voice rough, almost fragile. "I want to apologize. To all of you."

No one answered, but their quiet was the space he needed. He lowered his head, feeling the weight he could not share. Beneath the moonlight, his face looked paler, his eyes no longer cold but weary—honest, and tired.

"I should never have met you," he continued. He raised the Tome Omnicent, showing it to all. The book looked ordinary—but no one saw it the same way anymore.

He took another deep breath. "Once, I wished… that my life wouldn’t be monotonous. That I could become someone better. The book answered—but not with desires. With orders."

He looked at each of them in turn. Shock, disbelief, and faint hurt flickered in their eyes, yet none turned away.

"The book told me to help Radit quit stealing. To catch Zinnia when she fell. To guide Frans to confess to Tira. To save Thivi from that motor accident. And last… to draw close to Felicia."

His words struck like icy wind. Every sentence no longer mere explanation, but confession. The rooftop once full of laughter now held only silence, stripped bare by truth. Even the wind seemed hushed. There was nothing left to say. Kaivan had revealed the page he had hidden most, and now all of them had to bear its meaning.

In the creeping quiet, the rooftop seemed to hold its breath. Their words and thoughts wove a web of fate—unexpected, yet somehow inevitable. Beneath the dim moonlight, they began to realize their presence together was no coincidence.

Kaivan stood within that circle, surrounded by Felicia, Zinnia, Frans, Thivi, and Radit. The night wind carried the damp scent of the garden below, but the air between them grew heavy—laden with curiosity, disappointment, and unspoken care. Their eyes stayed fixed on the book resting calmly on the table: the Tome Omnicent. A source of answers. A source of doubt.

Felicia stepped forward. The moonlight softened her face, resolute yet tender. Her voice cut through the stillness. "So, we’re all still tied together through Kaivan… and this book." Her tone held no blame. She only sought to understand—and to be understood.

Radit gave a slow nod. His posture was tense, but his eyes gentle. "If not for Kaivan and this book, I’d probably still be just a street thief."

Frans let out a small smile, shoulders squared. "And I… wouldn’t be with Tira. Wouldn’t know the courage it takes to confess to a girl."

But Zinnia remained quiet. Her arms folded, violet hair swaying with the wind. She stepped forward at last, her voice striking the air. "But we were used, weren’t we?"

The tension snapped taut. All eyes turned to her. Felicia’s brows rose. Radit looked down. Frans clenched his jaw. Even the night wind seemed to pause its breath.

Kaivan drew a deep breath. His shoulders lowered slowly, as if releasing a weight. "I know you might feel that way. But I never saw you as pawns. I never meant to manipulate any of you."

Silence swallowed the rooftop. Then Thivi stepped forward. Her short skirt swayed gently as she moved. Her hand brushed against Kaivan’s arm—barely a touch, yet filled with meaning.

"If it weren’t for you… I probably wouldn’t be alive right now. Whether it was the book that told you or not, I’m still grateful."

Felicia glanced at Thivi, then came to stand by Kaivan’s side. "If it weren’t for you, I’d still be trapped in Julian’s hell. You saved me, Kaivan. And I’ll never forget that." Her voice trembled softly, heavy with emotion.

Zinnia remained quiet, but her eyes softened. She drew in a long breath. "Maybe… I can see the good in it. But give me time." Her words were faint, yet carried undeniable weight.

Kaivan nodded slowly, his expression easing. He stepped back from the table, as if to show he wasn’t forcing them. "I’m not asking to be forgiven now. I just want you to know—you matter to me. Not because of the book, but because you are who you are."

For a moment, time seemed frozen. Then Zinnia’s gaze shifted to the book, her eyes reflecting a newfound understanding. She turned back to him. "Alright. So, what’s next for the six of us? I think I’m starting to get it."

The night wind carried a damp chill, and the moonlight traced soft silhouettes across their faces, easing the tension into a deeper stillness. All eyes fell on Kaivan.

He lifted his head, his gaze sweeping across each of them, as if engraving their presence in his memory. "We need to find four more people," he said at last. "We’ll become the Ten Humans."

The words rippled through the calm like a stone tossed into water. Radit, still leaning on the railing, broke the silence. "Ten? What are we, Power Rangers?"

Zinnia allowed a faint smile. "Radit, Power Rangers only have five."

"Then we’re Kamen Riders—different, but plenty of us," Radit shot back without missing a beat.

Thivi stepped forward again, her slender figure framed in moonlight, her blue eyes glowing. "Who are they?"

Kaivan shook his head gently. "I don’t know yet. The book hasn’t spoken about them. For now… we just live our lives."

He paused, then let out a small, easy smile. "And maybe… keep fixing phones."

Laughter bubbled up, light and fleeting. For that brief moment, the night felt weightless. Yet beneath the laughter, promises and destiny had already begun to write their next chapter.