A Spark of Fate in Jakarta
– Jakarta, 2025 –
The night wind of Jakarta bit into Raka Segara’s skin—so far from the warmth of temple incense and royal jasmine in the Sundanese Kingdom. His eyes burned under the dazzling city lights, like thousands of giant fireflies dancing in the dark. Just moments ago, he had stood tall at the palace gates, waiting for his betrothed, Anjani, to begin the siraman ritual. Now he was stranded in a sea of roaring metal, with towers scraping the heavens and war horns disguised as car horns.
“By Sang Hyang Tunggal… where am I?” he whispered hoarsely.
People bustled past in strange clothes. Carriages sped without horses. The golden uniform of a royal guard clung awkwardly to his frame, out of place amid the crowd.
Anjani... where are you?
“HEY! MOVE IT, DUDE! WHAT ARE YOU, A STATUE?!”
A shrill voice snapped him from his daze. A pink scooter nearly clipped his foot. The girl riding it glared, denim jacket flaring as she pulled up. Her shoulder-length hair was a mess, her helmet half-off—revealing an expressive face twisted in irritation. But her eyes... alive, fiery, like dancing sparks.
She stared at him: tall, broad-shouldered, thick brows framing narrow, confused eyes, and a sharp nose above pale skin.
“Lady, why do you shout?” Raka asked politely. He was used to the gentle grace of palace maidens, not this jarring bark.
“Huh? You serious right now? This is Jakarta, not some shadow puppet stage!” she snapped. “Hot guy, dumb brain.”
Raka frowned. “Dumb brain? I seek someone important. Her name is Anjani. Might you know her?”
The girl’s jaw dropped. “Anjani? Hold up—are you stalking me?!”
She got off the scooter, one foot ready to kick. But then she got a better look at his face—damn. That divine-level handsomeness. Those soft, stormy eyes. That stupidly charming mouth—
Focus, Anjani, focus!
His sincere smile melted her defenses. This is my Anjani, Raka thought. He could feel the red thread of fate pulling them close. His heart thundered.
“Are you Anjani Sekar Ningrum? My life partner,” he said gently, full of longing.
Anjani froze. That voice… that look... weird, but familiar.
“Life partner?! You’ve gotta be dreaming, dude. I’m HR staff and proudly single!” she snapped.
Raka sighed. The curse again. He’d been thrown into the future. This version of Anjani didn’t know him.
“I am Raka Segara, captain of the royal guard of the Sundanese Kingdom. We were to be married. But someone cast me into this time.”
Anjani burst out laughing. “HAHAHA! What is this—an audition for a soap opera? This is 2025, not the 15th century!”
Still… her eyes scanned his intricate uniform. The detailing. The way he spoke. This guy wasn’t acting. Or… was he?
“Whatever. Move it. I’m late!”
As she tried to start the scooter, Raka gently held her hand. His touch sparked unexpected warmth. Anjani’s heart skipped.
Why am I reacting like this?
“I will prove it to you,” Raka said. “Where do you work? Allow me to escort you. In your world or mine, a man must protect the woman he loves.”
Anjani flushed red. Loved? Was he this innocent or just smooth? Either way… it hit deep.
“That’s none of your business! I can take care of myself!”
“This world is foreign to me. You’re the only one I know,” Raka pleaded, eyes earnest. “Let me stay beside you.”
Anjani groaned. He was insane. But…
“Fine. Come with me. But stop calling me ‘life partner,’ okay? That’s cringe.”
Maduran Café & Warung – Open 24/7 buzzed with noise and heat. Raka shifted uncomfortably under the neon lights. Anjani dragged him to a back table where a straight-haired guy was glued to his phone.
“Ramdan! You corporate simp!” she yelled, slapping his head.
“Njani! You’re late! Cak Soni almost fired me!” Ramdan glanced up—and stared. “Whoa. Who brought the traveling theater actor?”
“This is Raka. He… got lost,” Anjani muttered.
Raka bowed. “An honor, Sir Ramdan.”
Ramdan burst out laughing. “Sir?! What are you, a chatbot?!”
“He’s got amnesia. Thinks he’s from a kingdom,” Anjani whispered.
Ramdan patted Raka’s shoulder. “Relax, bro. Just pretend we’re filming an indie movie. I’m down.”
But then Anjani asked if Raka could stay at his boarding room.
“Are you serious?! My room’s tiny! What if he’s a serial killer?”
“He’s a royal guard! Look at that face—pure cinnamon roll!” Anjani argued. “I’ll buy you chicken noodles for a month. Plus iced tea!”
Tempting. Ramdan sighed. “Fine. But he better not mess up my bed.”
A loud voice boomed across the café.
“Whoa! New customer looks like a king!” said Cak Soni, the thick-mustached owner.
Ramdan knocked on the table. “Bang!”
Cak Soni jumped. “Bang! Chicken!”
Anjani and Ramdan cackled. Raka looked deeply confused.
“Raka, huh?” said Cak Soni. “Where you headed, kid? Got lost riding an elephant?” He pointed outside dramatically.
After some slapstick antics from Cak Soni (who made Raka even more lost), they walked to Ramdan’s place. On the way, Anjani explained Jakarta—the traffic, the phones, the endless noise.
Raka was fascinated when her phone rang.
“This thing speaks to distant people? Without a spirit voice?”
“It’s called tech, not magic!” Anjani giggled, pinching his arm. Their hands brushed. They both blushed.
Ramdan’s room was cramped and messy. Raka gawked at the fan, the TV, the blinking lights.
“This world… it’s made of wonders,” he whispered.
As Anjani prepared to leave, she looked at him again.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Don’t worry, okay?” Her voice softened.
“Thank you, Anjani. You’ve saved me.”
“Ugh, cheesy,” she said—but her smile betrayed her.
Alone, Raka lay on the narrow mattress. The pillow smelled strange, unfamiliar. But he closed his eyes and thought of her—her laughter, her glare, even her scolding. Sweet now. He would find his way home.
And bring her with him.
Suddenly—
WHOOSH!
A blinding white light burst from under the mattress. A vortex yanked at him, ripping through his bones like claws of time.
“NO—ANJANI—!” he screamed.
But his voice vanished into the void.
– Jakarta, 2005 –
When he opened his eyes, he stood in a rusting playground. The swing squeaked. The slide was chipped. And a small girl with braided pigtails played alone in the sand.
She turned.
Her eyes—wide, curious—were unmistakably Anjani’s.
“Mister, who are you?” she chirped. “Your clothes are weird.”
To be continued…
