From afar, the building beside Medan Selera Kita stood like the exposed ribcage of a giant, its skin yet to be fitted. No walls. Steel beams clawed into the evening sky, and a towering crane turned slowly, lifting its load toward a peak still left bare, as if even the roof had yet to decide whether it wanted to protect anything beneath it.

Under a worn-out canopy barely holding back the heat, construction workers rested. Some washed their hands in a blue barrel, the water grey like diluted coffee. Others tossed plastic plates into a large bin. A few sat cross-legged, food containers on their laps, eyes sunk into their phone screens. The digital world felt lighter than the sacks of cement on their shoulders.

One by one, they stood.

Work suits lined with red tubing slid over their bodies. The red lines ran from chest to limbs like extra veins.

Zing suits.

The latest creation that doubled human strength. Muscles borrowed power. Bones borrowed endurance. Sweat remained their own.

Leman lifted three cement bags at once. His steps were heavy, but steady, as he walked toward the mixer.

“Careful. Don’t crack the back tank. If Zing hits your body wrong, you’ll feel it later.”

The older Chinese man smiled, his safety helmet slightly tilted, a file tucked under his arm.

Leman returned a faint smile. He dropped the cement bags beside the steaming mixer. The smell of sand and dust clung to his throat like a promise that refused to go down.

“You were strong just now, ayah. Like Kenz.”

Puteri watched him with shining eyes beneath her small helmet.

“Dey, with the suit, of course can lah.”

Uncle Siv, dark-skinned, rough-handed, guarding the machine, chimed in with a laugh.

“Uncle Siv not strong. Like pelesit,” Puteri teased, sticking out her tongue.

“Puteri.”

Leman’s voice wasn’t loud.

But it stopped the wind.

He looked at his daughter for a long moment. His wife was gone. The makcik who watched Puteri charged RM50 a day.

His salary was RM100.

Bring Puteri to the site, save RM50.

Dangerous, he knew.

But hunger was worse.

“Rawhhh! Uncle Siv jadi pelesit!”

Siv pretended to claw like an old tiger with creaking joints and gave chase.

“Ayahhh!”

Puteri hid behind Leman, laughter bursting out, short but honest. Dust, sweat, and laughter blended into the color of the day.

Then—

A shout tore through the air.

“Oi! Over there! Someone drilling found a big green crystal!”

Everything stopped.

Like a switch flipped.

Movement died for a second, then returned all at once. They ran toward the voice.

Uncle Siv and the Chinese man exchanged a glance. A small nod.

Leman lifted Puteri onto his shoulders and followed.

“What crystal, ayah? A pelesit?”

Puteri’s voice was soft, her hands gripping his helmet.

Leman stayed silent.

His hands tightened around her legs.

At the center of the site, a crater yawned open. From within it, a smooth stone glowed green. Only its tip was visible. The rest remained buried in the earth, like something that had yet to decide to be born.

“Call Zingforce.”

“Yeahh, holiday—”

“Haiya, you all too much. Always thinking holiday.”

A file lightly smacked a worker who cheered.

The crystal pulsed.

Slowly.

Like a heart dreaming.

The green glow flared brighter for a second.

Then dimmed.

The air felt heavy, though no one knew why.

Puteri hugged Leman’s neck tighter.

“Ayah… what is that?”

Leman swallowed.

He didn’t know what it was.

But he knew one thing.

Once Zingforce arrived, this site would be sealed.

And when the site was sealed, his kitchen might go cold too.

Inside the crater, the green light pulsed again.

This time, a little longer.

The siren of a Zingforce combat vehicle sliced through the road like a blade of sound, cutting the evening open. Cars moved aside without needing a second honk. Paths opened on their own. Respect in this city wasn’t a choice.

It was reflex.

The sound passed by Medan Selera Kita.

But never reached Cafe Citarasa Semua.

In the cramped, heated kitchen, Khai stepped out carrying a tray with two plates of nasi kuning. Turmeric steam rose slowly, curling like a silent prayer. The scent of coconut milk and spiced chicken thickened the air.

Mary was talking to Rash, fingers dancing across her phone screen, fast and certain.

Rash noticed Khai and quickly slipped into the kitchen.

Their eyes met.

Khai stared.

Rash answered with a crooked smile, the kind that hides stories behind teeth.

Khai looked away.

The tray was placed in front of Mary and Dr. Syarifah. Warm steam brushed Syarifah’s face. She inhaled deeply.

“That smells amazing.”

“Khai.”

Mary’s voice was soft.

Not cheap softness.

Something that tried to enter without knocking.

Khai didn’t look up.

Not because he hated her.

Not because he was angry.

He just didn’t want old memories waking up.

“Eat with me.”

Mary smiled. There was hope at its edge.

Syarifah watched from the side. She didn’t know their history. All she saw was a woman who usually stayed cold toward men, now leaning slightly forward, waiting for a response that never came.

Khai arranged the spoon and fork.

Neat.

Too neat.

“I’m working.”

Short.

Cold.

Mary let out a small laugh, trying to melt ice that refused to melt.

“Five minutes won’t kill your business.”

No reply.

Outside, the siren faded, its sharp edge now just a thin echo at the end of the street.

But Khai’s chest felt heavier.

Like something inside was about to break through.

Why are you like this, Mary?

The question trembled inside Syarifah.

You reject every man.
You mock elite officers.
You leave politicians hanging.

But this man—

The one standing like a wall.
The one not reaching back for you.

She noticed something subtle.

Every time Mary smiled, Khai didn’t look at her face.

But his jaw tightened.

Like he was holding back a war.

Mary nudged the plate toward him.

“If you won’t eat… just sit. I don’t like eating alone.”

Silence settled between them.

Not empty silence.

A silence heavy with unspoken years.

Khai didn’t respond.

And from Mary’s side, that silence felt like punishment.

She noticed he no longer searched for her face.

He never stared much before either. He guarded his gaze like someone protecting a small flame.

But today was different.

Today felt like she was pushing against a door Khai had locked a long time ago.

Too eager.

Too close.

And the feeling stirred memories she had carefully buried.

She remembered Khai learning to cook. Blistered hands. Eyes stinging from the smoke of their small kitchen.

All for their dream.

A dream she eventually left.

She chose to go.

To chase her ambitions with Dr. Syarifah. To become a pioneer in Zing energy. Their names echoed in seminars, in news broadcasts, in grand halls filled with applause.

Khai’s name never followed.

Left behind, only able to watch.

I should be the one angry.
Why didn’t you look for me?

We could still connect online.
I reached out.
I waited.

And waited.

But my phone never moved.

As if you erased me from your life.

I thought you hated me.
Didn’t want to see me anymore.

Mary stole a glance. Just a second. Enough to release the longing she had buried.

Khai looked worn.

Tired.

Like a man who learned to live without expecting anything.

Her hand reached for the spoon and fork.

Slow.

Heavy.

Her head lowered. Her fringe shadowed the face that was usually confident and sharp.

She stirred the nasi kuning slowly. Each grain fell apart like time that could never be gathered again.

At least I get to see him again… even if it’s not how I imagined.

Memories don’t turn on like a switch.

The smell of nasi kuning was the same as before.

Turmeric. Coconut milk. Spiced chicken.

But today it felt distant.

Like a scent drifting from someone else’s home.

Syarifah watched.

The shine in Mary’s eyes held at the edge.

I can’t interfere.
This isn’t about Zing.
This isn’t about projects.

This is a wound with no formula.

She took a bite herself.

The bitterness wasn’t from the food.

Skreeeek.

A chair beside Mary was pulled.

Khai sat down.

Close.

Almost brushing her shoulder.

Mary lifted her head.

Khai’s eyes were dull.

Not hate.

Not anger.

Like someone who had carried the world too long and was just waiting for night to rest.

He looked sad.

And I’m the one who made him like that.

Mary inhaled softly.

“Open your mouth, Khai.”

She held out the spoon.

He hesitated.

The moment stretched like a corridor with no end.

Then, without realizing it, he opened his mouth.

He accepted the bite.

Chewed slowly.

Mary froze.

He… accepted?

A small smile formed. Not victory.

Relief.

Syarifah smiled quietly.

In front of her were no longer a cook and a Zing specialist.

Not a man full of secrets and a woman full of ambition.

Just two stubborn humans who refused to admit they still held something for each other.

Khai’s dim eyes now carried a faint light.

Not blazing.

Just enough to illuminate his own face.

Mary did nothing dramatic.

She simply sat there.

Close.

Breathing in the same space.

And somehow, that was enough to crack the walls Khai had built for years.

She didn’t hide the wound.

She looked at it.

And strangely, it no longer felt shameful.

The restaurant came back to life.

Plates clinked. Spoons tapped. Customers called out.

As if the whole café had been holding its breath, and only now dared to breathe again.

From the kitchen corner, Rash and the others watched.

They exchanged glances and smiled.

Khai no longer looked like a man living out of obligation.

His shoulders were no longer bent under invisible weight.

Now he looked younger.

Like someone who just realized the world wasn’t entirely dark.

Like someone who finally found a reason to wake up tomorrow.

“I’ll go to the toilet for a bit.”

Syarifah stood. Her plate was clean. Only a chicken bone remained. She walked away without looking back, deliberately giving space.

Now it was just the two of them.

No words.

No movement.

Only uneven breaths. Jaws tightening like dams holding back too much water.

Mary poked at her rice.

Five years.

No news.

No explanation.

No courage.

Even if she knew Khai didn’t hate her, time still eroded things. Bit by bit. Until they felt like strangers sharing a table.

Her mouth wanted to apologize.

But her voice refused.

Khai exhaled heavily.

Mary turned—

And saw it.

Khai stealing glances at her.

When their eyes almost met, he quickly looked away, flustered like a kid caught stealing sugar.

Pfft.

Mary couldn’t hold it.

Her laughter burst out. Light. Free. Just like before.

“Cute, you.”

That laugh shattered the frost between them.

Khai stared.

That laugh—

It was the same one. The one that used to tease him for guarding his gaze too much.

“Still a religious boy.”

The words fell softly.

Only Mary ever called him that.

And somehow, Khai’s chest felt both lighter and heavier at the same time.

I actually want this smile.

I want to protect this smile.

I want to live with it.

But the purple Zing.

The curse that came with power.

The name Kenz.

It wasn’t strength.

It was responsibility.

And that responsibility was slowly devouring his normal life.

How long will I keep running?

How long will I ignore what I want?

If I don’t fight for it… what do I even deserve?

“Sorry…”

Khai’s voice was low, almost lost in the noise of the restaurant.

Mary went still.

Her eyes widened slightly.

No.

Inside, she shook her head.

I should be the one apologizing.

“I left because I joined the national Zing research.”

Mary said it casually.

Only she knew how heavy it was.

“No…”

Khai replied, just one word.

“Everyone has their own dreams.”

He paused.

“I can’t force someone to follow mine.”

He looked at her.

No hate.

No anger.

Just long-held exhaustion.

“So you’re not mad?”

Mary’s voice rose slightly.

Khai swallowed.

“You know I overthink. I thought you hated me because I left.”

She leaned closer, brows furrowed.

“You didn’t accept me because I was selfish.”

Questions poured out.

Khai leaned back slightly, startled by emotions long buried.

He let out a small laugh.

Not mocking.

Just disbelief.

“You think I forgot you after five years?”

Mary rested her head on her hand. The crescent pendant swayed gently.

Khai’s face softened.

A faint smile appeared.

He never forgot me.

“Give me your new number.”

Mary held out her phone.

Khai took it.

Hesitant.

At least… if anything happens, he can find her.

He typed.

Saved.

Mary grinned.

“I’ll send you lots of sexy pictures later.”

Her eyes teased, deliberately testing him.

Khai stared.

Without a word, he deleted the number.

Returned the phone.

Mary pouted.

“Just kidding.”

She puffed her cheeks, pretending to sulk.

Khai stayed firm. If that was her intention, he didn’t want it.

Mary knew.

That’s why she liked teasing him.

He wasn’t that kind of man.

From afar, Syarifah peeked from behind a wall.

She smiled.

Mary looked like a child, always excited, always playful.

“Heh…”

James let out a quiet sigh beside her.

His gaze locked onto Khai and Mary’s table. Heavy, but not jealous. His face tightened, shoulders slightly slumped, as if carrying something unnamed.

He looked away.

Noticing Syarifah watching.

He quickly forced a smile.

But his thin mustache didn’t follow.

The smile was decoration.

His eyes remained dim.

His hand brushed his chest pocket briefly. Like greeting someone long gone.

Then it dropped.

He looked forward again, pretending not to care.

A vibration buzzed in Syarifah’s palazzo pocket.

She took out her phone.

“Hello.”

Silence.

Her expression changed. Focused. The softness gone, replaced with sharp clarity.

James listened, even without looking.

“Understood.”

The call ended.

“Pelesit attack?” James asked.

“No.”

She put the phone away.

“Crystal. Unusual Zing energy reading.”

James frowned.

He didn’t ask more. He knew that tone. When Syarifah used it, small things were no longer small.

She walked past him.

“Nearby. Stay on standby.”

She turned briefly. A faint smile. Adjusted her glasses. Then returned to the table.

James stared at the floor.

“Haihhh…”

A long breath escaped.

He almost forgot.

He, One, and Mesh weren’t just workers.

They were Zingforce reserves.

When the city called, whether during meals or broken moments, they still had to wear it.

The Zingforce suit.

Heavy not because of metal.

But because of responsibility.

There was extra allowance, yes.

Savings for the future.

But in a city filled with strange crystals and pelesit appearing without warning…

The future was always blurred.

At any moment, life could end before those savings ever meant anything.