Flashback: The Abyss of Greed
Back then, Herman was the owner of a fairly successful convenience store in a corner of the city. His shop was always bustling, his family life harmonious, and the money flowed steadily. It was the kind of life many people would consider ideal. But human nature rarely settles for enough—there's always a desire for more.
"Mr. Herman, here's this month's financial report," said Dewi, the store manager, handing over several sheets of paper. "Our sales are up, but so are our operational costs."
Herman took the report calmly, his eyes tracing the neatly printed numbers on the paper. His brows furrowed slightly. The increase was there, but not as impressive as he had hoped.
"A small rise? Dewi, if we're satisfied with such tiny gains, we'll fall behind the times. Is there anything we can cut?"
Dewi sighed, already anticipating where this conversation was going. "Sir, the staff salaries are already at their bare minimum. If we cut them any further, it would be cruel."
Herman chuckled softly, as if amused by a harmless joke. "Dewi, think bigger. We're not just bosses—we're life coaches. By keeping their wages tight, we're teaching them a valuable lesson: how to survive in a tough world. Learning to save money is a good thing; it helps them value it more."
Dewi stared at him, searching for any hint of sarcasm on his face. There was none. Herman truly believed what he was saying.
At home, Herman became increasingly frugal. Every expense had to be justified.
"Hon, Dika wants a remote-control car for his birthday," said Santi, his wife, cautiously.
Herman looked at her with a forced wise expression. "A toy car? Hmm… How about we give him something more valuable—an experience? Let's bring him to the store, let him learn how to earn money. That's a lesson far more meaningful than a piece of plastic."
Santi sighed. "So… we're not buying it?"
"We'll see. If Dika can make a simple business proposal and convince us that the toy will break even within a year, then maybe we'll consider it," Herman replied casually.
Santi looked at him for a long time. Not angry—just tired.
In the neighborhood, Herman had gained a reputation. Not as a generous man, of course.
"New watch, Mr. Herman?" asked a rickshaw driver who often parked near his store.
Herman raised his wrist, as if only now noticing the watch. "Oh, this? A gift to myself. They say successful people should reward their hard work, right? Just a little motivation."
The neighbor smiled stiffly. "Wow, cool. Must be expensive?"
Herman chuckled. "Ah, price is relative. What matters is functionality. This one's waterproof up to 100 meters, though I have no idea why I'd ever dive that deep."
The rickshaw driver laughed along, though his eyes didn't.
Herman's greed only worsened. He raised prices as he pleased, overworked his employees for unreasonable pay, and even began skirting the edges of legality.
"Sir, the rice is priced too high," a staff member protested, relaying customer complaints.
"Relax, this isn't overpriced—it's market strategy," Herman replied with a confident grin. "Besides, if people feel it's expensive, it just means they need to work harder, right? That's how the economy moves."
But the wheel turned the other way. Customers began to disappear. Employees quit one by one. Even his family started drifting away.
One night, Santi looked at him with tired eyes. Not just physical exhaustion—but emotional fatigue.
"Herman, do you even realize? You're not the same man you used to be. We used to be happy, even with little. Now, everything feels cold."
Herman scoffed. "I'm just trying to secure a better future for us, Rin. Is that wrong?"
"A better future for who? Because from what I see, we've got nothing left now—except money that can't talk back."
Herman fell silent. But Santi wasn't finished.
"You used to come home with a smile. Now, all you bring home are numbers. You count every rupiah spent, but you never counted how much love you've thrown away. Me, Dika… we're your family, not your investment."
Herman clenched his hands and looked down. "I just wanted to make sure we live comfortably…"
Santi let out a soft but bitter laugh. "Comfortable? Are you comfortable with all this? An empty house? A child afraid of his own father? A husband who talks more about profit than happiness? If that's your definition of comfort, then I'd rather go back to being poor—at least back then, we still had hearts."
Her words stuck in Herman's mind longer than he wanted. That night, he looked around his silent home. Expensive furniture, luxury goods, and a waterproof watch he had no real use for. But Santi was right—there was no warmth in any of it.
He sat on the couch, holding the latest financial report still lying on the table. Profits were up, but customers were down. Money had grown, but people had left.
Outside the window, the city lights continued to flicker as usual—as if the world moved on, indifferent to how far someone could fall.
Herman closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Santi's voice echoed in his mind.
And for the first time, he truly felt afraid.
"What have I done…?"