The city of Aethel is rigidly divided into four social strata that barely touch each other. In the Upper Elite district, towering glass-clad buildings reflect a clear, almost sterile blue sky. The air here always smells of expensive perfume and artisan coffee. The roar of luxury electric cars and the brisk tread of leather shoes dominate the wide sidewalks. This is where the Sterling Corporation stands majestically—a symbol of power and prestige.
Not far away, the Central District pulsates as the city's political and intellectual heart. Here, the most influential families live quietly, without needing to flaunt their wealth. They have transcended class; what matters is networks, knowledge, and harmony. But one young man from this district has chosen to disappear—disguising himself as part of a completely foreign world.
Slamet is actually the son of a prominent family in the Central District. His family is highly intelligent and wise, but also a bit eccentric. Slamet inherited that intelligence, but also a legacy of "absurdity," which led him to descend into the underworld—searching for true love unaffected by status. He had tried the Upper Elite, but was rejected because he was deemed bankrupt. He moved to the Middle Elite, but his love was unrequited because they were too busy chasing class advancement. Eventually, he arrived in the Lower Elite—the most honest district, where people still uphold the values of simplicity and hospitality, despite their material poverty.
And here he was—standing on the sidewalk right in the shadow of the Sterling Corporation, with its colorful cilok cart. The cart was a symbol of his rejection of the glittering world. He wore a worn T-shirt and worn jeans, his face sweaty but his eyes eager. His hands deftly stirred peanut sauce in a plastic container, occasionally throwing a small wooden spoon as if playing—a remnant of his absurd habit that couldn't be hidden.
From the exit of the Sterling building, a woman emerged with sure, elegant steps. Naura, the company's heiress, had just finished a tense meeting. Her face still radiated the coldness of a perfectionist. She wore a white blazer and pencil skirt, with limited-edition white leather shoes still perfectly polished. Her sharp eyes scanned her surroundings, quickly noting every imperfection. When her gaze fell on the cilok (rice cake) cart and the vendor, who was busy throwing spoons, her lips almost curled into a sneer. But she chose to ignore it. Her world was too high to be distracted by trivial matters.
Slamet, on the other hand, looked at her enthusiastically. Wow, she's so pretty. But her face was sour. She must be hungry, he thought innocently. He even planned to give her free cilok to make her smile.
Unintentionally, while he was busy playing with the wooden spoon, his hand slipped. The spoon was flung into the air, spinning, and landed right in the sauce container. Splat! Red sauce sprayed out—aiming straight at Naura's white shoes.
Naura stopped immediately. Her legs stiffened. Her eyes slowly drooped as she stared at the spreading red stain on her white shoes. Her breath hitched. Her face flushed, but she still managed to control her voice.
"What just happened?"
Slamet froze. His eyes widened. This was worse than when soto sauce spilled on his pants, he thought. Frantically, he grabbed a dirty rag from the cart and thrust it at Naura.
"Sorry, Miss! I'll wipe it! It doesn't usually miss like this, the wind was pretty strong earlier…"
Naura took a step back, avoiding the cloth like dirt.
"Don't touch me! Don't you know what kind of shoes these are?"
Slamet scratched his head.
"Shoes... for walking, Miss. But I'm sorry, I'll change... but I probably can't afford the branded ones."
Naura looked at him with a look that could freeze lava.
"Enough. Go. Now."
But Slamet instead interjected:
"But the sauce is delicious, you know. Want to try it? It's free…"
Naura took a deep breath. This was the lowest point of the day—even lower than the canceled presentation this morning.
And unbeknownst to them, from behind the window of a black car parked far away, a pair of sharp eyes watched. Alexander Sterling, Naura's father, witnessed the entire incident. His face was cold and calculating. His ultimatum awaited.
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