"Ugh... My head is killing me, damn," muttered a young man as he slowly opened his eyes.
He blinked, trying to adjust to the light piercing through his retinas.
His name was Zenra. Five minutes ago, he had died after being crushed by a neighbor's drying rack from the second floor.
[Check... One, two, three... Test... Test... Good morning, you burden of a human, you pathetic mess. I am the 'Anti-Hero Brother' system. You have transmigrated into the body of Baskara, a poor and miserable side character destined to die a pathetic death at the hands of his own younger brother, Cruel.]
Zenra stared blankly.
"Wait, die at the hands of my own brother?!! I just woke up and I'm already getting spoilers for my own death? No!! I don't want that!! I just died a stupid death from a drying rack, and now you're telling me I'm going to have another ridiculous death?!! Please, I still have half a bowl of seblak at home..."
From now on, we'll call this young man Baskara—or Bass, Aska, or Kara.
[Request denied. Your merit balance is -500 because you constantly ghosted delivery couriers in your past life. The only way to survive: ensure Cruel doesn't turn evil.]
Baskara glanced at the corner of the room. A small boy was busy mutilating a straw doll, ripping off its head, arms, and limbs. He continued to survey his surroundings. It was a tiny room; how could it not be when they were living in a shack? The roof was full of holes and on the verge of collapsing, and there were food wrappers littered everywhere. Oh God, why did he have such a miserable life?
He looked back at the little boy who was now his younger brother. He was cute, but why was he such a menace? It was so different from his small frame.
"That... That's my brother? A kid with a face like an Interpol fugitive? How am I supposed to change him?"
Kara looked at the boy in front of him in disbelief. I mean, when he was 15, he was just a naughty brat who'd hide people's sandals at the mosque, but this kid? This kid was practicing how to kill people.
[First mission: show him genuine affection. Give your brother a hug right now.]
"Just a hug? Easy. This is a piece of cake."
Baskara stretched out his arms, flashed his most sincere smile, and ran toward his brother.
"Cruel—"
THUD!!
Before he could hug him, he tripped over the leg of a table, falling in the most un-aesthetic way possible—landing right at Cruel's feet, his supposedly handsome face face-planting into the dirt.
"Bro, are you trying to kiss my feet?" Cruel stared at Baskara with disgust.
Kara scrambled up immediately. He wasn't going to let his first impression be ruined.
[Seriously, you're so pathetic. You just got here and your face is already flattened.]
The system mocked him in a snarky tone.
"Damn it," Kara muttered, annoyed. Honestly, he felt like his nose had gotten even flatter after that face-plant, but he wasn't giving up.
"El, can I give you a hug?" Kara grinned confidently.
Cruel looked at his brother with a sneer. Had his brother's brain been washed with detergent or something? Baskara used to be so cold to him.
"Pedo," Cruel retorted sarcastically. That single word sent Baskara's spirits crashing, and the man fell into a dramatic death-pose worthy of a soap opera.
Baskara whispered to the system while glancing at Cruel, who was busy sharpening a rusty spoon against the wall. After the long dramatic hugging session, Cruel finally let him hug him, though Baskara's left eye became the victim of a brutal punch. And yeah, you can guess what his eye looks like now—it's like a panda that got punched by an orangutan.
"Tem, system... serious question: can I return this brother? Or maybe do an exchange? Like, trade him for someone saner, someone whose hobby is playing marbles instead of sharpening blades? I feel like I'm in a thriller movie, damn."
The system replied with a deadpan tone.
[Sorry, burden. Items that have exited the womb cannot be returned or exchanged for any reason. The 'No Refund, No Exchange' policy applies on a cosmic scale.]
Baskara let out a frustrated sigh.
"Man, if I manually put him back in his mom's stomach, would that work? I mean, this kid's aura is already giving 'high-level villain' vibes—wait, I meant high-level—even though his pants are still falling off."
Who knows what sins Baskara had committed to be stuck with this future psychopath? Yeah, sure, he had his fair share of sins, but was it really this bad?
[That violates the laws of this world. If you do that, you and your descendants will be cursed to be cockroaches for seven generations. Interested? I still have the forms.]
"Damn, you're cruel. What did I even do to deserve this? My sins weren't that heavy. I never even killed anyone!" Baskara protested. He still couldn't accept this; dying a stupid death wasn't enough, he now had to raise a future devil.
[It seems you've forgotten the sins you committed in your past life. Very well, let me read you a few of them:
The Sin of Permanently Borrowing Lighters.
This was your favorite. Every time you smoked with your friends, you'd always 'forget' your lighter. You'd 'borrow' theirs and instead of giving it back, you'd stuff it in your pocket. Your friends ended up having to light fires with stones every time they came over, and your stash of stolen lighters reached 500 pieces.]
The system displayed Zenra's memories from his past life.
"System, that was just a slip-up! Do I really have to raise a psychopath just because of some lighters?"
[Every lighter you stole meant one person couldn't smoke, which eventually led to them taking their anger out on their wives. It's the domino effect, burden. You're the reason for global disharmony.]
Baskara sighed in resignation. He had no idea his pranks could have such severe consequences.
[Sin #2: The Wi-Fi Parasite.
You hacked your neighbor's Wi-Fi, but you used it to download 4K movies, making their internet incredibly slow. When the neighbor complained to the provider, you actually chimed in and said, "Yeah, internet these days is such trash, isn't it, Sir?"]
"Enough, enough! Are you just mocking me now? I know I'm cheap, but I was just fulfilling the duty of a neighbor. You know the saying... 'Use your neighbor as much as you can,' especially if they're loaded."
Argh, he was so embarrassed now. Almost all his secrets were out. It was a good thing his other secrets—stealing sandals at the mosque, looting wedding favors, crashing parties just to eat for free—weren't being mentioned.
[Based on calculations, the number of people who cursed 'Damn it' because of you reached 1.5 million. Congratulations, you are officially a wanted person in the afterlife under the 'Annoying' category.]
Kara clutched his hair in frustration. He couldn't deny it. He paced back and forth, thinking of all the possibilities. Like, the possibility of going to hell.
"Tem, I want to ask, why do kids always have to listen to their parents? It's so frustrating. Like, we're expected to meet their expectations, but look at all these parents who love comparing their kids to others. The neighbor's kid wins a race, we have to run. The neighbor's kid becomes a doctor, we have to be doctors. We're children, not trophies for them to show off at parties!"
[For some parents, children are trophies. They don't care about the process, as long as the 'sparkle' makes them feel like they've won against the neighbors.]
"Damn! This isn't parenting, this is ambition-farming! And when the kid gets stressed, they say it's because the kid isn't religious enough. Like, how are they supposed to pray when their ears are burning every day from hearing about other people's achievements? Their mental health is bound to explode! Parents should be a home to return to, not a boxing ring that makes kids want to run away every time they see the door!"
"Are Kara and Cruel orphans?" he asked suddenly, his voice still low, making sure Cruel—who was still busy sharpening the rusty spoon against the wall—didn't hear.
[——]