Right now, Baskara—aka Kara—was sitting in front of a vintage sewing machine he got from trading three obese geckos yesterday. In front of him, a new sign was already up: "KHODAM FASHION HOUSE - Shroud Alterations & Kunti Dress Modification Specialist. Die with Style!"
Honestly, this MC's behavior was enough to make anyone facepalm in disbelief.
"Tem, listen up. I've noticed that Indonesian ghosts are having a serious fashion identity crisis. I mean, from the colonial era to the AI age, their costumes are just the same old white dresses and plain shrouds? Zero aesthetics!" Kara grumbled while threading the needle.
If you're wondering how Kara knows how to sew, it's because he used to join the sewing club back in high school during his first life. Plus, he's got the System—he can just watch tutorials. Life's easy nowadays, or so he thought.
[Notification! A highly astray entrepreneurial spirit detected. Sin Balance: Currently being processed by the Administrative Angels because they're confused if this counts as helping or insulting a ghost's dignity. However, 'Barzah Fashionista' points +700.]
'Shut it, Tem! You want me to go viral? Get mobbed by the crowd? In this era, if it's not viral, it's not fun. I'll even make content at the cemetery if I have to!'
[Unbelievable. All you do is threaten me. You're not cool, just a snitch.]
A moment later, the first customer arrived: Mbak Siti, the Kuntilanak who haunts the banyan tree. Her white dress was dull, tattered, and covered in syrup stains from when she accidentally passed by a village wedding feast.
At that time, she just wanted to pass by and see what food was there, but the villagers panicked. Someone pretended to be a powerful shaman and threw iced syrup at her, thinking it was holy water or something.
"Mas Kara... help Siti. Siti is embarrassed to meet Mas Genderuwo. My dress isn't aesthetic anymore. I've been wearing the same thing since I died. It's not fashionable. I want a Korean Style look, Mas... like in the K-Dramas," Siti ranted while tucking her long hair behind her ear.
"You're right, Mbak. Ghost outfits haven't changed at all. Always white. Why not yellow or blue for once? It'd look better."
Kara measured Siti's body with a sewing tape.
"Don't worry, Mbak Siti. We'll make an 'Off-the-Shoulder' model to make your pale aura pop. And we'll add some ruffles at the bottom so when you fly, you get that 'swing-swing' girlboss effect."
[Beban, is that Kuntilanak trying to scare people or audition for Indonesia's Next Top Model? Why does she look like she's entering a pageant?]
'Both, Tem! Even if you're scaring people, you gotta be stylish! Besides, if she wears a dress like this, the other Kuntis won't laugh at her. Poor her. Why don't you die first, then give me a review on how it feels to be a ghost who never changes clothes?'
Just as Kara was about to cut the fabric, a Pocong hopped in. It was Bagas. He died a month ago because he choked during a jumbo meatball mukbang.
"Mas Kara! I want an alteration too! I'm bored of being a walking bolster. Can you turn my shroud into a jumpsuit? So if I get chased by villagers, I can actually run, not just hop. It's exhausting, man. And if possible, no white. Maybe neon yellow or pink? Pink was my ex-girlfriend's favorite color."
Kara rubbed his chin, posing like a world-class designer. In reality, he was just imagining how blinding it would be if a bunch of ghosts hung out in neon pink.
"Brilliant! We'll make a 'Pocong-Suit' with glow-in-the-dark accents. So when you pass by, Mas Bagas, the villagers won't just be scared—they'll be dazzled by your glow!"
Bagas nodded and sat on a nearby chair.
While Kara was busy sewing Siti's dress into a Crop Top, Cruel entered the shack. He saw his brother busy attaching sequins to Bagas's shroud while singing a melancholic song—really feeling the vibe of Bagas's heartbreak over his ex.
Cruel stood frozen at the doorway, his eyes fixed on Kara.
"Brother... why is that shroud getting pink lace?"
Kara turned to his brother with a narcissistic grin.
"It's an innovation, El! It's to give the ghosts in our village some self-confidence. If they're happy, they won't haunt us! It's a peace strategy between worlds through fashion!"
Cruel walked closer, slowly grabbing Kara's sewing scissors. His cold eyes landed on Bagas the Pocong.
"Brother... if this Pocong asks for weird models and makes you stay up late... I'll just sew his mouth shut with this nylon thread."
Bagas the Pocong immediately trembled. Oh man, I could die twice at this rate. He knew he was a ghost, but he didn't want to die again.
"No, Mas... I just want a simple model... as long as it covers my 'aurat'..."
Kara laughed and gently stroked Cruel's head.
"Easy, El. Don't be so mean. Here, help me attach these sequins. Not bad, right? One modified dress is paid with a jar of fresh jasmine flowers for our shack decor!"
[At least the ghosts in this village will be neater than the Host himself, whose hair looks like a sparrow's nest. Ctas!]
'Shut it, Tem! At least my handsome face is natural, no need for alterations! Ctas!'
Kara continued his work. That night, Sukamaju Village was in an uproar because they saw Mbak Siti flying in a broken-white Korean-style dress with a bow at the waist. Many villagers—mostly mothers and young girls—who were about to run actually stopped to ask Mbak Siti where she got her dress made. The stitching was so good, they wanted to order one too.
"Mbak, where'd you get that sewn? The model is so pretty."
Mbak Siti just grinned while hanging from the banyan tree by the road.
"Made by a Shaman, babe. It's perfect, I feel like I'm alive again, hihihihi! Hey, Ma'am, come up the tree. Let's talk about life."
"Huh? Life? You're already dead, how do you know about life?" one of the women asked.
"But I used to be alive, Ma'am. Is there a problem?"
The woman suddenly got emotional.
"Yeah, there's a problem!! My life is full of problems, Mbak! Teach me how to keep laughing even when I'm broke. I'm tired of crying every time I have a problem."
"I can do that! Come up here, Ma'am. Tell me everything. I'll even teach you the Kuntilanak laugh that instantly makes people go silent."
The mothers looked at each other, but eventually, they ended up perching on the tree branches too.
A few days later, Mbak Siti returned to Kara's shack. By now, the place had transformed into an emergency boutique. In the corner, there was a cracked mirror Mbak Siti used for her Korean-style dress fittings.
Kara stood in the middle of the room, holding fabric scissors while looking like an international fashion design judge.
"Siti, look at this. This is called an upgrade! Don't lose to these Gen Alpha kids nowadays who are only five but already know how to use retinol skincare," Kara said while snipping a stray thread.
"I know, Mas. Kids today know more about skincare than I ever did. Back then, I didn't even know what skincare was. I only used baby powder."
Kara chuckled. Right, times have changed.
[Notification! High-level 'julid' (snarky) aura detected. Sin Balance: Throwing a party watching the Host insult the future generation. 'Death Blow Satire' points +1000.]
The System glared at Kara. When would this burden of a Host ever repent?
'Quiet, Tem! I'm just telling the bitter truth! Reality isn't as pretty as the expectation. So don't set your hopes too high, or you'll get ghosted and end up heartbroken.'
The System rolled its eyes. Kara really loved roasting the younger generation.
Kara occasionally glanced at Bagas the Pocong, who was trying on his shroud jumpsuit.
"Gas, you too. You should be grateful you're a ghost. Rather than being Gen Z nowadays—always 'burnout' this, 'healing' that. Look at me! I died by a laundry rack and didn't even ask for 'healing.' I went straight to hard labor in another dimension!" Kara took a deep breath, his lecture mode fully activated.
"I'm baffled by kids today. Gen Z gets a little task and immediately posts 'life is so tiring.' Meanwhile, all they do is scroll TikTok until their thumbs get calloused. Their mental state is as thin as a double-ply tissue—one breeze and they get 'anxiety'."
For some reason, it felt like Kara was just venting about the youth.
[Beban, at least they have good phones, unlike you who's using a phone borrowed from the System. Ctas!]
"Hey Tem! At least I'm independent! Unlike Gen Alpha—still smelling of baby formula but already calling people 'Babe.' When I was that age, I was busy eating dirt and looking for treasure in the gutters! Now? A five-year-old already knows 'Outfit of the Day.' Us? Wearing our older brother's hand-me-downs felt like being a Paris model!" Kara shook his head while sewing a button on Siti's dress.
"The world is upside down, Siti. Gen Z is busy finding themselves in expensive cafes while ordering coffee that costs as much as my weekly groceries. And Gen Alpha is busy with gadgets until they forget how to socialize with the grass. Better to be like us—stray but real! Aesthetic but supernatural!"
Cruel, who had been listening to Kara's lecture from behind the kitchen door, could only shake his head. He walked closer, carrying a plate of leftover mosquito peyek from yesterday.
"Brother... stop lecturing. That Pocong is about to cry listening to you talk about the future," Cruel scolded in his signature cold voice.
Kara gave a narcissistic grin. "Let him, El! This is cross-generational education. So these ghosts can be grateful they don't have to deal with the drama of 'online loans' or being 'ghosted' like humans today."
Cruel turned his gaze toward Bagas the Pocong, who looked like he had lost his will to... well, stay dead.
"You... once your dress is done, pay immediately with points or flowers. Don't talk too much like Gen Z who wants luxury items but pays with 'PayLater' and then fails to pay."
Bagas the Pocong instantly froze, trembling inside his new jumpsuit.
"Y-yes, Mas... I'll pay cash with pure aura..."
[System: Congratulations, Beban. You've successfully made these ghosts feel lucky to have died early rather than listening to your yapping any longer. Your boutique rating: 5 Stars (mostly because they're terrified of your little brother).]