Morning came without the sound of machines.
Lica woke up slowly, not from a digital alarm or system notification like she was used to in Neo-Jakarta, but from sunlight slipping through the cracks of a wooden window.
Warm.
Soft.
Real.
She opened her eyes, slightly confused.
The ceiling above her was not metal panels or smart screens. Just simple wood with a few small cracks. The air felt fresh, carrying the scent of earth and something familiar—perhaps food from the kitchen.
For a few seconds, Lica just lay there.
Not moving.
Not thinking.
Just… feeling.
⸻
Then the memories returned.
Time travel.
A world that did not recognize her.
A home she could not touch.
And finally—
This place.
⸻
Lica sat up slowly.
Her hand touched the thin blanket covering her body. The texture was rough, but comfortable. Not perfect, but that was exactly what made it feel real.
She took a deep breath.
"This isn't an illusion," she whispered.
"Confirmation: reality stable," the system in her head replied.
Lica let out a small breath.
For the first time, the system's answer felt… relieving.
⸻
She got out of bed and walked out of the room.
Sounds from the kitchen were clear—the clinking of pots, the soft tapping of utensils, and light conversation.
"Lica's awake?" the old woman's voice was heard.
"Yes, Mom. I heard the door open earlier," Raka replied.
Lica paused for a moment at the doorway.
There was something in that moment.
Something simple.
But it felt… whole.
⸻
She stepped inside.
"Morning," she said softly.
Raka turned and smiled.
"Morning. Did you sleep well?"
Lica nodded.
"It's been a long time since I've slept like that."
The old woman smiled warmly.
"When the place is calm, the body follows."
⸻
Lica sat on a wooden chair.
In front of her, a simple meal had been prepared. Warm rice, vegetables, and eggs.
Not luxurious.
Not complex.
But the aroma… made her chest feel warm.
⸻
"Please eat," said the woman.
Lica hesitated for a moment.
Not because she didn't want to.
But because—
She was afraid.
Afraid that all of this would disappear.
Like the previous world.
Like the home she could not touch.
⸻
"Why?" Raka asked.
Lica shook her head slowly.
"It's nothing."
She picked up a spoon.
And began to eat.
⸻
The taste was simple.
But real.
Every bite felt like it was filling something empty inside her.
Not just hunger.
But… something deeper.
⸻
"Lica," Raka said after a while,
"where are you actually from?"
The question made her stop.
Her spoon hung in the air.
She couldn't answer honestly.
Not completely.
⸻
"I…" she searched for words.
"I'm from a place that's… far away."
Raka nodded, not pushing.
"Everyone is from somewhere far away, if you think about it."
Lica looked at him.
A simple answer.
But strangely… enough.
⸻
After eating, Lica stepped outside.
The morning air greeted her gently.
She walked aimlessly, following a small road around the house.
Children were running.
People greeted each other.
And for the first time—
Some of them looked at her.
Truly looked.
⸻
"Morning," a man greeted her.
Lica was slightly surprised.
"Morning," she replied softly.
⸻
She stopped.
Turned back.
Nothing strange.
No one ignored her.
No one passed through her as if she didn't exist.
⸻
"Status?" she whispered.
"Synchronization increased: 47%," the system replied.
Lica frowned.
"Why did it increase?"
"Social interaction contributes to existence integration."
⸻
She fell silent.
So…
The more she was accepted… the more she "existed"?
⸻
Lica continued walking.
Her steps felt lighter.
But her thoughts… grew heavier.
⸻
If her existence in this world depended on acceptance—
Then what would happen if she was rejected?
Or… if she left?
⸻
"Lica!"
Raka's voice called from a distance.
She turned.
Raka jogged toward her.
"You walked pretty far. I thought you disappeared."
Lica gave a faint smile.
"Not yet."
⸻
Raka walked beside her.
"Do you like this place?"
Lica looked around.
Simple houses.
People who knew each other.
A life that moved without a system controlling everything.
⸻
"I… don't know yet," she answered honestly.
Raka laughed softly.
"A safe answer."
They stopped on a small hill.
From there, the entire village was visible.
Thin smoke from house kitchens.
People moving like parts of the same rhythm.
⸻
"I used to feel like I didn't belong anywhere too," Raka said suddenly.
Lica turned.
"Really?"
Raka nodded.
"Yeah. I once went far from here. Looking for a place that was more 'big.' More 'important.'"
"And then?"
Raka smiled slightly.
"I came back."
⸻
"Why?"
Raka looked ahead.
"Because in other places, I could be anyone… but no one really cared who I was."
He turned to Lica.
"Here, maybe I'm nobody. But I'm known."
⸻
Those words sank deep.
Lica felt them.
Deep.
Slow.
⸻
Known.
Not just existing.
⸻
"Lica," Raka continued,
"you're afraid, aren't you?"
Lica fell silent.
She didn't answer.
But Raka didn't need one.
⸻
"You're afraid this place will disappear too," he said softly.
Lica closed her eyes.
She didn't want to admit it.
But it was true.
⸻
"I've already lost one home," she finally said.
"I'm not sure I can lose another."
⸻
The wind blew gently.
Carrying a silence that didn't press down.
⸻
"If you never stop leaving," Raka said,
"you'll never know which place is truly yours."
⸻
Lica opened her eyes.
Looked at him.
⸻
"And if I stop… but this isn't my place?"
Raka smiled.
"Then what makes a place 'yours'?"
⸻
Lica had no answer.
⸻
Night came slowly.
The sky changed color.
And stars began to appear—something she had almost never seen in her original world.
⸻
Lica sat in front of the house, alone.
Her hand held that old photo.
She looked at her mother's face.
A smile she could no longer touch.
⸻
"Am I allowed… to stop here?" she whispered.
No answer.
⸻
Only the system's voice.
"Warning."
Lica froze.
⸻
"What now?"
"Reality stability decreasing."
Her heart pounded.
"Why?"
"Temporal anomaly detected. Your existence is not permanent in this world."
⸻
Lica gripped the photo tighter.
"How long?"
Silence.
Then—
"Cannot be determined."
⸻
This world.
A place that was beginning to feel warm.
Beginning to feel… possible.
⸻
Would not last either.
⸻
Tears fell softly.
Not from shock.
But because—
She had started to hope.
⸻
"Lica?"
Raka stepped out of the house.
Saw her.
⸻
"What's wrong?"
Lica shook her head quickly.
"It's nothing."
⸻
But this time—
She wasn't sure she could hide it for long.
⸻
Because deep inside her, a truth was beginning to form:
Maybe home is not something she can find…
because she herself can never stay long enough to truly have it.
Because deep within her, a truth was beginning to form:
Maybe home is not something she can find…
because she herself can never stay long enough to truly have it.
⸻
Lica looked up at the night sky.
The stars shimmered softly, beautiful—but distant.
Always distant.
Like every place she had ever passed through.
⸻
If every world is only temporary,
if every warmth will eventually fade,
if every place becomes just a memory she cannot hold—
Lica closed her eyes.
And for the first time, her question changed.
No longer about where home is.
But—
If I cannot stay anywhere…
am I simply not meant to have a home?
Or am I the one who was never meant to belong anywhere at all?
And if I don't belong anywhere… then what am I still searching for?
If every place I reach for slips through my hands, if every connection fades before it can become real, then is this journey meant to lead me somewhere… or is it only meant to show me that there was never a place waiting for me to arrive?
And if there was never a place meant for me from the very beginning… then what does that make me—a traveler without a destination, or a mistake that was never meant to exist at all?