Chapter 2

Mahatara Medika Hospital.

After asking for the ward number, Arka Mahendra quickly walked down the corridor. As soon as the door opened, his gaze immediately landed on the figure lying on the bed near the window.

Mahendra Wiratma.

The old man's body looked far thinner than he remembered. His face was pale, his breathing assisted by an oxygen tube, and an IV needle was inserted into the hand that had once been so strong. Only a few years had passed, yet the man who had once carried heavy loads for miles without complaint now looked as fragile as a candle on the verge of burning out.

“Grandpa...” Arka Mahendra's voice was hoarse.

Mahendra Wiratma's eyelids slowly opened. Surprise flashed across his face before turning into concern. “Arka? Why did you come back? What about...”

“I've retired.” Arka Mahendra sat beside the bed and carefully held the wrinkled hand. “Why didn't you tell me you were sick?”

“It's just a cough. I'll recover if I rest,” Mahendra Wiratma replied stubbornly. “COUGH...” A violent fit of coughing shook his body. His face turned red. “Why did you suddenly retire? Did you cause trouble in the military?”

Arka Mahendra gently patted his back and shook his head. “I just wanted to come home and stay with you.”

He said nothing about his injuries, about the final mission, or about the death that had nearly claimed him.

Mahendra Wiratma's eyes reddened. “An old man like me doesn't have much time left. Why would you throw away your future?”

Those words made Arka Mahendra's chest tighten, but he did not answer. After making sure his grandfather had calmed down again, he left to find the doctor.

The diagnosis was far more serious than he had expected. A severe lung infection caused by prolonged exhaustion and neglected treatment, worsened by chronic illnesses associated with old age. Surgery had to be performed immediately, followed by long-term treatment. Without it, his condition could become life-threatening.

“How much will it cost?” Arka Mahendra asked quietly.

The doctor quoted a figure that made the room feel even more cramped. “The initial estimate is around seven hundred million. That doesn't include the rehabilitation afterward.”

Seven hundred million.

His savings and retirement compensation did not even reach that amount. All the money he had accumulated from years of risking his life was only around five hundred million. He still went to the payment counter and deposited everything he had without hesitation. Yet the remaining shortfall felt like a massive stone pressing down on his chest.

Back in the ward, he stood by the window and looked at the traffic below. For all these years, this was the first time he had truly felt powerless. Bullets and battlefields had never made him flinch, but this reality nearly left him unable to breathe.

He needed a lot of money, and he needed it fast.

***

At the same time, in downtown Mahatara, on the top floor of the Arta Vistara Group building.

Keira Adhistya placed an anonymous letter on her desk. Her face was cold, but her eyes were sharp. The letter was filled with threats, directly referencing a major client project she was pushing forward. The message was clear. If she did not stop, her safety could no longer be guaranteed.

This was not the first one. Ever since she had restructured the company with an iron hand and touched the interests of many parties, pressure like this had never stopped coming. Even within her own family, her cousin Ravian Adhistya was waiting for an opportunity to bring her down.

She rubbed her temple before speaking to her assistant. “Has the bodyguard recruitment been announced?”

“Yes, Director. There are many applicants, and the selection process is scheduled for tomorrow morning.”

“I need someone who can actually do the job,” she said coldly. “Not an ornament.”

Keira Adhistya stood before the large window, looking at the glittering city that somehow felt distant. Sunlight fell across her shoulders, yet it did nothing to warm her expression.

In the reflection on the glass, her eyes slowly reddened.

“Reza, are you really never coming back?” she murmured softly. “I can barely hold on by myself anymore.”

The name lingered in the air.

Reza Dirgantara, the person who had left without saying goodbye, leaving behind feelings that had never been confessed.

***

The night passed quickly.

Arka Mahendra sat on a bench in the hospital corridor throughout the night. The white lights that never dimmed made time feel blurred. His grandfather's illness and the enormous medical bills weighed on his mind without pause, like two burdens he could not set down.

When dawn arrived, he helped bathe his grandfather, watched the nurses change the bandages, and made sure the old man's condition was temporarily stable. Once everything was finished, he quietly left the ward.

Every minute mattered now. He had to get money as quickly as possible.

Outside the hospital, he searched for information on his phone. One job posting caught his attention: Personal Bodyguard to the President of Arta Vistara Group. The salary was negotiable, but it was clearly stated to be extremely high.

He did not hesitate. Military experience and combat ability were the only things he truly possessed. After a brief phone call and a simple explanation of his background, he passed the preliminary screening and was invited to the final stage.

The next morning, Arka Mahendra arrived without any special preparation. He was still wearing a simple T-shirt and ordinary pants. The Arta Vistara Group building towered before him, its glass walls reflecting the morning sunlight. This world felt far removed from the old alley where he had grown up.

The interview was held in a training hall.

Around twenty to thirty applicants had already gathered. Muscular bodies, sharp gazes, and some wearing professional combat gear. A few even carried the unmistakable aura of the streets, people who were clearly accustomed to violence.

The atmosphere was filled with invisible tension.

Among them, Arka Mahendra looked far too ordinary. His clothes were simple, and his physique was not particularly eye-catching. Several contemptuous gazes immediately landed on him.

“Trying your luck, huh?”

“A guy like that won't last a single round.”

Mocking whispers could be heard, but Arka Mahendra did not react. He stood in a corner, calmly observing the room.

Not long afterward, the sound of high heels approached.

The door opened.

The atmosphere changed instantly.

Keira Adhistya entered alongside her assistant and two bodyguards dressed in black. A dark blue business suit fit her perfectly, her face beautiful yet cold. Her gaze swept across the room without emotion, causing the spontaneous conversations to come to an abrupt stop.

The aura she carried made many people unconsciously straighten their backs.

Some applicants looked at her with ambitions that were far too obvious. Becoming the personal bodyguard of the President of Arta Vistara Group was not merely a job. It meant getting close to the center of power and wealth. Yet Keira Adhistya seemed weary of such gazes. Her eyes moved across the room without interest until they stopped at one point.

Time seemed to slow down.

The young man standing in the corner. The lines of his face, the depth of his eyes, the familiar curve of his brows.

Keira Adhistya's heart pounded heavily. The person standing there was far colder and more reserved. Yet that face, at least six or seven parts of it, resembled someone who had long disappeared from her life.

The memories she had suppressed for so long suddenly resurfaced. Without realizing it, she stepped forward, passed her assistant, and walked directly toward the man.

The entire room fell silent.

“What is your name?” she asked softly. The slight tremor in her voice was almost imperceptible.