Chapter 4

Mahatara Medika Hospital.

The two hundred million was promptly transferred to the hospital's account, and the operating room was once again filled with lights that never went out.

Time moved slowly outside the operating room doors. Arka Mahendra stood motionless, staring at the red light that remained lit. At last, the doors opened, and the chief surgeon stepped out while removing his mask.

“The operation was successful.”

That simple sentence made a world that had briefly lost its color feel real again.

He stood outside the intensive care unit, looking through the glass. His grandfather's body was covered with tubes and medical equipment, but his breathing had stabilized. Arka Mahendra's clenched fists slowly relaxed. The marks left by his fingernails formed crescent-shaped wounds on his palms.

The agreement had been worth it.

But as one burden was lifted, another appeared. Two years of his life were now completely tied to someone else. For a man accustomed to choosing his own path, the agreement felt like a restriction that was difficult to accept. Even so, he had no other choice. His grandfather's words about not becoming a burden to the country extinguished every possibility of seeking help from his former military connections.

After making sure Mahendra Wiratma's condition was stable, Arka Mahendra left the hospital. Now he had to return to fulfilling his obligations.

***

Meanwhile, news of the fight at the Arta Vistara Group training center spread rapidly among certain circles in Mahatara.

One man had defeated more than twenty fighters in a matter of minutes.

The name Arka Mahendra began appearing in tea houses, martial arts clubs, and private meeting rooms. Stories about the fight became increasingly exaggerated, but one thing remained unchanged. Arta Vistara Group now had someone who would be difficult to touch.

That strong wind eventually reached Pradana Group.

Inside the spacious president's office, Mireya Pradana reclined comfortably in her chair while reading a thin report in her hand. Her dark red velvet dress made her appear both elegant and dangerous. A faint smile appeared on her lips as she read the name written there.

“Arka Mahendra...”

She spoke it slowly, as if savoring something interesting.

The report was almost empty. Only speculation about a military background stood out, which made him even more suspicious.

“Keira really did get lucky,” she murmured softly.

She stood before a large window and looked toward the Arta Vistara Group building in the distance. In her eyes, curiosity and a sense of threat blended together.

“Investigate him further,” she ordered briefly. “I want to know everything.”

A faint smile appeared once more.

“And arrange an opportunity. I want to see for myself the man who made Keira change her decision.”

A powerful man with a mysterious background could become either a problem or an opportunity.

***

That night, Arka Mahendra returned to the apartment prepared for him, the place that would serve as his residence for the next two years. He had just finished organizing the kitchen when his phone rang.

Keira Adhistya.

“Come to my house,” the voice on the other end sounded faint and slightly heavy.

“Understood.”

Their residences were close to each other. Within minutes, he was standing in front of the door to Keira Adhistya's villa.

“Just come in. It's not locked.”

The moment the door opened, the scent of alcohol greeted him, mixed with a familiar soft fragrance. The living room lights were dim, with only a few warm yellow lamps glowing, making the house, which was usually cold, feel strangely unfamiliar.

Keira Adhistya was leaning against the sofa. Her hair was disheveled, her work jacket had already been removed, leaving only a white blouse with the top buttons undone. Her face was flushed, and her eyes had lost their usual sharpness, clouded by intoxication.

On the table sat a half-empty bottle of whiskey and several photographs.

Arka Mahendra stopped a few steps away from her. “Miss Adhistya, you called for me?”

His calm voice broke the silence.

Keira Adhistya stared at him for a long moment. Her gaze gradually changed. Her focus blurred, then softened with emotions that should not have been there. The face before her slowly overlapped with a shadow from the past.

“Reza...” she whispered.

Arka Mahendra fell silent for a moment. When he saw the photographs on the table, everything became clear. The resemblance was not a coincidence. That was the reason he had been chosen.

A feeling of discomfort rose in his chest. He realized that he was merely a substitute.

Keira Adhistya tried to stand, but her body lost its balance. She fell forward. Acting on instinct, Arka Mahendra caught her before she hit the floor. Her body was warm, and her breath carried the scent of alcohol.

Without realizing it, Keira Adhistya wrapped her arms tightly around him, as if afraid of losing something she had only just found again. Tears flowed without warning. “Reza... do you know how long I've waited for you?”

Arka Mahendra did not answer. He stood stiffly, allowing the woman to cry against his shoulder. He knew very well that the person she was calling was not him. Complaints and exhaustion that had been hidden for so long began pouring out in broken fragments. About the pressure of the company, about loneliness, about someone who had left and never returned.

After seeing her cold demeanor at the company, he was now seeing the fragile side hidden beneath it. He felt a trace of understanding, a bit of sympathy, but he restrained it. He was merely someone being paid to work, not someone meant to enter his employer's private life.

“Miss Adhistya,” he said quietly, trying to pull away. “You've mistaken me for someone else. I'm Arka Mahendra.”

“No...” Keira Adhistya shook her head forcefully and held him even tighter. “Don't leave again...”

Her face was buried against Arka Mahendra's chest, and her tears soaked through his shirt. Arka Mahendra's body stiffened. He was accustomed to facing danger, not emotions laid bare so openly. His hand lifted hesitantly for a moment before he finally patted her back awkwardly, a clumsy attempt at comfort.

The crying gradually subsided.

SLAP!

But suddenly, Keira Adhistya pushed herself away and slapped him.

“I hate you! Why did you leave without saying anything?!”

Arka Mahendra was startled, but he did not move. When her hand rose again, he calmly caught her wrist.

“Calm down.”

That slight pressure brought some of Keira Adhistya's awareness back. She looked at the situation before her. The distance that was far too close, the embrace that had just happened, and then her expression changed.

“Get out,” she said sharply.

Her voice grew even louder.

“Get out! Who told you to come in? Who gave you permission to touch me? Get out!”