Hell isn't fire and brimstone.
Hell is a knee-high pile of documents, a printer that always jams at the worst possible moment, and a boss whose voice is louder than a truck horn.
I'm exhausted.
Not the regular kind of tired. Not the kind that goes away after eight hours of sleep. This is the kind that piles up over years, seeps into your bones, the kind that makes you wake up in the morning and immediately want to go back to sleep.
My life basically revolves around work now. Damn.
I leave before the sun is fully up. I get home after the sky's already dark. In between those two moments, I sit in front of a computer screen, grinding through reports that never end, drowning in emails that keep coming like a flood, and faking a smile every time my boss walks past my desk.
I want to work to live, not live to work. Damn.
Even my lunch break is a joke. Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes to eat, breathe, and pretend my life is fine. Damn.
And my boss? My boss never stops nagging over the smallest crap. Report five minutes late — ten-minute lecture. Wrong font size — full speech about professionalism. Coffee mug not in the right spot — a look like I just murdered someone.
Damn.
What's the difference between me and a slave? At least slaves don't have to pay taxes.
As a corporate slave, my one and only wish is:
"Save up enough — retire in peace out in the countryside."
Nothing crazy. Just a small house. Maybe a little rice field or garden out back. A few chickens, maybe. No deadlines. No surprise meetings. No boss.
God, are you even listening?
Damn… Where have all my prayers been going this whole time? Did they get stuck in the clouds? Is there some kind of prayer quota I've used up? Or was my life just designed from the start to be like this?
---
That day was like every other day — draining and merciless.
My lunch break had only a few minutes left, and I was rushing back to the office while trying to swallow the last of my food without chewing it properly. My stomach complained. I ignored it.
Then, in the middle of the packed sidewalk, a woman suddenly stepped into my path.
I stopped.
She was dressed head to toe in spotless white. Hair neatly combed. Her smile was way too wide for someone standing on a sidewalk at lunchtime. In her hands she held a stack of brochures and a clipboard.
Ah. One of those.
People had been talking lately about some weird cult whose members were starting to pop up everywhere — at train stations, malls, in front of convenience stores. They always wore all white, always smiled, and always had questions you never asked for.
"Sir, are you looking for salvation?"
Salvation my ass.
I just want to retire. That's it. No spiritual salvation, no divine enlightenment, nothing that's in that brochure.
"Sorry, not interested."
I tried to walk past her. But she moved fast, repositioned herself, blocking me again like a soccer player guarding the goal.
"Sir, would you like to live in prosperity?"
I stopped again.
Well obviously. Who doesn't want to be rich? That's why everyone works — me, my boss, my boss's boss. Everyone's racing to watch the number in their bank account grow.
But I'm not stupid.
Prosperity is old bait that's been used a thousand times. *Join us and your life will change. Invest in your dreams. Achieve financial freedom.* And in the end, you're the one bleeding money, not them.
Damn cult.
"Excuse me."
I walked again. Didn't even look at her face this time.
Three steps.
Four steps.
My legs suddenly felt heavy. Like something was pulling from below. I looked down —
The woman was crouching on the ground, both arms wrapped tightly around my legs. Her face was still smiling. Her eyes were still bright. Like this was the most normal thing in the world.
What the hell—
"Let go." I tried to pull my leg free. "My break is over. I need to get back to the office."
She didn't move. Didn't let go either.
"Fill out this form," she said. Her voice was calm. Way too calm for this situation. "Your life will change."
"No. Let go."
"Fill it out first."
"No."
"Fill it out."
"I said no!"
People on the sidewalk started walking around us, avoiding us like a puddle on the road. Nobody stopped. Nobody helped. This is Jakarta — everyone's got their own problems.
I pulled, she held tighter. I tried to step forward, she got dragged along but still wouldn't let go.
This woman is insane.
After a few minutes of struggling that got me nowhere, I ran out of energy. My body was already too tired to even argue with a cult girl on the side of the road.
I gave up.
"Okay, fine." I raised my hands. "I'll fill it out. But I am never joining your cult. And don't follow me anywhere after this."
She let go of my legs, stood up, and held out the clipboard with that same wide smile. "Alright."
I took the clipboard, grumbling under my breath.
Then I read the questions.
And I just stood there.
---
• Are you still a virgin?
• Have you ever had a girlfriend?
• Are you gay?
• How long is your penis?
• How many times do you masturbate per week?
• What is your motivation in life?
• What is your dream job?
• After you die, what kind of heaven do you hope for?
---
I read it again from the top.
Then once more.
What in the actual hell is this.
This isn't a cult form. This isn't any kind of form that belongs in a sane world. This looks like something a very lonely person wrote alone at night, opened their laptop, and typed out every question they were too afraid to ask anyone else.
Rip.
I tore the form in half.
"Hey!" She jumped, hands reaching out but too late.
"Damn it." I tossed the pieces. "I'm leaving."
And then — without any warning at all — the woman started crying.
Not quiet crying. Not just watery eyes. Full-on loud, dramatic sobbing, with tears streaming down her face and her nose immediately running.
And she aimed her face straight at my sleeve.
"Don't wipe your snot on my shirt!!"
Too late. The cuff of my sleeve was already soaked.
Damn it.
My head was about to explode. And now people around us had actually stopped walking. They were staring. Whispering. A mother pulled her kid away with a worried look. Two young people had their phones out, recording.
Great. Now I'm content.
They definitely thought we were a couple who just had a massive fight. Or worse — that I was the one who made her cry.
I couldn't just walk away while she was sobbing like this. That would only make everything look worse.
I took a long, deep breath.
"Alright. Stop crying." I kept my voice as calm as I could manage. "Give me a new form. I'll fill it out again."
In less than three seconds, the crying stopped. Like someone hit the off switch. She wiped her eyes, pulled a fresh form from the clipboard, and handed it to me with a smile that now felt ten times more annoying than before.
I took it. I filled it out. Carelessly. I didn't care.
---
• Are you still a virgin?
Yes
• Have you ever had a girlfriend?
No
• Are you gay?
No
• How long is your penis?
17 cm (6.69 inches)
• How many times do you masturbate per week?
10 times
• What is your motivation in life?
Screw life
• What is your dream job?
A filthy rich nobleman who never has to work
• After you die, what kind of heaven do you hope for?
A heaven where I can do whatever I want
---
I shoved the clipboard back into her hands without saying a word.
She took it. Glanced over the answers. Then tucked it into her bag without any reaction whatsoever — like "screw life" was the most normal answer she'd gotten all day.
Maybe it was.
She gave a single nod. Then turned around and walked away, disappearing into the crowd on the sidewalk until the white of her outfit vanished among all the other people.
I stood there for a moment.
Weird woman.
"Damn…" I muttered, starting to walk again. "Boss is probably already prepping a long-ass lecture because of this."
---
I crossed at the next traffic light.
The light was still yellow. But the other side of the road was already in sight, and my legs moved out of habit before my brain caught up. My head was still full of images — the towering pile of documents, my boss's annoying face.
I didn't hear the horn.
I didn't see the truck.
All I knew was — suddenly the world tilted sideways, my body was airborne, and the asphalt slammed into my back hard.
The sky looked different from this angle. Pale blue. A few thin clouds.
So this is how it goes…
Damn.
The sounds around me melted into muffled noise. Someone screamed. A few people ran toward me. Someone mentioned an ambulance.
So loud.
I couldn't even die in peace.
My bones didn't hurt. That was a bad sign — it meant things were already too far gone to feel anything. My eyes were struggling to focus. The colors around me started fading, like an old photograph left out in the heat.
Through the legs of the people crowding around me, far at the edge of the crowd —
The woman in white was standing there.
Not panicking. Not running over. Just standing. And smiling at me with that exact same smile as before — too wide, too calm, like she knew something I didn't.
Screw you.
Dark.
I lost consciousness.