The first time Dion Pratama saw a Death Flag, it was floating above the head of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
And she was staring at him like he was a cockroach that had wandered onto her pristine marble floor.
"Are you going to stand there until my lunch fossilizes?" Kiana Arcelia's voice was cold water. Sharp. Precise. "Or do you intend to actually hand it to me?"
Dion should have handed it to her. That was the protocol. Pick up food. Deliver food. Collect rating. Repeat until death or until he saved enough to move out of his parents' house.
But he couldn't move.
Because above Kiana Arcelia's perfectly styled dark hair, floating in jagged, blood red font that pulsed like a dying heartbeat, were words that made his stomach drop through the twenty fifth floor of Avaria Tower.
*"Regan Adinata's Next Prey." *
And below it, smaller but equally terrifying:
*"Financial Ruin. Forced Marriage. Outcome: Mental Death." *
Dion had seen the floating text for three months. Ever since the night he woke up screaming from a dream he couldn't remember, drenched in sweat, a strange old man's voice echoing in his skull: "Remember. Save her."
Since then, the words had appeared above strangers' heads. Mundane predictions. "Will spill coffee." "Will miss the bus." "Will forget anniversary." He called it Doomscrolling. Spam mail for reality. He ignored it.
But this was different.
This wasn't spam.
This was a death sentence.
"Hello?" Kiana Arcelia's voice sliced through his frozen panic. "Did you have a stroke? Should I call someone?"
Dion forced his eyes down from the horrifying red text to her face. She was exactly like the magazine covers. Sharp jawline. Dark, polished eyes that gave away nothing. A cream colored blazer that probably cost more than his motorcycle.
And she was looking at him like she was about to reduce his rating to one star out of pure annoyance.
"I..." Dion's mouth was dry. "You..."
"Eloquent." She glanced at the plastic bag in his frozen hand. "The food. My desk. Now. I have a meeting in fifteen minutes and I haven't eaten since yesterday."
Dion's feet finally moved. He stepped forward and placed the bag on her desk. His hands were shaking.
He should leave. He should turn around, walk out, and pretend he never saw those red words. That was his thing. He was invisible. He chased 4.8 stars. He didn't get involved.
But the red text was pulsing. "Mental Death."
And somewhere deep in his chest, in a place he didn't recognize, something ancient and desperate was screaming at him to do something.
"Ms. Arcelia," he heard himself say.
She looked up from the bag, one perfect eyebrow rising. "Yes?"
"Regan Adinata."
The name hit the air like a stone dropped into still water.
Kiana's expression didn't change. But something flickered in her dark eyes. A shadow. A flinch so fast Dion almost missed it.
"What about him?"
Dion's heart was pounding. He had no plan. No proof. Nothing but red words only he could see and a feeling in his gut that this woman was walking into a trap she couldn't escape.
"He's dangerous," Dion said. The words tumbled out, clumsy and desperate. "I know how that sounds. I know I'm just a delivery guy. But he's not what he seems. He's going to hurt you. He's going to destroy your company and force you into something you don't want and he's going to call it love while he does it."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Kiana stared at him. Her face was a mask of cold composure. But her hand, the one resting on the desk, had gone white at the knuckles.
"Who are you?" she asked quietly.
"Dion Pratama. I'm a delivery guy. I know that doesn't mean anything. But I see things. Things other people can't see. And right now, I'm seeing that if you trust Regan Adinata, you're going to lose everything."
Kiana's jaw tightened. "You think I don't know that?"
Dion blinked. "What?"
"I said..." She stopped. Shook her head. Her mask slammed back into place. "Get out."
"Ms. Arcelia—"
"Get out of my office before I call security." Her voice was ice. "You don't know me. You don't know anything about my life or my company or Regan Adinata. You're a stranger who delivered my lunch and decided to play prophet. I don't have time for this."
She reached for her phone.
Dion's heart plummeted. He had failed. Of course he had failed. He was nobody. A failed lawyer in a green jacket. Why would anyone listen to him?
But then he saw it.
Above the head of Kiana's personal assistant, a young woman with glasses who had just entered the office carrying a stack of documents. Pale blue text. Flickering.
*"Will knock the coffee pot onto Kiana. 15 seconds. Minor burns. Embarrassment." *
Dion's eyes snapped to the assistant's hands. She was holding a tray with a glass coffee pot. Steam rose from the spout. She was walking toward Kiana's desk, her eyes on the documents, not watching where she was going.
She was going to trip on the edge of the rug.
Ten seconds.
Dion didn't think. He moved.
"Hey!" He lunged forward, grabbing Kiana's arm and yanking her out of her chair just as the assistant's heel caught the edge of the expensive Persian rug.
Five seconds.
The assistant stumbled. The tray tilted. The glass coffee pot slid.
Now.
Dion pulled Kiana behind him and threw up his arm just as the pot hit the edge of the desk and shattered. Hot coffee exploded everywhere. Brown liquid splashed across Dion's raised arm, soaking through his green jacket, scalding his skin.
He hissed in pain but didn't move.
Kiana's chair, the one she had been sitting in three seconds ago, was drenched. The leather would be ruined. If she had still been sitting there, that coffee would have hit her face, her chest, her hands.
The office went dead silent.
The assistant stood frozen, her face pale with horror. "Ms. Arcelia! I'm so sorry! I didn't see the rug! I—"
"Get out," Kiana said. Her voice was strange. Hollow.
The assistant fled.
Kiana turned to Dion. He was still holding her arm. He let go quickly, his burned skin screaming in protest.
"How did you know that was going to happen?" she asked.
Dion's heart was still hammering. "I told you. I see things."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
Kiana stared at him. Her dark eyes searched his face, looking for something. Deception. Insanity. He didn't know what she was looking for. He didn't know if she found it.
"You're burned," she said finally.
Dion looked down at his arm. The skin was red and angry beneath his wet sleeve. "I'll live."
"Why did you do that? Jump in front of it?"
Dion opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Because the red words above your head say you're going to die and I can't stop seeing them. Because I have a golden text above my own head that says I'm supposed to save you. Because something in my soul recognized your face the first time I saw it and I don't know why.
"Because it was hot," he said instead. "And you looked like you've had a bad enough day already."
Something cracked in Kiana's expression. Just a hairline fracture in the ice. But it was there.
"What's your name again?"
"Dion. Dion Pratama."
She nodded slowly. "Dion Pratama. You're either insane, or you're the strangest person I've ever met."
"Probably both."
The corner of her mouth twitched. Not a smile. But close.
"Give me your phone," she said.
Dion blinked. "What?"
"Your phone. The one with the delivery app."
Confused, Dion pulled out his phone and handed it to her. Kiana tapped the screen a few times, then handed it back.
Rating Update: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ from Kiana Arcelia.
Your current rating: 4.8 Stars.
Dion stared at the screen. "You gave me five stars."
"You saved me from third degree burns. It seemed appropriate." She paused. "And Dion?"
"Yes?"
"If you ever want to explain what you meant about Regan Adinata... I'll listen." Her voice dropped, barely audible. "I don't know why. I don't know you. But I'll listen."
Dion's throat tightened. "Why?"
Kiana met his eyes. And for just a moment, the Ice Queen was gone. He saw a tired, frightened young woman drowning in a sea of expectations and predators.
"Because when you pulled me out of that chair, I felt something I haven't felt in years," she said quietly. "Safe. Even if it was just for three seconds."
She turned away, back to her desk, her mask sliding into place.
"Now get out. I have a meeting."
Dion walked out of the office on shaking legs. He passed the receptionist. He stepped into the service elevator. The doors closed.
And as the elevator began its descent, Dion caught his reflection in the polished metal wall.
Above his head, for the first time, he saw words.
Golden. Soft. Ancient. Burning with a promise he didn't remember making.
*"The CEO's Savior. Or Die Trying." *
Dion closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the cold metal.
He had a 4.8 star rating. He had a burned arm. He had a CEO who was willing to listen.
And he had absolutely no idea what he was going to do next.
But for the first time in three months, he wasn't going to ignore the flags.
He was going to follow them.
Straight into whatever hell was waiting.