The Antagonist's Full Moon

7. Arogan

Meanwhile, in a different world. A package courier repeatedly banged on the wooden door of a rented tenement room located in one of the alleyways of the city street. 

"Excuse me, package!!" the courier shouted back, it's been a number of times. Still, no one opened the door. Let alone an open door, cut from the inside not. 

Are the residents still sleeping, huh? But it's ten in the morning! The courier began to wonder in his heart.

The courier was getting tired. His hands also began to knock. The courier looked back, where he parked his motorbike. There are many other packages to deliver. He cannot stay in one place like this.

"Did I just stay on the package at the door? But ... ." The courier looked around. The building does not consist of just one room. There were about five rooms lined up sideways, in one yard and the same fence. The courier is afraid that if the package is left outside, someone will steal later.

The courier looked at the package in his hand. The shape is a wide box, with a layer of bubble warp enveloping its surface. Of course, he doesn't know the contents. Only the name of the sender behind, namely PT Tutulilis, and the name of the recipient in front and the address, Dean Prayogo. Then, there is a sticker that says FRAGILE next to it.

Yeah, try calling a little loud again. If no one answers from the inside, return them to the Hub. Later can be delivered again tomorrow, the inner courier in the heart.

The courier took one breath, before finally shouting, "Excuse me, package!!"

This time, his efforts yielded results. There was a thud from within, like someone had fallen. Followed by the noise that followed.

Finally, there are people! The courier put on a well-built body, displaying the best smile of the morning. No matter how annoying the customer is, he always wants to serve well.

However, once the door gap opened slightly, only dark was visible. A musty smell faintly smelled, as if the door of the room and its ventilation had never been opened at all. There was a chain connecting between the door and the wall next to it.

Then, from the dark slit of the door, a pair of reddish round eyes peered out from behind the disheveled hair.

"S-s-se-se-ETAAANNN!!"

The courier immediately forgot the package in his hand and ran off on the rang to the parked motorbike. He must have turned the gas handlebars and spurred the speed of his motor as quickly as possible, if only someone - whom he had called by the nickname Satan just now - had not come out of the room and prevented him from leaving.

"Dam! The insolent! I'm human!!" hardik the man. He came out of his rented room, while covering part of the face with one hand to dispel the hot sunlight. His face was so fierce staring at the courier.

The courier of the package gawked, then made sure the two legs of the man covered in trousers. Apparently still poking the ground. The courier glanced back at the watch in his hand, then calmed down. Oh yeah, it's still noon! There may be demons at this hour!

"Sorry, Brother ... on behalf of Dean Prayogo?" ask the courier, while offering a package that was in his hand. The man took roughly the package box.

"It's clear the address is right here. Has anyone else come out of this room besides me?" cerocos the receiver of the package.

"Oh yes, sister, sorry ... Er, then, sign here, brother, for proof of receipt" replied the courier timidly. It is deeper in the heart, It is more sinister than Satan!

After Dean signed the signature, the courier immediately thanked him and rushed into the gas. He didn't want to deal with such a fierce person for long.

Dean read the name of the sender in the box, walking into the room and pushing the door behind him with his legs closed. He sat on the edge of the bed full of clean clothes that had just been lifted from the clothesline. Dean's busyness makes him never again iron and put neat clothes into the closet.

"Hah, these scissors are all stuffed!" dean's nagging at that innocent thing. In fact, it is clear he himself who never put the items that have been used back into place.

Dean scissors the tape, sealing the package box. As soon as it could be opened, he saw an acrylic plaque, a beautiful dark blue cup, a notebook, a tote bag, and two therapeutic scent candles. All of these objects have a logo in the form of a bee silhouette on top of the book, as well as Beetale's writing on the bottom.

Beetale is an online writing platform managed by PT. Tutulilists. For more than two years, Dean has been there as a fantasy writer, and his income has reached nearly a hundred million.

Dean's achievement made him enter the top of the best writers on the bee platform, and now he gets parcels in appreciation. Only the ones ranked in the top 50 could obtain this kind of parcel.

Dean lifted the acrylic plaque bearing his name from the box and rubbed each engraved with gold ink full of affection. There is a congratulation on his success of gathering the most readers for the fantasy genre.

"Hoo! I have to put it on display!" exclaim Dean happily. However, as soon as he saw the state of his writing table that was very full of stuff, he immediately riled up.

"God! How messy!" Forced, Dean tidied up his desk first.

Dean is a well-known online writer with thousands of readers waiting for him to upload a new chapter every day. Typing the script all day was the man's life now. All he did for the sake of a new chapter that was unlocked by the reader, using the platform coin. Later, the coins will be converted into account balances every day.

"How many months have I been out of bed, huh?" he muttered to himself, as he began to transport whatever goods he found and put them where they should be.

Beds full of piles of clothes that have just been dried, floors full of scrawled papers of ideas, and tables full of novel books and nonfiction collections. The three-by-four room is cramped with rarely opened vents. Dean got confused where to start tidying up.

Just as Dean was about to put the third book into the shelf hanging on the table, his phone rang. There's Delia's name on the screen. 

"Yes, Deck?" greet Dean so press the receive call button. However, what she said was not her sister's voice as usual, but rather a middle-aged woman with a gentle tone.

"Dean, this is Mama, phone with Delia's phone," his mother said from across the line. Dean stopped the cleaning for a moment and sat down in the wheel chair in front of the table. 

While spending one chicken skewer last night, he returned the call. "Yes, Ma? Why?"

"This week, you can go home?"

"Umm, wait a minute." Dean looked at the desk calendar before him. Various circular marks encircled several dates.

Then, he refused quickly. "No way, Ma. There's a lot of work to be done this month."

"You're always busy, son. Sometimes take time to go home," persuaded the mother. "Delia's about to graduate. She really wanted her brother to be able to attend the big event."

A look of annoyance immediately rose on Dean's face. He likes to talk about that one topic the least.

***