Date: June 1993Location: En route to PadangAge: 11Setting: Provincial bus, leaving Matur for Padang City
The bus rattled over a narrow bend in the hills, swaying like it had something to hide. Dust and the scent of burnt diesel seeped through every crack in the window. A goat bleated somewhere below the cargo rack, as if protesting the journey.
The vinyl seat creaked beneath Rakha Yudhistira Halim as he sat in the third row from the back, knees barely brushing the seat in front of him. His notebook lay open on his lap, half-filled with diagrams and handwritten strategy notes.
He didn't look out the window. He didn't glance at the clumps of green terraced hills or the children waving from roadside huts. He didn't look at the chattering students or the middle-aged woman asleep beside him, her head bobbing to the sway of the road.
He was staring at something only he could see.
A quiet shimmer. A set of floating, translucent icons behind his eyelids.The Garuda System — silent but ever-present — pulsed gently like a second heartbeat.
Inside his chest, it wasn't nerves he felt. It was pressure. Purpose.The kind of heaviness that only comes when you know you're carrying more than just your own future.
"They expect me to adapt," Rakha thought. "But they have no idea—I'm already ten steps ahead."
He remembered the feel of his father's calloused hands squeezing his shoulder that morning. The way his mother had pressed a warm boiled egg into his hand for the trip, then kissed the top of his head without a word.
He hadn't cried when the bus pulled away. But the silence that followed… it stayed in his chest like a held breath.
In his mind, his plans were already moving:
How to read city networks like irrigation channels.
How to navigate elite classrooms like battlefield terrain.
How to make them underestimate him — just long enough.
The Garuda System flickered again, awaiting his next input.
And for the first time on that long road to Padang, Rakha allowed himself a small smile.
"Let the city test me," he whispered under his breath, eyes still locked on the pages. "They'll push. I'll bend. But I won't break."
And the bus rolled on, deeper into the future.
[SYSTEM INTERFACE — PRIVATE ACCESS]
User: Rakha Y. HalimPath:National Reform Route — Phase IICurrent Tier:Youth VanguardAge: 11Academic Level: Middle School Graduate (Accelerated)
Available Resources:
Seed Capital (Youth Innovation Grant): Rp 10,000,000[System Note: Use responsibly. Visibility must remain controlled.]
Village Support Fund: Rp 800,000Collected with love. Stored with care.
Mentor Emulation Grid — Active
B.J. Habibie – Tier II→ Structural Insight + Systems Efficiency→ Passive: "Visionary Logic II"
"Ten million," Rakha thought.That's what some farmers earn in a whole season — planting, sweating, praying the rain comes on time. And the System gave it to me like a challenge, not a gift.
He stared at the number again, blinking at the glowing interface only he could see.
Not stolen. Not borrowed. Not begged for. But still—this is power.And power without wisdom is just a different kind of poverty.
He leaned his head back against the vibrating window of the bus, letting the landscape blur past him — rice paddies thinning into low hills, electric poles getting taller with each kilometer toward the city.
If I misuse this… if I let it spoil me… then I'll be no better than the ones who built palaces while the people lived under leaking roofs.
His fingers tapped his notebook lightly, not in boredom, but in calculation.
Ten million. If I split it five ways… that's two million each.– One part for emergency savings — hidden, even from himself.– One part for a pilot project — small, quiet, high impact.– One part to seed future business experiments.– One part for tools, books, and tech.– One part… to help someone who needs it more than he does.
He looked down at his sandals, still dusty from Lawang.
The money's not the mission.The mission is to build something that lasts… something that doesn't need me to survive. This is just the first test: What will I do when nobody tells me what to do?
A soft ding sounded in his mind.
[SYSTEM PROMPT: "DEFINE FUND ALLOCATION STRATEGY?"]
Yes / Later / Delegate
Rakha smirked.
"Later," he said. First, I want to see the battlefield.
And outside the cracked glass window, the city of Padang slowly came into view — chaotic, alive, and waiting.
As the bus wound through the hills toward the sea, Rakha tucked the notebook into his cloth bag. He reached in and touched the items his mother packed:
A photo of their house in Lawang
A prayer mat, hand-stitched with green thread
A sealed envelope from his father, marked "Buka saat kamu ingin pulang." (Open when you want to come home.)
He didn't cry. He just exhaled slowly and leaned back.
"This is the capital I was born with," he thought.Faith. Family. Vision. The rest… is just leverage."
The bus rolled into Padang by sundown.
The city was alive — motorcycles darting, banners flapping, children running barefoot by drainage canals. Rakha stepped off the bus in his cleanest shirt and most serious face, sandals gripping the edge of concrete like he was preparing for war.
He didn't know where he'd sleep tonight. The school would arrange lodging later.
But for now?
He looked up at the horizon — this tangled city of commerce, bureaucracy, and potential.
"Let's begin again."
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
High School Challenge Initiated:SMA 1 Padang – Urban Adaptation Arc
Primary Objectives:– Academic Performance: Maintain Top 1%– Peer Integration: Moderate Success Required– Project Launch: Minimum Viable Social Enterprise (MVP)
Bonus Mission:Surpass urban expectations without losing rural roots.