If you've ever heard the saying "where there's a will, there's a way,"
then the Kingdom of Atlantis is the one and only exception.
Here, even if there is a will,
the way is still jammed, broken, or sometimes disappears from Google Maps altogether.
Atlantis…
or sometimes mispronounced by foreigners as "Alaska" (for reasons unknown)
is the richest country on earth.
Not just regular rich.
So rich that if you poke the ground with a chopstick, oil might come out.
Plant a rock, and a diamond grows.
Plant a flip-flop, and you get a full collection of twenty pairs.
…just kidding. (Maybe.)
Even the clouds in this country look like they're hanging dollar bills—
though in reality, they're just ordinary clouds that have overheard too many complaints from broke citizens,
so they've become stressed and wrinkled.
In short, Atlantis is a very wealthy nation.
But somehow…
its people remain poor.
Not poor in aesthetics—
poor for real.
The kind of poor where when it rains,
not only the streets are flooded,
but also your soul,
because your bank balance is three hundred coins.
You might wonder:
"How can a country that rich have citizens this miserable?"
Well, the answer is long…
But here's the short version:
"Because the politics are absurd."
And the long version:
"Because the politics are extremely absurd."
---
Atlantis has a political system that, if you explain it to kindergarten kids,
they will immediately ask back:
"Why does it sound like we're playing house, Mister?"
Corruption in this country is like oxygen.
It's everywhere, hard to see, but very easy to feel.
People say corruption is a disease in developed nations.
But in Atlantis, corruption is a national hobby.
There's a community for it, a WhatsApp group,
and probably soon—merchandise T-shirts.
Collusion? Oh, that's nothing new.
Wanna be a government official?
No need to be smart.
You just need to know someone.
Or know someone who knows someone.
Just pay a bit, sign a bit, smile a bit. Done.
Nepotism? That's practically a hereditary culture.
In Atlantis, public offices are like family-run meatball franchises.
If the father is an official, the son will be an official.
Even the grandson is pre-ordered the moment he's born.
They just wait for a gas cylinder to explode,
then the position gets inherited automatically.
But among all this absurdity,
one institution stands above them all—
the most grand, the most famous, and the most useless of all:
DPR — the Council of Confusing Representatives.
It was created to represent the people's voice…
but somehow they spend more time arguing about:
who stole the meeting room marker;
who ordered 12 boxes of donuts but claimed it was 6;
and who hid the remote for the meeting room AC.
Who has the best dance moves…
Their arguments are so chaotic they could give angels headaches.
One time, a meeting was canceled because a member forgot to bring his phone charger.
Everyone agreed that was a valid reason.
---
°^°
In the middle of this rich-but-poor country lived a man named Sai Tomo,
or as people called him: Kang Tomo.
He lived in a famous corner of Atlantis—
Famous because the public WiFi broke every day,
and because the siomay seller at the alley pretended he never had change.
His house was tiny, simple, and leaning slightly to the right
as if it, too, carried the weight of life.
The roof had a small hole,
but big enough for him to see the stars at night…
although sometimes the "stars" were just government patrol drones.
Life had never been kind to Kang Tomo.
If luck was food,
Tomo had been fasting since birth.
His only lucky moment was finding a thousand-coin bill on the street…
which flew away before he could pick it up.
That alone should tell you his level in life.
He was a part-time laborer—
Sometimes a gardener,
sometimes a porter,
sometimes a storyteller for kids…
though mainly because telling stories at birthday parties
let him eat cake for free.
He worked hard,
but still earned barely enough to survive.
If he bought two packs of instant noodles,
that was considered "splurging."
Love life?
Even sadder.
He confessed to twenty girls in his lifetime.
Yes. Twenty.
And he failed twenty times.
His success rate was worse than the Atlantis national football team.
He had tried every "technique" possible—
from mystical chants
to ridiculous dances
to things that shouldn't be mentioned…
He even considered doing a rose-petal ritual bath,
but he couldn't afford the roses.
In his neighborhood, people teased him constantly.
Not because he was ugly—
he actually looked cute when he wasn't stressed.
But his life always looked like…
you know those "before and after" memes?
Yeah. He always looked like the "before."
Every day he walked past rows of successful office workers
and wondered, "When will I be rich?"
Then realized the thought alone was too heavy to carry home.
---
But life loves absurd surprises.
One ordinary evening—
ordinary meaning the sky was gloomy,
his wallet was empty,
and his heart was even emptier—
something happened.
That day, Tomo ate at his usual food stall.
He was starving.
So starving that even slightly expired chili sauce looked delicious.
On the table,
he saw something that looked like a small ciplukan fruit.
Cute, tiny, wrapped in a thin husk—
the kind of thing that looks like it could upgrade your life for five seconds.
Without asking, without thinking,
and without checking what it actually was…
Tomo ate it.
It tasted weird.
Like grapes, a AA battery, and a bit of neighborhood gossip.
Little did he know—
It was no ordinary fruit.
It was the Tuyul-Tuyul Nomi,
one of the rarest devil fruits in all Atlantis.
A fruit said to give incredible power to whoever eats it.
Unfortunately, the power was not laser eyes,
super speed,
or telekinesis.
Its power was absurd:
If he held his breath—he became invisible.
If he held his fart—he could see the future.
Yes. The future.
But he had to hold his fart.
And if he let it out… the future vanished.
Tomo realized this on his way home
after passing a rotting rat carcass.
He held his breath because of the smell—
and suddenly…
his body vanished.
Invisible.
Panicked, he looked around—
his hands were gone,
his legs were gone,
his head was gone.
"HEY—WHERE DID I GO?!"
he shouted at absolutely nobody.
After some experiments, he figured it out:
Hold breath = invisible.
Hold fart = see the future.
Because he was too embarrassed to fart near an old lady neighbor,
he ended up seeing her future—
She would buy a new electric fan tomorrow.
Tomo stared blankly.
The power was weird.
But honestly? Pretty useful.
He imagined everything he could do:
Avoid debt,
avoid bosses,
avoid exes,
and of course—
peek into the future of girls who rejected him.
Would they regret it?
Would they stay single forever?
Would they marry rich guys and live happily ever after?
Tomo didn't care.
For the first time in his entire life…
he had something cool.
Or at least, cool for someone broke.
And this is where the absurd journey of Kang Tomo begins—
A journey that will drag him through political chaos,
supernatural conflicts,
and the most confusing institution in Atlantis:
The DPR — Dewan Perwakilan Ruwet.
All starting from a fruit that looked like a ciplukan…
and one fart he managed to hold in.
To be continued…
---
I'm single
not because I'm unwanted,
but because no one wants me yet.
Name: Adi Susilo
Pen Name: Vinsmoke Adi
Birthplace: at a hospital
Platform: webnovel
Dream:
to entertain the sad citizens of Atlantis
who suffer from rising food prices
and laws that bend upward
but stab downward.