"How are your friends, Kaivan?" the grandmother asked, pouring tea into porcelain cups etched with the patterns of time. Her voice was tender, filled with love.
"They're fine, Grandma. But… there's been so much lately. It makes me think a lot." Kaivan turned the cup in his hands, his gaze drifting toward the lace curtains by the window, as though trying to piece together the scattered fragments in his mind.
Their conversation flowed warmly. In that silence that was anything but awkward, Kaivan felt an uncanny closeness, as if he had found again a missing shard of his soul, lost who knows how long ago.
Kaivan hadn't come only to sip tea and silence. A question he could no longer bury pressed on his lips. "Grandma… did your husband ever faint while holding this book?" His voice trembled, careful, as if brushing against an old wound.
Her gaze lingered, then she shook her head. "No. He was happy with it… though sometimes burdened." Her words were soft, but a faint shadow of doubt flickered in her eyes. She added, "But his friend, his assistant back then… he always got headaches whenever he touched the book. What was his name? Grandma can't remember."
The answer struck Kaivan in silence. Felicia often complained of headaches too. Was it coincidence, or the echo of fate repeating itself?
Before he could ask more, her tone shifted, firm yet gentle. "Kaivan, next year, February 2010, I will go. If you want to visit, just come inside. You'll be able to open the door with the Tome Omnicent."
February. Go. The words sank into his mind like mist. What did "go" mean? To die? To vanish? Or something else entirely?
"Grandma… what do you mean?"
She only smiled, a small smile that seemed to know everything, but chose to let time answer instead.
When Kaivan finally bid farewell and mounted his motorbike, his steps felt heavy though his hands carried nothing. The road home stretched quiet, yet his mind churned loud. The morning wind slipped beneath his jacket, but what pierced him wasn't the cold, it was the question that refused to leave. "Why February 2010?" he muttered, his eyes empty on the road ahead. Her gaze, peaceful, yet holding so much, haunted his thoughts. The Tome Omnicent had turned a new page, and Kaivan knew there would be no turning back.
His motorbike stopped before the workshop, an old brick building alive with youthful energy. The clamor of machines, bursts of laughter, and the ringing of metal welcomed him. This was more than a workshop. It was a heartbeat, a forge of dreams shaped from scraps.
As Kaivan stepped down, Radit waved an oily wrench in hand. Frans greeted him with a confident grin. Zinnia nodded quietly from the corner, fingers deftly sorting through electronics. Felicia stood tall, while Thivi bounced cheerfully, carrying a glass of iced tea.
"You're finally here, Kaivan!" Radit called out, voice full of energy. "Remember? Today's the big push!"
Kaivan answered with a faint smile, warmth spreading in his chest. Yet beneath it, he knew something had changed. The Tome Omnicent was no mere book. It had opened a door, of power, secrets, and burdens growing silently within.
He set his bag down and moved to the tables crowded with tools and broken tech. Radit and Frans were already dismantling phones.
"Come on, Kaivan, we need your hands here," Frans urged with a grin.
They worked in rhythm, Radit fast, Frans meticulous, Kaivan driven. The sound of screwdrivers, the snap of parts, and the chime of loose metal blended into a music born of determination.
At another table, Felicia carefully extracted gold from circuit boards. Her touch was gentle yet firm, her eyes sharp on every detail. Amidst the noise, her calm was almost prayer-like.
Meanwhile, Thivi and Zinnia prepared drinks. "Iced tea, anyone?" Thivi sang out, carrying a tray. Her smile softened the heavy air.
"Me!" Frans raised his hand without pausing his work. Thivi passed him a glass, teasing, "You're always first."
Zinnia approached Felicia quietly. "Don't forget to drink, okay?" she reminded with a soft smile. Felicia nodded, returning the gesture.
Time flowed. The heat pressed in, but laughter and resolve kept spirits alive. The workshop was not just a room, it was a home of struggle and dreams.
By sunset, golden light danced across the floor. The day's work was done: 150 phones dismantled, 134 grams of pure gold gathered. A small victory that felt immense.
Kaivan slumped in the corner, exhausted yet content. Felicia approached with a small fan, waving cool air over his face. "Tired?" she asked gently.
Kaivan only nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Then Frans chuckled, smirking. "Damn, that's the life. Being pampered like that."