Marry The Heir
Message from young master

Pov Kean :

The tablet was still the only thing I was holding and I was swiping at the moment. A jagged horizontal line showing fluctuations in corporate earnings is still a tricky thing for me. How can my days be so boring just by staring at lines that sometimes turn red and very rarely turn black let alone green.

I sat in the back as the office driver drove me home. Every now and then he turned his head from the middle spy when he heard me grunt a little in frustration. Of course this man who is my driver is a papah confidant who will be asked for a report on what I do as far as he sees.

Papah doesn't trust me in everything so much that everything has to be reported by his confidants.

The intention of coming home late last night changed when Papah suddenly called me to the headquarters and asked me to meet him. Not to ask news or other pleasantries he just wants to convey his disappointment to me that is never endless.

“Kean , you are the heir to this business empire. How can you be insensitive to the financial condition of the subsidiary you hold? What does it mean that you learned business all the way to America if the results are like this?”

The intimidation words that have always been the same have been very often said. I'm getting immune and, uh, bored.

He did not know that in America I was just messing around, having fun and wasting money. Papah sent me to America not to ask me to study and graduate with a long degree like he was proud of.

He just wants to throw me away. Wanting to keep me out of his sight.

Maybe I was too rude, just the reason I thought like that was because papah never asked me at all if I agreed with his decision? Do I like what I have to do?

To me, I'm not the kid he's always been proud of the people around him, I am just an object formed to be the heir to his business empire so that one day he does not lose the rupiah or the dollars he collects.

The path of destiny and my life, he wrote it and I can only live it with half fatigue, tired of following his obsession.

Still fresh in memory when I was in High School won a chess competition. He was not willing to come. The reason is, papah sent me not to become a chess player.

Come on, have you ever once found out what my passion really is? I can shine in my own way.

Of course not, because what was important to him was his desire above all other desires, including mine.

The older I get, the more demands I get. It is not a demand to be an adult but a demand to be someone like him. Wearing a suit, neat stellan, misty hair, shiny shoes and looking for as many investors as possible and ensuring the company profits. There must be no other desire tucked into it and it makes me sick.

This time, I re-inflamed him when the company I led did not reach the target. Though clearly, I can rise through the failures I made before. But his goals and mine are different. If it's not on target, then I'm failing.

My forehead was still furrowing at the thought of a way for this black line to turn green. Until without feeling already at home and still work problems I think.

“Please young master.” The voice of Dyan resuscitated me from a deep enough daydream.

I did not reply, I immediately went down without making small talk as usual. Since long ago I did not like to talk too much, because when I talk there will always be a pause and make me have to swallow my saliva rough.

“Tomorrow I will pick you up at 8 o'clock young master.” Diman's voice is back heard before I enter.

This time my steps stopped. The words of Diman tickled me too much. “I'll leave by myself.” timpalku.

“But sir,”

I raised my hand before Diman continued his sentence. And it seems he understands. The proof is that he no longer speaks. Maybe he was too afraid to argue my words.

Report the same, if necessary. So my challenge is in my heart.

I went into the house and I saw as usual just the lights in the corner of the room were on. I don't like it very much, I'd rather be brightly lit on a dim appeal like this. I always feel claustrophobic when I see something that looks especially dark.

Turn on all the lights in the room and move on to the room.

I need to clean my body that smells of sweat and mixes with emotions. Too much negative energy made my body and soul feel exhausted.

I took off one by one my clothes and somehow I began to obediently put my clothes in the basket the waiter had prepared.

I went into the room wearing only a bokser and then immediately headed for the bathroom, as usual, without closing the door.

Washing my body, washing my hair, pomade marks makes me a little dizzy. All parts of my body were cleaned, the flow of water flowed through every curve of my body and gave a refreshing cold sensation.

About 15 minutes I took a shower and immediately cleaned my body before my skin turned wrinkled. I took a bath kimono and a small towel to dry my hair. My stomach was a little hungry and I chose to go to the kitchen to find the noodles I wanted to make to fill my stomach.

I opened one by one the kitchen set doors that aligned my head.

“Where did my instant noodle stock go?” I asked myself.

I chose to take the water that was on the dining table with the glass usually then take a sip. My gaze was slightly shifted when I saw the new paper patch on the refrigerator door.

“Good night young master. Sorry for the noodles I kept first. Young master can have dinner with the side dishes available and for a while please do not eat noodles, for fear of stomach pains young master relapsed.” again, the same neat writing stringing up the sentence.

I'm getting familiar.

I opened the hood and saw rice and side dishes. I tasted it a little, tasted it on my tongue and it tasted pretty good. I took the rice on the plate and started sitting down to enjoy my dinner.

Bribe after mouthful I enjoy until the rice grains on the plate are clean and move to my stomach. I burped feeling full that I had never felt before. My stomach is full, I think I'm going to sleep well. I smiled to myself and felt sorry for ignoring the dishes that the waiter had made over the past few days.

I clean the dishes and wash my hands. Before returning to the top I took the time to take the fried tempeh and chew it. Savory fit, I don't know what seasoning he's wearing.

Waiting for my food to come down, I sat on the balcony and turned on my phone. I'm looking for a name from the phone number that Kinar sent a few days ago.

“Servant,” the name I used to name that number. I don't know what her name is Siska, Nisa or something. I just need to send a message.

“Where is my instant noodle?” my writing.

I gulped back the water I brought while waiting for a reply from the servant.

“Goodnight sir. Sorry for the inconvenience. Instant noodles my master keeps temporarily. If you want to enjoy it, maybe it can be once a week.” The woman replied.

I smiled at the line of words he sent. I feel like I'm replying to a message with an Indonesian teacher or customer service. But wait, I want to pay back for taking stock of my instant noodles.

“How dare you set me up. Who is the master here?!” I sent it while chuckling.

“Sorry sir, I didn't mean to be presumptuous. I just make sure that the food you eat is healthy.”

I chuckle. Look at the reply so funny. It seemed like he was typing while copying every word from KBBI. Very raw and EYD compliant.

I put my phone back on, leaned my body and my head and tried to close my eyes. The night breeze is very fresh. Maybe while I'll be like this, wait for my hair to dry so as not to vertigo when I wake up.

*****

POV With:

My heart was still soaring when I received a message from someone I named “Young master.” I re-read the messages I received and sent. Do not let there be a wrong word that will make it wrong perception let alone wrath. Avoid typo so that the message I convey can be fully understood. That's my principle.

“Young gag merciless, so gag there are servants who want to take care of him.” Nina sentence back ringing in my ears and my ghibah brain began to work.

A more sounding notification is like a threat. And already 10 minutes have passed, the young master still has not returned my message. Maybe my words were wrong or he was offended by my reply.

I got out of bed, walked to and fro with a feeling of uncertainty. In my hand, I still held my small black and white sailing phone. I was so worried, why didn't he reply? Is he angry?

Then what should I do, keep waiting or call him first?

“Goodbye, you're too brave!” I nagged myself.

I imagined a face that I had never seen just a possible expression from the look on the face of the young master at this time. Maybe his eyes were red with clenched hands. Don't let him call Bu Kinar and tell him to fire me.

“Yes Allah,. please see Allah..” My hand reflexively looked up and rubbed my face slowly. I hope God hears do’ me and grants it. I really still need this job.

Hours passed and it was already midnight, I was still sitting on the bed with erratic thoughts and feelings. This is torture for an over-thinking person like me.

The young master did not reply to my message. Maybe it would be better if he replied to my message in an angry tone and nagged at my stupidity rather than making me prejudiced that no-no.

"I beg you, give me the response sir," I plead in my heart and mind, hoping he hears what I say.

As much as I could endure my sleepiness, I was worried about missing the message the young master sent and I was late in replying. Wouldn't it be scarier if I missed a message from her?

*****