Drip...

  Drip...

  Drip... Drip...

  The rhythmic beat of water droplets falling from a leaky bathroom tap, hitting the puddle inside a plastic bucket. It was the only sound in a silence afternoon.

  No one knows how long he’d been staring at nothing. A teenage boy with dark brown hair, lying stiff on a musty mattres. He wore a loose, all-white clothing like a coma patient fresh out of ICU.

  He remained silent, staring blankly at the miserable ceiling mapped with black mold and cobwebs.

  The room felt familiar. But also wrong.

  The lights were off. Windows and doors sealed. Shafts of sunlight pierced through the vents and curtain gaps, illuminating dust particles floating in the air—a tranquil melancholy that clashed hard with a messy room around him, where items were scattered everywhere. On the floor, on the table, spilling out from a wardrobe left half-open.

  And then, realization hit: He was still breathing. He tried to move his neck. Slow and stiff, like an old man. He looked at the window with a blank stare.

  Through the curtain gap, he caught a glimpse of bright blue sky. Fluffy white clouds drifted by, mocking the gloom of his cage.

  Five minutes passed just staring at that sky.

  After his eyes burned from the glare, the man looked away—seeking the source of that drip-drip noise that had been filling his mind.

  It originated from a dark bathroom in the corner. Once again, a feeling of déjà vu hit him. A turquoise plastic bucket, dull gray ceramic tiles, and a squat toilet that hadn't been brushed in god knows how long.

  Almost three minutes later, his gaze drifted down.

  Near the door, there was a crowded desk. On top of it lay an electronic circuit. Arduino Nano, servo motor, dead blue LCD, potentiometer, push button, and a thick book.

  His eyes locked. The more he analyzed the system, the more the buried memories began to unlock. But there was one thing that ambushed his mind first: feelings.

  A wave of emotion suddenly rose. Anxiety, unease, fear, worry. His hands began to tremble violently. Breath came in short, jagged gasps. Cold sweat poured down his face and chest, soaking his white shirt.

  Over time, anxiety morphed into panic. His eyes darted wildly in every direction, scanning the silent room in terror. His brain tried to run logic, but fear was like a malware corrupting his neural processing. Fragmented thoughts began to emerge, overlapping one another:

  "What is this place?"

  "I've been here before..."

  "No... I shouldn't be here!"

  "Who am I!?"

  "Why am I here!?"

  "I have to leave... But where?"

  "Why can't I remember—"

  "What is going on!?"

  He tried to scream. Tried to vomit out all that confusion. But his jaw locked. Voice dead. Nothing came out but a pathetic wheeze.

  Drip... Drip... The dripping got louder. Drilling into his skull.

  Until... Click, door opened. The suffocating tension instantly snapped. Someone walked in casually carrying a pair of pliers.

  It was Arua, wearing t-shirt and shorts. He tossed the pliers into the toolbox on the table. Clang. As he was about to turn around, his eyes caught a movement on the bed. His "patient" curled up, shaking violently, wearing a face straight out of horror movie.

  Arua’s step halted. Eyes went wide, then sharp. "Shit. He's awake."

  Without wasting time, Arua approached the bedside. He leaned down and snapped his fingers repeatedly right in the guy's face.

  "Hey wake up!" The rude stimulus somehow worked. Panic broke. The man’s eyes were now locked onto Arua. His breath slowed, though the shakes remained.

  Dry mouth cracked open. "Who...?" His voice was hoarse, like a machine that hadn't been lubricated in long time.

  Arua was stunned. He pulled back with a hard face-palm. "Are you fuckin' kidding me..."

  He sighed, long and frustrated. "Fine." He pointed a finger at the guy's face. "Get up. Now."

  No response.

  "Hurry up, asshole," Arua snapped, his patience thinning. Slowly, with hands shaking like he had Parkinson's, the guy dragging himself upright. He sat, leaning back slightly with both hands propped him and both legs stretched out.

  Arua smacked the guy’s shoulder hard enough. "Listen up," he said. "I'm Aruna, your master. You call me Master Aru."

  Silence. The guy just stared and frowning. Instead of obeying, a random memory—or perhaps residue from another life—leaked out from his subconscious.

  "I... Don't know..." He shook his head. "I have to go pay my debt—"

  Arua backed off. The man dragged himself to the edge of the bed, then lowered his legs. He tried to stand on his poor knees. As expected, the balance system failed.

  Thud. He fell and hit the cold ceramic floor. Arua didn't help him. He just stood there, watching the guy twitch on the floor with a look of pure disdain.

  "Tch. Damnit," Arua scoffed and looked away. "Total waste." He turned to leave. "Should've just invest the money."

  Just before Arua crossed the line, a soft whisper stopped him. "Pay debt... for who?" Arua’s hand freezing on the doorknob. He looked back.

  The man sat on the floor, staring at his own palms in horror. "Wait... Who am I...?" His breathing raced, his eyes widening wildly. "This... This isn’t my body... I am a demon."

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  Panic returned. "What the—... Argh—!" He screamed, scratching his own arm.

  "NO! WHAT IS THIS!? GET IT OFF! AAAAAA!!!"

  He rolled around, thrashing like invisible spiders were crawling under his skin. He tried to rip off the "meat suit," convinced it wasn't his, but couldn't figure out the zipper.

  He kicked the desk accidentally. Some components flew. Arua saw his expensive oscilloscope wobble and immediately stepped in. "Hey! Calm down, you idiot!" He grabbed the guy's wrists, locking down the rampage.

  "You were a demon!" Arua snapped. "But not anymore. This is your new body!"

  The words pierced through the fog of panic. The struggle stopped. Though his breath still hitched, his focus began to return. "M-Master... Aru...?"

  Arua sighed in relief, letting go but staying sharp. "Yes, I am. Remember your name?"

  ....."John?"

  "Who the fuck is John!?"

  "I... Wait..." The man's eyes trembled. Memory fragments began to assembled. "I want to unite demons and humans... I... I’m Giou?"

  Yep, it was Giou, the electric demon. Though he still not 100% sure.

  "There we go! Finally!" Arua clapped once in satisfaction. Then, he fished his phone from his pants pocket to make a call. The contact name screamed off the screen: "Greedy Ugly Pervert Old Dipshit".

  Arua hit dial. The call connected. "The thing is alive," he said flatly. No hello, no small talk. Just that and the call ended.

  Meanwhile, Giou, still lay on the floor, tried to analyze his existential situation. Somehow, he was inside a human body.

  This wasn't "possession". This human body truly belonged to him. He could feel his own heartbeat, move the legs without neural sabotage, and control his fingers with absolute precision. Like the flesh’s ownership rights had been signed over to a demon spirit.

  This should violate supernatural laws. How could a pure Ophema spirit permanently pilot a Proteum bio-vessel? The questions flooded in. Combined with the fragmented new memory, his brain hit a sudden neuralgia.

  "Argh—!" Giou groaned, clutching his head.

  Arua glanced down, watching Giou in pain with a deadpan look. "Yup. Synaptic shock," he mumbled. "Standard reaction, as predicted..."

  Nearly an hour later, an old scooter stopped in the boarding house yard.

  Ki Rojojati finally showed up. The old Javanese dude with “medium-rare” skin looked as gloomy as ever. Tacky spiritual attributes? Check. Facial design straight out of ugly bastard hentai doujin? Double check.

  Now, Arua and Rojo stood side-by-side in front of the "workshop room", where a teenage boy with identity crisis was trying to calm his mind from a thunderstorm.

  "So, what's the condition?" asked Rojo.

  "Memory's intact, but fragmented. Vague," Arua replied, staring at the closed door. "Not a bad first trial, but definitely not smooth..."

  "It's a shame the other subject failed to survive," Rojo said flatly. Cold tone for a cold topic.

  Arua clicked his tongue. "Tch. Eventhough the Abyssal Lobe reconstruction went normally." He took out his phone, opening a photo gallery containing medical scans and documentations. “Were the parameters wrong?"

  Arua stared at the screen. In the top left corner, a digital timestamp stood as a silent witness to their failure and success today:

  [Sunday, August 8, 2021. 11:04]

  "Heh," Rojo snorted. "That's your own fault for faking the initial data. You underestimated the Syndicate. Eventhough you knew this project wouldn't run without their resources."

  Arua turned his head. "Shut up. All I know is my hypothesis confirmed... I won the bet, haha."

  Ki Rojo didn't laugh. He just gave him a skeptical look.

  Meanwhile inside the stuffy room, the teenager claiming to be Giou was struggling. He sat on the carpet, hands shaking as he tried to guide a glass of water to his mouth. It was natural for him as this was his first time running human firmware.

  He set the cup down just as the door opened. Arua and Rojo walked in casually. Arua grabbed a wooden chair, spun it around, and straddled it backward—arms crossed over the backrest. Meanwhile, Rojo stood leaning against the door frame, watching from behind.

  "So, how’s the new body?" asked Arua.

  "New... body?" Giou frowned, struggling to process.

  "Yup. It's yours now."

  "Ha—... But, how?"

  "You want to unite demons and humans, right?" Arua pointed at Giou's chest. "This is it. Congratulations, now you're a Demihuman."

  Arua paused a moment to let the information sink in. "Biologically, your body is human. But your soul, or rather your consciousness, is still a demon."

  Silence filled the room. Just the sound of Giou breathing heavy. "I did not know this was possible... How long has Master planned this?"

  "Long before I found you," Arua answered. "Anyway, you don't need to call me 'Master Aru' anymore. We’re both human now." He waved a hand dismissively. "Your slave status is revoked. Starting today, you’re my cousin crashing here. Just call me Arua or whatever.

  "Cousin?" Giou fell silent. His brain scrambled to overwrite the ten-month-old "slave" protocol with the new "family" status. Slowly, he tried to stand. His legs wobbled, but he managed to get upright.

  "Thank you very much, Mast—uh, Arua..." he stammered, eyes started to tearing up. "Sorry, I... really don’t know what to say... This is just... strange."

  Arua nodded once. "Okay it’s time for assessment. Question one: How much do you remember your learning materials, from general human knowledge to science?"

  Giou thought hard. "Ummm... I don't know. I remember some things, but not all, maybe?" He paused, looking unsure. "I have this strange, unclear memories. But, I’m sure I have never studied or experienced them before. For example, the World War II history..."

  "That is Jamais Vu," Arua diagnosed.

  "What is that?" Giou asked. "The opposite of Déjà Vu," Arua explained. "Feeling unfamiliar with things you should know—or in your case, having memories that aren't yours."

  Arua pointed at Giou's head. "Right now, your consciousness software is still bugging out with the previous owner's brain hardware. There's memory residue stuck in the hippocampus. Relax, it'll patch itself eventually."

  "Next question: How much do you remember your past?"

  "Ummm... I think, almost all of it."

  "Good," Arua nodded. "Last one. How much Nexus technique and supernatural-science do you remember?"

  Giou hesitated. "About that... I'm not sure."

  Arua’s chill vibe vanished, turned into disappointment. "You better remember it fast 'cause I'm not training you from zero again."

  Ki Rojo finally chimed in. "Actually, we can't validate his memory just by asking. He could have lost memories and not even know they're gone."

  Arua nodded, agreeing with the logic. "Fair point." He turned back to Giou. "Alright, you have a homework now. Write down everything you remember, just the outline list. I'll cross-reference it with my data later."

  Giou's eyes widened, realizing something. "Oh... So that's the reason you taught me how to write in the spirit realm?"

  "Yup," Arua replied. "Pretty much everything I taught you was nothing but preparation for today."

  Emotion bloomed in Giou's chest. Turned out his former master had planned his future this far. "Thanks... I really don't know how to pay you back."

  "Cash works," Arua got up from the chair, stretching his back. His smirk faded as he turned away, replaced by a dark expression only Rojo could see.

  "Sigh... Still, that’s not enough to prove to those bastards that I'm innocent of that incident..." Arua muttered softly. "Damnit, they really make this difficult."

  Ki Rojo heard him. "So, wanna try again?" he asked quietly.

  "Nah. Nope," Arua shook his head. "I'm done. Besides, what's the point anyway? Even if I prove it, they'll still arrest me..."

  Arua shrugged, putting his indifference mask back on. "Well, let's just say I did it for the sake of Consciology!" Rojo shook his head and walked out. "Madman," he teased.

  "Hey, don't run away!" Arua chased after him. "Where's the bet money?"

  Ki Rojo didn't stop. He just threw a sly grin over his shoulder. "Consider it equivalent to my fee for introducing you to the Syndicate," he said. "Getting them to work with a high school kid like you wasn't easy, you know." His voice faded as he walked away.

  "Huh!? You can't do that, you—"

  "Uhh, sorry... Can I ask something?" A hesitant voice from Giou cut off their financial debate. Arua stopped mid-curse, turning toward his "cousin" who still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room and snorted, "Huh?"

  Giou squeezed his fingers, looking restless. This question had been bothering him. "So basically, you put my spirit into this body, right? It’s mine now. But..." He swallowed hard. "How about the original owner?"

  Sudden silence. Arua didn't answer immediately. His face was flat, unreadable.

  Then, he put his hands in pockets. "You noticed it quickly..." Voice steady.

  Arua looked at the floor. "He was... my friend. We've known each other for a long time. Then an incident happened, and..." He shrugged briefly and looking up, "...this was his last wish."

  A brief, cold, and pragmatic story. No tears, no drama. To anyone else, it sounded heartless. But Giou knew this guy very well.

  Arua was an emotional anomaly. In the middle of life-and-death situations or dramatic scenes, he always calm. Meanwhile, his emotions exploded over trivial things like losing a game or coding errors.

  Giou's eyes widened. Guilt instantly ambushed. "S-Sorry... I did not—" "Relax," Arua interrupted him off, waving a hand. "Curiosity is fine. But don't bring it up again. Just take good care of his body."

  "Understood..." he replied softly.