Young God of Knowledge

Kevin stood in front of the rusty iron gate. The black paint was peeling in places, revealing layers of reddish rust that spread like old wounds that never healed.

Five years ago, this gate had always been shiny, guarded by two security guards who rotated every eight hours. Now, the guard post was empty, with wild grass growing in the cracks of the paving blocks.

He pushed the gate. The hinges creaked loudly, breaking the silence of the evening that was growing dark.

Kevin didn't know what he expected when he returned to this place. Perhaps nothing. He just wanted to see. To see the faces of the people who had abandoned him. The faces of the people who had handed him over to be tortured for three days and three nights, then thrown into the ravine like useless rubbish.

The garden, which used to be neat, now looked messy. The untrimmed trees grew wild, their branches stretching out in all directions. But the main house still stood majestically at the end of the road. Three storeys with colonial architecture, its white paint still well-maintained, unlike the condition of the garden.

Typical. The Tanjaya family always maintained their outward appearance.

Kevin walked through the open main door. An elderly servant stood there with a surprised expression.

"Young Master Kevin?"

Mr Hendra. The head servant who had worked for the Tanjaya family for thirty years. His hair was now completely white, his back more hunched. But his eyes were still the same, the eyes that had once looked at him with pity when he was dragged out of this house.

"Mr Hendra." Kevin nodded briefly and stepped inside without waiting for a reply.

The main room hadn't changed much. The dark brown leather sofas were still neatly arranged. The large crystal chandelier still hung from the ceiling. And on the wall, above the fireplace that was never lit, hung family photos in gold frames.

Kevin walked closer. His steps were slow and controlled.

The first photo was of Jose Tanjaya. The patriarch of the family. His grandfather. An old man with neatly combed white hair, always perfectly dressed in a black suit. In the photo, he was smiling. The same smile he had shown when he handed Kevin over to the Wijaya family five years ago.

"For the good of the family," he said at the time. "You must sacrifice yourself for the good of the family."

The next photo was of Albert and Diana. His father and mother. Albert stood tall in a grey suit, his arm around Diana, who was wearing a maroon dress. Both smiled with practised smiles. Perfect. Without a trace of regret.

The last photo was of Vano. His older brother. In the photo, Vano was wearing a graduation gown, proudly holding his diploma. His smile was wide and arrogant, his eyes sparkling.

Kevin looked at the row of photos. One. Two. Three. Four.

There was no fifth photo.

He raised his hand, touching the wall beside Vano's photo. There, there was a square mark slightly darker than the paint around it. The mark of a photo that had been removed.

His photo.

They didn't just hand him over to be tortured. They also erased him. Removing every trace of his existence from this house. As if Kevin Tanjaya had never existed.

Kevin lowered his hand. His face showed no emotion. Five years with his teacher in the ravine where he had been abandoned had taught him many things. Including how to hide everything he felt behind a mask of perfect calm.

"Kevin?"

The voice came from behind. Kevin turned slowly.

Albert and Diana stood at the foot of the stairs. Their faces showed expressions that were almost convincing, as if they were sincere parents longing for their lost child. Diana even shed tears, her hands outstretched as if she wanted to hug him.

"Kevin, you... you're still alive," Diana whispered, her voice trembling. "We thought you were..."

Kevin did not move. His eyes studied his parents with a cold, appraising gaze.

Something was wrong.

Five years ago, he might have run straight into his mother’s arms. He might have believed those tears, believed that trembling voice. But the Kevin of today was not the Kevin of yesterday. Five years had changed many things. Including his ability to read people’s faces.

And what he saw now was self-interest.

Behind Diana's tears, there was calculation. Behind Albert's shocked expression, there was a strange relief. They didn't see a lost child. They saw an opportunity.

"What do you want?" Kevin asked directly, his tone as flat as ice.

Diana paused. Her tears stopped flowing instantly. Albert cleared his throat, trying to maintain a warm expression on his face but failing.

"Kevin, son, why are you—"

"Don't waste my time." Kevin cut him off. "I know you're not happy to see me. I know you wished I had died five years ago. So just tell me what you want, and I'll leave."

A moment of silence. Albert and Diana exchanged glances. Something unspoken passed between them. Finally, Albert sighed and removed his mask.

"All right." Albert stepped forward, his voice returning to its familiar business tone. "You've been given a gift, Kevin. A very big gift."

"A gift?"

Albert nodded enthusiastically. "You will be betrothed to the daughter of the Wibisono family. Vivian Wibisono."

Kevin was silent. The name was familiar. The Wibisono family was one of the four most powerful families in Aranca, the city where they lived. Their wealth amounted to trillions of rupiah.

"Actually," Albert continued, "this match was originally intended for Vano. But since you're back, we thought... why not give you this opportunity? Isn't this good news?"

Kevin stared at his father for a long time. A very long time.

Five years ago, these people had handed him over to the Wijaya family to bear the sins committed by Vano. They had used his resemblance to his brother to make him the scapegoat. And now, it seemed they were going to do it again.

The same pattern. The same trick.

Vano didn't want to marry Wibisono's daughter. For whatever reason. And their solution was, as usual, Kevin. Always Kevin. The perfect replacement.

"Why doesn't Vano want to?" Kevin asked.

Albert blinked. "What?"

"Don't treat me like an idiot." Kevin's voice hardened. "An arranged marriage with the Wibisono family is a golden opportunity. There's no reason for Vano to refuse it unless there's something wrong with the bride. So tell me, what's wrong with Vivian Wibisono?"

Diana turned her face away. Albert swallowed hard.

"Vivian... had an accident a year ago," Albert finally admitted. "She's paralysed. She can't walk. And according to rumours, her condition... isn't good."

Kevin almost laughed. Almost.

So that's it. Vivian Wibisono is disabled, possibly dying, and the spoilt Vano doesn't want to dirty his hands by marrying a girl like that. The solution? Throw it at Kevin. Let Kevin bear the burden.

Some things never change.

"Alright." Kevin said.

Albert and Diana were both shocked.

"What?"

"I said alright. I'll marry Vivian Wibisono."

Diana blinked. "You... you want to?"

"On one condition."

Albert was immediately alert. "What condition?"

Kevin looked his father straight in the eye. His gaze was as cold as ice on a mountain peak.

"I want to hit Vano. One punch. That's all."

The silence that followed that statement felt heavy. Diana immediately shook her head vigorously.

"No. No way. Kevin, you can't—"

"Why not?" Kevin cut in calmly. "You told me to marry a girl that even my own brother rejected. You asked me to sacrifice my life again for this family. One punch seems like a small price to pay."

"But Vano—"

"Vano is the reason I almost died." Kevin's voice hardened for the first time. There was fire in his eyes, fire that he had kept deep inside all this time. "Five years ago, Vano do something inappropriate Alicia. Vano committed that crime. But who was punished? Who was tortured for three days and three nights? Who was thrown into the ravine?"

Diana paled. Albert tensed.

"Me." Kevin continued, his voice calm again but dangerous. "I was the one who bore it all. Because you chose to protect Vano. Because Vano is your favourite child. And now, you want me to sacrifice myself for him again?"

He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in.

"One blow. That's my condition. Take it or leave it."