My Sassy Otherworldly Wizard

Confused Individuals

My head throbbed from the relentless clink-clank symphony coming from the kitchen. I squinted at my phone: 6:03 AM.

Damn it, Mom. Why does she always wake up at the c***k of dawn like she’s personally offended by sleep?

I groaned, dragged myself out of bed, and shut the bedroom door with a soft click. Pillow over head. Back to sleep. Logical plan.

Two minutes later, the door swung open again.

“Adek, wakey-wakey! It’s morning already!”

“Mom, it’s literally six.”

“Exactly. You’re supposed to wake up early. You know, most Indonesians are up at four or five. We can’t be lazying around. When your sister was your age—”

“She woke up early, helped you with chores, and probably cured world hunger before breakfast,” I finished, rolling my eyes so hard I nearly saw my brain.

I sat up. No point fighting a script I’d memorized since puberty.

“Come on, Mom. But—”

“Hush. No buts. Shower, then we’re having breakfast. After that, straight to your uncle’s place. Half the family’s already there. We don’t want to be the late ones again.”

“Yeah… yeah…”

I shuffled to the bathroom like a zombie on low battery.

The sight of the bak mandi and colorful gayung scooped me straight into nostalgia. Simple things. No fancy showerheads here—just a big tub of water and a plastic dipper. Classic or should I say old-school?

By the way, it's a late introduction, I guess. Name’s Arista Preach. Twenty-five this year. Aspiring writer—which is code for “unemployed with a laptop and unrealistic dreams.”

You’re probably wondering why I’m in Jakarta right now instead of freezing my ass off back home. Simple: I “followed” my mom to the biannual family reunion.

We mostly live in a quiet corner of Oklahoma—just Mom and me these days. My older sister escaped to Germany for work (smart move). Dad? Somewhere on Earth, chasing rare animals with his camera. At least he still sends postcards and pocket money. Better than radio silence.

Apparently, Mom and Dad met thirty years ago in Kalimantan. He was on a wildlife expedition; she was visiting a distant cousin. Sparks flew, marriage happened, and here I am—the underwhelming result.

I’m the family’s “not-so-good” daughter. No stable job. No impressive degree on the wall. No husband, kids, or even a boyfriend to brag about at reunions.

My only consistent admirers? My little cousins, who think my "bule" a.k.a foreigner features are t****k gold. Mixed Indonesian-American looks apparently equal “exotic” here. Great. I’m already bracing for the annual “Kak Arista, let’s film a dance!” requests.

Social media, please leave the children alone. And me too, while you’re at it.

“Honey, you ready yet?” Mom’s voice floated in, sing-song and teasing. “Mama put your batik on the bed, okay? And wear some makeup—who knows, you might meet a nice boy today~!”

I rolled my eyes again. She never quits. I gave up on dating sometime around my third failed situationship.

Men are just… inefficient.

I finished getting dressed, threw on the batik gamis she picked (navy with subtle gold patterns—actually pretty), and added the bare minimum makeup to avoid a lecture.

Walked into the kitchen. Mom looked up from the stove and smirked like she’d won the lottery. “Nah, gitu dong, cantik.” (“Dont you look pretty?”)

I hate her nagging.

I hate her matchmaking.

But damn if her opor ayam doesn’t taste like actual heaven.

I sat down, grabbed a plate, and surrendered to the inevitable: coconut-rich chicken curry, ketupat, and zero willpower.

One bite in, and I almost forgave the 6 AM wake-up call.

Almost.

Because somewhere across this sprawling, chaotic city, a certain platinum-haired lunatic was probably causing his first traffic jam of the day.

And I had no idea that by tonight, my perfectly logical, romance-free life was about to get hijacked by the most illogical person on (or off) the planet.

—

Last night.

In another part of Jakarta—far from the chaotic traffic and street vendors of the older districts—the city gleamed like a polished jewel. Sleek skyscrapers rose in perfect alignment, their glass facades reflecting neon in every direction. Unique shapes twisted toward the sky: spirals, curves, sharp angles lit by a thousand artificial stars.

To Eldric, it was alien. Thrilling. Inferior to his Diamond Tower, of course—but undeniably intriguing.

So many lights. Screens flickering with colors he had no names for. Lamps that burned without flame. No citizen could ever lose their way home in such brilliance, he thought smugly.

He scanned the horizon with the lazy confidence of a man who had never been denied anything. His gaze settled on the most opulent structure—a towering hotel crowned with a sprawling penthouse that screamed luxury even from kilometers away.

Perfect. With a subtle twist of his wrist, he vanished from the street and reappeared on the top floor in a soft swirl of displaced air.

The penthouse was empty. Vast. Tasteful, in a modern, soulless sort of way. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the glittering city. Plush furniture in neutral tones. A bed large enough for a small banquet.

Eldric toured it once, nodding approvingly despite himself. Acceptable.

His heavy wizard’s robe slid from his shoulders at a flick of his finger, folding itself neatly onto a chair. Another gesture conjured a silken nightgown—deep violet, embroidered with faint silver runes—that settled over his frame like it had been tailored by the gods themselves.

The portal jump had taken more out of him than expected. Strangely, he couldn’t sense a single particle of ambient magic in the air. None. It was… unsettling. But exhaustion won. He collapsed onto the cloud-like bed and sank into deep, dreamless sleep.

—

“WAAAAAHHH! Oh my God!”

Eldric’s eyes snapped open. Sleep—precious, restorative sleep—shattered.

“Silence thy shrieking mouth!” he snarled, sitting up with bed-tousled platinum hair falling like a furious waterfall. “What trivial nonsense disturbs the repose of a Grand Wizard?”

A young woman in a hotel uniform stood frozen near the door, feather duster in hand, eyes wide as saucers.

“Who… who are you, sir?! How did you get in here?!” She clutched her cleaning cart like a shield. “This penthouse is supposed to be empty until tomorrow!”

Eldric blinked once. Then scowled.

“Thou needst not know my name, insignificant wench. Thou hast dared interrupt my slumber. For that, thou shalt taste my wrath.”

He raised one elegant hand and flicked a finger. A soft pop of displaced magic. The woman vanished. In her place: one very confused black ant scuttling across the marble floor.

“Now,” Eldric muttered, satisfied, “scream to thy heart’s content.”

He flopped back onto the pillows, closed his eyes, and waited for sleep to reclaim him.

It didn’t.

Ten minutes passed.

Twenty.

He was wide awake. Irritated. Skin already plotting revenge.

“Damn it all!” He bolted upright again, standing dramatically in the center of the bed like a tragic stage actor. “My beauty sleep—ruined! My flawless complexion shall suffer!”

He flung himself off the mattress and stalked toward the bathroom, nightgown billowing.

The bathroom was ridiculous. Marble. Gold fixtures. A tub large enough to host a small mermaid council. A separate glass rain-shower. And—most intriguingly—a jacuzzi the size of a small pond.

Eldric’s mood lifted slightly. “This will do.” He spent the next four hours experimenting.

First: the faucets.

“Oho, water emerges from this metal spout at the twist of a circle? How quaint.”

Cold.

He tried another knob. Still cold.

Third one—scalding.

Fourth—perfect.

Then the jacuzzi jets. He pressed buttons at random until bubbles roared to life like a tame kraken. Lights underneath the water shifted colors. Music began playing from hidden speakers—some strange, pulsing mortal tune.

He sank in up to his chin, long hair floating like pale silk.

No magic was detected in any of it.

Not in the lights.

Not in the heated water.

Not in the wind-machine that dried his hands with hot air.

Curious.

Disturbingly curious.

“Where hast all the magic gone?” he murmured, eyes half-lidded in the steaming water. “These mortals command light, fire, water, wind… with mere buttons and levers. No runes. No mana. No cost.”

He leaned back, letting the jets pound against his shoulders.

Either this world was impoverished beyond imagination……or it had discovered an entirely different kind of power.

And Eldric, Grand Wizard of the Diamond Tower, intended to understand it.

After all, a man of his beauty and brilliance deserved nothing less than total mastery—over every realm he deigned to visit.

—

Meanwhile, somewhere in Jakarta traffic, Arista Preach was on her way to a family reunion, blissfully unaware that the lunatic from the lake had just turned a five-star penthouse into his personal spa… and one poor penthouse attendant into an ant.

Fate, as always, was laughing.