Sacré

Several hours after the incident, Pardi found himself behind iron bars, accused of planned theft. However, the charges were mitigated with testimonies from Boris and Ben, as well as Fajri, who was also a victim of a series of misunderstandings surrounding the recent string of thefts.

Consequently, Pardi, Boris, and Ben ended up spending a somewhat extended period in a rundown hotel, except for Pardi, whose punishment was lightened. He remained there, silently enduring for about a week.

All of Pardi's belongings were entrusted to Fajri, the person who assisted in easing the sanctions against him, including ancient rolled-up bark paper tied with tree roots.

One thing Fajri was unaware of was that the empty scroll had reached its intended destination - Fajri himself. Placed on top of the television in his living room, along with other items, the paper had arrived there without him noticing. When Fajri laid it there, the day was transitioning into the next.

Too tired to walk to his bedroom, he slumped into the living room chair and succumbed to exhaustion without a blanket. Yet, strangely, when he woke up the next day, he found himself covered by a piece of cloth - a jarik he had placed on top of the television. Although Fajri knew he was alone in the house and had securely locked the door upon entering, he didn't dwell on this mystery.

Fajri: "Hoooooaaaammm...." (Fajri yawns while stretching both arms upward)

Fajri: "Huh? How did a blanket get here?" (he says, pushing aside the jarik)

Fajri then got up and organized his belongings from the previous night, oblivious to the fact that something was missing. The scroll had disappeared and relocated itself, right in the middle of the door, floating.

Fajri remained oblivious even after cleaning up, going about his activities for the day. The scroll continued to hover from morning to night without his notice.

As Fajri was about to close his eyes to sleep, he heard a loud banging on his front door. Fajri, frightened, thought someone might still be angry with him for the events of the previous morning. Cowering in fear on his bed, trembling and sweating, he maintained a smiling facade, with a nervous chuckle escaping his lips.

His legs, already weakened, seemed beyond feeling, and the cold night air made his body stiff. When Fajri saw a shadow approaching his room, he was too traumatized to face the villagers.

Unexpectedly, Fajri's anxiety vanished as soon as he realized that the slowly approaching shadow was not that of a human. The shadow emanated from the unfurling paper, floating towards him. The paper emitted a woman's voice, sounding like muttering. Though not too loud, the quietness of the night made it audible, albeit somewhat muffled and unclear.

Fajri: "Oh, it's just paper floating around even though there's no wind."

Paper: "Je te supplie de me libérer ici."

Fajri: "Hey, miss, or whatever you are. If you're talking, I can't hear you from here."

The paper then stopped right in front of Fajri, who was sitting on the edge of his bed.

Fajri: "What do you want?"

Instantly, the paper fell to the floor, unraveling and covering the room's floor. Shortly after, a rumbling sound came from beneath the ground, breaking the silence of the night. The worn-out paper seemed to enter a small crack in the old house's floor.

The almost invisible crack widened, emitting a louder and more intense rumbling. Strangely, within the crack, there was no soil or rocks, only darkness with stars and planets orbiting inside.

The "wormhole" expanded to the point where even an adult could enter. The air and objects around the crack were slightly sucked into it, like a vacuum cleaner.

However, amid the commotion, a white-skinned European woman emerged. She wore a black hat with blue at its end, resembling a cowboy hat with a large blue feather attached to the back and a slight tear on the front right. Her shoulder-length hair had a semi-blue-black color, slightly messy yet seemingly straight from the front.

She was dressed in a blue military French uniform with a white and red blue-furred cloak near her neck and white pants. A belt with a tesseract-patterned buckle secured her cloak, and high leather boots completed the ensemble, with an empty rifle sheath attached to her left side. Although she appeared to be in her late teens, her gaze appears to be like that of a killer, seen only by her as if skin slashed by paper.

The crack closed again, throwing back everything that had been pulled into it when it opened. Fajri, with no face expression, seemed unfazed and rather disturbed by the chaos. With a vacant stare and raised eyebrows, he slowly looked at the culprit responsible for turning the room he had just cleaned a few hours ago into chaos once again.

His face gradually showed anger, and the muscles in his neck began to tense, indicating that he was about to scream loudly. However, at that moment, Fajri's body ran out of energy, as if he had already completed the task of scolding the girl, even though he hadn't.

"Why do I feel relieved?"

"I haven't uttered a single word, and I'm out of energy. Why?"

"Why do I have memories in my mind that I've been shouting?"

"Why is it only ten o'clock now? It was already past ten before! Why?"

"Why do I feel like that person is looking at me disdainfully?"

"Why is she here, who is she?!"

"Why is she smiling? Is she going crazy?"

"Why is she dressed like that?"

"Weird."

"Weird."

"Weird."

"Weird."

"What should I do?"

"Run?"

"Just run! Run!"

"No! I can't! My legs!"

In the dim light of the room, Fajri stared in all directions, searching for answers. Sweat dripped down his face, his legs felt stiff and weak, and a sudden loss of energy overwhelmed him. Panic .

"Hehehihihishiisthishishisisht..."

Laughter echoed from the mysterious woman.

"Baffled by what's happening?" She taunted Fajri.

In a state of panic, Fajri, who was generally composed, suddenly fell silent. This situation directly involved his own body and defied the logic in his mind. However, after hearing the woman's voice, Fajri gradually regained his composure. He took a breathe, and.....

Fajri: "Firstly, who are you?"

"... then the second question?"

Fajri: "How did you do that earlier?"

"Alright, I'll answer your questions. Good evening, my name is Sacré. But before I answer your second question, I need to explain a bi..."

Yes, Sacré claimed to be a person from the past, specifically during the French Revolution.

This 'twisted mind' girl with blue-dyed hair and peculiar cosplay refused to explain how she ended up in Fajri's place before he agreed to an odd condition – accepting her as a student.

Fajri: "HAAAH?... What do you mean by becoming my student?"

Sacré: "I'll tell you one more secret you need to know. First, I th-..."

Suddenly, Sacré shed tears, her breath became erratic, and she wiped her face with her right hand while apologizing. She was not willing to reveal the reasons behind her actions.

Sacré: "Hey ! can you not interrupt me when I'm talking about important things! And what did you mean by the 'twisted mi-..."

[Handsome Guy: "Hehe, sorry miss. (๑ › ؂ •̀ ๑)"]

Sacré: "Don't interrupt me again while I'm talking!"

Sacré: "Alright, I'll continue. Fajri, besides apologizing, I am very grateful to you. Maybe you don't understand what I mean, but in a while, you will know the reason behind 'that' I did to you."

Fajri: "Okay, even though I don't understand your meaning. But okay."

Sacré: "And the second thing, your theory proposal about time machines will be accepted by the Max Planck Institute and then applied by CERN to replicate the basis of your theory."

Fajri: "Sounds like nonsense to me, but it's amazing! You're not lying, are you?"

Sacré: "Of course I'm lying! It's impossible for a theory from a student at an unknown university to be accepted by them!"

Fajri: "Alright, i have already known it. So, I don't need to write my theory then."

Sacré: "That's not what I meant. They certainly won't accept or even read a theory that sounds rushed from someone who is not yet known in the field of space and time research. Moreover, if they read it, they won't take seriously the work of someone who hasn't proven themselves in public."

Fajri: "Okay, thanks for the mockery. But I still can't confirm if your words are true or false."

Sacré: "Huuhh... why are you so much like him, wait... you are him,? i guess... Well, for the proof, I'll give you a notebook that smells very bad when opened, and just touching it can cause tetanus due to being in my pocket for too long."

Fajri: "Okay okay, no need. I believe you."

Sacré: "Then where is your theory document?"

Fajri: "What document?"

Sacré: "Don't play dumb, the document you were going to submit to the researchers, the one I mentioned would not be accepted because you are still an amateur and not famous."

Fajri: "But seriously, even if I'm not famous and still an amateur, that has nothing to do with me not writing it until now. I said I wasn't going to write it, so I didn't write it."

Sacré: "Eeeh, but according to this note, you finished writing it this afternoon."

Fajri: "Then what about the note that smells bad in your smelly pocket? Does it tell you that yesterday something happened that traumatized me, almost killed me, took a whole day to clean up, and all of that just because you couldn't come here without the help of that crazy thief with a mental disorder!"

#Surprisingly, Fajri, who is usually quiet, said all of that in just 7 seconds.#

Sacré: "Hmm, there's none."

Fajri: "Who's the fool who wrote all that without considering the consequences of the new events because of the activities of humans from other dimensions of space and time?"

Sacré: "This note?"

Fajri: "Yes, who's the author?"

Sacré: "You."

Fajri: "Huh?"

Sacré: "Look, this messy handwriting must be yours, right?"

Fajri: "--------"

Sacré grinned, indicating that she had won this conversation.

Sacré: "Alright, now follow my words. Sleep, and tomorrow write that theory of yours. I'll take it at night. Sleep now!"

Fajri: "Sure, mademoiselle! Oh, and one more thing, my writing is not bad. I find it artistic."

The cold night covered by the warmth of the blanket, the bright moonlight obscured by fleeting thin clouds, the sounds of night insects accompanied Fajri as he entered the realm of dreams.

The next morning, Fajri was busy with books and pencils since the early morning, motivated to complete the detailed writing of theories swirling in his head due to the strange events the night before. Wild theories about space and time seemed to be proven right before his eyes even before he wrote them.

He wondered why Sacré still needed a sheet of his theory despite being able to apply it herself. In any case, that day, Fajri worked tirelessly to meet the quota set by Sacré.

After a while of writing, Fajri suddenly realized the sun had returned to its western cradle, and the light he had just felt disappeared quickly without him noticing. He only noticed when he wanted to grab some sausages he bought the day before.

"Hey, wasn't it bright just now? Why is it dark again?"

Shortly after sitting back at his desk, the sunlight from the window behind him reappeared, but only for a moment, then disappeared again. Realizing this strange phenomenon, Fajri immediately shouted for Sacré, who then burst into laughter, realizing her "prank" had worked.

Fajri: "Don't play with time so casually! It could trigger something unexpected because of your actions!"

Sacré: "But..."

Fajri: "But what? No one knows the consequences that will happen if you mess with time like that!"

Sacré: "Listen first..."

Fajri: "What else!? Ha? If that device is broken, who will fix it? You haven't even explained how it works!"

Sacré: "Just be patient... I only used this device once, when you started writing this morning, even before the sun appeared."

Fajri: "Then how can you change the speed of time like that?"

Sacré: "This is the super bright flashlight I found in the cabinet last night."

Fajri: "---------------"

"Go away, don't bother me anymore."

Sacré: "Why are you suddenly silent?"

Fajri: "Just go away!"

Sacré: "Alright, alright." 

As time stopped outside the room, the seemingly impossible task that needed to be completed within half a day was finished earlier than expected. He didn't even feel the fatigue and cramps in his hands, as he was so enthusiastic about pouring his thoughts onto the paper.

Shortly after Fajri wrote the last line, Sacré quickly grabbed the scattered papers on the table, examining each one with a curious and joyful smile, like a child with a new toy. The sound of his footsteps echoed on the floor as he read the writings one by one.

Sometimes, Sacré raised his eyebrows high and opened his eyes wide when he found something interesting, and during those moments, his footsteps stopped creaking and he slowly tiptoed. 

Fajri, feeling sleepy again due to exhaustion, narrowed his eyes and rested his head on the table, searching for a comfortable position to sleep. He began to yawn while vaguely observing Sacré's happiness in reading his writings. In his mind, Fajri began to feel happy because he could finally feel useful to others through his writing.

People seemed to be able to sleep soundly once the task assigned to him was completed. He yawned several times, tears streaming slowly down his face as he continued to yawn, his awareness fading away into the warm and comforting world called "rest." 

But the happiness turned out to be just a delusion when Sacré suddenly slammed the table where Fajri was sleeping, right next to his head. "He who was almost asleep" immediately woke up with fresh eyes, "he who didn't know what happened" instinctively pushed his hands on the table as if to throw it away, causing his body to be pushed backward, hitting the chair he was sitting on.

The left leg of the chair broke due to the impact, and Fajri became "the person who fell backward." He lay in front of Sacré, rubbing his waist. 

As if not caring about "the person with a sore waist," Sacré shouted at Fajri loudly while repeating his blows on the unfortunate table.

Sacré: "What does this mean!"

Fajri: "What do you mean by what does this mean!" 

Fajri: "I should be the one protesting like that!"

Sacré: "Just shut up! Your theory is problematic!"

Fajri: "What do you mean problematic! I wrote the theory exactly as I had in mind yesterday!"

Sacré: "Here! In this part, it says electromagnetic wave explosion focused in a microwave connected to a durable Nokai, can simulate a very small black hole shortly after the explosion. It's a conspiracy theory like that!"

Fajri: "How would I know! It's just a theory!"

Sacré: "And this, time machine experiments can be dangerous if conducted by living beings, I recommend conducting experiments on inanimate objects, such as sending a message to the past, then seeing if there are any changes in the present. If you try it this way, nothing will happen because the letter you send will not reach the past in the same dimensional path!" 

Fajri: "Then just send it using a letter on a mobile phone, it should work. Besides that, how would I know! That's just my theory!"

Sacré: "Huh? Your theory? What's with this John Tutur's name slightly covered by scribbles at the bottom of this paper? You must be watching Gate Sten too much!"

Fajri: "Cih, busted."

Sacré: "Haaa? Tell the truth! I came all the way here crossing many dimensional space-time paths, becoming the treasure of your ancestors just because I am a flying paper---

Fajri: "Oi... not all papers can fly and talk, you know..."

Sacré: "----even deceiving that stupid thief to be here, taking the thesis written by someone who rewatched Gate Sten five times!"

Fajri: "Akhem.. it's only three times."

Sacré: "No wonder they outright rejected your theory!"

Fajri: "Then why did you come here? You know me before coming here."

Sacré: "You are a genius who is an inventor and developer of time machines! You often talk about---

Fajri: "Thanks for the praise. Uh, I am indeed a genius."

Sacré: "Don't cut me off when I'm talking! You often talk about your past self."

Fajri: "What did I say?"

Sacré: "You often boast that you are a genius with many achievements in dimensional space and time sciences."

Fajri: "Did I tell you exactly when I got all those achievements?"

Sacré: "If I think about it, you never tell that."

Fajri: "Then when did I brag about all my genius? In the concept of time perspective, one second ago can already be called the past. In my opinion, me in the future will not showcase his genius while still in this era, but rather showcase his achievements in the creation of a time machine."

Sacré: "Ha?"

Fajri: "I often make cliché statements like that to confuse others about what I'm saying, and then they will choose to believe what I say."

Sacré: "Ha?"

Fajri: "Forget it." 

Sacré began to be confused by what Fajri was saying; her mind was tired of facing the reality that all the theories she had been waiting for came from Fajri's imagination after watching a science-fiction show.

Her head was pounding and filled with frustration and confusion to the point of being unable to understand the complex sentences that were going around. She was someone who found it difficult to hide emotions; her frustration was clearly visible on his face, hands clasped, and face turned away. 

The conversation that did not end well made the atmosphere in the room grim. For Fajri, the gloomy atmosphere, called by people as "awkward," was a painfully uncomfortable environment. Being in such a condition for a short time felt like hours. Fajri, who couldn't stand this situation, tried to fix it.

He attempted to redirect the conversation that had already been cut off and floating without a solution to another topic. Maybe, a new discussion could make Sacré talk about many things again and slightly ease his anger about the facts he learned during the conversation with Fajri. With hesitation, he started the conversation.

Fajri: "Ummm... By the way, is your hair dyed?"

Sacré: "Ha? Oh, this. No, I never dye my hair."

Fajri: "So, do Europeans have slightly blue hair?"

Sacré: "Oh, you don't know. This is one of the effects of traveling through dimensional space and time."

Fajri: "One of them? Are there others?"

Sacré: "Yes."

Fajri: "Tell me, what are the consequences! I'm very curious because you told me about it."

Sacré: "It feels strange, you know!"

Fajri: "Why is it strange?"

Sacré: "You used to be the one who told me all these things, and now, I'm the one telling them to you."

Fajri: "Eh... hehehe..."

Sacré: "Never mind, act normal, don't act like we just met."

Fajri: "Yes, mademoiselle!"

Sacré: "I'm a madame!"

Fajri: "Huh? You still don't look mature." 

Sacré then told many things about the risks of time travel. 

Firstly, traveling through dimensional space and time beyond the logic divergence can cause hair to slowly change color to blue due to the physical and mental burden when passing through paths faster than the speed of light.

Another risk is age manipulation. This means that a person who traverses dimensional space and time will change in age, including the body shape, face, emotions, and behavior according to their age after time travel between dimensions. Although the entire body changes, the stored memories will still not be lost, although in some cases, amnesia often occurs due to the mind being too heavy to accept reality or information they don't want to hear after repeatedly using a time machine.

By the way, Sacré's age before arriving at Fajri's place was 64 years old.

Fajri: "Eeeh? You're a grandma?"

Sacré: "Shut up!! You don't just reveal something like that! It's every woman's secret!"

Fajri: "So... Can you turn off your time control device? And return the time flow outside this room to its original state."

Time is indeed difficult to measure with common sense; they moved and slowed down according to the relativity of each object observing it.

A week passed without a final answer to the two's problem. People like Fajri, who couldn't stand the awkward situation for long, wouldn't discuss the incident that almost broke their relationship. On the other hand, Sacré was also too lazy to discuss it again. She was wrong to have high expectations for Fajri, whom she trusted so much as a genius.

Moreover, she pondered on the meaning of Fajri's words that she still didn't understand for a week. 

One day at the end of the "do-nothing week," Fajri's house was knocked on by someone. It was still early in the morning before dawn; two policemen brought someone who looked familiar to him.

He opened the door, inviting the police to sit and have a chat while having coffee, but they refused and left without providing any explanation with a grim, pale face and dark eye bags. Fajri then asked the person they left behind, none other than the thief who served as Sacré's transportation. 

Pardi, the "collector of misfortune," came back to bother Fajri and the others. Apparently, he could be released faster than the two lazy unlucky fool thieves because the police suddenly couldn't understand what he was saying when asked for information. Not only that, he didn't stop rambling to the police because he also lost the ability to understand their language.

This made the police annoyed, especially since he had stopped the misunderstanding that almost claimed a victim in a certain area. Furthermore, Pardi also obtained information as a victim from the two "lazy unlucky fool thieves." Therefore, early that morning, the police decided to return him to the person who brought him to the police station, which was none other than Fajri.

Fajri: "Eeeee... Sacré, can you be the one to take care of him?"