Zip! Click! Click!

  The sound of a zipper and the clasps of a bag echoed. Once everything was secured, a large black 30-liter bag was slung over the left shoulder of a man wearing a dark T-shirt and brand-new black trousers. Shiny brown sneakers covered his feet, and a pair of trendy sunglasses rested on top of his head.

  “I never imagined a place like this could exist in another world… truly surprising.”

  His words reflected exactly what he was seeing.

  A massive room—vast and seemingly endless—was filled with clothes: shirts, trousers, jackets, bags, shoes, and every imaginable type of clothing. Without the small doors scattered around the area that served as access points, Andika could easily get lost here forever while searching for outfits that suited him.

  Now that he had finished dealing with clothing, he no longer had to worry about needing new outfits in the future. His thoughts shifted to something else.

  The problem of clothing is solved. Water isn’t an issue either. Now I’ll try food. Hopefully it works the same way it did when I searched for clothes.

  Andika remembered the dilemma he had faced earlier.

  ...

  Moments after obtaining the blue book, he entered the water. Several volumes of water were absorbed into his body for a short time. When the absorption stopped, he began to swim slowly.

  What he felt was completely different.

  It was as if he were flying—there was no resistance from the water at all. The sensation felt incredibly strange.

  When Andika moved his arms and legs, waves of water surged outward following his movements. He stopped, then swung his right arm sideways from behind to the front.

  PYAK!

  A crashing wave of water nearly two meters high shot forward, sweeping across his right side.

  He stared at the right hand that had created such a spectacular effect, unable to believe it was truly his.

  For a brief moment, he remembered someone inside the great totem chamber.

  The silhouette… the shadow… that person had control over shadows! And he wanted control over something else! Now I understand why he refused to meet me. He was afraid I would take the book.

  At last, Andika began to see fragments of clarity regarding the strange events he had experienced earlier—and the dangers he might encounter in the future.

  If I have control over water, then other people must have control over something as well. At the very least, I must master this if I want to survive.

  Salma… wait for me. With this power, maybe I can find a way back home.

  Andika continued his exploration.

  In the body of water, he could swim freely without resistance. His body could even rise out of the water up to his waist.

  Maybe I can stand on water?

  He experimented further.

  He could generate waves as high as three meters, moving at a speed of roughly three meters per second. He could also manipulate the water precisely, shaping it into twisting pillars that moved like serpents.

  To test the limits of his control, he directed one of the water pillars forward. After traveling six meters, the pillar stopped. Its speed was around two meters per second.

  Maybe it's slower because it's outside the main body of water, Andika guessed.

  Next, he tried to make the water pillar circle around his body like a cyclone, hoping it could serve as protection against attacks. He attempted this because he couldn’t turn the water into ice.

  Somehow, he felt as if he should be able to do it.

  But reality said otherwise.

  The pillars that had once numbered two became four… then six… then seven—the maximum he could reliably control. They spun rapidly while also circling around him, forming a shield against attacks from multiple directions.

  That was when something unexpected happened.

  Because Andika’s control was still imperfect, the intense pressure from the spinning water tore apart the clothes he was wearing.

  What puzzled him even more was that his body didn’t hurt at all. Despite being struck by the spinning water pillars, he felt no pressure against his skin.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  With no other choice, Andika simply sighed and climbed out of the water.

  He hadn’t brought any spare clothes, obviously.

  He racked his brain, recalling his journey to this area.

  Could I go to a place that provides clothing?

  It was a gamble.

  If it worked, there would be no problem.

  If it failed, he would have to accept whatever happened while wearing the torn clothes.

  Preparing himself mentally, Andika set off.

  Ready or not.

  He imagined his torn shirt, ripped bag, worn-out pants, and battered shoes transforming into new ones—changing styles according to his preferences.

  Eventually, he arrived at his current state: neatly dressed and fully equipped, ready to head toward the next area.

  ...

  Fried rice, toast, kebabs, burgers, meatballs, soto, siomay, crepes, batagor, pizza, and countless other foods he had encountered in his life appeared vividly in his mind.

  He wanted to go somewhere that had all of them.

  Andika opened his eyes and stepped toward the next area.

  Food, here I come!

  As he slowly adapted to this new world, Andika began to enjoy the journey—without ever forgetting his ultimate goal of returning home.

  He tried to loosen the tension that had gripped him ever since he realized he was stranded in a foreign world.

  When he arrived at the new area, he received a brief vision revealing what kind of place he had entered.

  Now I’m seeing these visions again… What kind of book is that Illiis book? I have to find out. Maybe there’s a library somewhere in this world.

  Looking ahead, he saw hundreds of buildings shaped like food, visited by crowds of people—tens of thousands, perhaps even hundreds of thousands.

  The food-shaped buildings made Andika’s stomach growl loudly. His appetite surged.

  For the first time since arriving in this world, Andika smiled.

  He hurried forward, eager to give his eyes, tongue, and stomach the chance to enjoy the culinary district.

  Pizza—the international dish loved and recognized by people all over the world—became his first choice.

  After receiving the earlier vision, Andika now had a rough understanding of buildings based on their shapes. At the very least, he knew what a pizza looked like.

  The building resembled a one-eighth slice of pizza. The center rose about four meters high, gradually sloping downward toward the edges. The aroma of cheese and freshly baked bread filled the air, making him want to devour the pizza immediately.

  Unfortunately, the line was long.

  While waiting, he looked around. Several groups sat together happily, eating the food they had obtained.

  Andika searched for a group that looked diverse, hoping to learn more about this place.

  Eventually, he found one.

  Eight people sat in a circle—four men and four women.

  Andika approached them.

  “Hello, excuse me. May I join?”

  “Hey, sure, go ahead,” several of them replied.

  Andika was startled.

  He knew the languages he heard were foreign—some Italian, some Japanese—not Indonesian. Yet somehow they sounded incredibly familiar to him, as if he had spoken them his entire life.

  “Come sit, come on! Pizza lovers must share with one another. Try some, my friend. I know that line is still long—maybe another half hour.”

  The speaker was a chubby man with a thick mustache and a fierce-looking face, though he wore a broad smile beneath a hat. He spoke English, but his Italian accent was unmistakably strong.

  “Thank you, my friend. I accept your offer. Whatever it is, as long as I can taste this fantastic food. My stomach has been playing the song ‘pizza, pizza, pizza’ for quite a while now.”

  “Hahaha! Come, come! Your Italian is very fluent. My name is Mario. Introduce yourself to us!”

  Mario had pointed out something Andika himself had not realized.

  He had greeted Mario in Italian.

  Deciding to continue the conversation, he stored that realization away for later.

  “Oh, sorry about that. My mistake. My name is Andi, from Indonesia—a true pizza lover.”

  “Hi! I’m Saya Mizuki. This is Hana Amami, and this is Reiko Echiya. We’re from Japan. Nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Selena Hayek, from Mexico.”

  “I’m Edgardo—not Luigi—Mario’s brother.”

  “I’m Na Bu, from South Africa. Nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Yaseed, from Morocco. Hello.”

  They chatted casually while eating pizza.

  “So I need to line up, then enter that black door alone, and choose whatever kinds of pizza I want to eat or take outside? And if I stay inside for more than about five minutes, I’ll automatically be ejected through the other black door?”

  “That’s right, my friend. I was confused at first too. But for pizza, I endured the line. Look at my body—I’m starting to get thinner now. All for pizza! I love pizza! Hahaha!”

  Among the group, Mario talked the most—and ate the most pizza as well.

  “Where did these buildings come from? Does anyone know?” Andika asked.

  “No idea, my friend. When I arrived here, the pizza building already existed. But I know something… shh… it’s a secret. But since you’re a pizza lover, I’ll tell you.”

  Mario leaned closer.

  “Those other buildings—the food buildings—they appear because someone desires them. I know because I made one myself! Hahaha! Amazing, right? Go on, ask me what building I made!”

  Mario had just dropped extremely sensitive information into the group—not exactly a deep secret, but certainly one of the keys to how buildings appeared.

  “Come on, Mario. We all know that already. The calzone building in front of you is still visible to us. And you’ve told us that little secret many times.”

  Edgardo rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t mind him, Andi. He just wants attention.”

  “Heeeey!” Mario protested.

  So this is common knowledge? Andika thought.

  “Wow, that’s incredible. Now I want to try it too! May I?”

  “Just do it, my friend. As long as it’s daytime. You won’t get the chance at night. Who knows how many hours are left.”

  “What happens at night?”

  “All buildings stop functioning at night—except the tallest cake building that looks like a castle. At night we go there to rest. I’ll show you later.”

  Mario grinned.

  “But now—what food will you present to us? Can you beat my pizza? Hah! I doubt it!”

  “Alright! Challenge accepted! Show me the way!”

  “Follow me!”

  Mario led Andika to an empty plot at the edge of the building cluster, explaining the method he once used to create the calzone building.

  Now they watched as Andika attempted to create his own food building.

  Andika stood facing the empty land.

  Inside his mind appeared the image of thin slices of tempeh, coated in seasoned flour mixed with chopped scallions. The slices were deep-fried in hot oil until golden yellow—still soft and slightly flexible, the sign that they were perfectly cooked.

  They would be served with soy-chili sauce, sambal korek, or fresh bird’s eye chilies.

  Best eaten while warm.

  “Hey, what food are you making?”

  A woman’s voice caused Andika to open his eyes.

  In front of him now stood a building that perfectly resembled the food in his imagination.

  He looked at the woman and answered:

  “Mendoan.”