Aluna’s phone alarm shrieked at exactly 6:00 AM. Not a gentle melody, but an upbeat pop remix blasted at full volume—intentionally set that way so she wouldn’t sleep through it again. She groaned, blindly reaching for her cluttered nightstand full of sketches and colored pencils. Her eyes stayed shut tight, like her eyelids were made of concrete—heavier than next semester’s course load.

“Five more minutes,” she muttered, pulling her thin blanket over her head. Five minutes that usually turned into thirty. Or an hour. Unless one powerful name interfered: Jeha.

Sure enough, not even a minute under the covers and her phone vibrated violently. A video call from Jeha lit up the screen. Aluna sighed, accepting her fate. Still half-asleep, she tapped “Answer.”

Jeha’s face filled the screen, complete with a bunny-ear filter and perfectly done makeup—at this hour. Her hair was neatly braided in two. Battle-ready.

“ALUNA! Do you even know what time it is?! Are you seriously still in bed?!” Jeha’s shrill voice pierced Aluna’s ear. She winced, holding the phone away from her face.

“Chill, Je. I’m awake now,” Aluna rasped, rubbing her eyes. Her hand reached for a pillow to muffle the noise.

“Ugh! Another challenge again? You’re a high school student, not a full-time illustrator! Don’t forget, today’s flag ceremony is mandatory! And there’s a surprise uniform inspection! If you show up late or looking like a mess, I’m not saving you from Galen’s wrath!”

Aluna snorted. “Seriously? How scary can this Galen guy even be? You talk like he’s Voldemort.”

“Voldemort? Galen is worse than Voldemort, Aluna! Voldemort just wanted to rule the wizarding world. Galen wants to control the entire solar system of Primadona High! With rules and regulations for every molecule!” Jeha was practically on fire. “Anyway, I’m sending my live location in ten minutes. Be ready to pick me up at the alley. Don’t be late!”

She hung up without waiting for a response. Aluna let out a long, frustrated sigh. Jeha had always been like this—loud, dramatic, but fiercely dependable. Jeha was her portal to the teenage world of Jakarta. Without her, Aluna would probably disappear into her own little universe of thick books, digital comics, and anime soundtracks.

Aluna glanced at her digital clock. 6:10 AM. Flag ceremony starts at 7:00. From her boarding house in Tebet to Primadona High in South Jakarta, it would take at least 40 minutes by bike during rush hour. And she still had to pick up Jeha.

“I’m so dead,” she muttered.

All because she had stayed up late chasing a digital illustration challenge for a national competition. Aluna was a scholarship student at Primadona High, one of the most elite schools in Jakarta. It wasn’t just her grades that got her in—it was her extraordinary talent in digital art. The school nurtured creativity, but also had a rulebook thicker than a fantasy novel.

In record time, she grabbed her towel and dashed into the bathroom. Five-minute shower. Five-minute dressing. Five-minute hair.

She glanced at herself in the mirror. Her gray-and-white uniform was technically fine, but her rushed movements left the shirt half untucked, her bowtie crooked, and the top button undone. Her favorite white sneakers—slightly scuffed—were on her feet. That was Aluna’s style: comfortable, practical, and never too fussy. “Effortlessly chic,” Jeha called it. Aluna thought it was more “effortlessly messy.”

Her phone buzzed. Jeha’s live location. Aluna grabbed her sling bag—tablet, phone, wallet—and ran down the stairs.

“Sir, motorcycle! To Primadona High!” she shouted to the ojol driver by the gate.

The morning commute was chaos. Honking everywhere, bikes zipping past like arrows, and thick clouds of Jakarta’s signature air pollution. Aluna rested her head against the driver’s shoulder, silently praying the traffic gods were on her side.

At exactly 6:50 AM, she arrived at the alley. Jeha was already there, arms crossed and looking like a magazine model. Her uniform was flawless. Loafers polished, braids perfect, makeup light but immaculate.

“You’re four minutes late, Lun!” Jeha scolded as Aluna hopped off the bike.

“Sorry! Traffic!” Aluna panted. “Let’s go!”

They power-walked toward the school gate. A towering entrance with the school's gold-plated logo loomed ahead. Students were already lining up for the ceremony. Others sprinted to join their classes.

“Look at them, Aluna. So neat and proper,” Jeha whispered, eyeing Aluna’s outfit. “Are you sure your buttons are done right? That tie is so crooked.”

“Relax, Je. I showed up. That’s what matters.”

Just as they stepped past the gate, a stern voice boomed—not from a speaker, but from a real human being.

“Attention! At 6:55 AM, the gates will close. Any student not in position will be marked tardy!”

And there he was.

Galen Dirgantara. Primadona High’s Student Council President and son of the school’s foundation owner. A perfectionist wrapped in a gray-and-white uniform. Hair neatly combed, not a strand out of place. Eyes sharp enough to cut steel. Clipboard in hand, ready to mark sinners.

Aluna felt his intimidating aura instantly. Jeha gulped, pulling Aluna’s sleeve. “We’re doomed. He’s on duty.”

Aluna rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

They tried to sneak past him, but Galen had eagle eyes and bat ears.

“Stop,” he commanded coldly.

They froze.

Galen’s eyes scanned them top to bottom. His gaze locked onto Aluna’s disheveled uniform.

“Jehania Pratiwi. Aluna Pramesti,” he said flatly, marking names on his clipboard. “One minute late. And Aluna, fix your uniform. Top button undone, bowtie crooked, shirt untucked. This is a school, not a flea market.”

Aluna’s cheeks burned. Jeha looked ready to faint. But Aluna refused to back down.

“Sorry, Kak Galen,” she said, trying to keep her cool. “We really rushed. I mean—it’s just one minute. Can’t you be a little understanding?”

Galen raised an eyebrow. His voice turned colder. “One minute or one hour—rules are rules. Discipline isn’t about time. It’s about commitment. Let one minute slide, and the next thing you know, chaos reigns.”

Aluna opened her mouth to argue, but Jeha elbowed her hard.

“Sorry, Kak Galen! We promise it won’t happen again!” Jeha blurted.

“I’ve made a note,” Galen replied, writing again. “After the ceremony, report to the Student Council room. You have a disciplinary task to complete.”

Aluna gaped. “Punishment? For being one minute late?!”

“And your uniform,” Galen added firmly. “Rules are not up for debate. Join the line.”

They marched to the field. Aluna was fuming.

“He is so full of himself! One minute!” she hissed to Jeha.

“You’re the one who talked back!” Jeha muttered. “Galen shows no mercy—especially to scholarship kids like us.”

“What’s that got to do with anything? My clothes don’t affect my brain!” Aluna grumbled, trying to fix her bowtie and button.

The flag ceremony felt endless. Aluna kept sneaking glances at the OSIS row. Galen stood like a statue—flawless and cold. Perfect to a fault, Aluna thought. What is he, a robot?

After the ceremony, Aluna and Jeha headed to the Student Council room—glass-walled, modern, with a minimalist vibe. Galen sat behind a laptop. Beside him, a curly-haired boy played games on his phone with a lazy grin. That was Leo, the vice president—Galen’s total opposite.

“Ready for your punishment, ladies?” Leo grinned.

“Not helping, Leo,” Jeha muttered.

Galen looked up. “Sit.”

They obeyed.

“What’s the punishment, Kak Galen?” Aluna asked, heart pounding.

Galen handed them a paper. “Clean the entire second floor during break. Hallways and empty classrooms.”

“WHAT?!”

“The entire floor? Just us?” Jeha gasped.

“That’s the consequence,” Galen said. “Being late and improperly dressed is not trivial.”

“But it’s Monday! We have physics right after!” Aluna protested.

“Not my problem,” Galen replied.

“You’re so cruel!” Leo chuckled. “At least let them sweep, not mop everything.”

“Want to help them?” Galen asked dryly.

Leo held up his hands. “Nah, I’m just offering suggestions. For the ladies’ sake.”

Aluna groaned. Galen really was heartless.

“Fine,” she muttered. “We’ll do it.”

“Good,” he nodded. “I’ll be checking.”

They left the room. In the hallway, Jeha wailed.

“I can’t believe I have to mop the school! My nails!”

“Better than arguing more,” Aluna sighed. “He’s so rigid. Like a walking streetlight.”

“He’s been trained to be perfect since birth,” Jeha explained. “Old money family, CEO dad, university chancellor mom. He was probably born with a planner in his hand.”

Aluna laughed. “Well, he is good-looking. Too bad he’s as cold as a double-door freezer.”

They split up for class. Aluna and Galen were both in 11th grade science. Jeha headed to 11th grade social studies. First day of the year, and she already had a punishment from Robo-OSIS.

When break came, the girls got to work. Brooms. Mops. Sweat. Jeha complained non-stop while Aluna tried to stay calm.

“This is your fault,” Jeha muttered. “You and your all-nighters.”

“Inspiration hits when it hits,” Aluna replied. “Besides, that prize money would help me a lot.”

Suddenly, footsteps. Galen. Watching. Silent.

“He’s really checking on us,” Jeha whispered. “No trust at all.”

Aluna rolled her eyes and kept sweeping. Galen approached.

“Clean,” he said.

Aluna looked up. “Of course. I’m a professional.”

Galen didn’t smile. Just a small nod. He turned to Jeha. “Make sure there are no stains.”

Jeha groaned but nodded.

Then Galen looked at Aluna again. “During second break, come to the council room. I have a project I want to offer you.”

Aluna blinked. “What project?”

“Classified,” Galen replied, walking away.

Aluna and Jeha stared after him.

“What now? He better not ask you to clean the whole school!” Jeha hissed.

“He said ‘project,’ not ‘punishment,’” Aluna said thoughtfully. “Weird.”

“Told you. Galen’s unpredictable.”

Aluna kept watching his back as he walked away. Something stirred inside her. Curiosity. Maybe even a little excitement.

“Maybe this gravity of his… isn’t so easy to escape,” she whispered, mostly to herself.

But the seed of curiosity had been planted.