梁, ROMÁN.

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑺𝑬 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝑻𝑹𝑼𝑻𝑯𝑺 𝑰’𝑴 𝑻𝑶𝑶 𝑨𝑭𝑹𝑨𝑰𝑫 𝑻𝑶 𝑭𝑨𝑪𝑬.

/. I know you guys need visualization for your roleplay world. Tapi, apa harus pakai AI melulu? Sini deh, saya editin. Murah aja.

/. Lo pada ada AI jadi keenakan. Sesederhana edit poster atau kebutuhan mockup projek aja pakai AI. Manips, pakai AI. Logo, pakai AI.

/. Why is it limited to 1990-1995. (Cries in 1982)

/. Test.

/: msak sie.

Coco again, who was now chewing enthusiastically on a squeaky toy. Even the dog seemed more invested in having fun than delivering life-altering news. Roman couldn’t help but wonder if coming here had been a mistake. /: @MereSerene, @Djjsamsoe.

some dramatic revelation, only to find his grandfather giggling like a kid and his grandmother treating this like any other Sunday lunch prep. Either they were all missing something major, or Roman had walked into the Twilight Zone without realizing it. He glanced at (...)

with her—even during what was supposed to be some big family announcement. Roman leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. He tried not to let his frustration show, but damn, this whole thing was surreal. Here he was, mentally preparing himself for (...)

grandmother. She was in the kitchen, barking orders at the maids like she was running a military operation. The clatter of pots and pans filled the air, punctuated by her sharp instructions about seasoning levels or how long the soup needed to simmer. Food always came first (...)

arrive,” Dean said, his voice as flat as a dead battery. Roman bit back a sarcastic comment. Looking around, it was clear why Dean had phrased it that way. Aside from his grandfather’s impromptu comedy hour with Coco, the only other person remotely present was his (...)

statue, perfectly poised and utterly unreadable. Roman swore Dean had some kind of sixth sense for showing up earlier than anyone else. Their eyes met briefly, and Dean gave a slight nod, barely noticeable, before speaking. “We’re still waiting for the others to (...)

at his clothes again. Had he seriously dressed for a funeral while everyone else seemed ready for a sitcom episode? His gaze drifted across the room, landing on Dean Dankworth. Of course, the man was already here—standing near the doorway like some human-shaped (...)

a second. Was this real? His grandfather looked happier than Roman had seen him in… well, maybe ever. There was no solemnity, no sign of whatever urgent announcement Dean had hinted at. Just pure, unfiltered joy. “Hell,” Roman muttered under his breath, looking down (...)

living room, laughing so hard tears were probably forming in the corners of his eyes. Coco, the maltese who’d been part of the family for years, pranced around him, tail wagging furiously, barking like he was putting on his own one-dog performance. Roman blinked, frozen for (...)

all-black outfit suddenly felt ridiculous, like he’d shown up at the wrong event entirely. He tugged at his collar, glancing around as if hoping someone would clue him in on what the hell was going on. But then he saw him—his grandfather, sitting in the middle of the (...)

things were simpler. Roman sighed, his eyes sweeping over the entrance before he stepped inside. The air smelled familiar—wood polish mingling with something warm and buttery wafting from the kitchen. It should’ve been comforting, but instead, it made him uneasy. His (...)

memory too stubborn to fade. This house wasn’t just bricks and mortar—it was alive with stories. Stories of his childhood, of family dinners that stretched late into the night, of arguments whispered behind closed doors, and laughter that echoed through the halls when (...)

/... TIME SKIP/ And here he was, standing in front of the massive Leong mansion, a place that felt like it had been plucked straight out of an old black-and-white movie. The kind where shadows stretched long across the polished floors and every corner seemed to hold a (...)

anymore, not even his cousin who owned the club. All he wanted was to retreat, to crawl into bed and shut out the noise for a few hours. Whatever awaited him next week at the main house, he’d deal with it when the time came.