"Express delivery... For Mr. Sebastian Ian..." Excel's eyes went wide. "Damn, man! You're delivering a document like you're competing in a motorcycle race?!"
Ardi stared at Excel in panic, his eyes widening, then quickly glanced at Ian, who stood elegantly behind Excel. Ian gave him an extremely sharp warning look.
Ardi swallowed hard. He hurriedly straightened his suit, trying to act like a professional but deeply pressured operations courier.
"Y-yes, man! It's just... the boss at the office is really scary!" Ardi answered with exaggerated theatrics, deliberately pitching his voice high. "This is Mr. Sebastian Ian's ID card! He left it on the admin division's desk!"
Ardi handed over a thick, luxurious acrylic ID card with a dark-blue lanyard, still wrapped in perfectly smooth protective plastic.
Excel accepted the card with a furrowed brow. He examined the identification card beneath the room's light.
"PT Cahaya Makmur..." Excel read slowly. His eyes traced the card's details. "Holy crap... Why is your company's ID card quality so damn good? It's got a three-dimensional hologram, a gold-engraved company logo, and the photo..."
Excel stared at Ian's photo on the ID card. In it, Ian wore a plain shirt, his expression cold and rigid, his eyes utterly devoid of emotion.
"Why does this photo look like it's for an international money-laundering fugitive?" Excel commented without a filter.
Ardi, standing in front of the door, immediately choked on his own saliva. "Ahem! Ahem! It's... it's because the camera in our HR department is kind of blurry, man!"
"But damn, this ID card feels thick as hell. Like a platinum debit card," Excel muttered, growing more suspicious. He rubbed the card's surface. "Where'd you have this made? Why does it smell like it came from some expensive imported printing machine?"
"I-it's our standard office printing, man!" Ardi quickly cut in, cold sweat streaming down his temples. "We... we support integrated work quality with international standards!"
Ian stepped closer, quickly took the ID card from Excel's hand, and hung it around his own neck.
"Seen enough?" Ian asked Excel flatly. "I am officially an admin staff member."
Excel quietly scoffed, though he had to admit the card looked extremely convincing—far too convincing for a midsize company. "Whatever. It's nothing special. You don't have to show it off around your neck."
Right then, loud, heavy footsteps sounded as someone climbed the boarding house's wooden stairs.
"IDENTITY INSPECTION FOR NEW RESIDENTS?!" A shrill, extremely familiar voice echoed through the corridor.
Mrs. Nining appeared in front of Excel's room wearing a red batik-patterned house dress, her right hand clutching the boarding-house rental log. Her eyes immediately swept across the room suspiciously.
"Oh, Mr. Ian," Mrs. Nining called calmly. "Excel!! Have you told him about the identity inspection? Because if a friend or relative stays for more than twenty-four hours, they have to report it and pay an extra fee! Don't even think about hiding a fugitive or debt collector in here!"
"Relax, Mrs. Nining, everything's totally fine!" Excel said hurriedly, pointing at Ian's neck. "Look! He's got a legitimate job! He's an admin staff member at PT Cahaya Makmur!"
Mrs. Nining narrowed her eyes and stepped closer to Ian. The middle-aged woman pulled the ID card hanging around Ian's neck toward her somewhat blurry eyes.
"PT Cahaya Makmur?" Mrs. Nining read skeptically. "Fancy, with a hologram and everything. This isn't one of those cards made for a carnival quiz game, is it?"
"It is not, ma'am," Ian replied politely, his voice low and steady. "It is an official identification card from my workplace."
Mrs. Nining studied Ian's photo on the card, then looked up at Ian's actual face towering over her.
"Your face in the photo is stiff as a dried chamois, but you're still handsome, Mr. Ian," Mrs. Nining commented bluntly. "But whatever. The company name is clearly listed. So who is this other guy standing in front of the door wearing a racing helmet?"
Mrs. Nining pointed at Ardi, who was still standing stiffly in the doorway.
"I-I..." Ardi panicked out of his mind. His eyes darted toward Ian for guidance.
Ian gave him a subtle signal with his eyes.
"I'm the office courier, ma'am!" Ardi blurted out, bowing very deeply. "I'm only here to deliver Mr. Ian's ID card, which he left behind!"
"Why is an office courier wearing such a thick black suit?" Mrs. Nining looked Ardi up and down. "You look like a president's bodyguard on his way to the market."
"This... this is our company's priority courier uniform, ma'am!" Ardi improvised. "Our company places a very high priority on neatness and punctuality!"
Mrs. Nining nodded slowly, though her face still held a suspicious expression. "Fine, then. As long as your identity is clear. But remember, Mr. Ian, you still have to pay the extra cleaning fee if you're staying here for the next week!"
"Yes, ma'am," Ian obediently replied.
"All right, I'm going to go chew out the room across the hall now. Agus hasn't paid his water bill for two months!" Mrs. Nining turned around and walked away, grumbling to herself with her notebook in hand.
As soon as Mrs. Nining disappeared at the end of the stairwell, Ardi let out an extremely long sigh of relief. His tense shoulders finally relaxed.
"Thank goodness..." Ardi whispered sympathetically to himself.
Excel turned toward Ardi, who was still standing in front of the door. "Thanks, Mr. Courier! Go buy yourself a drink downstairs first. You look like you're about to pass out."
"Ah... that's not necessary, man! I... I need to get back to the office right away to... submit my courier report!" Ardi politely refused, even though he could no longer bear acting in front of Excel.
Ardi looked at Ian and gave him a small, hidden salute. "I'll be going now, Mr. Ian."
"Be careful on the way," Ian replied flatly.
Ardi turned and sprinted down the boarding-house stairs as if he had just escaped from a tiger cage.
Excel shook his head at the courier's behavior. "Your office courier is seriously weird. How does delivering an ID card make someone sweat that much? Does your company train its couriers to military standards or something?"
"Our company is very disciplined," Ian replied calmly, gently stroking the acrylic ID card now officially hanging against his broad chest.
Excel sighed, then sat back down on his folding mattress. "Fine. Congratulations, you don't get kicked out this afternoon. But remember, the rules in this room still apply! Wash the dishes after you eat."
Ian looked at the brown-haired young man in front of him, then gave a small nod with a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Understood."
The emergency ID-card forgery operation, worth tens of millions of rupiah and carried out by Adichandra Group's best IT team, had finally produced sweet results: Sebastian Adichandra was allowed to stay in that cramped boarding-house room for a few more days.