Re-In-Creation

Chapter 4 - Something That Matters

I was born into a normal family—not rich, but stable enough to get by.

Dad ran a small delivery business. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give me a good education and shelves full of programming books.

He even went further—helping me financially when I tried building my first indie game.

At one point, Dad hoped I’d take over the business after college. But I refused. I had a dream: to make a big game, something that mattered.

And Dad… he didn’t scold me. He didn’t look disappointed. Instead, he smiled and said, “Then go do it, son. No matter what, I'm proud of you.”

He was a great father.

And now—under a different sky, with a different father—I’m facing the same choice again.

I know what my answer will be.

But this time…

I’m afraid Wirajaya won’t take it the same way.

Even so... I must say my answer.

“Father…” I began softly. “I… appreciate that. I really do.”

Wirajaya looked up, eyes kind.

“But…” I clenched the spear tighter. “There’s so much I haven’t seen. Villages I haven’t stepped in. Mountains I haven’t climbed. Forest I haven’t dared to enter. I want to travel. I want to see every corner of this world with my own eyes.”

I bit my lip before continue, “I want to chase the horizon until my feet can’t stop.”

It was the closest I could say to my own wish to witness my creations growth.

Wirajaya was quiet for a while.

I braced for disappointment, maybe even anger. But when Wirajaya finally spoke, his voice was warm.

“…You speak like an old man sometimes, son.”

I blinked. “That’s a no?”

“No,” Wirajaya chuckled. “It’s a compliment.”

I blinked again, confused this time.

“I see you,” Wirajaya said gently. “The way you think. The questions you ask. Sometimes I forget you’re only seven.” He smiled, pride hidden in his voice. “And maybe that’s why I respect your dream.”

I grinned to mask my heart raced because he just dangerously closer to the truth. “Maybe I’m secretly seventy inside, Father.”

“Would explain the back pain, son.” Wirajaya teased.

We both laughed.

Our spears rested on the rocks, the heron still ignoring them—but the moment was full.

I hadn’t told the full truth—but I'd told my truth.

And that seemed enough.

As the sun dipped low, painting gold across the river, I leaned back on the grass and stared at the sky.

Wirajaya hummed beside me—a forge song, simple and steady. It calmed something deep in my chest.

And for a moment, I wasn’t a child in a medieval world. I was a young man again—in a small room filled with empty mugs, glowing screens, and the quiet, comforting love of a family I had once known.

Did they cry when I died?

Of course, I’d never know.

There was no way to get an answer—only speculation, unanswered questions echoing across worlds.