Lunch felt different than usual. Grandfather and I ate in his office; the formal office atmosphere was softened slightly by the aroma of home-cooked food. Soon after, Father also joined us, bringing his own packed lunch, and to continue our important conversation. The commissioner's room, usually filled only with reports and meetings, now stood as a silent witness to a grand plan.
After the plates were cleared, the three of us refocused. Grandfather looked at me, his eyes serious yet full of conviction. "Marlon," he said, "Grandfather has thought about it. Grandfather has about two billion rupiah in cash that we can use for this forex activity." That figure in 1997 was a fantastic amount, even for a commissioner of a media company.
"And to add more capital," Grandfather continued, "Grandfather will collateralize the company's shares to the bank. Most likely, we can get up to ten billion rupiah more." So in total, we would have an initial capital of about twelve billion rupiah. A very large sum to start this "dollar harvesting" scheme.
Then, Grandfather looked at Father. "Darmawan," he called, "you're taking leave from the office starting next week. You and Marlon will go to Singapore to execute this plan."
My Father nodded, his expression showing a mixture of tension and determination. This mission was no longer just a crazy idea from a child. This was a real plan, with real capital, and concrete first steps. The trip to Singapore would begin soon.
The conversation that day concluded with a major agreement. Grandfather went home, picked up by his cousin, A Tedi, who occasionally accompanied him. I, on the other hand, went home with Father, my head spinning with thoughts of the next steps. The weight of responsibility felt real, but also spurred my spirit.
As soon as I got to my room, I wasted no time. With a pencil and a few sheets of paper I found on the study desk, I started scribbling down plans. My small hands worked hard to neatly write down important points, pouring out all my financial knowledge from my future.
My top priority was how to manage the large capital Grandfather would provide. I knew perfectly well that for large-scale forex transactions and asset security, Singapore was key. So, the first point I wrote was: create a trust fund at Bank of Singapore. I remembered clearly that in the future, Bank of Singapore (or OCBC, which often became one large entity in Southeast Asia) would expand its reach into Indonesia. This meant that if we built a foundation there now, access and management of funds in the future would be much easier when they entered Indonesia. This was a long-term strategic move.
In addition, I also detailed the most efficient type of trust fund for our purpose. I decided to suggest a Self-Directed Trust. I knew this type of trust would give me full control over the assets within it, allowing for flexibility and speed in making investment decisions, especially with rapid forex fluctuations. With this, I could quickly accumulate funds, without needing much bureaucracy or approval from other parties. This was important, because every second counted in the world of forex.
I scribbled, writing down estimated figures, potential profits, and even worst-case scenarios. My adult mind raced, weaving complex financial strategies into simple notes that Father could understand. I divided the plan into several phases: capital accumulation, forex execution, diversification into property, and company formation. Every small detail, from the bank name to the type of trust, I meticulously noted.
When finished, I gave the scribbled plans to Father. He looked at the stack of papers, confused but hopeful. I knew he didn't fully grasp every intricate detail, but he must have sensed the urgency and great potential behind the handwriting of a five-year-old. The first step in rebuilding the future had been sketched out on paper.
After a series of intense and detailed preparations—even though I was just a child who could only give instructions—all the funds were finally collected. My Grandfather, keeping his promise, truly handed over twelve billion rupiah. A fantastic sum in 1997. Not only that, my Father also managed to get an additional five hundred million rupiah as part of our initial capital. This amount, though smaller, was still a significant boost for this grand plan.
With solid capital in hand, my Father and I prepared for an important journey. We flew to Singapore, an island nation that in the future would become a financial hub of Asia. The air there felt different; cleaner, more organized, and seemingly full of opportunities.
Upon arrival, we wasted no time. My Father, with the help of connections perhaps arranged by Grandfather, immediately set up meetings. We met with leading banks in Singapore, discussing the opening of a trust fund and forex accounts. I, though only able to sit quietly and occasionally nod, ensured that all points in my scribbled plan were clearly conveyed by Father.
Besides the bank, we also met with competent legal counsel. This was a crucial step to ensure all our activities ran within legal boundaries and remained secure. They helped us establish a strong and legal trust fund structure, and provided advice on forex regulations in Singapore. I knew that legality and security were key to preventing this plan from leading to problems later on, especially with such a large amount of funds. Now, with the trust fund established and legality assured, all preparations were complete. The mission of "harvesting dollars" and building a new future had officially begun.
After all the administrative and legal matters in Singapore were settled—from accommodation costs, transportation, to company formation and trust fund creation—we finally reached the core of the plan. With the remaining money, over 12 billion rupiah, my Father and I immediately used it to buy US dollars. It was a big decision that I knew would change everything.
The amount Grandfather and Father borrowed in Indonesia was indeed in rupiah, but I knew exactly that next year, I would easily replace it. With the coming dollar surge, our money would multiply, even manifold. It was just a matter of time.
Once all transactions were complete, we now had a cash asset of $4.8 million USD stored safely in our trust fund. That figure made me feel a little relieved, but the tension was still there. Now, all that remained was to wait. Wait until the dollar exchange rate against the rupiah surged to Rp16,000, then we would sell.
We spent almost two weeks in Singapore. Those days were filled with meetings, document signings, and, of course, large-scale dollar purchases. After everything was settled, with a calmer heart but full of anticipation, we returned home to Bandung. We went back to our house, to live our lives as usual, as if nothing had happened. However, behind the smiles and daily routines, a big secret lay hidden, ready to change the future.
After the thrilling adventure in Singapore, we needed a full day to rest at home on the outskirts of Bandung. I spent the time reflecting on everything that had happened, and preparing myself for the next phase.
The next day, Father took me out. Our destination was Grandfather and Grandmother's house in downtown Bandung. As soon as we arrived and I saw Grandmother, for some reason, all the emotional defenses I had built crumbled instantly. I immediately ran, hugged her tightly, and cried non-stop. I didn't want to let her go. She was one of the people I loved most in my previous life, but also the first person to leave me. The long-suppressed longing, the realization that I had another chance to be with her, overwhelmed me.
Grandmother hugged me back tightly, patting my back, and wondering why I was crying. Father tried to calm her, perhaps just saying I missed her. But they didn't know, behind this child's tears, there was a heart that had already been broken and was now trying to heal itself.
Childhood in Indonesia, especially during the fasting month, always held special memories. Every fasting month, school was off for a full month. And during that time, I always stayed at Grandfather and Grandmother's house. I never fasted, because I was accompanying Grandmother who was sick. That habit continued until I became an adult. Because of that, I never managed to fast fully until I went to college in 2012. This reality, which used to be just a habit, now felt so meaningful. This was another chance to make up for lost time with her, to return her affection.
Grandfather and Grandmother's house in downtown Bandung was indeed always bustling. Besides the two of them, my Father's older sister also lived here. In Sundanese, we call her Ua, but in Indonesian, the term is Aunt. She lived here with her child, meaning my cousin. This house was truly like a family outpost, a gathering place for everyone to look out for each other.
Besides Ua and my cousin, there was also A Tedi. He was my cousin from Father's eldest brother. A Tedi deliberately lived here, helping to accompany Grandfather and Grandmother who were already old. In addition, he also often drove Grandfather and Grandmother if they wanted to go anywhere. A Tedi's presence made me a little calmer, knowing that Grandfather and Grandmother were not alone.
Seeing all these people, who were once only vague in my memory as adult Marlon, now so real before me, made me realize how much I could fix. This extended family, with all its complexities and potential, was a part of my future that I had to protect.
That day, Grandfather and Grandmother's house happened to be quiet. Aunt and her family were out, perhaps for an event. A Tedi was also out, running errands. Only Grandfather and Grandmother were home, accompanied by a rare tranquility. This was a perfect opportunity.
In the family room, Father and I began to tell our story. We explained everything we had done in Singapore over those two weeks. About the forex dealings, the trust fund, and how we bought a large amount of dollars. Grandfather occasionally interjected, adding details to what I said or explaining something in more technical language, as if supporting our crazy tale.
Grandmother, who had been listening intently all along, looked increasingly shocked with every word that came out of our mouths. Her face showed genuine bewilderment. Finally, she couldn't hold back anymore. "What is this all about, dear?" she asked, her voice laden with worry.
Father looked at me, signaling for me to explain. I knew this was the most difficult part, yet also the most important. I then began to explain everything to my beloved grandmother. I told her about the chaotic future, the accident that took my life, how I woke up again in this small body, and all the knowledge I carried from 2027. I told her about Indonesia's destruction, family conflicts, and why I had to return to change destiny.
Grandmother listened without blinking, her eyes wide with shock at the knowledge and experiences that had befallen me. When I finished, she said nothing. Instead, she immediately pulled me into a tight embrace. Very tight. Her tears began to wet my shoulder. Grandmother cried, but in her crying, I felt her trying to comfort me. Perhaps she knew that, behind all the strength I spoke of, there was immense fear and burden that I carried alone. In Grandmother's embrace, I felt boundless affection, an anchor amidst the storm of the future I wished to change.
After hearing about all the conflicts that would occur in my family, Grandmother was naturally shocked and a little angry at her children who would hurt and conflict with each other in the future. There was a faint line of disappointment on her face, imagining the feuds that would tear apart the family's integrity.
I knew this house, a place full of warm childhood memories, would be one of the casualties of that conflict. "Grandmother, Grandfather," I said, "when Father's older brother sells this house later, I will buy it." I immediately explained my strategy. "I will buy it in the company's name, so the rest of the family doesn't need to know I bought this house from the extended family." This way, I could avoid suspicion and potential new conflicts. "I want this house to always be a memory of Grandfather and Grandmother for me."
Grandfather and Grandmother exchanged glances, then looked at me with eyes full of love and trust. "We will support whatever you decide later, dear," Grandfather said, his voice firm. Grandmother nodded in agreement, her eyes welling up.
"What we always remind you," Grandfather continued, his voice softer, "is that only a fox can be changed. You don't need to worry about God's destiny concerning death." That message was like a balm amidst the heavy burden on my shoulders. They understood that there were limits I couldn't change, and my focus had to be on the things within my control. This was a blessing, and also a reminder of my limitations as a human.
After all the explanations and important agreements, my Father and I returned to our house on the outskirts of Bandung. The atmosphere felt lighter, although there was the weight of the grand plan now being carried. That night, I slept more soundly, knowing that the first steps towards change had been taken.
The next day, I started living my life as usual again. The strange routine of childhood now felt oddly familiar. I went back to kindergarten near my house. There, a strange feeling immediately enveloped me. I looked around, and like puzzle pieces suddenly fitting together, I realized. It turned out that many of these kindergarten friends would later become my elementary schoolmates. Faces I knew from elementary school, who had shared laughter with me years later, were now in front of me in smaller, more innocent versions.
I wondered why in my previous life I had no memory at all of my friends from this kindergarten. It was as if these kindergarten years were erased from my memory. Was it because my trauma in the future was too great, blurring my earliest memories? Or perhaps there was another, deeper reason, something related to this rebirth process? The question continued to bother me, adding another layer of mystery to my second journey.
Back in this childhood life, I wasted no time. Besides returning to my school routine, I also began to discipline myself. To maintain physical strength, I started exercising. Nothing too extreme; just running and playing basketball in the yard or a nearby field. I also began practicing martial arts, specifically silat, to train my body's flexibility, strength, and agility. I knew a strong physical foundation was crucial for whatever I would do later.
My eating habits also changed drastically. I used to be a picky eater, but not anymore. I ate better, no longer complaining if healthy food was served. I even ate vegetables, because I knew my body needed all those nutrients for optimal growth and to maintain stamina.
Besides physical activity, spiritual activities also became my top priority. The first thing I did was fast on my birthday. In Sundanese, this is called puasa wadal or birthday fasting. I remembered Father explaining that this fast has important symbolism in mysticism; it's like creating a vessel or container within oneself to hold the mystical knowledge I would learn later. This was a fundamental first step to spiritually prepare myself before Father began to train me more deeply.
I often replayed what had happened to me. This rebirth, which I thought would be an extraordinary gift, turned out not to be like what people I read about in novels experienced. I didn't have what was called a golden finger like the characters in fiction books.
I didn't have a system that appeared before me with missions and rewards. I didn't have a photographic memory that allowed me to perfectly remember every detail I read or saw. Let alone the ability to stop time or fly. I just chuckled at the golden fingers I read about in novels—truly inhuman and unrealistic. If such miracles truly existed, the world would surely be in chaos.
All I had was the memory of future events. Perhaps this was the greatest golden finger I could possess. It was information, a roadmap of what would happen, and that was far more valuable than any superpower. This was my knowledge of the monetary crisis, family conflicts, business destruction, and Indonesia's bleak future.
If it was just memory, yes, perhaps it was indeed a memory of a soul carried across time. That felt more logical, more "human" in the context of the spiritual world around me. This was a realistic gift, one that demanded I work hard, think strategically, and utilize all the resources I had—including Father's spiritual abilities and Grandfather's connections—instead of simply relying on illogical magical powers.
The changes within me, as little Marlon, certainly did not escape the attention of those around me. They began to wonder why I was so disciplined in exercise, silat training, and healthy eating habits. Their expressions showed bewilderment, wondering how a child this age could have such strong willpower.
When they asked, I simply repeated words I had read in a Stephen Covey book in my previous life. A quote that had deeply stuck with me. "I want to be disciplined," I said confidently, "because discipline sets you free, not constrains you."
The people who heard my words could only shake their heads. Their faces clearly showed that they didn't understand the words of this precocious child. Perhaps they thought I read too many adult books or imitated Father's and Grandfather's way of speaking. To them, discipline was just a limiting rule, not the key to freedom. They didn't know that behind the innocent words of a child, there were decades of bitter life experience, which taught me how precious every second and every choice was.
Time continued to pass. Day after day changed, following the routine I deliberately formed. My activities revolved around three main things: physical training with running, basketball, and silat; deepening spirituality with puasa wadal and basic mysticism; and learning languages. My English, as I now remembered, was still unsystematic and unorganized. I had learned it from reading translated novels and playing games in my previous life. This was not a perfect ability, but enough to be a foundation.
Unknowingly, time passed so quickly. The calendar hanging on the wall now showed the year 1998. The air outside felt increasingly hot and tense. The news in the newspapers, which had now become my main meal, was increasingly terrifying. Riots began to break out everywhere. Voices of protest grew louder, met with brutal repression.