By the end of the first week of construction, the mansion had become more than blueprints and steel beams—it was starting to look like a real home. The foundation had already been poured, the basement space now fully sealed with reinforced walls and waterproofing systems. A concrete skeleton rose steadily out of the ground, floor by floor. Phuby stood under a cloudy morning sky, a rolled-up sketch in his hand, his other hand in his pocket as he watched a crane lower steel beams into place.
"Mas Phuby," Mbak Citra called out from behind him, her voice accompanied by the rustle of paper. "These are the newest material options for the walls, ceilings, and interior accents. If you want us to start soon, we'll need your final approval today."
He took the folder she handed him and flipped through the selections—cool-toned woods for the main floors, Japanese-style sliding doors for the guest rooms, soft-textured walls for the family bedrooms, and several designs for the living and dining areas. The list was long, detailed, and expensive, but that didn't bother him anymore. As long as he followed the system's principle—spend and earn back double—there was no stopping what he could accomplish.
"I'll show this to my mom and Hana," Phuby said. "We'll decide together."
Mbak Citra nodded. "I thought you'd say that."
Later that afternoon, the second floor of the shophouse, which had long served as their family living room, was transformed into a makeshift design hub. Samples of tiles, wood textures, fabric swatches, and small-scale models were laid across the table. Mrs. Wulan studied them carefully, her reading glasses resting on her nose as she ran her fingers over different materials.
"I like this wood panel for the kitchen," she said thoughtfully, pointing to a light ash finish. "Feels cozy and clean. Not too modern, not too rustic."
Om Luky held up a model of a Japanese tatami mat. "Put this in the guest room, it'll make Hana's parents feel more at home when they finally visit."
"Exactly," Phuby agreed. "That room's being made especially for them. It should reflect their culture too."
Hana, who was sitting cross-legged on the carpet with a steaming mug of tea, picked up a warm beige fabric swatch. "This one for the curtains," she suggested. "It matches the feeling of morning light. Peaceful."
Phuby smiled, admiring the way she immersed herself in the vision. She wasn't just a guest anymore. This dream—this home—they were building it together.
"Alright," he said after a long pause. "We go with these: the ashwood for the kitchen, the beige curtains, the Japanese-styled guest room with tatami and sliding doors, and the main living room will get the cream-toned stone finish."
"Want to add an indoor garden near the main hall?" Hana asked, her eyes lighting up. "Something minimal, with stones and a bonsai?"
Phuby looked over at her, a smile spreading across his face. "That's a good idea. Yeah, let's do it."
With all the selections finalized, Phuby transferred the next payment—nearly 150 million rupiah—for interior materials, custom furniture, and the finishing layer for the basement. As always, the moment the transaction completed, the system kicked in with its familiar whisper of balance growth.
System Cashback Activated.Amount Spent: Rp150,000,000Cashback: Rp300,000,000New Balance: Rp6,250,000,000
No one else could see the notification, of course. But to Phuby, it was like seeing the world click perfectly into place. Every rupiah spent not only pushed the mansion closer to completion—it fueled the next step. And there were many steps still to come.
That night, after dinner and dishes were cleared away, Phuby invited his group of friends to the shophouse rooftop for a little get-together. Kotim, Apood, Amad, and Dhe'ik all showed up with snacks and loud laughter. Even Mamad came after closing his family's nasi goreng stall, still smelling faintly of fried garlic.
The rooftop buzzed with easy conversation and teasing banter as the group leaned against the railing or sat on folding chairs near a single standing lamp.
"So you're really building a mansion now, huh?" Kotim whistled as he cracked open a bottled drink. "Not bad for the youngest of the group."
"Just remember who used to give you leftover mie goreng back in the day," Apood said, nudging Phuby.
"I remember," Phuby laughed. "And now I'm building a game room in the basement with billiards and foosball. You guys better not slack on your skills."
"Say no more," Amad said with a grin. "I call first match."
Dhe'ik sat beside Phuby quietly, sipping his drink before asking, "You really happy, now?"
Phuby looked around at the friends who'd stuck with him for years, at the warm light spilling from the stairwell, and the house in the distance that was slowly becoming real.
"Yeah," he said after a pause. "I think I am."
The laughter continued into the evening, stories flowing from one to the next, sometimes nostalgic, sometimes absurd. But as always, it reminded Phuby of why he worked so hard in the first place. For this. For the warmth of familiarity and the joy of building something that could hold it.
As the group trickled out, one by one, with waves and backslaps, Mamad lingered behind. He sat beside Phuby on the edge of the rooftop wall, legs dangling.
"Sorry I can't work at the shop like the others," Mamad said. "The nasi goreng stall's all I have. All my family's built."
Phuby nodded. "I never expected you to leave it. That place is a legacy. I just want you to know you're always welcome here. Whenever you want. This place, the mansion—my door is always open."
Mamad smiled faintly, looking up at the stars. "Then I'll come annoy you at least twice a week."
"I'll have coffee ready," Phuby said.
As the night deepened, and the city lights blurred into distant glows, Phuby leaned back and exhaled deeply. The future was no longer a fragile dream—it was tangible. It was steel and stone and memory and laughter. It was rising brick by brick under his watch.
And he wasn't building it alone.