Two Malayan tigers snarl in a ritual grapple while, behind them, the Jalur Gemilang is seen flying across the ground, its stripes and crescent leaching into fur and foliage rather than flying aloft. Raph splices two national emblems that usually speak of unity: the flag and the heraldic tigers that flank Malaysia’s coat of arms. Here, instead of supporting a shield, the beasts strain against each other, their banded bodies echoing the flag’s bars as if nation and nature were entwined in a single knot. The title teases East Asia’s dragon–tiger pairing as symbols of balance yet Raph withholds the dragon, doubling the tiger to suggest rivalry within the same sign. The image oscillates between pride and unease: Harimau Malaya as an icon of strength, but also a threatened animal whose numbers are vanishing. Stylistically, the bold, near-stencil silhouettes and overprinted flag read like posters torn and re-pasted; identity becomes camouflage, legible and unstable at once.