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THE SOFT HUM of conversations filled the cozy coffee shop as time slipped away unnoticed. Zane’s eyes remained glued to his phone, fingers tapping rhythmically as he scrolled through various social media profiles.

Suddenly, a faint buzz in his hand jolted him from his scrolling, and a bright red notification appeared at the top of the screen—his phone battery had dropped to a meager 20%. With a sigh, he rubbed his temples, feeling the drain not just in his device, but in himself.

With the final sip of coffee gone and the last trace of Mrs. Nuñez’s chocolate crinkles enjoyed, Zane's gaze shifted to the mirrored wall of the shop. The reflection revealed the golden hour in full bloom, the sun dipping low behind Nueva Aurora's skyline, washing everything in a warm, amber hue.

The coffee shop had grown quiet, the bustle of earlier now replaced by a tranquil calm. Empty chairs were perfectly arranged around the tables, each one standing still as though waiting for the next wave of customers. The gentle light filtered through the windows, casting long, peaceful shadows across the room—his only companions as the day wound down.

With a sigh, Zane made the decision to leave the café and return to his room. However, his thoughts lingered on the note he had read earlier. The curiosity it sparked wouldn't let go.

"Alright then," he muttered to himself, carefully retrieving the small piece of paper and slipping it into his phone case, ensuring it was safe. "I'll read you next time," Zane murmured, gently closing the book and placing it back on the shelf.

He gathered his used saucer and cup, walking to the counter as his eyes swept across the now-empty café. Mrs. Nuñez was nowhere to be seen, likely preoccupied with tasks either in the kitchen or in one of the nearby apartments. The place felt still, the hum of distant conversations and suburbs sounds now barely audible from outside.

"Thank you, Auntie!" Zane called out, unsure where Mrs. Nuñez was.

"Okay," came her faint reply from somewhere in the back. "Go on back to your room. Your sister asked me to buy chicken; it's already in your refrigerator."

"Chicken? Refrigerator?" Zane muttered to himself, confused. His mind drifted back to the note he found earlier. It was all starting to feel a bit too coincidental.

Zane frowned, running his hand through his curly dark brown hair in thought. “Why did Auntie buy chicken when my sister isn’t even returning until tomorrow?” he mused. “And a refrigerator? The cost of keeping it running must be high. Do we even need one in our flat?”

His thoughts swirled as he ascended the stairs to his apartment. “Who would have known about my sudden craving for chicken?” he thought. He absently fiddled with the note tucked inside his phone case, the cryptic message replaying in his mind.

Mrs. Nuñez’s words echoed behind him. "Don't worry about the payment—someone’s already covering it." That only deepened the mystery. “Someone's paying for it? Who's keeping tabs on me like this?”

"Who are you, and how do you know so much about me?" I murmured.

He glanced at his phone, the sudden glow breaking the dimness of the hallway. The notification on the screen displayed a familiar number.

Zane opened his father's message.

I hope your first day went well, my dear. Make sure to eat properly and rest. I’ll be sending you some money tomorrow for your expenses. Take care, and don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything. Love you.

He sighed softly, feeling a twinge of guilt for wishing he had come tomorrow instead. Maybe things would’ve been less confusing then.

Zane paused mid-step, his senses instantly heightened by the rich, savoury scent that filled the hallway. “Adobo,” he thought, recognising the unmistakable aroma of soy, vinegar, and garlic. His stomach growled in response, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten a proper meal since arriving.

“Who's cooking adobo?” The question slipped from Zane's lips, a sudden heaviness settling in his chest, compelling him to step inside his flat.

“Just in time!” The girl from earlier appeared in the doorway, her hand resting on the doorknob as if she were about to let him enter. His heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively clutched his chest, surprise widening his eyes.

“Oh, you startled me!” he exclaimed, trying to mask the rush of emotions coursing through him.

“Come on, let’s eat,” she said, carrying a bowl towards the kitchen.

As she brushed past him, the captivating aroma of her cooking enveloped Zane, a tantalizing invitation to join her. She set the bowl down on the wooden table in the kitchen, arranging it alongside a steaming bowl of rice and neatly laid utensils. Sitting down, she pulled out her phone.

Zane hesitated at the threshold, his mind a whirlwind of questions. The urge to retreat to his room tugged at him, but the scent of adobo beckoned him closer.

“Uh—”

“What are you waiting for? Let’s eat,” she interjected, her tone brisk and businesslike as she gestured toward the table. “Come on before it gets cold,” she added, lowering her phone and fixing him with a steady gaze.

As hunger gnawed at his muscles, Zane found himself drawn to the chair opposite her. She began serving herself, and he followed suit, an undercurrent of awkwardness swirling in the air.

Silence enveloped them, punctuated only by the soft clinks of utensils against bowls and her occasional glance at her phone, as if she were awaiting a notification.

“So that’s where the delicious smell was coming from,” Mrs. Nuñez remarked, stepping into the room with her hair neatly tied back and a plate in hand.

“Let’s eat, Auntie,” the girl invited, her tone polite yet distant, as she gestured towards the spread on the table.

“You cooked already? I brought a slice of cake that was left over from what I made for the coffee shop,” Mrs. Nuñez explained, setting a mocha cake on the table with a flourish. “You know, Zane, Raine is a great cook.”

"Thank you, Auntie. I cooked the chicken in the refrigerator," Raine replied, her tone casual as she continued to serve herself. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach, the realization settling in like a heavy weight.

"Excuse me, but did you cook the chicken that Aunt Clara bought?" Zane interjected, frustration creeping into his voice. "That was supposed to be mine! Do you realize it's wrong to take something that doesn't belong to you? Can you even afford to replace it?" He pressed, annoyance boiling over as he glared at her.

She paused, her gaze meeting his with an expression of feigned innocence. "Was that yours?" she replied, her voice light, as if the accusation were absurd.

"That chicken was intended for me! Taking something without permission is unacceptable," he shot back, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Can you reimburse Aunt Clara for it?"

With a nonchalant shrug, she finished her meal, setting her plate down with a casual clatter. "I suppose the chicken I asked Mrs. Nuñez to buy wasn't mine after all," she remarked, her tone cool and detached.

"When I went grocery shopping earlier, she asked if she could tag along," Mrs. Nuñez whispered, her voice low, providing an explanation for the earlier misunderstanding.

As Mrs. Nuñez settled onto the long sofa in the living room, sifting through papers, the woman appeared unfazed by the earlier tension, her demeanour calm and collected.

"I'll just sort these out here, if that's alright with you," Mrs. Nuñez said, arranging the documents on the centre table.

"That's fine," the woman replied calmly.

He remained silent, grappling with his embarrassment. The urge to flee to the comfort of his room and lock himself away tugged at him, yet he found himself frozen in place, unsure of how to break the awkwardness that hung in the air.

"I'm sorry if you thought that way," Lorraine spoke up, her warm brown eyes meeting his. "Earlier, I suggested you cook your favourite adobo, but knowing you might be delayed at the coffee shop, I went ahead and made it myself. I also picked up some food from Mrs. Nuñez earlier, so I'd have something to share with you if you wanted."

Her voice was steady, and a softness in her expression made it difficult for him to hold onto his frustration. He felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly as he processed her words, though the embarrassment lingered like an unwelcome guest. "I should be the one apologizing," he murmured sheepishly.

"Apology accepted! Now eat up. No one else will eat that, so if you don't finish, we'll give it to Mrs. Nuñez," she said briskly.

“Finish it up. I just ordered because I have a guest coming over,” Mrs. Nuñez chimed in, her focus still on her writing.

He turned his attention back to the meal, the rich flavours of the adobo filling his senses. As he savoured a slice of Auntie's cake, he couldn't help but glance at the woman beside him. She appeared preoccupied, her brow furrowed as she scrolled through her phone, a hint of worry etched on her face.

"Lorraine Adriella de Verra, right?" he ventured, noticing her momentarily halt her scrolling. Pulling out his phone, he displayed a screenshot of a post where she had been tagged.

A smile spread across her face, brightening her features. "Correct," she confirmed, her tone light. "Anything else?"

"I noticed you're also a novelist," he remarked, intrigued. "Your full name only appeared once in your book posts. Most of them just say L.A.V. I even found the website where you publish your novels in various genres."

She nodded, a hint of pride in her expression. "If you recall, I mentioned earlier that I'm a writer. It’s a pity, though, because you seem to prefer something else."

"I saw that you were tagged in many other posts," Zane continued, his curiosity piqued. "Some of them seemed quite unbelievable."

"What else did you find out about me?" she asked, her attention now fully focused on her phone, an air of readiness surrounding her as if bracing for his next comment.

"Oh no, there's been another death! Four people in total have been reported to have been attacked by the aswangs," Mrs. Nuñez emphasized, her eyes glued to her phone screen.

A notification chimed from Raine's phone. "A letter?" she mused, glancing at her screen with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Outside, a car came to a halt in front of the building. Without a window on their side, all Zane could do was hear the engine shut off, the silence that followed amplifying the tension.

"Mrs. Nuñez, I need to go out again. I might be late," Raine announced as she made her way towards the door.

"Isn't this happening too often? I'll be in trouble if something bad happens to you," Mrs. Nuñez cautioned.

"Why? Where are you going? It's already late," he blurted out, his brow furrowing as he watched her gather her things. A sense of unease prickled at the back of his mind, warning him that she shouldn’t venture out alone in the dark, not with a killer on the loose.

"You know, it would be better if I accompany you just to make sure you're okay," Mrs. Nuñez urged, her voice laced with concern as she paused to gather her belongings into her red handbag.

"Auntie, it's not necessary," Raine replied, her tone firm but polite. She met Mrs. Nuñez's gaze, an air of determination about her. "I can handle it on my own."

He couldn't shake the weight of responsibility pressing on his shoulders. As the only man in the room, he felt an urgent need to ensure their safety. The thought of Raine being out there alone, especially with a killer on the loose, sent a shiver down his spine. If anything happened to her, Auntie would be affected, and he couldn't bear the idea of facing the fallout—homelessness or, worse, jail.

“I’ll go with you,” he declared, stepping forward with a resolute expression. The decision was made, and he was ready to take on the responsibility.

Raine halted in her tracks, turning to face him with a questioning look. "Are you sure?"

"Don't worry, Auntie. I'll take care of your ward," he reassured her, though a flicker of uncertainty lingered in his mind.

"In that case, let's go. I didn't force you, so just follow my lead," Raine said, swinging the door open with a hint of excitement. "The game is about to begin!"