《Persona Non Grata》


 Foreword

    To all the allies of the true and just government of the Philippines, who work tirelessly day and night towards a brighter future for the country, I humbly dedicate my work. Although the words written in this book are not of Dr. Jose Rizal, we honor his memory by carrying on the spirit of true nationalism of his craft. Despite being written generations before our time, Rizal''s works still echo through the centuries, speaking to us. Until today, we are a nation in slumber, wretched and doomed to ruin. The country is afflicted with disease, and our only chance of curing it is by opening our eyes to the truth and acting as one to eradicate the plague that has pestered these lands for so long.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God."

    Matthew 19:24

    DISCLAIMER: This a fanfiction. Persona non Grata is not, in any way canon to Rizal''s two books. This is an independent retelling of the story post-El Filibusterismo.

 Scene 1 - Prologue

    Hard rain was pouring all over the trees and thick bushes on the outskirts of the town of Tiani. Night has fallen and the streets of the entire town was left empty. However, underneath the canopy of the healthy vegetation, one can see vague figures shaped like men hiding in cover, braving the storm as they lie in wait like statues in the rain.

    "The town is clear. Let us move in and take the gold in there." suggested a man as he hid behind an old mango tree, holding his rifle close.

    "No. Patience, my friend. Good things come to those who wait." rebuked another, as he scouted for enemies with his rifle''s iron sights.

    "We''ve been sitting in this damn rain for an hour, Telesforo! The time is ripe! We need to take action now!" the man angrily replied, his tone suggesting his patience has run thin.

    "We cannot be rash about this, Pedro! The Guardia Civil may already be alerted to our presence. I don''t like this silence one bit. We cannot be reckless!" Telesforo rebutted.

    "Trying to justify your cowardice, eh? My men and I are going in. Feel free to watch us take this town from the safety of your bushes." Pedro replied as he readied his rifle and signalled his men to come with him. Slowly, the men in hiding are being reduced to almost half of their numbers as Pedro''s men slowly part from Telesforo''s group.

    "Puta! Fucking bastard." Telesforo cursed under his breath. He then turned to his men. "Let''s move somewhere where we can have good sight lines. There are trees north of here. Our brothers will need all the help they can get once they''re inside the town. I have a bad feeling about this."

    "Can''t we come with them instead?" one of the men asked.

    "I sense a trap. That''s exactly what the enemy wants us to do. We will not give it to them." Telesforo replied.

    And so the cabeza and his men snuck to the north, crouched as they moved. But it was not for long when a gunshot was heard from the distance, followed by screams and grunts of pain and death. Flashes of gunpowder can be seen from the windows of the houses garrisoned by government soldiers as a skirmish ensues.

    "Ambush! Fall back! Fall back!" screamed Pedro as his men fell one by one.

    "Fuck! I knew it. I told them not to rush it." Telesforo exclaimed with annoyance. "Brothers, let''s move in and provide our comrades with cover fire as they withdraw. Use the high ground to our advantage!"

    Upon giving his command, Telesforo immediately cocked his rifle and, taking a deep breath, aimed down his sights. One shot after the other, enemy troops that were caught in his crosshairs were either severely injured or dead. A chorus of rifle fire followed his example, and felled a few soldiers as well.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Minutes later, the sound of artillery fire whistled and a shell landed past their location, glancing Telesforo''s men by almost three breadths. As a response, he and his men ducked for cover.

    "What?! They''ve got cannons here?! Already?!" Telesforo cried as he returned fire. "Brothers, hold the line. Pedro and his men are still halfway through. Just hold on!"

    Not long after, a volley of rifle fire began raining towards their location. "Return fire! It''s coming from the northeast! They''re trying to flank us! Return fire! Return fire!"

    One of the cabeza''s men tried to rise to fire back amidst enemy volley fire, but as he was reaching out to try to pull him back to the ground, he was too late. Two bullets pierced the man''s body, and a solid thump sounded as he hit the dust.

    "Damn it!" the cabeza exclaimed in anger.

    A few feet away from Telesforo''s group, Pedro can be seen with a handful of his men retreating as they returned fire.

    "Hurry Pedro! Run for it! We need to get out of here now!" Telesforo cried as he fired back at the enemy.

    As he and his men gained enough distance away from the enemy, Pedro began to run towards the position of his comrades.

    "How the fuck did they know we''re going to be attacking this place?!" complained Pedro

    "This is not the time nor the place for such discussions. We need to go back to one of our hideouts." the cabeza replied. "We have lost so many in a single night. Let us be wise and retreat for now."

    And at this, they began sprinting into the darkness.

    As they ran, Pedro began to rant to Telesforo, blurting out what''s on his mind.

    "This is all your fault! If only you had come with us, we would never be outnumbered and-!"

    A sudden right straight coming from the cabeza landed on Pedro''s face, silencing him. Halfway through their trip, the entire band of tulisanes stopped on their tracks at the sight of their leaders quarelling. "Bobo! If we had joined you, then all of us would be dead!"

    In his rage, Telesforo quickly pulled out his revolver and pointed it at the now downed Pedro. "If only you have listened Pedro, those men we have lost would still be alive!"

    Immediately, Pedro''s men drew their rifles and pointed it towards the cabeza, and likewise the cabeza''s men towards them. Tension between the two sides increase as seconds pass.

    However, after minutes of being still in the tense standoff, in a surprising turn of events, Telesforo withdrew his gun as he gave a big sigh. "This quarrel will bring us nowhere. Let us just head back to plan our next move. It would be best to retire for now." he proposed as he offered his hand to Pedro to help him up.

    Upon seeing their leader yield, the cabeza''s men lowered their weapons. Pedro''s men did likewise as their leader rose.

    "So many killed in a single night..." remarked Carolino, who was holstering his rifle, his voice gloomy, as if from a man who lost the will to fight.

    "We were caught off-guard, Tano. That''s what happened tonight. Stand fast, for we will not let this go unanswered." answered Telesforo in a tone that sounded like was reprimanding his own son. "The Spanish knew that we were coming, which only means one thing."

    "And what is that, Father?" Carolino asked.

    The cabeza paused, as if contemplating on his son''s question.

    "I am not sure. But there is a possibility that we have a traitor in our midst."

 Scene 2 - Return to the Philippines

    The cold night wind gently caressed my cheeks as I stood upon the smooth wooden floor of the upper deck of the Victoria - a large merchant steamer ship of red and white owned by one of my rich colleagues from Madrid. The tides were amazingly calm as the vessel treaded smoothly across the vast ocean, cutting through the waves like a fair maiden in her scarlet dress, gliding across the meadows like a ghost. The gloomy evening is illuminated by the faint silver light coming from the full moon, which, aside from the yellowish radiance of the gas lamps hanging near the captain''s cabin, created a strange but amazing ambiance of liveliness and energy that somehow kept me awake throughout the rest of the night.

    It has been nearly ten years since I fled from the Philippines after that eventful night at the Delos Santos residence. The spark that was supposed to ignite the flame of the coming revolution was abruptly extinguished, and that same evening bore witness to Se?or Ibarra''s downfall as his entire life''s work was crushed in the blink of an eye all because the very man whom he entrusted his life upon betrayed him and his plans to save one innocent life from the claws of death.

    Guilt began to surge through me as the past began to flash back before my eyes. The night before the wedding...every detail of that moment is still so vivid up to this day that I can still feel the pang of regret every time the memory resurfaces. Until now, I constantly ask myself - did I make the right decision when I warned Isagani about the bomb? Was his life, along with the other people present at the fiesta, worth more than the end Se?or Ibarra sought? I have allowed a golden opportunity slip our grasp, for almost every person who was in that house were people from the central government. If only everything went according to plan, the chain of command of the entire archipelago would have been in shambles, and no one would be able to consolidate the government troops into a single, comprehensive strategy, making it easy for us to conquer the majority of Luzon once the attacks commence. For what use are good soldiers if there is no one to direct and unify them? What is the sharp sword and the fine shield if the hands that use them do not agree whether to attack or to defend? If only we had succeeded that night...if only I did not allow my feelings to get in the way...the root of all the sufferings in this nation would have been vanquished, and justice would finally be served. If only everything went according to plan, by now half of the peninsula should have been freed - freed from injustice, from persecution, from deception, from slavery.

    Unfortunately, it was not so...as it will not be for the years to come, I assume.

    Simoun understood what had to be done to turn the country around. For a nation of slaves to prosper, their shackles must first be destroyed - even if it meant paying for it with blood. For the shackles restricts the movement, does not grant comfort to those who wear it and certainly does not give an opportunity to grow.

    And yet, the Philippines, being such a nation of slaves, despite experiencing all the torments of wearing these shackles, do not wish to be free of their restraints. In fact, they embrace it! Cling to it as if their very lives depended on it. How I hate my countrymen, not for being inherently stupid, but for choosing to be such! How they embrace their slavery to foreign masters, selling themselves for a bit of coin as if their life and their pride don''t amount to much! We have bountiful resources to provide for ourselves, and yet we decided that it was a good idea to work for another nation for our daily bread instead of making use of the gifts of the land to make a living. We know these things, and yet we choose to accept them as they are anyway - happily, if I may say so, and go on with our lives and act as if nothing is wrong.

    Simoun was right, and yet Se?or Ibarra didn''t listen to him. Simoun, had he not freed my body and my mind from the prison I got myself into, I would not have been able to grasp my true purpose and live long enough to fulfill it.

    I can still remember that day he entrusted me to play a vital part in his grand scheme - all in detail.

    Armed with only a six-shot revolver and a small amount of courage to fire it, I was making my way out of Calle Anloague as instructed by him. Eighteen minutes have already passed since the nitroglycerin bomb was lighted inside the house and yet I was still halfway out of the accursed street, for a throng of guests, guards and spectators blocked my path. My heart pounded heavily as I moved away from the vicinity of the lively fiesta, anticipating the coming of a terrible carnage. The explosion from the house will serve as the attack signal for the army of tulisanes assembled by Simoun himself - men who volunteered to help him orchestrate his little symphony of death for a taste of revenge. The rebels are sure to be many and their attack will be relentless, and I know that many will not make it out alive of the slaughter, should they be lucky enough to survive from the blast.

    I felt my own heart pounding faster as I was moving past a squad of civil guards with their rifles at the ready. Simoun was always exceptional in sowing chaos among his enemies, and apparently the gossips he dispersed regarding the coming insurrection have already taken effect. Government troops are now in disarray, for they are now in blind anticipation of an enemy attack - unpredictable, enigmatic, shrouded by the cloud of vague hearsays. The guardia civil are now spread thin across the city, therefore the time is ripe and the moment is advantageous for our allies who will be leading the charge against the Spanish.

    However, I had to take a number of detours to get out of the place alive and as of then, the clock was ticking fast and timing is of the essence. The troops were on alert and will not take security measures lightly, and therefore will not hesitate to apprehend or engage possible threats at the drop of the hat. My attire was not at all innocent with all its shabby features, torn sections and filthy appearance; not to mention that I carry a firearm beneath it. It was fortunate, however, that the soldiers stared at me with great indignation as I pass, their eyes filled with malice and disgust - thinking I was just another filthy beggar walking down the street.

    "Hey, you''re still awake?" said a familiar voice coming from behind me, snapping me back to reality.

    I turned around to check the source of the voice. A young man, wearing a black suit and not much older than I am approached me from behind, like a specter trying to haunt a hapless and lonely soul. "I should be the one asking you that." I replied, with a smug smile on my face. "What brings you here, Isagani?"

    Isagani gave a huge sigh. "A breath of fresh air, that''s all. Why do you want to know?" he asked.

    "Just making sure this isn''t about Paulita again." I jested.

    Isagani gave a short laugh. "It''s a long time past, Basilio. Get over it, for goodness'' sake! Paulita is just a relic of my past. Besides, who needs her when there are lots of beautiful women around to keep you company? I mean, there is an entire army of them in Europe alone."

    "Well, I will surely not argue with you on that, considering everything that we''ve seen and done during our travels." I laughingly agreed. "But you know what they say - it is hard to quell the flames of your first love."

    "Ahh, yes. That is true." Isagani agreed. "But then again, they only said that it''s hard, not impossible, yes? It has been...what, almost ten years,? I think that''s more than sufficient time to move on..." Isagani added.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    "I see." I replied.

    There was a brief moment of silence that broke out before Isagani continued whatever he had to say.

    "By the way Basilio, how are the preparations going for our project?" he asked.

    "Ah! The project, susmaryasantisima! I almost forgot. Worry not, my friend. We''re all set." I answered confidently.  "Our funds are sufficient and we will have engineers from Spain to help with the construction work. We''re bound to start this project in two weeks after we make port."

    "I am aware of that aspect. I meant the friars. What of them? I''m sure you''re fully aware that they''ve been against this idea since the beginning of time. Remember what happened to Se?or Ibarra when he attempted to-"

    "They wouldn''t even dare. I thought we already discussed this?!" I interrupted, sounding rather dismissive. "We''re under direct orders from the Crown itself. If anything happens, any racket that those wretches try to pull to stop this project, they will be disposed of. Discreetly, of course."

    "You seem like a man with a plan." Isagani remarked. "How are you going to...''dispose'' of them anyway?"

    "Simple." I replied. "Well, we have the resources, we have the authority, we have the men-"

    "Wait." interrupted Isagani. "If you do that, we might draw unneccessary attention from the guardia civil. Perhaps even from the Captain-General himself. Who knows? Besides, we-"

    "Eh, you need not worry. Everything will be done with discretion. Like we always do." I assured him. "I mean, we have already done this before. This won''t be any different. Everybody has a price, Isagani. Always remember that."

    "As much as I would love to see those fuckers getting what they deserve, I hope you are right. I don''t want this operation to be over before it even starts." he replied in a rather threatening tone.

    "You worry too much. We''ve been through worse." I retorted as I reached for a pack of cigarettes from my coat pocket, pulled a stick and placed it between my lips. "By the way Isagani, I heard things regarding the current Captain General of the Philippines. Good things. ''A man of virtue'', the papers in Madrid said. Have you any comments about that? I just thought that you are the proper authority for this matter since you met with the Palace appointees back when we were still in Madrid."

    "Bah! They''re all the same, those Spaniards." Isagani growled. "Hypocrites, I say! It''s as if you never learned at all, Basilio. They are all wolves in sheep''s clothing."

    "Perhaps." I replied as I lighted a cigarette and exhaled a puff of smoke. "But you know, back there in Madrid, I met a former official in the Philippines by the name of Enrique Alvarez. Good man. I didn''t even have the slightest idea about who the man was back then when I first met him, but he was peculiarly ecstatic when he met me at a coffee shop, as if he just met with an old friend he hasn''t talked to in years."

    "And?" urged Isagani, interested in my little story.

    "I learned that he was the one who pleaded my case with the Captain General to get me out of jail ten years back, for he knew I was innocent. The old man was so happy meeting me he almost pulled my arm out of its socket as he shook my hand. Remember that incident at the panciteria?" I replied.

    "Ahh, yes." nodded Isagani. "And I believe we were rounded up by the guardia civil at that time because of his associates...due to a speculation that we were ''inciting civil unrest'' because of the damn pasquinades we never printed in the first place. Fantastic. So he''s the one who got you out of prison, eh?"

    "Well...no. It was Simoun, actually. He...pulled a few favors for me. You know very well that the Captain-General at that time listens to Simoun more than anybody else." I answered as I huffed and puffed a cloud of smoke. "Se?or Alvarez filed his resignation the day his plea for my release was denied. He''d rather leave behind his good position rather than condoning injustice. What a man! But anyway, my point is we should not rush to generalizations. Not everyone from Spain is our enemy, just as much as not everyone from the Philippines is our friend. I mean, for goodness'' sake, take Do?a Victorina for example!"

    Isagani replied with a short laugh.

    "I see your point, Basilio. Well said." confirmed Isagani. "But I am just wondering -  of all people, why you? No offense. But what is Simoun hoping to obtain by getting you out of prison? Knowing that guy, all he cares about are profits."

    I paused for a moment, inhaling a generous amount of smoke, and puffed another one into the open.

    "...He was organizing an uprising to free the islands from Spanish control..." I replied. "Such an ambitious undertaking, one might say, considering the fact that the Iberian wretches are heavily entrenched within the country."

    "And what was your role in all the...fiasco?" asked  Isagani. "I mean, he would not have gotten you out of prison if it was for nothing, right?"

    "...Simoun needed skilled men that he can trust to aid his efforts. That night, he assigned me to round up any stragglers from the fiesta and convince them to take up arms against the government. Apparently, that did not happen because there was a certain ''someone'' who meddled with the affair instead of doing what he was told."

    "Hey! I know it''s my fault but he was going to kill innocent people! There were children in there! Dios mio! You''d rather let them die, Basilio?!" he answered, trying to defend himself.

    "Oh ho, it was never about saving the innocent in the first place. All you cared about was saving Paulita." I parried. "You should have let that bitch die, along with that bastard hunchback Juanito."

    Isagani paused. "Such a cold heart! Are you telling me you will allow Juli to die if you were under the same circumstances?"

    "Well, if you ask me, I''d rather let her die if she was nothing more than a whore. But if this is a question of my loyalty to what I believe in, then yes! Anything for the motherland, Isagani! I will gladly offer my life for her, if needed be!" I replied with a strong tone. "Great successes come with great sacrifice. What gain would I have of my happiness if the rest of the nation suffers? Such matters do not even qualify as dilemna! Don''t you see, Isagani? The Spanish government has turned our countrymen into dogs! A few innocent lives lost is a small price to pay!"

    "I understand where you''re coming from but your willingness to murder innocent children just to destroy your enemies is pure madness! Such way of thinking will only lead to tyranny. Even if the revolution succeeded, what use would it be to overthrow tyranny only to replace it with another one of our own?" he replied.

    "Tyranny, you say? Isagani, we are purging the nation of its sickness! Did it never occur to you why our land is rich, and yet our people poor?! Do you not agree that it is right to take what is ours, and that it is our responsibility to do so by any means necessary?! The circumstances might have been dire back then, but such an opportunity will never present itself again once we allow it to pass. And let''s face it: you would never have done what you did if Paulita wasn''t there. That ''honorable act'' was all about Paulita and you know it! The only reason why you''re you''re so stern on justifying your morals is that you don''t know what it''s like to lose everything. Those people...took everything from me, and mark my words, they will not stop there because they are confident that their day of reckoning is far from happening."

    I took a pause upon realizing what words were coming out of my mouth.

    "Besides, there''s no such thing as...ugh, forget it, brother. I-I''m sorry. We never should have discussed this." I apologized as I threw the half-burnt cigarette into the ocean.

    Isagani gave a sigh as he replied, "It''s all right. All is forgiven, brother. But do you think...do you think we can really pull this off?"

    "Yes, I believe so." I replied with a straight face. "Our intentions are pure and our cause is just. God looks upon us with favor. Remember that, Isagani."

    "Aye. I''ll remember that." Isagani acknowledged as he pulled out a cigarette from a pack stored on his coat''s pocket.

    "Anyway, let us divert ourselves to more pressing matters." Isagani abruptly continued as he lighted the free end of the cigarette in his mouth, "Months ago, I''ve received letters - telegram transmissions intercepted by our contacts inside Intramuros about the opium trade there. Word has it that the local network of Chinese traders made partnerships with the diocese to help them smuggle these drugs, allowing the traders to do business freely in exchange for a cut in the profits. The Church is untouchable by the government. That bloody ban on narcotics is useless!"

    "Not to worry. This won''t be a problem for us." I replied. "Who are their markets, anyway?"

    "The insulares and the local rich folk, as per my sources. Although...my contacts have also heard that they may be selling opium to students as well. Well, that was just a rumor, though." Isagani reported as he exhaled a stream of smoke in the air. "We don''t have a fix on a location with regards to their area of operations as of yet, but...we have a list of certain persons of interest who may have information we can use."

    "Students, eh? Then we have a problem." I replied. "Assemble our contacts as soon as possible. By the time we make port, I''m going to have to meet with an old friend of mine."

 Scene 3 - Former Alliances

    It was early in the morning when the Victoria found itself clashing mildly against one of the docks of the Batangas port. Around the sixth hour in the morning, when our ship was still out at sea days ago, Basilio and I had made our arrangements with the captain of the ship to make ready the deployment of our cargo as soon as we hit the shore, and so we are expecting everything to be rolled out quickly. The hour is thirty-seven minutes past nine, and nothing still seem to be unloaded from the cargo hold and our ship''s stuck at the docks for almost three days.

    With nothing to do but to wait for the captain as he arranges all the necessary clearances and documents to permit our cargo into the country, I busied myself by surveying the happenings in the dock''s surroundings as I lit a cigarette from the upper deck of the ship, and looking down before me are the usual goings-on of the port: porters wearing their filthy camisas moving about like ants carrying their own loads towards their anthill, carriages bearing passengers entering and exiting the port, vendors and peddlers shouting about, advertising their goods and wares among a handful of passers-by walking along the sidewalk. However, on certain occasions, my eyes happen to spy on more...interesting events. From petty instances of hungry street children stealing goods from street peddlers to a pretty straightforward mugging, the port of Batangas has no shortage of sights to amuse oneself.

    A few seconds later, I heard the sound of solid soles colliding against the steel steps leading towards the deck. Ascending from the stairs is a man of great built, a grey-haired mariner with a bush for a beard and brows tightly knit. The sailor is apparently in a bad mood and talking to himself, though I can''t make much of what he is saying. As he drew closer, his whispers began to be audible, saying in Spanish, "Those fucking port authorities. They think they can charge this much tax on our cargo and get away with it?! Wait till my friend from the Cortes hears about this. Even in a foreign land, my fellow Spaniards can''t do a fellowman a favor and even have the guts to extort money from me. Sons of whores."

    When he turned to me, however, his face brightened a little, as if trying to approach me with as much good humor as possible. "My apologies for the delay, se?or. We had a little problem with the port authorities here in uhh....Batangas. But no worries, I have settled what needs to be arranged and everything is in order. Your carriage is waiting below."

    I paused for a moment to look him in the eye. "There is confidence in your words, however, I am compelled to challenge its integrity because of your expression. I know this country too well to know that whatever business you had below is not a small problem. Please, my friend, tell me what happened."

    The captain seemed hesitant at first, judging by the silence that followed. Then, with a heavy sigh, he said, "I don''t mean to trouble you on this concern, but the port authorities demanded a sum that is a thousand pesos higher than the legal charge for taxes for our cargo. I tried to talk sense into them, but those bastards...they won''t listen to a word I say and started making threats. I had to compromise, so-"

    "So you gave them what they asked?" a man interrupted.

    "Do-Doctor Basilio." the captain replied, his head bowed and his eyes staring at the ground.

    "How much is it again?" my partner asked intently.

    "A thousand pesos, doctor." the captain replied.

    "I see." Basilio answered placidly. He then turned to me and said, "Isagani, what do you think?"

    "What do I think? Report them to the Captain-General! Let them know that we are not individuals that are to be taken lightly. That''s what you would do too, I presume." I answered with a tone of pomp and swagger.

    "To bring this matter to the attention of the Captain-General would be a tall order, se?or." the sailor challenged. "We might as well admit of attempting to smuggle the goods into the country. Don''t take this the wrong way, se?ores. It''s just that they''ll be sure to turn our own words against us if we bring this case to a local court. I suggest to let it be...for now, at least. I have a friend in the Cortes that can help us get back at them."

    "Mmm. Quite observant of you, captain. Impressive." commended Basilio.

    "So are you saying we''ll just have to concede, is that it?" I argued.

    "It''s just a thousand pesos, Isagani. No need to get sore about such a meager amount." Basilio countered. "That''s the price of operating in the Philippines."

    "That''s not what I meant, Basilio. I don''t care about the money. This is about sending a message. These men need to know how deep they dug their graves for trifling with our business. We need to command respect." I spat.

    "They will learn fear and respect, my friend. But now is not the time for that. Besides, there are more pressing matters to attend to." he replied indifferently.

    "And what is that, aber?! (pray tell)" I asked.

    "A letter just came in." Basilio answered as he unfolded a piece of paper from the inside of his coat. "The letter says it came from a certain...Florentino dela Pe?a, the capitan municipal of Pasig. He wishes to meet us in San Diego in two weeks."

    "What for? And of all places, why in San Diego? He''s the capitan municipal of Pasig. Why not receive us there?!" I complained.

    "There is another letter." Basilio continued as he produced a folded paper from the surface of the capitan municipal''s opened letter and unfolded it. "Now, this one says that we are cordially invited to the grandest birthday celebration of the one and only heir of the Pelaez and Espada?a fortune." Basilio replied in a manner similar to that of an oration. "Now, the capitan municipal of Pasig will be there as well, so he cannot receive us in his city. I suspect that the capitan knows something about your past with Paulita, because, it just so happens that Se?ora Pelaez has sent out invitations to a lot of officials and certain ilustrados, and that includes us, and she would be expecting us to come - you, most of all. The letters just came in this morning. This is a good chance to get in touch with the elites and get the layout of the current political situation in the Philippines."

    "T-that letter. Is it really from Paulita? How did she-?"

    "Yes. The very same Paulita. And to answer your other question, she just arrived here in Batangas three days ago on matters of business. A shameful display, since for a man like you, I''d expect that you should have known that already." Basilio answered. "You look shocked. Are you all right?"

    I then paused for a moment to give Basilio''s answer a thought. "Why would Paulita invite me to such a celebration?" I asked him.

    "Beats me. I''d like to find out myself." Basilio answered with a puzzled look on his face. "Maybe she wants to make peace? Or perhaps a business proposal? In any case, caution must be exercised in dealing with her - especially on your part. She''s a cunning viper, and I''m aware that you know this to be true."

    I let out a sigh. "You''re right."

    Basilio then produced a fountain pen and a notepad from his coat pocket and began to write something. After jotting down everything he has to write, he tore the leaf of paper from the notepad and gave it to the captain. "Give this paper to Se?or Julio Ramon Montoya Vega, one of my personal trustees in Madrid. You''ll find his office near Cafe Llonora. You know where it is. Give him this note and tell him I sent you. He''ll provide you with the compensation that you so deserve for the trouble you just went through. We never turn a blind eye to those who provide us with excellent service, Capitan Monteverde."

    The captain then took the piece of paper from Basilio''s hand. And as he gazed upon what was written on the note, his eyes widened in shock.

    "F-five thousand pesos, Doctor?!" the captain gasped in awe. "That is a lot of money, good sir."

    Basilio then gave the captain a pat on the shoulder. "Aye. A token of my friendship."

    Needless to say, the captain was overjoyed at the gift offered by Basilio. No one, even a haciendero in his right mind, would not even give out half of the five thousand pesos so freely as if he were giving a handful of cuartos to a beggar in the street. But knowing Basilio, he does not do these things out of the kindness of his heart. We are entrepreneurs after all, and I know for a fact that he is doing this to earn the favor of this man, an investment of sorts, so that one day he may be able to use it in his time of need. And besides, the best time to ask a man a favor is when he is in a very good mood.

    "Doctor Basilio, if there''s anything I can do to be of service to you, just let me know!" the sailor declared as he offered his hand to my friend, who did not have any second thoughts in shaking it.

    "I don''t doubt that, my friend. In fact, I have something in mind." answered Basilio as he rubbed his chin. "I have a shipment of books coming from New York in America that was supposed to be delivered this very week. Unfortunately, the shipping company who took the contract backed out five days after they signed it. I need them delivered by the end of next month. I understand that Don Salvador will not be too happy if he does not hear from you two months from now, but if you and your crew are up to it and you can do this task for me, I''d be more than happy to...throw in a little bonus for your trouble. After all, you and I are going to help each other here, captain." Basilio proposed.

    The captain rubbed his chin in contemplation.

    "Hmm. It looks a little tricky, especially now that Spain does not have strong diplomatic relations with Americanos at the moment, but I think it can be done, Doctor. I''ll deliver the goods."

    "We can talk business then." Basilio merrily replied. "For this job, as usual, you''ll receive a total of  ten thousand pesos. Half will be given upfront and the other half will be given after you deliver the goods in excellent condition. The cargo will be stored in watertight crates, so I expect them to get here dry. Any damage found on the goods will be charged on your final pay. Clear so far?"

    "Aye." agreed the captain. "However, I have some concerns."

    "Let me guess." Basilio replied as he crossed his arms. "The port authorities, I presume?"

    "Si. Exactly." the man replied.

    "You have more than a month to deliver the goods that I ask you to deliver. By the time you arrive here from America, our friends from customs would have been dealt with. I guarantee you that." my friend answered. "Anything else?"

    "What about the cargo? What if the goods are already damaged by the time I receive them from your contact in America?"

    "You''re a cautious man. I like that." commended Basilio. "My people in America are trustworthy. But if you want to be sure, feel free to take a photograph of the crates before you receive them. My people in America are used to these sort of dealings. As long as the seals are intact, I''m good with that. In addition, I''ll be needing my contact to come with you as well to assist in the exchange. And don''t worry about port authorities opening these crates for inspection. I have people who will notify me once your ship docks in the Philippines. I''ll attend to the exchange personally. Just make sure you dock here in Batangas."

    "I see. Understood, Doctor." nodded the man. "By the way, before I forget, who am I supposed to contact for the goods? And how many crates am I supposed to receive again?"Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Fifty crates, captain, weighing around seventy kilos each." replied Basilio.

    "That''s a lot of books, Doctor." commented the man.

    "Yes. It is, capitan. And for a good reason. Those books will be sufficient supply for three school libraries." Basilio reasoned in a matter-of-fact tone.

    He then took an envelope and a small parcel from his pocket and gave it to the captain. "The address of my contact is written in the back of the envelope. He owns a library in New York."

    The captain then took the package and checked the back of the letter.

    "Ahh. Professor...Jonathan Leeds, is it? I see." the captain replied as he inspected the envelope intently, in a tone that seemed to agree to Basilio''s offered terms. "We''ll be off for New York after a week. Expect the shipment to arrive within the coming month."

    At this, the captain offered his hand in agreement to the contract - with Basilio shaking it firmly.

    "It is concluded then! I''m glad doing business with you. I''ll make ready the necessary arrangements." Basilio announced. "Oh, by the way, if I were you, I might as well have a look around here in Santa Clara while I wait, captain. I believe there''s a tavern not far from here. I had a...friend bring me there back in the day. Their spirits are outstanding."

    "A delightful proposal, good sir." the captain replied with a big grin.

    "A delightful proposal indeed." I said in approval.

    "Now, captain. If you would excuse us, Isagani and I have some important matters to discuss." Basilio exclaimed in a respectful but rather dismissive tone.

    "Of course, Doctor. I''ll be downstairs if you need anything." replied the captain politely. "Se?or." he said as he gave me a short but courteous bow as he dismissed himself.

    When the captain has finally exited the premises, Basilio produced a cigarette and a match from the inside of his coat, tuck the stick between his lips and lighted the free end.

    "What is it now?" I inquired impassively.

    "I don''t know how to put this but...I received a message from one of our contacts in the government." he replied, his eyes as sharp as a hawk''s. "Your uncle was found dead in the convento. Three gunshot wounds to the chest, probably made by a revolver. This report was...five years ago."

    I was taken aback, not knowing exactly what to say or do at the moment. The news of my father-figure being murdered coming to me in a casual conversation got me thunderstruck, but not to the extent of being dumbfounded. My extensive experience has trained me to stick to reason in these kinds of situations, but this time, my mind was clouded as a feeling of hatred was slowly swallowing me.

    "Is this source of yours a reliable one?" I answered softly, barely containing my rage.

    "Indeed. He''s working closely with the police, Isagani. He happened to ''lose'' some documents while on duty." he calmly replied. "Want a cigarette?"

    "No, thank you." I declined. "Do they have any leads yet?"

    "Of course not. The government dismissed the case immediately, ruling it as suicide. Five years, Isagani?! And no real developments on the case?! You know how it is in the Philippines. The government treats Filipinos like us like shit." Basilio then massaged his forehead with his fingers as he shook his head. "I have a theory though."

    He then fell silent, paused for a few seconds.

    "Let''s hear it." I invited him.

    "Don Tiburcio de Espada?a. Ten years ago. Remember anything?" was Basilio''s brief clue.

    I began to ponder upon his words. Ten years ago, my uncle took Don Tiburcio under his care because at the time, he was being hunted by his wife Do?a Victorina - for whatever reason she may have. And then it hit me, an idea came to me like a bolt of lightning.

    "You''re saying the Espada?as are behind my uncle''s murder?" I asked.

    "Possibly. But it can also be Pelaezes. Juanito''s got something against you, after all."

    I replied with a sneer. "Juanito?! That buffoon of a hunchback?! He doesn''t have the guts! That man''s a coward!"

    "A lot can change in ten years, my friend. For all we know, he may be operating an opium business right under the government''s nose and is just using his father''s business as a front." Basilio challenged. "According to our contacts, they have acquired hectares of lands around Bulacan and Nueva Ecija. Their consignment business cannot possibly amass that kind of fortune, even in ten years. But anyway, those are just theories. We need more information if we''re going to get to the bottom of your uncle''s death. We need witnesses and evidence to give us leads. I know what you''re thinking, Isagani. For your sake, don''t do anything stupid."

    I let out a sigh. "You''re right. It''s too early to jump to conclusions. We should-"

    I was halted from my speech when we heard footsteps coming up the steel stairs. From it the captain re-emerged, his good humor turned sour once again.

    "Se?ores, my apologies for interrupting. This man''s been insisting to see you. By any chance, do you know someone named Placido Penitente?"

    Basilio and I gave each other sharp and suspicious stares at the mention of the name Placido Penitente. Back in our days in the University, Placido Penitente was considered one of the most excellent students of Universidad de Santo Tomas - or at least by people who have nothing against him. A Batangue?o by birth and a son to a cabeza de barangay, he was known for his knack in logic and law that though he is a peaceful and an introverted fellow, his professors scorned him, treated him as a subversive.The last I''ve heard of him was when he dropped out of school because of the treatment he had been receiving from his teachers. Now, I wonder why he decided to come to us. What does he need from us?

    "Let him up, captain. You can leave us. He''s an acquaintance of ours." Basilio told him.

    A few seconds later, a slim but stern figure in a bowler hat and a fine black suit ascended the stairs. He holds in his left hand a long ivory cane, striking the metal sheets with each step. He had a straight face, neatly cut in the edges of the cheekbones. For a man with Filipino blood, his complexion has become a smooth olive - Italian-like, by my standards. He is a bit smaller than Basilio, but he had that air of pomp and swagger that radiated authority, making him seem taller than he actually is.

    "Ahh! Greetings, gentlemen! What a fine ship you have here!" greeted the man in a lively tone as he lifted and threw his cane just a few inches above his head, stylishly catching it mid-air like a showman in a carnival.

    "Welcome aboard the Victoria, Penitente." greeted Basilio as he extended his hand.

    "That''s ''Don'' Penitente, Doctor. I did not spend ten years of my life making my fortune only to be called by my last name. You disappoint me with your courtesies." was his disgusted reply, avoiding Basilio''s hand. Then, he turned his attention to me. "And you must be...Isagani, yes? Or rather, Don Isagani. I''ve heard a lot about you back in the day in the university. You and Makaraig. I''m glad to finally make your acquaintance. You''re pretty brave to throw in those pasquinades right in the government''s face. I admire that." he said as he held out his hand.

    "For the record, that...wasn''t us. But nonetheless, it''s nice to meet you too, Don Penitente." I replied as I accepted his hand. "How fares Kabesang Andang, your mother?"

    "Ahh. So you know of her? Curious. She is retired and living the good life, as all good mothers deserve, thank you." Penitente replied with a smile, which then slowly dissolved as his face became pensive. "I, uhhh..."heard" the news about Padre Florentino, your uncle. My deepest sympathies, my friend. To kill a man is one thing. But to kill a servant of God....unimaginable. What man would do such a thing?"

    "A soulless one, no doubt!" interrupted Basilio, while slowly venting out the smoke from his mouth as he turned to Penitente. "But let us set aside such talk and turn ourselves to matters of business, shall we? After all, that is what you came here to talk about, is it not?"

    "Have some respect, man!" rebuked Penitente, disgusted. "We''re talking about Don Isagani''s deceased uncle and you''re acting-!"

    "Like what?! You think mourning for his uncle will do anything to better the situation?" Basilio countered with a tone of hostility. "We are esteemed persons of society, are we not? People like us do not maintain our positions by dwelling in the past, because the past is the realm of friars and dead men - and we are neither of those."

    Placido retreated into short silence. "I see." he said as his lips curled into a smile. "You certainly have changed, my friend. You even sound a lot like him."

    "Him?" I asked, perplexed and clueless.

    "A man of respect we both knew a long time ago." Placido answered indifferently, still wearing his smug smile as he turned to Basilio. "If it''s business that you want, then it''s business we shall have."

    "Excellent." commended Basilio as he took an envelope from inside his coat. "Here are the order specifications for my purchase. Everything that you need to know is in there. Make sure to burn it once you''re done." He then flicked his hand to hand over the documents.

    "I know, doctor. That''s the 23rd time that you have said that to me." Placido replied as he immediately received the envelope from Basilio and placed it in the pocket inside his coat. "Oh, by the way, about that last time we talked, I put some thought on your proposed ''concept'', and I must say that it certainly caught my interest. We should talk about it further some time."

    "I am all ears, but we are committed to a different undertaking at the moment. We can''t afford to stretch our resources further." answered Basilio, who hasn''t given the slightest hint as to what they were talking about.

    "I see. But should you change your mind, you know where to find me." invited Penitente.

    "That is duly noted, my friend." Basilio replied.

    "Well, now that we''ve got business out of the way, why don''t we talk about something else." Placido started, now in his more upbeat tone of voice. "Miguel Pelaez''s birthday is two weeks from now and I hear the two of you are invited. The kid''s turning nine by then so I was wondering if you can give me any suggestions for a gift. You know, I''d want to give a good impression." he exclaimed as he paced back and forth, swirling his cane about. "I need something...simple, yet full of meaning. Any ideas, Don Isagani?"

    The man''s question took me by surprise that my response were just stutters and fillers. Now that he had brought it up, I haven''t the slightest idea what to give - not that I gave time to actually think about it.

    "Perhaps the more appropriate question would be how were you able to know that we are invited? Better yet, how did you know we were arriving here?" Basilio cut in in a suspicious tone. "Those letters are supposed to be confidential."

    "Let''s just say that I have my ways. I''m sure you''re aware that men like me have to be careful at all times." he answered, his lips curling into a smile.

    "I see. Point well taken." Basilio exclaimed, satisfied with Placido''s answer.

    "Well, then! As I was saying, I was thinking of a gift to give the young Pelaez. Now, since Don Isagani is having a hard time coming up with a suggestion, do you mind giving me one doctor?"

    "Since I am a man of science, I''d say give him a book to read. ''On the Origin of Species'', perhaps?" he suggested.

    "Are you thick, doctor? For goodness''s sake, Miguel Pelaez is a child, not a scholar having his thesis!" Placido rebuked with a disgusted tone.

    "And what, you''d rather have him read Tandang Basio Macunat or other worthless things like toys?" Basilio retorted.

    "There are a lot of things that are great about you, doctor. But being good with children is certainly not one of them." commented Penitente.

    "Give the child something that encourages his interest, perhaps?" I interrupted. "You know, children here in the Philippines do not have the privilege of choosing what they want to become when they grow up. Filipino culture does not foster that aspect in a child. It''s always the parents that dictate what path the children choose. It''s the parents who are always like ''When you grow up, you should be like this, you should be like that,''. But the child is never asked ''what do you want?''. If you''re looking for something simple yet full of meaning, then perhaps you can try...encouraging his hobbies. If he likes art, then perhaps some paint and a rack of canvas. If it''s music, then perhaps the musical instrument of his choice. A-am I making sense to you, Don Penitente?"

    Placido fell silent, and with a grin he said, "Very interesting, Don Isagani. Well, as you well know, the Filipino child doesn''t have the luxury of choosing what they want to become - practically speaking of course. Opportunities for growth are scarce for Filipinos, that''s the truth. There are children who want to become professional artists, but have no resources to do so. But I must say, even though beggars can''t be choosers, there is truth to what you have said. I mean, look at you and Dr. Basilio. You started with nothing, now you have everything. A very...insightful suggestion. I''ll make sure to take note of that."

    "From what I''ve heard, the young Pelaez has taken an interest in guns, though that''s not publicly known of course." said Basilio. "You''re going to encourage that?"

    "Yes! There''s nothing wrong in taking an interest in guns as long as you know how to respect them." I replied with conviction. "Give him a dummy gun, and from there, teach him the proper way of handling it, to put his finger on the trigger only if he needs to shoot something...or someone. Sooner or later he will have to learn that lesson, and if you''re going to ask me, it''s better to teach them while they still know how to listen. Men tend to get more and more stubborn as they grow older."

    "A fine argument, se?or." commended Penitente, applauding with a slow clap. "A fine argument, indeed. You know, maybe in an alternate reality where Se?ora Pelaez had married you instead, I''m sure you would have been a great father."

    "Perhaps. However, it is not so." I commented. "Well, that''s life. There''s nothing I can do about that now but to accept it and move forward."

    "No truer words have been said. Unfortunately." praised Penitente as he slipped his hand inside his coat to check his pocket watch. "Well, I see it''s almost time for lunch. Although I''d want to stay here to chat a little more, but business calls. Perhaps another time. I''m not the kind of man who wants to be late for his appointments. So, if you don''t mind, gentlemen."

    Placido then gave out his hands to shake ours.

    "We wouldn''t want to take up much of your time. Thank you very much, Don Penitente." Basilio said with an altered tone. "Have a safe journey."

    "Thank you. I''ll meet the both of you again in two weeks'' time." replied Penitente as he struck the ground with his cane. "Until then gentlemen, please do me a favor."

    "What is it?" asked Basilio.

    "Don''t do anything stupid." he replied as he turned to take his leave, exiting the premises with slow and eerie footsteps. "And also, Doctor, do think about my proposal. I''m sure you and I would benefit from this new...''business model''. Until then, gentlemen." he said as he exited with a short bow.

    By the time he left, I turned to Basilio. "What does he mean by that?" I asked.

    "Nothing for you to worry about for now. Anyway, enough of that. Let''s get going and have ourselves settled at the inn. We have much work to do."

 Scene 4 - An Unexpected Reunion

    The June afternoon inside the La Venera Hotel was unusually stifling as I sat on the couch near the window of my room overlooking the streets, enjoying a glass of sherry and puffing a thick stream of smoke. For a rural area such as Batangas, the accommodation available in this region is somewhat impressive. Mattresses and pillows are of high quality - European-made, by the looks of it. The richness of the white curtain cloths, the upholstery, even the woodwork, all of them European-made as well.

    Well, there is no surprise there since this part of Batangas is a port town. And being so, products coming from foreign countries - especially those that come from Europe gets here first before anywhere else in the country.

    I believe that explains why this place has lost it''s Filipino touch.

    Moments later, a knock sounded on my door, with a woman calling out my name. Her voice was soft, gentle and somewhat familiar. But despite this, I instinctively drew my revolver from my holster and pointed it towards the source of the sound. Seconds later, I called out.

    "Who is it?" I asked in Spanish as I carefully and silently motioned towards the wall section of the door''s knob side, with my revolver still at the ready.

    "It''s me, Isagani." answered a woman''s voice in Tagalog, muffled. "Don''t you remember me?"

    By the time the woman said this, I managed to press my back against the wall, ready to throw her off in case she had any ideas of charging in and assaulting me. Oddly enough, her voice did sound familiar, like she''s someone I''ve known a long time ago. As I slowly reached for the knob, I replied, this time in Tagalog. "I don''t remember meeting you. What was your name again?"

    "It''s Paulita." said the woman, now with a clearer and more audible voice, as if she leaned in towards the door to reply.

    This took me by surprise. That definitely sounded like Paulita.

    Upon hearing this, I immediately holstered my weapon and turned the knob, slowly opening the door.

    "I hope I''m not a bother to you at this time of hour." she exclaimed, curiously peeking through the small opening.

    For some reason, I started to hesitate for a second before answering. I was somewhat at a loss for a moment, caught off-guard by this unexpected visit.

    "Oh, not at all. Please. Come in." I welcomed her as I fully opened the door.

    "Thank you." she replied as she started to walk in slowly inside the room - with a red fan covering half of her face.

    It was at that moment that I stood there - stunned - at the sight of this heavenly creature. Ten years have passed, and yet she is still as beautiful as the day I left her. Her smooth black hair, her bright eyes, and her smooth milky skin are still exactly the same as I remember. It was as if the long years of motherhood hasn''t dulled her appearance.

    "I apologize for coming here unannounced." she continued as she lowered her fan and turned to face me.

    "A matter of no consequence. But to be honest, I am a bit surprised." I answered passively. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Se?ora Pelaez?"

    "Drop the ''se?ora'', please. All that formality is making me feel awkward." she answered as she slowly broke into a short chuckle.

    I replied with a short laugh. "Ahh, yes. I think I should call you ''Do?a'' instead."

    "Isagani!" she smilingly reprimaded, answering with a tone of slight annoyance.

    "So," I continued, "can I fix something for you to eat? I can call for the hotel''s attendants. Some fruits? Or perhaps a meal? I hear their adobo here is out of this world. Or some wine perhaps?"

    "No, it''s all right. I won''t be here for long. Thank you." she refused as she paced towards the window and walked past me. "I...my son will celebrate his birthday in two weeks. I''d greatly appreciate it if you and Se?or Basilio can attend."

    At this, I paused for a few moments. I''m well aware that Paulita has sent us invitations to her son''s birthday. But to come here in person just to tell me this...something isn''t quite right.

    "Have a seat. Please." I offered as I pointed towards a vacant chair beside the couch - a suggestion that she did not hesitate to take. "You know, I somehow find myself rather indebted to you for going through the trouble of coming here just to notify me of this, so I''ll really feel bad if I were not to at least offer you something while you''re here. A glass of sherry, perhaps? To at least...lift your spirits." I suggested.

    "Well, if you insist." she consented.

    Eagerly, I went to the couch table and picked up the half-filled bottle of sherry and poured a meager amount on the clean glass goblet that I picked up just beside the glass that I was using earlier.

    "So, Paulita, I''ll leave out the formalities and I will cut directly to the chase." I continued as I handed her the goblet. "I believe you have something important you want to talk about aside from your son''s birthday, am I right? Otherwise, you won''t even bother to come all the way here at all. So what is it?"

    At this, her face lost its radiance and her lips became stiff. Silence was in the room and it was as if our energies are being sapped by it. It was only when Paulita smiled and spoke up was the silence broken.

    "I see. You never changed. After all these years, you are still as straightforward as ever. Well, if that''s what you want, then I''ll get to the point." she replied with a smile, pausing for a moment. "The truth is, my father-in-law, Don Timoteo, sent me to make you an offer."

    "Interesting. What offer?" I inquired nonchalantly.

    "He speaks of a huge venture that you and Dr. Basilio are engaged in. He says he wants to offer a negotiation for his services."

    "I see." I quickly answered. "Can''t say I don''t appreciate his initiative. I have a question, though. Of all people, why did he send you to tell me this? Are you one of Don Timoteo''s trustees? Tell me something I don''t know, se?ora."

    "I''m not associated with his business, but he meant no offense. I''m only here to deliver his message. You see...to begin with, Don Timoteo is too old to travel from San Diego to Batangas and Juanito is not in favor of this proposal so he cannot send him. None of his partners know about your plans on erecting a school within San Diego - except him, me and Juanito. Please understand, Don Timoteo''s offer is to your best interest, Isagani."

    "My...best interest? It is I who will be the judge of that. We cannot arrive at a decision if we do not have a proper negotiation. He thinks sending you will make me agree on his offer? The nerve of the bastard. Who does he take me for?!"

    "I did not come here to entice you in making any decisions, and that''s probably not the reason why he sent me. I went to you solely to offer an invitation - to persuade you to come to San Diego and arrange a meeting for the both of you. I understand how you feel. He didn''t choose me as his messenger to insult your intelligence." she replied placidly.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    I let out a huge sigh, took the glass sitting on the table near the couch and filled it with wine.

    "By the way, how did he know about our plans on erecting a school in San Diego?" I asked sternly.

    "I-I have no idea. He did not tell me anything about it. What I''m told is all I know."

    "Is that so? Well, at least one thing''s clear - this wasn''t exactly about inviting me to a celebration. You could have told me sooner that this is a business proposal. By the way, how come his partners don''t know about this? And what''s in it for you, anyway? What are you going to get from this?" I asked as I finished the wine on one gulp.

    "We needed to be cautious. Some of his partners are friars from powerful corporations, and you know very well that they do not like the members of the laity to manage schools. Please don''t think ill of me. I have nothing to gain from this." she answered.

    "Nothing?!" I retorted. "Don''t give me that, Paulita. I wasn''t born yesterday."

    "I don''t doubt that, and I can understand why you think that way." she answered, struggling to sound cheerful as she can manage. "I''m not hoping to get something out of this. Not monetarily or anything material, at least. I just...I want you to meet my child, that''s all. Juanito wouldn''t have it, so I..."

    "Really?" I asked in a challenging tone.

    "Yes." she replied softly. "That''s all."

    I paused for a second, thinking about her answer.

    "Why? I asked.

    "I want him to meet the most honorable and loyal man that I know." she replied immediately.

    "You push your flatteries too far." I scoffed. "I like it. What''s his name, by the way?" I asked.

    "Miguel." she replied.

    "Ahh, yes. Miguel. What a handsome name." I remarked. "Was it you who gave it to him?"

    "Yes." she replied.

    "Thought so." I complemented. "Your son is quite something, I''ll give him that. As far as I''ve heard, the boy''s taken a huge interest in guns. Is that true? Not that it''s bad, it''s just...unusual. To be honest, I was surprised when I heard the news from a friend. I suppose he took after his mother after all, eh?"

    "Pilyo." she remarked with a chuckle. "His father exposed him to that at an early age. You know, he is so fascinated with them. He''s also interested in stories he hears from our American business assocoates about gunfighters and outlaws from America. He often tells me that when he grows up, he wants to go to America and become a gunfighter."

    "Well, that is a bit too much, but then again, you can''t keep him from leaving the nest, can you? A day will inevitably come when a boy has to become his own man. Don''t get me wrong, though. You seem to be a good mother, but there are times when we have to let things run their course. He''ll grow older, and gradually he''ll discover that there''s more to life than shooting guns."

    Paulita gave a short sigh. "I suppose you''re right. A hatchling cannot learn how to fly if you won''t let it stretch its wings. Perhaps, its because mothers like me tend to worry too much about their children."

    "I won''t judge. Worrying is what mothers naturally do." I replied to assure her.

    "Yes. I guess so." Paulita agreed, smiling at me as she replied.

    "By the way, your son speaks English?" I asked with curiosity.

    "Yes. And I have to admit that his English is far superior than mine for his age. Give him a few more years and he''ll speak like a true American." she answered with pride.

    "I see. Well, in America, New York is a place where many cultures meet. Once he becomes fluent in English, he''ll fit right in."

    "Well, I don''t know about that. I''ve heard stories about New York being overrun by crooks and criminals and he WANTS to live his life there. You know, I have been thinking for some time: did I do the right thing when I did not chastise my child because of his interests? Was I spoiling him too much? D-do I even have what it takes to be a parent Isagani?"

    "And why not? You know, guns aren''t completely evil, because it entirely depends on how one is going to use it. Like money. You can train him to respect it, to use it only when absolutely necessary."

    "I suppose so." Paulita replied with a smile, seemingly amused at my response. "You seem to know your way around parenting pretty well, so now I''m not quite sure if you''re still a bachelor." she jested.

    "No, I am still a bachelor, I assure you." I replied in a jesting tone.

    "Why so?" she asked with her curious eyes looking at mine.

    "Family life...isn''t exactly something I would be competent with, Paulita." I sighed, pasing for a few seconds. "You see, even if I do manage to get married, the nature of my work will not allow me to see my family often. I am a banker by profession, and this career requires a lot of my time and energy. I cannot be a banker and a father at the same time. I''ll be blunt with you, Paulita: I love my profession, and my child doesn''t deserve that kind of father. I would be unfair to him." I replied in a low tone.

    Paulita lowered her head a bit. "I see." she replied softly, taking a sip of the wine before falling silent for half a minute.

    "Can I ask you something, Isagani?" Paulita exclaimed.

    "Sure." I answered firmly.

    "I know you might hate me for bringing this up, but...I know I have been selfish back then, so...I need to know if you''re still mad at me for what happened ten years ago."

    I was somewhat shocked hearing this, as I never expected her to bring up the subject. I began to think about it long and hard, and then everything came back to me that moment - all that despair, all that rage, all that grief and all that hatred were beginning to build up inside me, dragging me into a spiral of heightened emotions and then hitting me all at once like a swift and unstoppable train.

    I loved Paulita - perhaps too much that I can no longer love anybody else, even myself. She was my crowning glory, my pride and the soul of my aspirations. I was ready to do everything for her, as I believed she loved me too.

    I remember the time when I opened up to her my dreams and aspirations, oh how I told with firm belief that our project of building an academy of instruction in Castillan will be the pioneer in making the Philippines like that of free Europe! How foolish of me, thinking that as her sweetheart, she would support me in my dream, only to be met by her bemusement - as if suggesting I was ridiculous for believing such outlandish ideas!

    How I hated myself for pretending to not see, how she indulged in the praise and attention of other men, all the while barely acknowledging that our relationship even exists! How stupid of me to still love her even though she threw me out the window like a used rag and married a man she barely even knew! And for what? Advantage?! This whore of a woman hasn''t any right to casually ask me if I am still mad about what she did.

    And now she comes, asking me to go to San Diego to meet the don, thinking that her going here to invite me would influence my decision to their favor?! Damnation!

    My fist started to shake in anger as these thoughts began to take hold, but I shook it off, reminding myself that I had to maintain my composure.

    "Why did you ask? I am quite interested as to why you came up with such a question?" I probed, trying to look as cool as I can be.

    She broke eye contact and did not say a word.

    "Juanito was able to give you everything you wanted and I had nothing, so you leaving me was just a matter of time." I continued in a matter-of-fact tone.

    "Juanito gave me everything that I wanted, that much is true." she answered. "But you...you gave me everything you had, and for lack of better judgement I shunned you. Now that I know better, it breaks my heart knowing what you have endured after I left you was not deserved. It isn''t right. I know that by now you will never trust me after everything I did, but nonetheless I want you to know that I am very sorry for what I have done. I was wrong. You did not deserve all the hurt that I inflicted upon you. Can you forgive me for what I have done?"

    Her words struck me like lightning. I have never expected her to apologize, let alone acknowledge her faults. But knowing her, she might be just doing this for the sake of Don Timoteo''s proposal. I am definitely not falling for her tricks again.

    "That is a very touching thought, Paulita. I appreciate the gesture. But it has been a long time, is it not?" I continued, trying to avoid her question. "I believe it''s time we live and move on with our lives."

    Paulita sighed, and after a brief moment, her lips broke into a sweet smile.

    "I suppose you''re right. There''s no point in bringing this up. We should just keep these things in the past and move on." she said as she finished the remainder of her glass in one gulp. "I...I should be going, Isagani. Thank you very much for the...the wine and..."

    "Should I accompany you outside? You look rather flustered." I offered.

    "No, I''m fine. It must be the...the wine, but...thank you. I can manage." she refused, her voice rumbling and her tone dismissive.

    "Very well." I replied in a low tone. "Then allow me to open the door for you, at least." I offered with a smile as I went to open the door for her.

    Halfway through the opening of the door, I came to a sudden halt - which startled Paulita for a moment.

    "Please give my regards to Don Timoteo Pelaez. Tell him we really appreciated his initiative and we''d want to hear from him soon." I said as I intently looked into her eyes, wearing the most subtle arrogant smile that I can manage.

    "I-I will." she replied nervously as she hurriedly took her leave, breaking my hold of the door.

    Slowly, as she walked out of the corridor, I took a cigarette out of my pocket and lit it with a match.

    "Don Timoteo, you sly son of a bitch." I exclaimed. "You''re up to something. I just know it."

 Scene 5 - The Don

    My mind is spiraling with thoughts as I left the hotel and went back to the carriage parked in front of the tavern beside it. As I walked, I can''t help but ponder upon Isagani''s words and the way he conducted himself in our encounter. He was cordial, collected and surprisingly calm when he received me, which was something I never expected him to do, given the state of things between us never improved through the years. But...I can''t help but ask myself: did he really mean those words when he said that he has already...moved on?

    I tried to shake off those thoughts as the coachman opened the carriage door for me as I approached, bowing courteously as I walked. He then raised his eyes and focused them on mine, and then he said to me, "We are ready to depart, se?ora. Just say the word."

    I looked back at him, curled my lips into a smile and nodded. It was enough an answer for him that he did not bother to say anything further as I boarded the carriage.

    Or at least before he closed the door after me.

    "Is everything all right, se?ora?" he asked, probably taking note of my silence.

    "All is fine, Pepito. I may be just fatigued. Let''s head back to San Diego." I replied.

    "If you so wish, se?ora. Although we have to stop by the nearest neighboring town to freshen up the horses before we press on with our journey. Our steeds look tired and we cannot strain them too much - and I believe the same can be said for you. The journey is long. Please, se?ora. You need to rest, too."

    "That is very kind of you, Pepito. I appreciate the thought." I told him.

    "Always happy to be of service, se?ora." he answered as he closed the door.

    A few moments later, I heard the sound of a whip crack followed by galloping as the carriage moved away from the vicinity. A stream of thoughts began to flow through my mind as I sat idle inside the car, my eyes wandering about the sidewalks of Santa Clara as we pass. From time to time, my eyes would spy on a number of children and groups of beggars parading the streets asking for alms. How I pity those poor souls! Such misery to see society shun the weak and powerless, when it is within its power to help them. I felt bad for those poor people.

    "So, how did it go with Isagani?" asked a voice from the other seat of the carriage.

    "I-it went well, Don Timoteo." I answered. "He sends his regards, and would like to hear from you soon."

    "I see." he replied. "Thank you, Paulita."

    "I am always happy to be of service." I replied as I smiled.

    "I assume that he did not take it very well when he learned that I sent you to deliver the proposal." the don asked.

    "He was mildly upset about it, papa. But I believe he understands our current situation." I answered.

    "Did he agree to meet?" the don inquired intently.

    "Yes." I answered.

    "And does he seem convinced of your motivations?" he asked anew, this time his eyes looking sharply unto mine.

    "He does." I answered, unwavering.

    "Very well." he replied, crossing his arms. "I am glad he has considered my offer. You have done well, hija. I know this has not been easy for you to go through this task, but I have nobody else to turn to. After what happened to Juanito..."Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    "I understand your predicament, Don Timoteo." I answered. "As your daughter-in-law, I believe it is only right that I assist you in this undertaking."

    "I am touched, running these sorts of errands for an old and dying man." the don commended with a smile. "I am fortunate to have a daughter-in-law such as you - a woman with a head suited for business, with mind so bright and a heart so kind. You''re the daughter I never had. I''m sure your parents would have been proud."

    "I am flattered." I replied.

    "By the way," continued the don. "Did Isagani make any...specific inquiries about your visit?"

    "Yes." I replied.

    "Really?" asked the don, who seemed surprised at my response. "What did he ask?"

    "He seemed curious about my son." I answered.

    Don Timoteo''s eyes suddenly brightened, and his lips curled into a smile.

    "Ahh. I see. That is a very interesting observation. Very interesting, indeed. Don Timoteo observed. "After all these years...he never grew up from the boy that he was ten years ago."

    "I suppose so." I answered in a soft voice.

    "Ahh, Isagani", the don sighed joyously. "The simpleton Orpheus seeking his beloved Eurydice, venturing in the underworld, casting all reason aside in the name of love, thinking that all his efforts will save his beloved but not knowing that the Fates have already spun and cut his thread! He is..."

    At this answer, my mind began to wander, going back to that time when we talked at the hotel - paying no mind to the grand, poetic allusions Don Timoteo was making. No matter how many times I lie to myself, I cannot deny what my eyes have witnessed, what my ears have heard, and what my heart has felt - that on the first few minutes of our conversation, I knew...Isagani is now a changed man. Don Timoteo might be belittling him, but I saw in his eyes a man so set into the future that the past, no matter how cruel it was, can no longer hold him back. Talking to him was like playing a game of chess with an enemy who is always two moves ahead of you. And his countenance, no matter how warm he seemed to be, reminded me of the cold and unsettling presence of Simoun, the infamous traitor of the state.

    "Paulita, does something bother you?" the don exclaimed, interrupting my thoughts.

    "Oh, i-it''s nothing, papa. I was...I was just thinking about Miguel." I lied.

    "He is under watchful eyes and capable hands, is he not?" the don inquired.

    "I...I have no doubt about Maria''s diligence, Don Timoteo. Miguel, he''s...he''s been refusing to see his tutors. I am worried about his education." I answered.

    "Ahh, as stubborn as his father, I see." the don commented. "Miguel is a smart one. There is no need for that. He''ll only be a child once. The boy is just turning nine this month. Let him have his fun."

    "But, papa, he is almost ten and he is still struggling with simple mathematics and is also having a hard time learning how to read and write in Spanish. I am worried he will fall behind in class." I reasoned.

    "Nonsense!" rebuked the don. "We, Pelaezes are a family of great intelligence! Miguel, being outclassed by his other classmates who are all Indios is unheard of! Are you saying that my grandson is stupid?"

    "Of course not, Don Timoteo. I will not think ill of my own son!" I exclaimed calmly. "He is a smart boy, but the subjects he is failing in require constant practice for one to excel in them. Remember Se?or Makaraig''s son who is a classmate of Miguel? He was falling behind in mathematics. But then Se?or Makaraig had him tutored and his son practiced all week in mathematics. Now he has one of the highest marks in the subject. I do not mean any disrespect, Don Timoteo, as your family is very reputable indeed for your intellect, but I just thought that if such a method worked on a Se?or Makaraig''s son, then perhaps all the more should it work wonders for my son."

    Don Timoteo, upon hearing and understanding my explanation, began to pause and cool down as he took in big, deep breaths. "Hmmm. I see your point. Very...reasonable, indeed."

    "Thank you...papa." I answered.

    "Oh, by the way," continued the don. "How are the invitations? Have we sent them all?"

    "Yes, Don Timoteo. The last of the invitations was for Don Placido Penitente days ago, along with Se?or Basilio and Isagani''s." I replied.

    "Excellent." exclaimed the don. "Let''s see if we can''t persuade this Don Penitente to invest."

    "I''m sure you will win him over." I affirmed.

    "Indeed, I will!" the don announced with a short laugh.

    "Don Timoteo," I called, "about Juanito, I was wondering..."

    "This again?" the don sighed. "I said we are through with this discussion. Let him do what he wants! You are his wife, and therefore you must respect his wishes!"

    "I know, Don Timoteo. But as his wife, I am only looking out for his well-being." I argued.

    "But is he worried about his well-being? You are wasting your time. Let us allow him to do what he wills."

    "But we can do something about it. I believe he can still be saved from his state. We only need to take the opium away and-"

    "LET. HIM. BE." the don roared, his eyes sharper than ever before. "Am I understood?"

    "Yes, papa." I conceded. "You are understood."

 Scene 6 - The Meeting at the Tavern

    Penitente''s methods of conducting business have never ceased to amaze me. Elusive, cautious and unpredictable: he always finds ways to be one step ahead of everybody, may it be a friend or a foe. He treats every matter, even the meager ones, with utmost care that he virtually never fails to cover every contingency in his affairs. Never have I met a man so sophisticated, so capable of creating the most elaborate and daring of schemes that he pulls them off without drawing the slightest attention of the government to himself. Practically speaking, he is a shadow behind the curtain, pulling the strings from behind the scenes.

    To be honest, I find myself utterly fortunate to be on his good side.

    One thing I found mind-boggling about him is that how in the world does he manage to maintain a loose alliance with the tulisanes of Luzon despite being under contract with the government - providing food for the prisoners in Bilibid and the soldiers in the capital city, which was all thanks to his granary business in Nueva Ecija serving as a front. Though under close scrutiny from authorities, not the slightest suspicion from the government was aroused in his seven years of being a covert arms dealer. Did he have a man inside the Malaca?ang? What sort of demon did he sell his soul to to pull off this kind of thing?

    I reached for my pocket watch inside my coat to check the time. It''s twenty-eight minutes past seven and he''s still nowhere to be seen. The tavern where we''re supposed to meet is starting to fill up with patrons and I''m afraid I''ll have to leave if he doesn''t appear until the last minute.

    "I am very sorry for the delay, Doct-!"

    With a sudden jolt, I immediately placed my hand on my holster beneath the coat, and turned to face the source of the voice.

    "Mierda! Watch where you''re pointing that thing!" warned the man.

    "Goddamn it! Will you stop appearing out of nowhere, Penitente!" I reprimanded him.

    "My apologies. I had to take a detour." he explained.

    "Who''s this?" I asked, acknowledging the presence of his companion wearing a camisa, with a salakot covering almost half of his face.

    I tried to get a glimpse of his features. By the looks of it, he seems to be much older than I am. He had eyes as sharp as the Chinese, a thin and narrow face, thin lips, a small mustache and a brown complexion. He is much taller than I am, and he has the built of a farmer.

    "Ahh, yes! Let me introduce you to my personal assistant. This is Perfecto Peralta, he is my....''attach��'' - I''m not even sure if that is the right term. But enough of that. I suppose it would be better if we talk inside the tavern, eh?" Penitente invited.

    "Attach��, huh? And why are we meeting in a tavern, anyway? It''s a place where gossips come and go." I answered in a nuanced tone.

    "Come on. You''ll see." countered Penitente with a smile, who led me by the shoulder inside the tavern.

    At the entrance, a man with a ragged coat sat near, as if guarding it. The man then said, "Good evening. The tavern is full right now and I''m afraid we cannot accomodate more patrons at this hour."

    Then, Placido, smiling, replied to him. "Not even for a friend of the bartender?" he said as he produced an odd coin from his pocket and presented it to the guard.

    "Oh. Well, in that case, this way please." replied the man, who, upon hearing Penitente''s response, stood up and opened the door for us. Curious, I thought to myself.

    "After you." invited Penitente as he showed me the door.

    As was expected, the tavern is packed with all sorts of people. Ilustrados wearing their coats, smoking cigar in their tables. Women in their fine dresses, serving food and drink to guests. And on some occasions, I spy some dock workers trying their luck with the ladies.

    However, as I looked around the place, I felt strange. Everything that''s happening at the moment. It felt so...artificial.

    "Welcome to The Zodiac Tavern." Penitente announced in Spanish.

    "Zodiac Tavern? Such an odd name for a tavern built here in the Philippines." I remarked.

    "That hurts my feelings. I was the one who gave it that name." Penitente answered in a sarcastically melodramatic way.

    "The owner has terrible taste for nam-....w-wait, so you own this place?" I inquired.

    "Yes. Something like that." he answered with a sly smile.

    "Then how come the guard in front of the fucking door didn''t recognize you?" I hissed, a little bit annoyed and confused.

    Hearing this, Penitente smiled. "It''s a long story. It''s just my style." he said, tapping his left temple with his index finger. As we were walking past a group of patrons seated at their tables, dining and talking amongst themselves, I noticed someone at the far end of the tavern. Behind the polished countertop made of narra, I saw a very beautiful woman. Her face was like an angel, veiled by shoulder-level, jet-black hair. Her eyes sparkled like stars. Her nose straight and perfect, and her lips red and sensual. For a Filipina, she was rather fairer than most girls - almost Russian-like. She wore an elegant dress - a cream-colored top matched with a long red skirt - her perfect bodily proportions showing in her clothes.

    "She''s something, isn''t she?" Penitente asked.

    "Yes. She is. Whoever her sweetheart is must be a very fortunate man." I remarked.

    "Aye. You want me to introduce you to her?" Penitente asked.

    "Get the fuck out of town, man! We''re here to talk business." I scoffed jokingly.

    "Ehh. Shut up. Come with me." Penitente invited as he walked towards the bar, the man wearing the salakot following closely behind without saying a word.

    By the time we arrived at the bar, Penitente immediately reached for a stool and sat facing the girl. I and the man in a salakot followed his example - him sitting next to me and I to Penitente.

    The woman was then arranging some wine bottles in a shelf when Penitente produced a cigar from his coat pocket, tucked it between his lips and said in a muffled voice, "Cristina, can you light this for me please?"

    "Gladly, Don Penitente." she answered sweetly as she reached for a box of matches just below the counter. Cristina gracefully struck the head of the match against the flint of the box and lit it with one stroke. As she tried to light the cigar, cupping her other hand around the small flame of the match, Penitente suddenly grabbed her free hand and gently massaged her forearm with his thumb. He then took the cigar from his mouth and on top of an ashtray with his free hand and let out a stream of smoke.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    "Ahh. Hands as soft and smooth like this one are hard to find nowadays in this country." remarked Penitente, who seemed to revel in his ecstasy.

    "Oh, stop it, Don Penitente. I can''t work like this." she answered playfully.

    "Later then, sweetheart?" he replied as he slowly released his hold of her. "Oh, uh, by the way Cristina,I''d like you to meet Doctor Basilio. He is one of my closest business partners so I want you to give him a warm welcome."

    "Good evening, doctor. My name is Cristina Dela Cruz. I am the barkeep of this tavern. Let me know of you require anything." she greeted with a smile.

    "A pleasure to meet you. I appreciate the gesture." I answered hastily, giving her only a quick glance before turning to Penitente. "I''m guessing she is not just a barkeep in this tavern."

    "An interesting observation." Penitente responded with an amused tone.

    I paused for a few moments before continuing the conversation. "I must say that your audacity is admirable, operating closely with the government while trading black market weapons behind their backs." I commented.

    "You''re right." he courageously declared. "For what would Spain''s excuse of a government do against me? I have bested Simoun in every regard! I am securely entrenched in the criminal underworld as I have corrupted every level in their ranks, and for crying out loud, they cannot even rid themselves of their problems within, so why should I worry?"

    "You''re not worried that your ''assets'' within the government will turn against you?" I asked.

    "Of course not! I always keep my...shall we say..."deterrence"...in check just in case any of them gets any funny ideas, so none will ever dare. I keep copies of our correspondences to make sure no one gets off the hook. I make sure they all get the message: If I go down, then we''ll all go down together. And that goes for you and Isagani as well." Placido sneered.

    "Is that right? If I remember correctly, I am your top buyer, and giving threats like that isn''t a smart move. You don''t want me moving my business somewhere else." I warned him.

    "You''re not getting my point, are you?" replied Penitente. "This is a precaution. It''s not like this is something new to you, now is it?"

    "Come now, are we not supposed to be business partners? Do we not help each other greatly? Why would you even arrive to such a conclusion?" I argued.

    "That''s just how it works in this business. We cover our own asses. There is no room for honor in our line of work. It''s just good business." Placido replied in a matter-of-fact tone, taking in a generous amount of air afterwards. He then turns his head towards Cristina, who was busy greeting and serving guests on the other end of the bar. "We''d slit our loved ones'' throats if it meant gaining an advantage, Basilio. That''s how far down we have gone, you and I, and you above all else knows that to be true. How many men, both innocent and guilty, have we antagonized in the name of power and money? How many friends have we lied to to get to where we are? Hundreds? Thousands? Tell me, have you not slandered and robbed your colleagues of their life''s work - their research - in order to get close to the king? Have I not sent many of my fellow Filipinos to their early graves and destroyed numerous lives to gain the power I now enjoy? You know, years back, we were exposed to the philosophies of the likes of Voltaire - that society must be established with the foundations of reason and, above all, morality - and we, ignorant as we come, accept these philosophies with open arms. Were those on the ''moral high ground'' made any difference in this country? I''ve been watching how this country change, and you know what I found? I found out that Niccolo Machiavelli made more sense."

    "And on that we can agree. We think alike. Our goals are aligned. We both want one thing and we can help one another get it. We both need each other. You have the manpower and weapons, we have the network of intelligence and connections."

    "You are smart as you are zealous, Basilio, and for that I greatly respect you. But I don''t believe we think alike in any regard." Placido replied with a wry smile. "Unlike you, I don''t see any reason to fight for people who have done nothing for me. I do not indulge in...Quixotism as much as you do, and for that I have decided to set these boundaries between us, despite us being...''fellow underlings'' of Simoun. Unlike you, I have no love for this country, this...jungle disguised as a nation. Do you remember the time when you and Isagani were working hard on establishing an academy for Castillan and a great number of your Filipino colleagues didn''t really actually gave a damn about the project, when in fact the project was FOR them? You see, I find it pointless to fight for people who do not have the will to win their own war themselves, so I''d rather look after my interests, thank you. I am more than willing to work with you, but not as an ally - just to be clear. I will provide the weapons that you need in exchange for your payment, and we go our separate paths. I want this to be a commensal relationship. This is nothing personal. I hope you understand that."

    "I see." I sighed. "Then so be it."

    "And that brings me to my agenda for today!" Placido butted in. "So, as you may well know, I am a very discreet man and I don''t want word about my activities coming out, especially the government. Therefore, I have arrived to a proposal that I think will benefit you and I. My small network of spies have gotten word of a secret police force being set up by the Malaca?an to find out who''s responsible for arming tulisanes and the rebels in Mindanao. I want you to track down and provide me the names of its members. You do this, and I shall grant you access to my high-caliber arsenal, all available to you at three-quarts the cost."

    "And why exactly would that entice me? I have enough money to buy weapons and ammunition to arm every able-bodied man from Nueva Ecija and Cavite and I still have enough to spare for my other undertakings." I asked, confused by this proposal.

    "Well, you can''t win a war with those pathetic guns, can you? Sooner or later, you''ll need heavy weapons and artillery because you have formidable enemies. If you''re thinking of getting high caliber weapons from other arms dealers, be my guest. Good luck winning a war with obsolete weapons. And also, need I remind you that if this threat isn''t given attention immediately it will compromise you as well? Who do you think the government will go after next once it destroys me? Don''t get me started with you bribing or fighting them off. Your small network of spies will not stand a chance. This current Captain-General is different." answered Placido in a subtly hostile way.

    "Alright, you have made a point. But do you not have contacts in the Malaca?an? Carambas, you even have a business partnership with the government! Why not use that to your advantage?!" I argued.

    He then leans closer to me before answering. "My reach is far and wide, but I can''t go very deep. This new Captain-General, this...Leonardo Montes is very cunning as he is discreet. There is not much information I can gather about him aside from his public affiliations...and this! I may be harboring one of the damned Captain General''s spies without my knowledge! I may have connections in the inner echelons of the Malaca?an, but as far as I can tell, they''re just...transactional in nature now because of a change in leadership that occured just last year. However, you, on the other hand...I heard your friend Isagani has made an acquaintance of the Captain General way back before your trip to the Philippines, not to mention you have the favor of the King of Spain!" Placido reasoned. "That''s a good start. You are in a good position to deal with these threats."

    "You do make a point." I agreed.

    "So are we agreed then?" he asked.

    Reluctantly, I replied. "Fine. It''s not like we have a choice. We''ll get the leads."

    "Splendid! Oh, and before I forget. I''d like to show you something." Placido continued as he clapped his hands two times in quick succession. "Gentlemen."

    At this command, the entire tavern fell silent. Strange, I thought. Are these actors? Has this been a performance all along?

    "What is this Placido? Explain yourself." I ordered him.

    "These are my men. Once you have the names of the members of the secret police, point me in the right direction and I''ll have them hunted down." Placido explained in a matter-of-fact tone.

    "All right." I answered in a nonchalant way. "And thus our deal is concluded."

    "Excellent." he exclaimed with delight. "Oh, and one more thing. Since we will be coordinating, I''ll assign Peralta as your point of contact for this undertaking. He''ll be your messenger if anything comes up. Also, if you need a word with the tulisanes, he''ll be more than happy to help you."

    "You know where the tulisanes are?" I asked Peralta. "Do you happen to know someone with the name Telesforo?"

    "Si, se?or. I fought alongside him during the time of the Captain-General Aquino." Peralta answered casually.

    "Can you lead me to him?" I asked.

    "Yes." he said.

    "So?" Penitente asked.

    I looked at Penitente and smiled. "The man knows Telesforo, and that''s just what we needed. Care to lend Peralta as my cochero for the meantime?"

    Placido smiled and replied. "We can arrange that."

 Scene 7 - Plans and Discussions

    It was almost the dead of night when I heard sounds of galloping outside on the street. I took a gander from my window to check who it was, and I saw a familiar carriage parking by the entrance of the hotel. Only this time, there seems to be a different cochero driving it - a frail man in a camisa wearing a salakot.

    A few seconds passed and Basilio exited the car, who then proceeded to have a few words with the new coachman before sending him on his way. He then looked up facing the window of the room I am observing from and gave me a slight nod before proceeding to the hotel entrance.

    It did not take long before I heard a knock on the door. I then immediately released the lock to grant Basilio access to the premises, who then came in storming like a madman and shut the door with a loud bang.

    "Goddamn it. We have a problem." Basilio exhaled as he stowed away his coat and revolver near his bedside table. He then proceeded to get a clean glass from the dining table and filled it with the remaining contents of the bottle of sherry I drank earlier.

    "I had assumed that whatever arrangements you had with Placido was concluded successfully judging by the lack of the members of the police on our doorstep." I jested. "Sit. Tell me what happened."

    "I''d rather stand, Isagani. Thank you. It...helps me gather my thoughts." answered Basilio as he took a huge sip of wine. "The bastard has been keeping the letters of our correspondences around with him, and he''s using it to blackmail us."

    "And how in the world can he do that?" I asked in a skeptical tone. "Those letters are purchase orders of weapons that are clearly addressed to him. Is he mad? He might as well turn himself in while presenting those letters as evidence. How is he supposed to blackmail us with that?"

    "He says that the new Captain-General is already on his tail." Basilio answered. "According to his spies, a secret police force has been allegedly established to hunt him down. By the way he puts it, it seems that they are already picking up on the evidence of black market firearms sale that are pointing towards him, and he wants us to track down all of its members. He threatens to give us up if he''s discovered and caught."

    "Tinamaan ng-! We can''t do what he wants! Our spies are already stretched." I protested. "Can''t he do that on his own? I mean, he already discovered the secret police. Why stop there?"

    "I don''t think he''d be this desperate if he can handle this by himself." argued Basilio. "Let''s play along for now. After all, it''s to our best interest that he isn''t caught. We need his weapons."

    "Ugh. Fair enough." I conceded. "I''ll see if I can hire more people."

    Basilio then proceeded to finish his drink in one big gulp. "How about you? Anything of note that happened while I was away?"

    "Indeed." I told him. "Paulita came here earlier in the afternoon."

    "Well, what an interesting thing indeed!" noted Basilio. "Did she say what purpose she had for visiting? Was she accompanied or was she alone."

    "She came alone...or so she says. She asked on behalf of Don Timoteo Pelaez if we could meet him in San Diego for a business proposal. The old man knows of our project to build a schoolhouse there."

    "And?" Basilio urged, as if expecting more from my answer. "Come on, my friend. You and Paulita were the only ones talking in this room, aren''t you? I refuse to believe that those were the ONLY things that transpired in this room."

    "Oh, you bastard! You and your innuendos." I jokingly scoffed. "Nothing of the kind, I swear! We cannot afford a scandal."

    "Really?" Basilio snickered. "What she did, talking to you alone and in private is a scandal in itself." Basilio argued. "You''re lucky the attendants here are not people who like to talk. Y-you do realize that she is just playing with you, right?"

    "I am aware of that." I assured him. "Why else would Don Timoteo send Paulita to do his dirty work if not to entice me to give in."

    "So what answer did you give her? About the proposal, I mean." Basilio asked.

    "I...really did not give an answer." I replied. "I told her that we will have to think about it once we hear it from Don Timoteo himself. Besides, it really just seemed that Paulita was just there for an invitation."

    "I see." Basilio commented. "Is that all? Are you sure she did not have another...''business proposal'' in mind?"

    "Again with the innuendos, Basilio." I sighed. "She brought up her sudden marriage to Juanito and I just shook it off like it was nothing. And...interestingly enough, Paulita mentioned of Don Timoteo''s partnerships with the diocesan corporations. I am not sure why she disclosed this to me, but...she did."

    "Well, it seems like someone''s trying to work you over one more time." Basilio laughed. He then went into a short pause before continuing. "You know, it''s strange, really. You treating her as nice as humanly possible despite what she''s done. After all these years, it seems that you''re still that ''puritan'' Juanito described you to be ten years ago." he said as he paced towards me.

    "I''d rather be a decent human being whenever I can." I answered.

    Basilio smiled. "I don''t doubt that." he said as he gave me a quick pat on the shoulder.

    "So what''s the plan going to be?" I asked.

    "One thing is for sure : we need more eyes and ears around the towns, specifically around Pugadlawin and Sta. Mesa." Basilio remarked. "Our ignorance to your uncle''s death was a clear sign of our hubris and therefore lapse in judgement. We also need to establish spy rings around key strategic locations in Luzon: Pampanga, Bulacan, Cavite, Nueva Ecija and here in Batangas. We need to be careful, though. There is a possibility that we may have introduced some of Placido''s spies into our fold, otherwise he wouldn''t have known about your uncle''s official postmortem examination. It is plausible since he is an established syndicate leader here in Luzon. The same cannot be said for the secret police that we''re asked to deal with. We need to tread carefully."

    "How do you suggest we deal with this problem?" I asked.

    "Hmm...that is a tricky one." Basilio replied, scratching his chin as he contemplated on the question, pacing to and fro the window.

    "Well, we can try to isolate individual spy rings in each region to limit the movement of information. You know, maintain anonymity of the members of each ring to their counterparts in other regions." I suggested.

    "We can do that, but I am certain one way or another Placido will pick up on our shenanigans. Isolating our spies would be too conspicuously unusual for him not to notice. Remember, he might have spies among our spies. He''ll think we''re trying to cut him off." Basilio retorted.

    "There''s no need to worry if we can be subtle about it." I reasoned.

    "And how shall we do that, aber?" he challenged.

    "Simple." I replied with a smile. "Just do it under the pretense of precaution against the secret police and we''ll be fine."

    Basilio paused, then paced some more as he ponders upon my answer.

    "Hmm. You know, that would make sense." he replied, finally conceding. "That would do for now."

    "That''s the most condescending ''that would do for now'' I''ve heard from you in years. What, you can''t believe that I''m doing the thinking this time?" I jokingly taunted him.

    "Of course I''ll set my pride aside if your suggestion makes sense, Isagani. Scrutiny is the key to a successful plan, my friend." he responed. "That is how we will proceed in the meantime, until we can sort out a way to go through some papers in the Malaca?an that will help us identify our targets. Placido may have the same idea, so we must do it as quickly as we can."

    "Well, what happened to the ''mutual interests'' that you''ve been yapping about the two of you back then?" I replied with a sneer.

    "I was hoping I would be able to convince him to join our fight. He would''ve been a valuable ally. I suppose it was wishful thinking on my end." he answered in a low voice. "But then again, him providing our weapons for a price is better than nothing at all."

    "Ehhh, I guess you''re right." I conceded. "By the way, what are we going to do with the port authorities here? They''ll make a problem for us once our shipment arrives from America next month. It''s not like we can just have them murdered, you know. That would be enough excuse for the Captain-General to declare martial law and we don''t want that."

    "Of course we won''t do that. That would be folly." he remarked with aversion. "What we can do, though, is to frame them for doing something illegal. With what, well...let me think about that."

    "Possession of high-caliber weapons would do nicely." I suggested.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    "No. If we do that, the government will suspect an insurrection. That will give the government enough excuse to declare martial law as well. We can''t risk it." Basilio parried.

    "How about racketeering? That would be more fitting, don''t you think? Considering what they did last time." I suggested anew.

    "That''s hard to prove. Very hard to prove. Weren''t you paying attention to the mariner back at the ship?" Basilio reproached. "Well, I have an idea though. I''m not entirely sure, but we can try...wait, I have it. Aha! Eureka!"

    "What?" I asked, curious about his idea.

    "Drug possession." Basilio answered. "It''s the oldest trick in the book, but this, I think would suffice to remove them permanently. Remember the decree the Captain-General had passed one month after he assumed office?"

    "Yes, that''s the ban on opium, right?" I answered.

    "In essence, it just meant that there would be stricter implementation of the rule. It''s not like it was never illegal in the first place, but you get the point. The idea is simple: we bribe a few men from the Civil Guard, give an anonymous tip to their commanding officers to conduct a search on the residences of the port authorities and have the bribed Civil Guard plant the evidence while they''re conducting the investigation. Of course, they won''t say no to that. They''ll do anything for the right price."

    "And what if the port officials tried to bribe their way out of that?" I challenged.

    "Then we will tip the press as well about that search." Basilio answered. "The news will be so big and shocking that they will have to incarcerate these bastards at least for a while to avoid a scandal. Besides, no alferez would say no to the praise that shall be heaped upon by the newspapers to him after that bust and the newspaper publishers would not say no to a story that juicy. On top of that, the newspaper companies'' interests are not aligned with that of the current Captain-General, so they''ll use every single bit of information they have to hurt his reputation."

    "Superb assessment of the situation! Old man, I can hug you right now. You, sir, are a devious hijo de puta." I exclaimed with joy.

    "Why, thank you for the compliment, my faithful Sancho Panza." he retorted with an amused smile. "That takes care of it, I suppose. Anything else we might be missing?"

    "A minor one. The birthday celebration at San Diego. I believe we haven''t any presents to give to the celebrant yet." I said.

    "Is that so? Well, let us commission an artisan to make a wooden dummy gun immediately then - just like you''ve suggested. We still have at least ten days before we depart for San Diego."

    "Ahh, it''s so unoriginal! I don''t think the kid would appreciate something like that." I commented.

    "I wasn''t aware that you were a virtuoso of pleasantries, Isagani." Basilio mocked. "We haven''t the time to spare for such trifles. We give what we can for the sake of formality and be done with it. But don''t worry. I''ll order a wooden revolver, one with an actual rotating chamber since you seem so keen on acting like his father. Does that sound good to you, lover boy?"

    "You think that can be done in time?" I asked.

    "I don''t know. Maybe? What do we care? I''m warning you Isagani. No funny business with Paulita this time. We''re not travelling all the way to San Diego just for that, for fuck''s sake. Remember that we are going there to gauge the current political situation and because of a business proposal and I cannot and will not look after you like a kid. I have to deal with this capitan municipal named Florentino dela Pe?a as well since I am spearheading this project. He is supposed to discuss his proposal for a design he believes that would catch our interests." He then paused to scan around. "Now where did I put that fucking letter?"

    "I believe it''s placed on top of your bedside table." I told him.

    "Oh." Basilio exclaimed as he proceeded to inspect the table and went through all documents searching for the capitan municipal''s letter. "I believe he mentioned something like a ''classroom on wheels'' in his letter, or at least that''s how I remember it presented."

    "A mobile classroom, huh? Interesting. I wonder what that would look like." I continued as Basilio went through the small pile of papers looking for the letter. "I would imagine it would be like those huge musical boxes drawn by horses in American town fares, but instead of a musical box it has books and teaching supplies."

    "Ahh, yes. I remember he mentioned something similar in his letter." affirmed Basilio. "I believe that''s where he got his inspiration for that mobile classroom."

    "Fascinating." I complemented.

    "Is that so?" Basilio answered with a rather mocking smile. "Isagani complementing a Spaniard? Now that''s some news!"

    "To him to whom the credit is due." was my soft response. Basilio then pulled out a sheet of paper from his pile. "Aha! Here it is!" he said as he turned up the wick of the lamp near his table and introduced the letter to the light, and began reading (in Spanish):

    Most Respectable Messrs. Basilio and Isagani,

    It is with great pleasure that I write this letter to the both of you, being the men who I believe who have a great vision for this country. My associates from Spain have always mentioned your noble advocacy in making education accessible to everyone even to the ones who have no money to pay for it - and for that you have my support. I understand how men of your standing value your time more than anything, and for that reason I have tried to make this letter as brief as possible to get right to the point.

    I have always believed that the future of this country rests with the young ones, and as such we have been planning to establish schoolhouses for children in Pasig that are run and funded by our local government, but the repulsiveness of the curacy and the people in the higher circles of the government has made it impossible to accomplish despite our sufficient resources and manpower, they, accusing the endeavor as "a waste of space and resources","the building plan is unsafe" or "inappropriate" and some other outlandish and pretentious reasons to veto such a sensible proposal. I believe you understand how our honorable officials work in this country.

    Basilio snickered.

    "What''s funny?" I asked.

    "Nothing." Basilio answered, smiling. "I just love how he wrote the word ''honorable'' blatantly in bold. He''s very honest and direct. I like him already. Anyway, moving on!"

    To work around these ridiculous guidelines set by officials and the parochial corporations regarding these schools, I came up with a plan to create a smaller version of the classroom, one that can be set up and broken down anywhere and anytime. It works just like any puppet booth carts you can see in American town fares, but instead of puppets and a small stage, it is equipped with a foldable chalkboard and books and writing materials relevant to the established syllabus. On top of circumnavigating every set ''guidelines'', it is significantly cheaper to assemble compared to a classroom, and it can reach out to more children compared to the traditional method due to its mobility. I know this concept may seem strange to you, but it''s fair to note that great teachers such as Plato and Jesus Christ have used to teach in public places and the recorded results speak for themselves.

    With respect to our aforementioned predicament, on behalf of the municipality of Pasig, I implore you to lend us your support to our project and recommend it to the Captain-General, who I believe has Se?or Isagani as his advisor on matters of public works. I know what we''re asking might be too much, but we have nobody else to turn to.

    P.S. I would be attending the feast in San Diego prepared by our gracious host, Don Timoteo Pelaez and I''m sure respectable persons such as yourselves would be invited there. It would be a delight to meet the both of you in person. If you would so oblige, I''ll be more than happy to discuss this matter to you in further detail.

    Truly yours,

    Florentino dela Pe?a

    "And...that''s it." Basilio said as he folded the letter. "What''s the matter with you? You seem dumbfounded with disbelief."

    "Unbelievable." I sighed. "Public servants like him resorting to such measures just for him to be able to perform his job properly."

    "You''ve been in on our business for ten years and this still surprises you?" Basilio remarked.

    "Uhhh...it''s not like that. You know what, it seems like talking to these elites burdens you a lot, so I''ll do you a favor and talk to him myself. After all, I am in charge of the school projects and I am interested in such unique ideas."

    "By all means, my good friend. Talking to these people was never my strongest suit." Basilio answered. "I understand how things like these get you excited, but I implore you to not get carried away too much by this. We are on a tight schedule and we have more important business to attend to in San Diego. Placido will be there as well, so we need to be prepared just in case."

    "All right, all right. I get it. I''ll have my men scour the town for Placido''s spies. Consider it done." I answered with a short laugh before pausing to solemnify the moment. "By the way, have you...uhh...any leads to her case?"

    "Leads to what?" he asked.

    "To Juli''s murder, my man." I replied, slightly annoyed.

    He did not answer for about a minute, as he was reaching for the bottle of sherry to refill his glass.

    "Nothing of note so far, I''m afraid. No word from my contacts as well. I can''t even say if it was actually a murder at this point." Basilio sighed. "T-the accounts of eyewitnesses that day are uniform and compelling, all of them pointing to one thing - Juli did jump off the window of the convento. But I keep asking myself: why would Juli take her own life like that? It doesn''t make sense. I tried to ask the eyewitnesses who were in that convento on the day Juli died and they won''t answer a damn thing. It''s as if their tongues are tied, coerced to make a vow of silence about the matter. You remember that day, don''t you? I did the asking three days after we hid Simoun''s body and found out about his treasure. The people who were in that convento that day are hiding something, I know it."

    "Have you considered asking the witnesses again, Basilio?" I suggested.

    "I do. I am gathering as many of them as I can." he replied.

    "I suspect a foul play, and I have been telling you this for a long time. It''s just too suspicious a suicide. If the witnesses still do not cooperate with you, then I suggest you start asking questions from other people affiliated to her. Friends, relatives or acquaintances who might have known her whereabouts before her death." I suggested. "You mentioned she had an employer before, yes?"

    "Yes." he affirmed. "One from which I bought Juli out of servitude. An old lady from Tiani who is called Hermana Penchang."

    "Perhaps she knows something. Maybe she can help. Shall I send someone to ''escort'' her to us?" I offered.

    "No. I''ll see to it myself. I''ll just drop by her residence and ask some questions - if she''s still alive, that is. I want to be subtle about this. Tiani is a few ways away from San Diego, so I don''t think it will be much of an inconvenience. I''d rather have your men check on her safety instead. She might give me a good lead. I''ll give you the address if you would oblige." he answered. "What about you? Any word around relating to your uncle''s case?"

    "No. I''m afraid the greater clues elude me." I replied. "However, I did some sleuthing on the report your contact has given about my uncle and I happen to come across a name in a half-charred note addressed to my uncle - that of a man named Perez, I think that was his name. There are sections of that note that were impossible to read, but in it, the words "Spaniard", "hide" and "arrest" caught my attention. I''m suspecting that ''the Spaniard'' he is talking about is Simoun, because the bastard was being actively pursued by the Civil Guard at the time. Perez must have warned my uncle to burn the note to avoid implicating themselves to the conspiracy, which, apparently, my uncle did not - or at least failed to do so."

    "Very plausible theory." Basilio commended. "But does it not occur to you that ''the Spaniard'' could also mean Don Tiburcio, you know? He IS a Spaniard, after all. Your uncle may have had the misfortune of being caught in the crossfire between two...lovers."

    "It is unlikely that Do?a Victorina knows of her old husband''s whereabouts. I noticed that she didn''t put too much effort into it, almost completely relying on me to find her husband, so I am not really confident in that possibility. But who knows? However, one thing is clear - I need to find Perez. He may know something about my uncle''s death and give us some answers. Judging by the state of the note when it was found, I''m assuming that Perez would be in hiding, if he''s lucky enough to not be killed."

    "I see. Good enough." Basilio remarked. "We can talk about this further tomorrow. For now I need to rest. The day''s events were quite a handful to say the least.

 Scene 8 - Francisco dela Cruz

    "Come on, Francisco! We''re late for class! We''re dead if we don''t get to the roll call in time." screamed Quintino as he jogged the sidewalks leading to the Ateneo campus in the night, heaving heavily as he was galloping like a horse along the pavement.

    "Wait! Slow down!" I gasped as I tried to catch up to him - my stamina almost depleted.

    "Ah, carambas! We won''t make it if you keep that up!" he complained with a tone of impatience, still running as fast as he could.

    "I can''t go on, Quintino!" I yelled back at him, gasping for air. "I feel like...my lungs...gonna rupture..."

    "Well, I''m not waiting for you. I''ve been marked two times for being late. I AM NOT GOING TO PAY TWO PESOS AGAIN!" he replied as he gained more and more distance as the strength of my feet started to escape me.

    "Damn it, he actually left me." I muttered under my breath, trying to recoup my strength with long and deep respirations.

    Tonight is not a particularly good night for a class. In fact, today''s not a good day for anything at all. Curses! Today was an unusually hot day - it was as if the May weather refuses to release the Philippines from its clutches - and it prevented me from having a good afternoon sleep for my schedule. This would be my first mark of absence in my Latin class this semester, all because I am late in showing up for the roll call, and it''s only halfway through June! Knowing the professor, I''d need to cough up a peso or two to make up for this and my ate (big sister) would not be too happy if she finds out about my marked absence nor the money that I''m about to spend because of that.

    And it did not help that I''ve been left alone in the house for months now with no one to borrow money from, because the one hundred pesos she has left me to last the month before she went to work in Batangas is now down to ten pesos. Well, being a student of Arts and Trades, I deemed it wise to put my knowledge to practice and take risks in engaging in business like an entrepreneur would, and so I did. I was so confident that I could increase my holdings, but the enterprise me and Quintino invested in was unfortunately put down to the ground and collapsed.

    Damn that Quintino. I knew I shouldn''t have bet on the white cock.

    But then again, I cannot blame him for the bet he had made on our behalf. The white cock was bigger than its opponent, that it seems unlikely that the odds will be against us. But somehow, we still managed to lose that one hundred fifty peso bet when the smaller one managed to impale the neck of our contender with its tari when it pounced.

    Sheer, dumb luck. It was a devastating thing to have lost our ''investments'' looking back, so I just console myself with the thought that it was somehow a penance offering for placing a bet without dedicating it to a saint for luck. Anyway, sooner or later our fortune is sure to change one of these days. I just know it.

    After a short while of resting my feet, I regained my strength and decided to walk away from the campus grounds and towards the pharmacy on the other side of the road. This is my only class tonight and I''m late anyway, so I might as well make use of my time on  productive endeavors. If I can''t make it to class, I might as well make some money.

    And like a bolt of lightning, an idea crossed my mind and decided to go to the house of Se?or Mercado, the owner of the general store I once worked for, to see if he has a job for me at his warehouse. Last I heard, his night watchman resigned from his work a few days ago to try his luck in Spain after he''s saved enough money to secure a passport and to cover the other expenses on the trip, so I suppose it wouldn''t hurt if I tried asking Se?or Mercado for a quick one-time job as his watchman for the meantime since, after all, he needed someone to guard the warehouse. But as I''m making my way to his estate, I just had this weird feeling that there''s some important matters that I missed to address. But I just try to shake off the thought - it''s just probably my anxiety acting up again, anyway.

    Se?or Mercado is a generous man, and I was fortunate enough to have had him as my employer - allowing me to work as a store clerk whenever I don''t have classes. He is a considerate man, always giving me an extra peso or two as a bonus to my daily wages so that I won''t be lacking in school, and unlike the other Spanish entrepreneurs here in Manila, he is a caring soul and treats me and his other employees like family. To be honest, he was actually more fatherly to me than my real father, and I owe him a great deal for helping me and my sister get our primary and secondary education.

    As I walked towards his residence, I entertained my idle mind with a plethora of thoughts and ideas.

    As a start, I find the reinstatement and approval of the night class requests a very odd thing, considering the Jesuits don''t usually grant these sorts of petitions their blessings, not to mention that these privileges are often reserved for students from certain fields - like medicine - and to add to that, the Captain General is reported to be adding more soldiers in Intramuros in anticipation of bolder attacks from a band of tulisanes, and therefore curfew is expected to be implemented. And yet the petitions for night classes didn''t seem to hit some friction.

    But then again, it''s not my business to care. Besides, this is Intramuros, and this place is essentially a fortress on its own, so why should I worry? These night classes enabled me to get a job in a pharmacy just a few steps away from my school during the day. Three pesos for a day''s work as a store clerk is quite generous, considering all I ever did was assist the pharmacist in selling medicine and sorting out the books and receipts.

    Another thing that peeks my interest is that the new Captain General seems to be very...lax on the citizenry, unlike his predecessor. In such a short time, he was able to rally the people of the Philippines under his banner of a benevolent and just leadership. I admire His Excellency''s liberal thinking and openness to criticism, because in my opinion, it helps in regaining the public''s trust after all the shenanigans the former Captain General did to this country. Back then, during the time of our former Captain General Antonio Aquino, I was more worried that we''re more likely to be mugged by the Guardia Civil rather than being attacked by tulisanes due to the fact that the Captain General Aquino did not take criticisms well, and so immense power and authority was bestowed upon law enforcement and the Civil Guard to ensure no one speaks out against him, effectively undoing the efforts of the late Captain General Ramon Montenegro, who was Aquino''s predecessor and a stern advocate of freedom of speech.

    Speaking of freedom of speech, lately I have noticed a great deal of change with the newspapers sold on the stands. For one, I noticed there are lesser pages on the papers that are about that old oaf Don Custodio and more about the young Pasig capitan municipal Florentino dela Pe?a, a rumored mestizo from a somewhat prominent Spanish family and a graduate of Philosophy. He was said to have won against Alejandro Severino by a large margin in the recent council election, effectively cutting down the generations-long dominance of the Severino family in Pasig.

    Another thing that I noticed is the new publisher in town, who made their first release in May last year. "Diario de Manila" (The Manila Journal), if I remember its name correctly. What''s very curious about this is that on their first month, a lot of the stands here in Intramuros alone has sold out hundreds of copies of the Diario de Manila newspapers, almost deposing the El Grito as the leading newspaper publisher that May - which, during that time, the widened conscription of Filipinos into the army was active, and rumors regarding coup d''etats and collaborations of high-ranking officials with the Americans was at an all-time high. Diario de Manila was generally unpopular among the common classes, but they were a fresh change of pace for their prospective readers - the intellectuals - and their news are more objective than their counterparts, which was praised widely by a number of ilustrados and members of the principalia in many municipalities for being brave in speaking out the truth despite the threat of arrest by the Captain-General Aquino''s lackeys, because at the time, the Captain-General''s office was being implicated in a conspiracy that the Philippines is secretly being sold to the Americans - which, after the appeal of our now Captain General Leonardo Montes to the high courts in Madrid nine months after, was actually proven true. One other notable thing about them is that the Diario de Manila, unlike El Grito or the other competition, is more oriented on local news rather than overseas, and as such, changed the way people see news on the papers - and to think that the editor-in-chief of Diario de Manila is of pure Spanish descent.

    Lately the average learned Filipino has grown surprisingly scrutinizing of news following the expos�� of the Diario de Manila journalist Mauricio Vida?ez regarding the embellishments made in the articles by a certain El Grito journalist named Ben-Zayb, which happened in September of last year. The expos�� revealed the tragic death of forty-four Filipino conscripts and Spanish officers who were sent on an expedition to hunt down the tulisanes hiding in the mountains near Tiani, which were reported by Ben-Zayb as a success by the government, when in fact what really happened was that the expedition was a complete disaster and the mismanagement and and ineffective leadership of the commanding officers led to their demise. Vida��ez''s claim was backed by official documents - casualty reports, withdrawal orders and the like -  purposely hidden from the public, which was quite a scandal in those days. And it didn''t help that the office of the Captain-General was put into question because of the rumors of his collaboration with the Americans. It was also explained in the expos�� that prior to the expedition, the Spanish field officers have been begging for additional troops to properly engage the tulisanes, which by the accounts of the scouts number twofold the size of the forty-four soldiers, but was dismissed by the Captain General Aquino without any further explanation, suggesting his contribution to the downfall of the expedition.

    The news took almost two pages of newspaper, and was probably the biggest one at the time and it caused quite a stir in Manila. Ben-Zayb, the established ''thinking head'' of the Philippines, was mercilessly destroyed by the systematic debunking of a fresh journalist, and from an underdog newspaper publisher no less. The ''thinking head'' of the Philippines was now caught between a rock and a hard place. However, since El Grito was a propaganda house for the Aquino leadership at the time and Ben-Zayb its lapdog, the infamous journalist was left alone in peace, and the newspaper publisher in question remained operational to this day. The journalist Mauricio Vida?ez was jailed in an undisclosed location for charges of sedition, and was never heard from again until Montes came to power. News of Vida?ez being summarily executed went around, but Diario de Manila continued delivering its news objectively despite their persecution. Recently though, Vida?ez was confirmed to have been released from prison, safe and sound, and is still working for Diario de Manila.

    And from then on, journalism in the Philippines was never the same.

    And with that final thought, I finally reached the doorstep of Se?or Mercado. For such a late time, the enormous house was still brightly lit and the windows wide open. From where I stood, I can smell the aroma of ham, fried pork, sarciado, the smell of adobo and sinigang being cooked, and...yes...that smell...pinakbet...Elena''s favorite...

    It didn''t take long when Teresa, Elena''s wet nurse, exited the kitchen to throw out some chicken blood when she took a quick glance outside of the house and noticed me.

    "Oy, Kiko!" she called out to me, smiling. "Ali na dire! Mangaon na ta!" which I believe is an invitation for me to come and eat. Ahh...Aling Teresa, as always, talking to me in Visayan just to mess with me.

    "Wa sigue! Mequeni pa! Atin cung sabian (All right! But come here first! I have something to tell you)" I replied in Kapampangan to reciprocate with her play with dialects. "Pota na cu mangan! (I''ll dine with you later!)

    "Say what again, dong?!" she replied in Tagalog, sounding a bit annoyed. "No need to call me ''puta'' for no reason!"

    "That''s ''pota'', Nanay Teresa. That means ''later''." I replied in Tagalog, snickering.

    "Ahh. I see. Good! Because I do not tolerate a bad mouth and I will not hesitate to bathe you in chicken blood and ruin those fine clothes." replied Teresa, who then carefully poured the contents of the basin filled with chicken blood on a ditch not too far from the kitchen.

    "Oh, why would I speak ill of my foster mother?!" I replied with slight frustration.

    "Well, you''ve always been a bit of a rascal!" she replied with a short laugh. After she was done with her task, she then proceeded to walk towards me, and, with arms outstretched, wrapped her arms around my torso.

    "Oh, come here, you! You have no idea how I''ve missed you, hijo!" she exhaled as I wrapped my arms around her frail and aging body.

    "You smell as exquisite as ever." I remarked. "I see you''ve now donned the aroma of pinakbet."

    "Oh, you little wretch." she replied as she affectionately kissed my forehead and caressed my cheeks. "If you weren''t so rowdy, I would''ve adopted you by now."

    "Perhaps. But you have to admit, you''d have the most handsome son in the world if you did." I replied jokingly.

    "Oh, stop it, you! That pompous behavior is unbecoming of an ilustrado." she laughingly rebuked. "Come, we have a feast prepared. Se?or Mercado will be pleased to meet you."

    "Uhhh...out of curiosity...what''s with all this food? What''s the occassion?" I asked.

    "Don''t tell me you''ve forgotten." she answered with a hint of mild shock.

    "Forgotten what?" I replied.

    I then start to think hard, trying to remember what I missed. And then, I realized...

    ...Of course. The pinakbet. I can already smell its aroma paces away. She usually orders a cauldronful of such on these occassions...

    "It''s Elena''s birthday, isn''t it?" I exclaimed, unsure of my answer.

    "You''ve forgotten it, haven''t you?! She just told you yesterday!" she angrily answered. "Ahhh, you''ve been too absorbed with that studies of yours, you''ve forgotten the most special day in your childhood friend''s life!"

    "Not really! It''s just that...ugh, all right, I actually forgot it. It''s just that didn''t think too much of it. I thought she was just joking about this. I mean, a feast in the middle of the night?!" I explained.

    "Oh, don''t worry. I thought so, too. Yet, here we are." Teresa agreed. "I''m her wet nurse, and yet I no longer understand what''s going on in that dalaga''s (lass''s) head."

    "But can I still come inside to eat, though? I''m quite famished."

    "Well, sure, you''re always welcome here." she replied. "Come, go on ahead inside. I''ll just finish up with the tinola. Elena is waiting in the living room." she continued as she led me inside the house.

    "Waiting? How come? Her reply didn''t sound serious that time! Oh boy, here we go again." I sighed.

    "She''s been acting strange-like ever since that lad Carlito''s been a regular visitor here." Teresa remarked. "For two straight years, I tell you! And still you choose to do nothing! What a fool!"

    "Elena and I are close friends, nanay." I answered.

    "Are you, now?" she replied with a challenging tone.

    "By the way," I exclaimed, trying to change the subject, "is Se?or Mercado home?" I asked.

    "He''s finishing his rounds with his patients. You know...the usual stuff. You know how busy doctors are these days. So many people getting sick." she answered.

    "I see. Well then, I''ll go on ahead upstairs and talk to Elena. And please, not a word! I''m dead if she finds out I forgot her birthday!" I replied, going ahead to the living room as instructed.

    "If I were you, that would be the least of my worries. Think about what I told you!" was her reply before she went back to work, leaving my mind brimming with thoughts.

    The way to the living room was quite tedious, as I needed to pass through the dining hall, which was peopled by attendants going to and from the kitchen, through a flight of stairs going to the second floor, and lastly, beyond a small library full of old books on Latin literature, for Se?or Mercado is a patron of philosophy. As I approached, on the couch was seated a young woman with bright brown eyes, a straight nose, a fair skin and a pinkish pair of lips crowned with jet-black, wavy hair. She wore a cream-colored camisa and a blue skirt. Her looks are nothing short of angelic, and she had this serene radiance that is as warm as the early morning sun.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Elena and I go way back. I was thirteen when I was first introduced into the Mercado household as a helper in the estate along with my sister, who was twenty at the time and served as a cook. Having been orphaned at a young age after our father, who was a Spanish military official, was murdered in cold blood by a drunkard passing by the barracks where he was stationed and our mother, who is a Filipina, died of a heart attack, me and my sister had to rely on each other''s strengths and wits to survive. It''s also worth mentioning that a month after our mother died, our belongings and our estate were seized due to my father''s alleged involvement in a conspiracy to overthrow the government, and so we were left with nothing but the clothes we wore and a few family heirlooms. We were thrown out into the streets of San Diego - cold, hungry and with no one to turn to for help. But then Se?or Mercado, who was at the time the town physician in San Diego after it''s former physician Dr. Espada?a disappeared, took pity on us and took us in as servants.

    It was during the time Se?or Mercado ''hired'' us when I first met Elena, who is the same age as I am. The moment I laid eyes on her, I was outright stunned, for she was a creature of wondrous beauty, and at that moment, I just had a huge admiration for her. However, it was something that I kept as a secret even today. I like her, but she is a goddess among the boys, and an object of envy among girls - and I don''t even have a family name to be proud of. Why would she even deign to notice me? But as the years went by, Elena showed me that she was the kind of woman that will break all of those expectations.

    She wasn''t like the other typical Spanish or Filipino girls from the higher circles of society, for she treats people whom society labels to be below her with sincere kindness and generosity - she even treated me like an equal! At first, I was shocked by how cordial she was when she''s addressing me - as if I was never a servant in her house. Oftentimes, usually whenever I''m chopping up firewood, she has this habit of striking up conversations with me and tell stories about her life in Spain. I was a very quiet kid back then and I wasn''t much for talking, not to mention that I didn''t know much Spanish, but Elena compensated for this with her cheerful and talkative attitude - and the scraps of Tagalog that she had learned from her father, who learned the language through years of interacting with Filipino patients. She loved to talk about anything under the sun, and I loved to listen. Everytime she gets the chance, she''d chat me up like I was the most interesting person in the world. And of course, I would oblige. Would I say no to the girl that I most admire? With this, our relationship started to grow and our bond gradually strengthened, and before we even knew it, we became good friends.

    As we grew older and became fonder of one another, our relationship grew more intimate, and all that time we were friends, I never told her how I feel. I was scared to death on what would possibly happen if she finds out, so I never gave it a thought and acted like it was nothing. She was already endeared and comfortable with me, what else could I ask for?! We''d covertly play mock games of revesino in her room, have fun smoking cigars, steal from her father''s wine stores and secretly get drunk. Sometimes we''d sneak out at night, climb up the roof of the house and lay back watching the stars of the night sky from there as we talk about many things - including our secrets. She''d always tease me during our nights on the roof, always poking fun at my crooked lower teeth, and I with her quirks. She would also teach me Spanish, and I in turn taught her Tagalog and a bit of Kapampangan. She''s a fast learner. In just two years of teaching her, she''s able to argue with me or any Filipino for that matter in Tagalog.

    During our birthdays, we''d have this custom wherein we buy each other gifts - she''d usually give me expensive ones, affluent as she is, and in exchange I''d buy her with whatever my modest salary as a pharmacy scribe can afford. In a manner of speaking, one would not call this a ''fair trade''. Damn, even I feel cheated on her behalf. There are even times that I''d miss her birthday just because I''d forgotten about it.

    But she didn''t mind. Hell, she never complained. Not once. Not ever. She is the kind of woman who''d give you a silver pocket watch and receive an embroidered handkerchief in exchange and she''d still be thrilled about it. And for that, I treasure her greatly. Even though there are times when she really annoys me with her antics, or the fact that she is probably the sassiest friend I''ve had in my entire life...or the thought that despite all the times we''ve shared, after all this time, I am but a good friend to her and nothing more...I don''t mind. I''m willing to look past that, because she is just that important to me.

    "Hey." I called out in Spanish. "Happy birthday, fart-face."

    "Hmph!" she whimpered as she turned herself away, trying to avoid my stare.

    "What? That upset you already?" I asked. "I was barely even mean to you! Aww, did that hurt, my dea...wait...a-are you actually mad at me?!"

    "Oh, am I mad at you Kiko?! Of course I''m not!" she roared in Tagalog. "I just overheard you talking to Teresa earlier and you just outright admitted that you forgot that today''s my birthday! Oh no, don''t worry. I am not mad. I''m furious!" she replied with the wrath of a thousand hells. "Jose Francisco Esteban Perez y Dela Cruz, I can''t believe that you would do this to me....AGAIN! And on my 21st birthday no less!"

    She then took a deep breath before continuing, "But I am an understanding person, and since I am a forgiving friend, I will give you a chance to explain. Do you have an excuse?"

    My heart skipped a beat. I didn''t know she was able to eavesdrop on us from this part of the house. Damn, she is still as keen as a bat!

    She has this very distinct antic that I''m all too familiar with. The sharpness in her words...her calling me by my full name is just very ominous in its own right that it just sends shivers down my spine.

    She then stood up and stormed towards me, her face fuming in anger.

    "Come on now, what''s your excuse this time, huh?!" she sternly demanded. "No, actually, let me guess what you''re going to tell me this time: ''oh, I aM sO sOrRy, eLEna, i''Ve beEn tOo BuSy wITh mY sTUdies lAtEly, tOo BuSy mEMoRiZinG tHiS aNd thAT, sO I kINd oF fOrgOT toDaY is yOur bIrtHdAY!''" she mocked. "You''ve been doing this to me every single time since you studied in college, Kiko! Every. Single. Time! Here I am, disappointing my other friends and changing my plans in the hopes that I can celebrate with you THIS TIME!

    ''Oh, papa, Kiko told me that he has work during the day and he''s taking his classes at night. I want him to be able to attend on my birthday. He said he would be available after class at eleven. Can we move the celebration late in the evening instead?''.

    And what do I get? You visit our house in the middle of the night, and I, seeing you walking down our front door, believed that this time, you have remembered - but surprise, surprise! No! You forgot! You always do, for the past five years! You probably just went here to borrow money from papa again!"

    I was taken aback, as I''ve never seen her this upset over a birthday celebration before. We''ve had a few childish quarrels before about this and I expect it to be just the same tonight because she never makes a big deal out of these things, but tonight she''s unusually cross and I just can''t figure out why!

    "I am sorry I forgot, all right? I know how frustrated you are right now-"

    "Oh, you have no idea how frustrated I am right now, Francisco! Believe me!" she interrupted.

    "Look, would I have missed this celebration had I known you were actually serious about yesterday? I didn''t think too much of it because it didn''t seem then that this feast would actually materialize. Besides, how could I have possibly anticipated that-"

    I paused, trying to process what she had just said a while back.

    "What?!" she asked. "Come on, out with it!"

    "Wait a minute...did you just say that you went through with those last minute changes...just for me?"

    "W-what?! O-of course not! I don''t remember saying anything to that effect! How dare you assume that!" she adamantly protested. "And why are you smiling?!"

    "What?! It''s nothing! I''m just happy to see you! It''s not like I''m saying that you fancy me or anything. Anyway, if you wanted me to come, you could have just shown me you were serious!" I complained as my eyebrows met in my bewilderment.

    "I WAS serious!" Elena parried.

    "Elena, when I told you ''I might be available after my night class at 11, can I still come?'', you replied with ''Oh yes, of course! I live to serve at the pleasure of the king! 11 it is! Why not?! Let me just tell my other friends the good news!''. How in the world would I take that seriously?!"

    "You''ve known me for many years! How come you don''t know what I was trying to say?!" she protested.

    "Unbelievable." I whispered under my breath. "Well, you sure sounded like you''re being objectively sarcastic. How am I supposed to know you were serious?!" I shrugged.

    I then took a deep breath before continuing. "What is the problem here, really? Elena, is there something that you need to tell me?"

    She then averted her gaze as she retreated into silence.

    "Look Elena, I''ve known you for many years." I spoke softly as I took her hand. "You''ve never been this cross over me missing your birthday celebration. If there was something that I did in the past that upset you greatly, please, tell me. I want to fix that with you. Right now. I don''t want to see you spend your birthday celebration feeling upset. Are you angry because I missed your past five birthdays? Guilty as charged. I am really sorry. But...I''m doing...all of this...because of you. I''ve always dreamed of the day that you don''t have to endure the shame of being acquainted with a man with nothing to his name. I strive and work hard everyday towards my goal of becoming one of the ilustrados because you don''t deserve being made fun of because of me. I''m your best friend, Elena. You know I''ll do anything for you."

    At this, Elena sighed as she began to slowly calm down. "Francisco, I never cared about what other people think. You''re fine just the way you are." she answered as she firmly grasped my hand.

    Minutes later, her eyes began to swell.

    "I...I just want you to be here, Francisco. I....I''ve missed you so much."

    There was obviously nothing more to be said. At this, I pulled her close and held her tight. She tightly wrapped her hands around my waist, and buried herself onto my chest.

    She then began to sob, and I can feel my clothes soaking in tears. Her eyes...they clearly speak of longing, and I just couldn''t help but feel guilty for all those years of not being there when she needed me. Perhaps I was too busy with my studies. Five years of barely even visiting her when it is within my power to do so must have really taken a toll on her.

    "All right. Hush now. You''re just trying to get your snot all over my coat now." I jokingly rebuked.

    She responded with a muffled chuckle

    "Shut up. I hate it when you ruin my moment." she complained with a short laugh as she withheld her embrace, lightly beating my chest with her fist in protest.

    "You look beautiful in that dress, you know that?" I complimented. "You should wear that more often."

    "W-why, thank you, you''re so swee...I...I mean...o-of course I''m beautiful, regardless of what I wear! Who do you take me for?!" she hesitantly roared, obviously flustered. "Just admit it! Right from the start you''ve always liked me!" she bragged.

    "Ha! In your dreams!" I parried with a snicker. I went silent for a moment before continuing our conversation. "By the way, uhh...I''m sorry I can''t get you any gifts this time. My school fees are expensive as hell."

    "It''s all right." she smiled as she took my hand. "You''re here. That''s all that matters."

    She then made a pause, as if reconsidering whatever she had to say next.

    "Uhh, Francisco, I have something important to tell you. I''m unsure of the wisdom of telling you this, but-"

    "Oh, I know, I know. I look so handso-"

    "Carlito has been asking me to marry him, Francisco." she abruptly interrupted.

    I went silent for a few seconds.

    "Oh." I muttered. "Is this the reason why you badly wanted me to attend the celebration this time?"

    "Yes." she replied. " I thought you should know."

    Her eyes gazed directly into mine as she held my hands tightly. "He''s been courting me for two years now. My father gave us his blessing and all he needs now is my answer."

    "And what did you say?" was my brief answer, my heart throbbing as I anticipated her next words.

    "The truth is...I didn''t give him an answer yet." she replied softly.

    "Really?" I asked, astounded by this answer. "How come?"

    She lowered her head.

    "You see, I...I''m already in love with someone else."

    I was completely silent, as I did not expect what I heard - or perhaps, I just didn''t want what I''m about to hear. I was at a loss for words. I felt my heart sinking and my eyes started to water, but I held it in as much as I could. I suppose the day that I feared the most has finally come, but I dare not break down in front of her now.

    "I honestly don''t know what to do. I wanted to give Carlito a chance, but at the same time...I can''t, because my heart still belongs to someone else...someone who may or may not love me the way I love him. I...I''d like to know your thoughts about this." she softly asked, her eyes widening in anticipation.

    "I see." I sighed. "How long have you known each other, anyway? Your...lover, I mean."

    "Long enough." she replied briefly, smiling as we exchanged glances. "We have known each other for a long time now. I''m just...waiting for him to make his move."

    My heart sank further, for the thought of her keeping this from me for a very long time was enough to crush me. I felt desolate and frustrated to say the least, but I dare not show it to her now.

    If I am to lose her to someone else, so be it! I''m not about to let my emotions ruin out long years of friendship.

    "Well, if that''s the case...I''d say follow your heart. Do what makes you happy. What is the point of marrying a man that you don''t love?" I said.

    "I was hoping you''d say something better than that." she muttered.

    "What''s that?" I asked, pretending I didn''t hear her the first time.

    "Nothing." she said, trying to dismiss my question. "Well, I suppose you can say it like that. But...it''s not that simple. I...I''m not sure if I can tell him how I feel."

    "You''ve known him for a long time, do you not? There is no other way. Sooner or later, something has to give...or else, nothing at all. Just tell him how you feel." I suggested casually. "What''s stopping you? It''s just that sim-"

    "You think it''s that easy Francisco?!" she ranted. "Do you have any idea what I have at stake here?! You''re just probably saying that because you''ve got virtually nothing to lose!"

    "...Why are you so angry at me all of a sudden? I only asked-"

    "That''s because I love you so much!" she declared. "...you idiot..."

    "W-what?!" I asked, outright dumbfounded by this profound moment.

    "You''re an idiot! That''s what I''m saying!" she ranted. "I just told you loud and clear what I felt for you, and still you''re standing there like a damn moron who doesn''t know any-"

    I didn''t hesitate any further as I lunged towards her and pressed her lips onto mine, and devoured her like a predator feasting on his hunt. All that tension has inevitably caught up with me as I savor the taste of her lips. She did not back away, as I expected her to do - but rather pulled herself closer to me, eager to give herself like a lamb offering its flesh to the wolf. It was as if my primal insticts have taken the better of me, and Elena''s allure was nothing less of irresistable. She responded to my kisses, and held my arms tight as if she herself cannot resist my lips. Without a second thought, my lips started journeying downward as Elena deliberately exposes her neck. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I cannot stop. Elena''s vulnerability awakened a thirst that I never thought existed within me.

    "Oy! Elena! Kiko! Dinner''s ready!" said a voice coming up the stairs as the sound of footsteps became more audible. "Mangaon na ta! The tinola is fresh and tast-....Dios mio! What in the world are you doing?!"

    Upon hearing this, Elena immediately broke away and turned herself away from me. I, on the other hand, was thunderstruck. It felt as if I was just suddenly awakened from my dream.

    "Oh, goodness! I seem to have forgotten to remove the pinakbet from the fire. I...I''ll have to go downstairs again." said Teresa, who seemingly tucked tail and ran as she went down the stairs.

    "I-I''m sorry, Teresa. I...I am ashamed of myself...please don''t tell my father." Elena apologized, drawing herself away from me.

    The sound of footsteps seemed to stop at this response.

    "Oh, don''t worry hija. I won''t tell your father." Teresa assured. "As for you, you good-for-nothing rascal," Teresa continued, who seemed to address me, "take care of the se?orita for me, will you? If I ever got word of you hurting her, you''d be in a world of pain Kiko! Am I understood?!"

    "Nothing bad shall befall your little se?orita, Aling Teresa." I replied. "I swear this on my honor."

    "Good." Teresa affirmed. "Because I will cut off your manhood if I hear anything unsavory about you!"

    Elena and I chuckled at this sentiment. I pulled her close to me once more, and Elena just seemed to simply encourage my act.

    "We''ll see you downstairs." I announced as Teresa waved us goodbye.

    Now, as the living room seemed to be devoid of anybody except me and Elena, my hands slid on the side of her neck. There was nothing stopping me from pulling her close, as my lips reached for hers once more. Elena was receptive, as she herself drew her head close to me without any reservation.

    This night is simply the happiest day of my life. My mind has laid down any restraints that it had, for in this moment, I have come to understand what it felt like when two kindred souls meet in this life.

    "What took you so long to realize?" Elena complained as she withdrew her lips to speak.

    "Does that really matter?" I joked, puling her close.

    Elena pouted her lips, as if to complain on my answer. "...Yes. Somehow I feel you owe me a great deal of love and affection. I waited six years for this moment!"

    "Well, did I not deliver?" I jokingly replied.

    "...Not really..." she answered as she pulled my head towards hers to kiss me.

    "You owe me a lot for that kiss." I jested.

    "Oh, is it now?" she taunted. "Well, how do want that settled then?"

    I smiled, and pulled her close to kiss her one more time before retiring downstairs. But as my lips were about to touch hers, I was startled by the sound of a loud BANG!

    Rifle gunshot.

    "W-what''s that?!" Elena said frantically.

    "It must be the tulisanes. Get down!" I replied as I pulled her to cover, crouching away from the window. Two more shots followed.

    "Elena, I want you to crawl towards the bookcases and take cover there. Do not, under any circumstances, go out of hiding until I get to fetch you. Do you understand?" I instructed her, trying to be as calm as I can.

    "A-all right, Kiko. I''ll...I''ll do as you say. But where are you going? Don''t tell me you''re going out there?!"

    More shots were fired outside, and although weak, I can hear the faint sounds of the screams of men fighting in the distance.

    "I have to do this, Elena. Se?or Mercado hasn''t returned yet and I''m the only one here capable of finding him. I''ll fetch the other attendants downstairs to go up. Once they''re up here, barricade the doors. Do not come out unless I or Se?or Mercado calls out."

    "All right. I-I''ll see to it. Be careful out there, you hear?!" she commanded as surprised me with a long, smack kiss.

    "Oh, I will, all right." I smilingly teased as I softly pinched her cheeks.

    "Are you going to be all right out there?" Elena asked.

    "Well, you know me...I''m the type that always fancies an adventure in the innards of Tondo." I joked.

    At this, I took off immediately as I rushed downstairs towards the kitchen. I can still hear the firefight going on outside. Every minute that passes makes my worry for Se?or Mercado worse. His age is starting to catch up with him, not to mention that he never heeded my advice in getting a revolver to protect himself since the bulk of his rounds are usually at night. By the time I reached the kitchen, I saw the attendants - mostly female - taking cover under the table and behind the walls, understandably scared for their lives.

    "Everyone, listen to me!" I announced as I rose and took cover behind a wall. "Please stay calm! I am Francisco dela Cruz, a good friend of Se?or Mercado. I want everyone to go upstairs and hunker down. Barricade the entrance with anything heavy you can find and do not come out until I or Se?or Mercado says so."

    "Where are you going, Kiko?! It''s dangerous out there!" Teresa warned sternly as she held on to the knife she was probably using earlier.

    "I have to find Se?or Mercado, nanay (mother). He''s all alone out there." I replied.

    "Are you insane?! It''s dangerous out there! Do you think Se?or Mercado will want you to risk your life?!"

    "I''d imagine not, nanay." I answered with a smile. "But I''m not about to abandon the closest thing I had to a father."

    "There''s no convincing you otherwise, is it?" she replied. "Very well, we''ll head upstairs and wait. I and Mang Karding will take things from here. You better come back here alive, you rascal."

    "As you say, Nanay Teresa." I replied as I set out into the field of battle.

 Scene 9 - Se?or Mercado

    Intramuros is awfully quiet in this time of night, but I need to make my rounds with my patients for we have a crisis on our hands and only with the diligence of the men of our profession can we combat this invisible enemy lurking in the streets of Manila. My body is tired - my arm aching to drop my bag of medical supplies - but I have to carry on. This is the last patient on my rounds.

    The disease has been spreading in this part of Intramuros, and it''s spreading fast. Through my recent efforts to find out the nature of the pathogen, I came to the conclusion that the problem we physicians have at hand is a new strain of the influenza virus - and it''s something we have never seen before. It''s origin is still a mystery to us - even with the body of the first reported victim available to multiple fellow practitioners from Madrid for examination. Our research has been fruitless so far, but I have a hunch that this new strain did not come into being...naturally. Thanks to Gregor Mendel''s concepts, I was able to somewhat gather clues as to the nature of the disease, and was able to pinpoint its very distinct differences from the naturally-occurred strains, and if my theories prove true, then our worst fears have been realized. None of the formulae we have at our disposal is able to even ease the symptoms of the disease, and therefore we have little hope of curing this disease until someone comes up with remarkable findings about this virus.

    But even so, I cannot stop now. I have to do whatever I can for the people of Intramuros. Although my medical charts in my journal haven''t arrived in something conclusive, I believe my findings will be a great help in finding a cure for this disease.

    Tonight is a very silent night. The houses surrounding the abode of my patient are barred shut - windows and all - understandably due to the virtue of caution. Nobody wants to contract this deadly disease, and it''s not like a lot of Filipinos are that accustomed to being awake at night. Fortunately, my patient''s house seemed to be brimming with life, for I can see the lamp''s light shining brightly from the opening of the window. From here, I can see Pepay observing the bystanders from her house''s window - probably looking out for any sign of me, for her father is a patient of mine and the last one I have to visit for my rounds.

    I immediately walked towards their doorstep, and Pepay, watchful as she is, took notice of me despite me being a few paces away from her house. Pepay moved here in Intramuros with her father a few years ago in February if I remember correctly - their house bought from a man named Enrique Alvarez. They have lived here since, and during their stay here I sometimes spy upon Don Custodio, the head of the Board of Health, visiting their house every now and then whenever I chanced to visit this neighborhood.

    The girl waved at me cheerfully, and then rushed outside to meet me. Their house only comprised of one floor, but it was big enough to accommodate around twenty people inside - which, in my opinion, is a house too big for a father and a daughter. And, although I am not the one to judge, the house doesn''t seem to match the...financial capabilities of Pepay. For a start, she is a...shall we say, a ''dancing girl''. And although I have an idea as to who might be financing this woman''s lavish lifestyle, I am not in the position to point fingers in something I lack evidence of. And besides, her father is my patient, and it is unbecoming of practicioners like myself to meddle in affairs that are irrelevant to my work.

    As I walked closer to the house, I found myself approaching Pepay, clearly gladdened my arrival.

    "Good evening, doctor. Thank the heavens you are here!" greeted Pepay, who was rather cordial as she received me.

    "Likewise, Se?orita Pepay." I answered in a like manner. "How is your father feeling?"

    "To tell you the truth, he''s not feeling much better than before, doctor." she replied. "His fever and coughing is just getting worse."

    "I see." I answered. "How is he responding to the medication that I prescribed to him?"

    "Not much improvement can be seen, doctor." she replied. "I...I actually need you to see something. Do you mind if I ask you to come inside the house, doctor?"

    "Not at all, Pepay. I am, after all, your father''s doctor." I assured her.

    "Thank you, sir." she replied. "This way."

    Pepay walked with me back to their house. As I enter their home, I was greeted by the bright chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Although not so bright as the German-made ones, this household decoration made in Hong Kong stands out from the rest of its kind for the elegant design of the silverwork. Vibrant colors filled every corner of the house, for it is spruced up with all manner of trinkets, upholstery, furniture and artwork. But despite the exquisite beauty of the inner workings of the house, the air was hollow and melancholic...as if these very walls are bereft of life itself.

    As Pepay opened the door to the room of her father, my nose immediately picked up a very disturbing scent. It is a very putrid odor, one so despicably familiar one whiff is enough to make me sick.

    I just hope this is not necrosis.

    "Ugh! Such a nasty odor we got! Pardon my manners, se?orita." I complained as I covered my nose with my sleeve. "Since when is your father smelling like this?!"

    "The air in here became notably putrid just this morning, sir." Pepay answered. "The stench wasn''t as strong in the previous week."

    "What?! Merciful Lord!" I gasped in horror.

    I was so shocked with what I heard. Se?or Teodoro, Pepay''s father, was diagnosed of this accursed disease just two months ago. The pathogen has evidently evolved, and it had evolved so quickly. I might have greatly understated the strength of this new strain. This influenza is devilishly lethal!

    "Please, doctor." Pepay pleaded. "Please tell me my father still has a chance to live."

    I had no words upon the plight of Pepay. On one hand, I wanted to tell her the truth about her father''s condition because as a physician, I owe her that much. On the other hand, I don''t want to shatter her, for in this time of great tribulation, hope is a rare commodity that is more potent than any medicine, and that is something I would not want to take from my patients and clients.

    "I will do everything I can, Pepay." I replied with forced confidence.

    "Please, doctor. Save him. I''m ready to pay handsomely. Just save my father, please!" she pleaded as she opened her purse. "Here, doctor. I think this amounts to a few thousand pesos. I hope this is eno-"

    "You don''t need to do that, se?orita." I interrupted in an attempt to dissuade her. "I don''t charge extra to give my patients the best treatment possible. He is my patient se?orita, and I''ll do everything in my power to save him. All I ask is for you to stay strong...and pray. We will get through this. God will not neglect his own flock."

    "Bless you, sir! Bless you!" she replied gleefully. "But please doctor, take the money. I insist. I know how hard you''ve been working to fight this disease. I want to help."

    "Your kind words warm my heart. Thank you, se?orita." I replied. "But are you sure about this? This is quite a sum of money. You don''t have to pay me this much. Are you sure you''re not going to have a hard time managing your finances?"

    "We will manage, doctor. Please, take this." she insisted. "Besides, this money is better left to your care. I know you''ll use it to further your good cause." she answered softly.

    After seeing in her the firmness of her decision, I conceded.

    "Then I shall make sure your money will be well spent." I replied as I received the money from her.

    "You''re unlike all the doctors I''ve met, sir. You were never discriminating with who you give your medical services to. Filipinos, Spaniards, Chinamen...people like you sir, are rare gems in this puddle of mud."

    "We are all equal in the eyes of God, se?orita. No one should consider oneself to be greater than the other because of race." I exclaimed as I ready my kit near her father''s bed, wearing the necessary sanitary equipment for the examination.

    "How I wish more people would share your point of view, sir." she replied.

    "In due time, se?orita. In due time." I muttered as I buried my hand inside my bag to get a clean syringe. "For now, may I suggest taking some fresh air outside this room while I examine your father? This can take a while."

    "Surely, doctor. I''ll wait outside. Call me if you need anything." she announced as she made her leave, slowly closing the door as she exits the room.

    "Thank you, se?orita. Oh, and would you be so kind to get me a basin filled with hot water?"

    "Surely, doctor. I''ll warm the stove up now, sir." she answered as she left immediately, apparently towards the kitchen.

    I then seated myself beside my patient and began to work on the usual routine on my checkups: monitoring pulse and heartbeat, checking his breathing, looking for any noticeable developments in the symptoms...things like those. My patient''s current state is horrendously pitiful, and it pains me that I can''t do anything about it, even to at least ease his symptoms. His skin is growing pale and some parts of the body are starting to blacken. His eyes are yellowish, and phlegm is oozing out of his mouth. Se?or Teodoro is growing weaker by the day, and with the putrid smell not boding well for his health, I hate to admit there isn''t much I can do for him at this point...aside from making tests in order to get some conclusive findings.

    As I was about to tie up Se?or Teodoro''s right arm to get a better feel of the location of a major vein, he reached for my arm to hold it.

    "Doctor Mercado..." he exclaimed in a raspy voice. "...am I...going to-"

    "You shall not...se?or." I interrupted. "I assure you, I am doing everything in my power to-"

    "You do not have to lie, doctor." he interjected, slightly tightening his grip. "I kn...know that...at this state, I am way...past the point of...being saved, so I only ask-"

    "Please, Se?or Teodoro. Have faith in us doctors. We are doing everything we can."

    "I...don''t doubt that...doctor." he gasped, struggling to utter his words. "But I...I cannot...I cannot t-take it anymore, sir. The pain, doctor. The pain...it''s too much."

    Se?or Teodoro began to weep, his yellowish eyes starting to turn red with tears.

    "I...feel like my bones are being crushed...as I drown...in a sea of mud, doctor." described Se?or Teodoro. "Please...end this suffering...I...I cannot take this anymore."

    I felt his hand loosen up a little, so I proceeded to remove its hold from my arm and placed it on the bed.

    "You know, Pepay would be sad if she sees you like this." I replied as I feel for his pulse. "Your daughter''s fighting, too. Don''t give up, Se?or Teodoro. Do it for her."

    "I...I don''t know, doctor..." Se?or Teodoro replied with deep, raspy breaths. "Seeing her so...distraught at the sight of my suffering...it is greatly heartbreaking knowing that she''s...doing her best to make ends...meet, while having to...take care of an old and dying man..."Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    "That is true, Se?or Teodoro. Your daughter seemed distraught by all this madness." I replied as I readied to insert the syringe, disinfecing the area where the vein is located. "But then again, she doesn''t seem to be giving up anytime soon, si? I saw her eyes se?or, and those eyes do not lie. She is determined to see this through. I think you''d be unfair to her if you give up now."

    "Per...haps...you do...make a point, sir." agreed Se?or Teodoro, the tone of his voice showing some sense of inner peace.

    He then made a soft grunt as the syringe''s needle pierced through his skin. After pushing the needle in far enough, I then started gradually extracting the blood sample from the patient and thick, dark red liquid started filling up the vial.

    Se��or Teodoro must have been a relentless smoker in his healthier years.

    "I hear there''s a feast in Pampanga in this time of the year." I remarked as I withdrew the needle from his arm. "I reckon I should give the province a visit."

    "Ahh, yess..." Se?or Teodoro gasped. " Pampanga and...their....beautiful dalagas. Who knows? Maybe in your visits...you''ll finally find a wife."

    I answered with a chuckle.

    "Oh, no Se?or Teodoro. I think neither Corazon nor Elena would appreciate it if I did that." I answered sheepishly.

    "Nonsense." the man parried as he coughed a laugh. "You are still..... young, doctor...being....a man in your forties. Your daughter...will understand."

    "Perhaps...but my heart belongs to my work now, se?or." I answered as I finished up with the extraction, finally pulling out the needle and patching up the puncture with a sterilized bandage. I then stored the blood vial in a secure compartment in my valise, and neatly stored all of my equipment back to their proper place except for my mask.

    "By the way...doctor, how is that boy of yours you always mention....Francisco, is it? How is he now?"

    "He is doing well for himself, se?or. He''s a student of Arts and Trades in Ateneo now. A resourceful kid, that boy is."

    "I see...he seems to be...a wise investment."

    "The boy owes me nothing, se?or. He and his sister served me earnestly, and they earned their keep with truthfulness and diligence."

    "Even now...you keep surprising me with your...wholesome attitude, doctor."

    And then, as if on cue, Pepay returned to thr room holding the basin of hot water that I requested.

    "Here''s the hot water that you asked for, doctor." she called out as she laid the basin on top of the wooden bedside table.

    "Thank you, Pepay." I answered as I slowly dipped my hands on the hot water to disinfect.

    "So, doctor. How is my father?" Pepay promptly asked, her face teeling me she seemed eager to hear my answer.

    I took a deep breath. "To tell you the truth, se?orita...he''s gotten a little worse than before." I answered hesitantly.

    "Is there a chance he''ll survive, sir?" she asked anew.

    As I withdrew my hand from the basin, I paused to consider the words that I am going to say next. Pepay is quite hopeful still. I don''t want to crush that hope of hers...that''s the last thing that she needs.

    "I have been in my profession for almost ten years, se?orita, and I have handled many patients with influenza diseases." I preluded with a slight shaking in my voice. "But...this one...this is the first time that I encountered such a severe disease. But worry not, we are doing everything we can to find a cure."

    "I see." she answered plainly.

    "For the meantime, se?orita, discontinue with the prescription that I gave you last time. I''ll give a new one after 3 days." I exclaimed as I finally set aside my mask to prepare for my departure.

    "All right, doctor." she affirmed.

    "I''ll be going now, se?orita. Excuse me for coming in late to check on your father. We have been receiving a lot of patients lately."

    "It''s all right, doctor. We understand." she assured me.

    "Gracias. I''ll be seeing you in three days." I bade goodbye to them as I exited the premises.

    "Oh, allow me to escort you outside doctor." Pepay offered as she escorted me outside of their house.

    "Please." I obliged as we headed for the door leading to the outside.

    As we did our brief walk, Pepay exclaimed, "Doctor, it''s already late. Are you going to be all right walking the streets on your own?"

    "Nothing to worry, se?orita. The Guardia Civil''s patrolling the streets at night." I answered.

    "But...that''s what worries me, doctor." she timidly replied.

    I replied with a chuckle. "I will be fine. Worry not."

    At this, I bowed slightly to give my goodbye, and set out into the dark streets of Intramuros once more.

    The dimly lit streets leading to Ateneo was rather unsettling, as I cannot see any Guardia Civil in view or any other civilian for that matter. The loneliness that I feel made me anxious, as if something hostile is afoot and coming my way. I tried to shake the feeling off, as I''m carrying with me some blood samples and I don''t want to urge myself to scamper away home and risk damaging these vials.

    Strangely enough, despite the presumed emptiness of the streets and the heavy cover of the night, I am able to spy on my peripheral vision some human-like silhouette lurking in the shadows, walking calmly in the same pace as I am. I stopped and looked around to check. Nothing. I shook the thought once more and went on my way.

    I was almost at the sidewalk near the fence of the school when I decided to halt when I spied on two Guardia Civil walking down the same sidewalk as I am, just a few paces from where I am, their rifles holstered. I felt relieved, for at least there are people out on the streets that''s a little less worse than tulisanes. The Guardia Civil I can bribe if in case they decide to pick on me. But tulisanes...they''ll rob you of all you have and gut you after once they''re done with you. Terrible, I say �� and I heard that their leader Matanglawin is infamous for cutting up the stomach of his Spanish captives and turning the intestines inside out and roasting them alive while they''re tied to a bamboo pole. Simply terrifying.

    But enough of that thought, as I just needed to walk a few streets away to get this over with.

    A few moments later, I met with the two soldiers walking down the same sidewalk as I am, happily chatting about the day''s events. Judging by their features, they seemed to be young men around their late twenties and both are Filipinos. Upon noticing me, they stopped their conversation and immediately approached me.

    "I...I am not looking for trouble, I''m just passing here to get home. I''m a doctor. I just finished my visitation with one of my patients." I snappily explained.

    Oddly enough, the two exchanged confused looks, which in turn made me confused. They then exchanged words, trying to make sense of the situation.

    "Ano daw sabi niya?"

    "HIndi ko alam. Parang akala niya ata huhulihin natin."

    "Paano tayo magpapaliwanag? Di ako marunong mag-Kastila. Naku bahala na."

    Hesitantly, one of the soldiers approached.

    "Uhhh...no, se?or. Noso...nosotros no...te...arrestamos." he answered in broken Spanish.

    I then broke into an amused smile."Akala ko hindi ka marunong mag-Kastila? (I thought you didn''t know Spanish?)"

    The two were visibly shocked at what they just heard, the look on their faces were as if they had just witnessed a miracle.

    "M...marunong kayong mag-Tagalog? (Y...you can speak Tagalog?)" asked the soldier, who is still visibly dumbfounded.

    "Oo naman. Matagal na ako sa Filipinas. May mga Filipino akong paciente, kailangan nagkakaintindihan tayo. (Of course. I''ve been in the Philippines for a long time. I have Filipino patients, it''s imperative we understand one another.)" I replied with haste.

    The two youths, who were in shock just minutes ago, are now impressed. It must be very rare for them to see Spaniards even bothering to learn their language, which is why seeing one speak fluently was like a God-sent to them.

    "May gusto kang sabihin sa ''kin kanina, hijo. Ano ulit iyon? (I believe you want to say something earlier, lad. What is it?)" I asked one of them intently.

    "Ahh, iyon po ba? Wala naman po, se?or. Mukha ho kasi kayong lubhang nababahala kanina. Mahigpit lang po kasi ang utos ng Kapitan-Heneral na panatilihing nasa loob ng bahay ang mga mamamayan ng Intramuros ng ganitong oras lalo na''t may kumakalat na sakit ngayon. (Ahh, that one, sir? It''s nothing, mister. You seemed too alarmed earlier. The Captain-General gave strict orders to keep citizens of Intramuros inside their homes, especially now that we have a disease spreading these days.)" he answered with placidly.

    "Ahh, ganoon ba? Isa kasi akong doktor at kailangan ko kasing puntahan ang paciente ko kanina. (Ahh, is that so? You see, I''m a doctor and I needed to visit my patient earlier.)" I replied.

    "Pero ginoo, hindi po ba ninyo nabalitaan? (But mister, haven''t you heard?)" interjected the other, his face reeking of worry. His partner seemed alarmed.

    "Ang alin, hijo? (Heard what, lad?)" I answered.

    "May gumagala po kasing...mamamatay-tao ngayon. May nakapagsabi ho kasing lumilibot siya ngayon sa Intramuros. (There''s a killer on the loose. There are reports that say that he''s been going around Intramuros.)" one of them answered.

    "Talaga? Bakit ngayon ko lang nabalitaan to? (Really? How come I only got wind of this now?)" I replied, utterly shocked by this revelation.

    One of the youth''s eyes widened, as if realizing he made a huge mistake.

    "Bobo! Bakit mo sinabi yun?! (You idiot! Why did you tell?!)" reprimanded his companion.

    "Nakalantad na rin lang ang lihim, bakit di nyo pa ikwento sa akin? (Well, the secret is already out, why don''t you tell the story?)" I urged them.

    The talkative soldier''s companion gave a huge sigh. "Malalagot ho kasi kami sa alferez kapag nalaman nyang sinabi namin sa inyo to. Isa pa lang po kasing haka-haka ang kwento na to at nababahala ang alferez na baka makapagdulot to ng malubhang takot sa mga mamamayan...kaya nakikiusap po kami na kung pwede ho eh...satin-satin na lang ho ito. (The alferez will have our heads if he knew we told this to you. This story is still just a rumor, and the alferez is worried that this story will spread fear among the citizens, so if you would so kindly, please keep this between us.)" he pleaded.

    "Ahh, ganoon ba? Wala kang dapat ipag-alala. Kaya kong itikom ang bibig ko. (You have nothing to worry. I can keep my mouth shut.)" I assured him.

    The soldier began to look around suspiciously, making sure nobody else is eavesdropping on our conversation.

    "Sabi ng mga tao dito, may gumagalang lalaking nakasalakot tuwing gabi. (The locals say that there''s a man wearing a salakot that wanders around here during the night.)" the young man said, his voice ominously placid. "Lagi daw ho siyang may bitbit na bolo at baril, pero madalas pinapatay nya daw po ang mga biktima nya sa pananaga. (It is said that he usually carries around a bolo (a type of shortsword) and a gun, but he usually kills his victims by chopping them down.)"

    "Gaano na ba karami ang napatay niya? (How many kills did he make thus far?)" I inquired.

    "Mga ilang dosena na po sa tantya namin. (Around a few dozen by our estimate.)" he replied.

    "Huh? Tantya? Hindi nyo pa rin ba maipagpalagay ang saktong bilang ng mga biktima nya? Saka kung gayong marami na nga siyang napatay, bakit wala akong nababasa tungkol dito sa mga diario? (Huh? Estimate? Can''t you still pinpoint the exact number of his victims? And if he''s already killed that much, then how come I don''t see this story in the newspapers?)" I asked, profoundly puzzled by this statement.

    The young man paused, as if considering his next words.

    "May...may mga namataan ho kasing mga...bahagi ng tao sa mga kakahuyan malapit sa Tiani, San Diego, at San Fernando makalipas ang ilang araw nung may napabalitang ilang taong nawawala dito sa Intramuros. Pira-pirasong mga bahagi ng katawan lang ho kasi ang nakita ng mga kawal kaya hindi po namin masabi kung ilan ho talaga ang totoong bilang ng mga pinaslang. (There...there have been sightings of...body parts inside the woods near Tiani, San Diego and San Fernando three days after some denizens from Intramuros have been reported missing. Only pieces of body parts have been sighted, so it''s very hard to give an accurate count of all those that are slain.)" the man answered. "Simula ho ng mga pangyayaring iyon, namamataan na ho ang lalaking naka-salakot dito sa Intramuros. (Since those events, there has been sightings of the man in a salakot here in Intramuros.)"

    "Natuklasan nyo ba ang pagkakakilanlan ng mga napaslang? (Did you uncover the identities of those slain?)" I inquired some more.

    "Ang alam lang ho namin ay mga Kastila ang karamihan ng mga napaslang. Dahil nga ho doon, pinagpapalagay ng alferez na ang lalaking naka-salakot ay si Matanglawin, dahil siya lang ho ang tulisang kilala namin na malaki ang galit sa mga Kastila. (The only thing we know is that most of the slain are Spanish. It''s because of that that the alferez supposes that the man in the salakot is Matanglawin, because he''s the only outlaw we know who has this great grudge against the Spanish.)" the young soldier replied.

    This is interesting news, indeed.

    "Kaya ginoo, kung maaari ho ay umuwi na ho kayo sa inyong tahanan. Mapanganib ho ang mga calle ngayong gabi dahil maari-"

    The man is interrupted with the sound of gunfire from a distance. Seconds later, more shots were heard, and the two men began to ready their rifles.

    The young man had advised me earlier to go home because of the danger lurking in the streets. I think I''ll go follow his advice.

    "Parang galing ang putok na yun sa may pantalan. Humanda na tayo. Inaatake na tayo ng mga tulisan! (That shot seemed to have come from the harbor. Let''s get ready. We''re under attack by the outlaws!)" the prudent soldier reported, gesturing to his comrade to follow his lead, who the turned to me. "Ginoo, umuwi na ho kayo. Parating na ang mga tulisan. (Mister, please go home. The outlaws are coming.)"

    "S-sige. Mag-iingat kayo, mga hijo. (O-okay. You be careful, lads.)" I exclaimed as they nodded back.

    Without another word, the two men quickly rushed to the fray to join the fight. It didn''t take long before the two soldiers completely dissolved into blackness as they sprinted towards the harbor.

    Moments pass, and more and more subsequent gunfire can be heard from Calle Sta. Lucia - which is a few feet from where I am. I can also hear gunfire coming from the direction of Calle Victoria. I can see a handful of students from the Ateneo scramble outside the streets, possibly due to panic. Soldiers began to gradually pour in the streets as a band of ruddy men armed with bolos and rifles can be heard screaming as they can be seen from this distance - charging towards the direction of the school with frenzied shouts.

    Then, my colleague''s warning began to dawn on me.

    "I heard the Captain-General is pouring more troops in Intramuros. Be careful when doing your rounds from now on, amigo. I fear that this may be in relation to the growing threat of tulisanes. Spain has been withdrawing more and more soldiers by the month, and I fear that the day will come when the Spanish presence here is weak, these savages will be out for our blood."

    His words brought chill to my spine. And then, I remembered...

    Elena! I have to return to return to the house and get Elena!

 Scene 10 - The Partisan

    The fighting continues as I sprinted my way across Calle Victoria - which was the street that I had taken earlier to go to Se?or Mercado''s house. Along the way, I saw a handful of my classmates, along with them Quintino, running towards my direction. From a distance, I can hear the fierce exchange of gunfire as I drew closer to the school. Se?or Mercado''s patients live just around this street, so it is likely I''ll run into him sooner or later.

    "Get away from here, Francisco! The tulisanes are coming!" warned Quintino as he sprinted, waving his arms about as if trying to disperse a flock of ducks.

    An interesting thing indeed, because Se?or Mercado warned me of this days ago and I never expected this to happen so soon.

    Moments later, Quintino slowed down in his pace to approach me.

    "It''s not safe here Kiko! The tulisanes are numerous and they are armed to the teeth. Come away!" Quintino invited, tugging the sleeve of my coat.

    "I can''t go just yet. Se?or Mercado is out there! I need to find him!" I refused.

    "You''re going out there to look for your former employer?! Are you crazy?! He''s as good as dead! You''re not even armed! The plaza is going to be overrun any minute now! Let us flee while we still can!" Quintino invited once more, who seemed eager than ever to flee.

    "You go on ahead to safety. I can''t leave without him. Se?or Mercado was like a father to me. I owe the man a lot." I told him, giving him a tap on the shoulder.

    Quintino gave a huge sigh. "You are spectacularly stupid for someone with such high intellect, do you know that?!" he teased, as he responded with a tap on my shoulder. "Well, it''s not as if I can persuade you otherwise, eh? I''ll go on ahead and lay low. Meet me in the panciteria once you''re out...and don''t die! We still have a thesis coming up!"

    "Why, thank you for such words of inspiration!" I sarcastically replied.

    Quintino gave a smirk. "I''ll be off now, my friend. May God keep you safe." he replied as he took off without another word.

    Minutes pass, and the fighting seemed to become more intense. I can see around fifteen soldiers marching double-time on the far side of Calle Victoria. On the other hand, the tulisanes - which seemed to number around twenty, charges towards the soldiers'' direction, brandishing their bolos and firing their rifles in succession.

    This street is obviously compromised, and I have no choice but to take other routes. Luckily, Calle Cabildo seems to be clear of hostile forces, and I can take this path to cut through Recoletos and go to Calle Escuela where Pepay the dancing girl lives. I know for a fact that Se?or Mercado makes his rounds around this area because I sometimes go there to...never mind. What matters is that this woman may be one of Se?or Mercado''s patients, and she may give me clues about his whereabouts.

    With this in mind, I started to make my way across Calle Cabildo. The street was so awfully quiet and barren despite the fighting in the distance that it felt like I was walking into the darkest depths of Hades itself. However, as I just passed one of the caf��s in the area, the silence was broken with the sound of feet shuffling in the distance. Being on high alert, I immediately made myself scarce and hid behind one of walls of the structures lining the streets, which happen to belong to the caf�� I once frequented during my earlier years in college. Carefully, I moved my head outside the cover of the wall to peek, and to my surprise, I saw a man wearing a salakot, armed with a revolver and a bolo. The man walked slowly as he prowls along the street in the most conspicuous manner. His head moves slowly from left to right, as if scanning the surroundings carefully.

    From where I hid, I tried to study his features as much as I can, and from what I can gather, he seems to be just a frail old man. His loadout tells me he must''ve been one of the tulisanes, but something tells me that his presence here is not by accident.

    "You can come out now!" he announced with confidence in Tagalog.

    I froze, as I never expected to be found out that easily. But I didn''t waver, and held my current position in the hopes of eluding the man.

    "You, hiding behind the caf��, you can come out from that wall now, lad. You''re not fooling me." he declared courageously.

    My heart throbbed at this response. Now, he''s pinpointed my exact location. But I decided not to move, as he may just be bluffing.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Seconds later, he fired a shot, chipping off a small chunk of the wall where I was hiding. "I know you''re there, lad. This is my last warning. Come out with your hands in the air or I''ll have no choice but to make you."

    I felt my heart beat faster, as I feel that I''m no longer safe behind my cover. I''m not going out there! That man wears a salakot and is armed with a bolo and a revolver - that man is the rumored murderer ''El Partidista'', The Partisan of Intramuros! I heard from the soldiers chitchatting in the cockpits one time that this man has already killed around twelve Spanish denizens from this city, and their bodies all chopped up into pieces! There is no way in hell I''m giving myself up!

    "I''m going to count to three, and if you won''t come out, I can''t promise the next warning shot to not hit a limb or two." he threatened as I heard the sound of his soles against the ground slowly moving closer towards me.

    I looked around my surroundings for anything I can use, but found nothing other than loose brick on the corner of the wall. I tried to slowly reached for the brick, but the man fired another shot, almost glancing my forefinger.

    "Don''t even think about resisting, boy!" he commanded as he continued his slow, confident walk towards me. "I will not say this again, come out with your hands in the air or I will shoot you!"

    "All right, all right! I surrender!" I immediately announced as I raised my hands above my head and slowly emerge from my hiding spot, having found no more alternative. Obviously, I can''t fight back, and all the more can I not run from him. He is a damn good marksman, and I''ll be taking a huge risk of being shot at if I ran away from him.

    As I stepped into the open, the man immediately pulled the hammer of his revolver, perhaps to ready his weapon in case I tried to do something funny.

    As if this wasn''t overkill enough.

    "What''s a student like you doing out in the streets in the middle of the night? Speak quickly!" he ordered.

    "I...I was just going home, se?or." I lied nervously. "I''m just passing through, I swear I mean you no harm!"

    "Ahh, yes, and going towards the direction of the fighting, I see. Everybody else is going the other way. Of all the people that I''ve met, you''re the only one with a strange and, quite suspicious sense of self-preservation. So drop the act, young man! Surrender the opium! I know you''re hiding it in your pockets somewhere!"

    Needless to say, I was taken aback by this preposterous accusation. But why would the infamous ''El Partidista'' look for packets of opium?

    "I...I don''t have any opium with me, sir. I swear! You can search me if you want!" I answered, as this was the only thing I knew to preserve my life, even for just a bit longer.

    "Let me see." he replied as he closed in to apprehend me, his revolver still pointed at my head.

    He then sheathed his bolo, and started thoroughly searching through my entire person. He even went as far as feeling for the opium near my groin, but found nothing.

    To his dismay - and to my great relief, he disarmed his revolver and stowed it in a pouch near the sheath of his bolo.

    "You''re clean. You can put your hands down now." he said.

    Upon this response, I lowered my hands and silently let out a sigh.

    "What in the hell are you thinking, lad?! Going out during a time like this?! I could''ve killed you!" he sternly reprimanded.

    One minute, he was trying to kill me, and now he sounds like my father. What the hell is going on?!

    "W-wha...what is going on, sir?" I inquired, genuinely confused by what''s happening right now.

    "A bloodbath, to put it simply." he bluntly replied as he pulled out the two empty casings and replaced them with new bullets. "Now, make yourself scarce while you can. The revolutionaries are not so considerate as I am."

    "Y...you''re not going to kill me?" I asked nervously.

    "What? Of course not." he immediately retorted. "On second thought, the nature of my work demands utmost secrecy, so..."

    He then quickly drew his revolver and pointed it at my head. I stood entirely still at that moment, and it felt like I was about to lose control of my bladder.

    "You now have seen my face. I cannot allow anyone with that kind of knowledge run along freely." he declared. "Unless you have something to convince me to keep you alive, that is."

    I paused for a while, trying to look for an answer to give him. "Sir, I swear I would not tell a soul about this encounter. I swear it with my life." I told him.

    "The last person who told me that, I had to hunt him down - and he was my first ever kill in my career. Give me a better excuse to not to put a bullet in your skull, lad." he retorted as he pulled the gun''s hammer and sliding his finger on the trigger. "Well, since I see no more alternatives, I''ll give you two choices: come with me if you want to live...or don''t. In which case, you die. That is my offer. You want to keep your head, you have to come with me."

    "What, you mean you''ll take me hostage?" I asked, repulsive of this offer.

    "I won''t call it being a ''hostage''. More of...as a squire." he replied in a rather soothing tone.

    "And join you in your vigilantism? I can''t do that!" I complained.

    "Well, that''s fine by me. I''ll just kill you, then." he replied as he pressed the barrel of the gun against my head. "I don''t have to look after witnesses-"

    "W-w-wait! All right, all right! I''ll go with you, sir. J-just don''t kill me!" I pleaded.

    "See? That wasn''t so hard, is it?" he answered, quickly withdrawing his gun. He then took out a pocket watch from one of his trouser pockets and flipped the cover open with his right hand, which is quite unusual because he dresses like a farmer.

    "Twenty-six minutes past one o''clock. We only have almost an hour to get to the harbor." he exclaimed.

    "W-what for? Why do we need to get to the harbor?" I asked.

    "To fetch our ride, numbskull." he replied, with a bit of annoyance in his tone. "We''ll have to go there on foot. If you try anything funny, I''ll shoot you. Understood?"

    "U-u-understood, sir." I replied with haste.

    "Then, what are we waiting for? Vamonos!" he commanded, pointing towards the end of Calle Cabildo.

    I''m sorry, Se?or Mercado. I just hope you made it out safely.

 Scene 11 - The Harbor Heist

    I.

    "Fire on the west side! We need to hold them off until the cargo is loaded onto the boats! We have to wait for Pedro''s signal!" I ordered my men as we rushed towards the enemy, charging with bolos drawn.

    I signaled my men to disperse and find cover wherever they can find it. The Guardia Civil is now alerted to our presence...again! What is it with Pedro and his aversion to following directions?! I told him to take out the guards quietly at the harbor. His job is so simple. Silencing the guards at the harbor would be very easy since we are attacking at the dead of night, and yet he still manages to ruin it all!

    This diversion is supposed to be a last resort and yet twenty minutes into the plan and he somehow fucks it all up! We were just situating ourselves to stand by in our position when one of that bastard''s men fired a shot when I expressly instructed him and his men not to.

    "Father, I see reinforcements! Left side of the school!" Tano announced as he fired his rifle in succession. And indeed, I see seven men converging with their allies, who have entrenched their fighting positions near the walls of the shops. As I tracked these men with my sights behind cover, I noticed that these men seemed to be carrying a large wooden crate. What in the hell are those men carrying? Ammunition? Explosives? Rifles?

    In any case, the crate seemed important, and so I immediately directed my men to shift their fire.

    "Focus on the men with the crates! They must not reach their comrades!" I ordered them as I fired.

    "Focus on the men with the crates!" echoed Tano to his comrades, who is busy reloading his rifle.

    Two of my men have already fallen in the skirmish, with two more wounded. We''re now down to sixteen men including myself, and the signal doesn''t seem to have any chance of appearing anytime soon. To make matters worse, the men holding the crate reached their comrades unscathed, and whatever''s inside that box...they''re unloading it now.

    I swear, if those crates has a Gatling gun ammunition inside it-

    "The enemy''s deploying a Gatling gun! The crew''s emerging from the northeast! They are loading it now!" Tano announced as he rose from cover, returning fire as he did so.

    "Goddamn it! Retreat to Calle Cabildo! Now!" I roared as my men and I fired back in quick succession to cover our retreat.

    II.

    From the distance, a fierce battle can be heard as Telesforo and his men defend their position near Calle Victoria. Sure enough, the harbor will be crawling with Civil Guards soon. The shots fired by Pedro definitely caught the attention of the soldiers. But it seemed to be a matter of no consequence, for they were able to secure the weapon crates stashed inside one of the warehouses near the port. Pedro snickers, for Peralta wasn''t lying about the weapons after all. He thinks to himself, ''After all these years...Peralta may still have his uses.''

    "Pedro, we''ve loaded the boats and we''re ready to go. We only need to fire the signal for Telesforo''s group so they can retreat." one of Pedro''s men reported, handing the rocket to him.

    "What signal? We''re not going to fire this damn signal! Let Telesforo''s group sort their situation out." Pedro sneered as he threw the firecracker into the water. His underling was utterly shocked and disgusted at this act, to say the least - for Pedro is obviously sabotaging the operation - first, by intentionally firing his gun to alert the soldiers after the harbor guards have been taken out...and now this!

    "Curses, Pedro! Just what in damnation did you just do?!" the man protested as he pushed Pedro, tipping off his balance for a bit. Pedro then, shockingly, immediately retaliated with a right jab, hitting the man square in the face and causing him to stagger. Seeing an opening in his opponent''s defenses, Pedro followed up the attack with a punch kick, putting his opponent to the ground. And like a berserk feral hound, Pedro pounced at the defenseless man and began throwing punch after punch upon the man, battering his face with every strike. This continued on for several seconds, until four of Pedro''s men stood in to break the fight - the three pulling Pedro away from the defeated man, and the other one helping the battered man up on his feet. It took about a full minute before the three men were able to calm Pedro down.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    "You try that again, and I''ll kill you for good, you fuck!" cursed Pedro as he slowly retreated to the boats.

    "Let''s go! We''re done here!" he ordered the men. "And get that fucker out of my sight!"

    III.

    The retreat to Calle Cabildo proved to be not an easy thing, as the Civil Guards got us in a tight spot, with the machine gun at their arsenal. I tried to get a bead at the man operating the cursed weapon, but the relentless gunfire made it almost impossible to get out of cover. I can see Tano dragging one of our wounded comrades to safety, for the man is shot in the chest and his right hip is bleeding. I can see the other soldiers slowly advancing towards our location, and with a handful of them flanking us to the right - they must''ve overheard our retreat.

    Goddamn it. Why does it have to be our fellow Filipinos...

    ...and why is Pedro taking so damn long to get all of the crates out of the harbor?!

    But I have greater concerns than that at the moment. The street behind us is greatly barren of obstacles we can hide behind, so if we retreat now, we''re as good as dead - with that machine gun always on the prowl for anybody who would do as much as a peek out in the open. These soldiers are surprisingly well-trained, and are just as excellently equipped.

    "We cannot hold out like this for much longer, Telesforo! That gun is killing us!" shouted one of my men.

    "Tulisanes!" shouted a Spanish soldier hiding behind a wall section of the school, who, judging by his attire, is an officer of this band of soldiers. "Surrender now, and your lives will be spared!"

    "I''d rather die here than surrender to you, Spanish dogs!" I taunted in Spanish as I fired at his direction, chipping off a small chunk of his cover. I can hear a faint ''mierda'' coming from behind his hiding spot.

    "Kill them! Kill them all!" the officer ordered.

    But in a surprising turn of events, out of nowhere, a small canister flew into the middle of the battlefield, and before my eyes could even blink to absorb what just happened, the canister blew up into a thick cloud of smoke. In just a matter of seconds, the street was covered in musty-smelling fog, and firing ceased from both sides. Not long after the first bomb, two more canisters flew out of nowhere and into the street, thickening the cover of smoke that has already enshrouded the battlefield in obscurity.

    "Go now, Tales!" shouted a familiar voice. "The Gatling gun is short of bullets! Go now while it reloads!"

    Upon this mysterious ally''s instruction, I rallied my comrades to fall back. "To Calle Cabildo! Now!" I shouted, aiding my wounded comrades as we withdrew.

    Behind the curtain of smoke, I can hear the Spanish officer frantically shouting to his men, ordering them to shoot blindly into the misty cover the bombs have created earlier. Gunfire came at us at all possible directions, but only a few barely glanced us as we made our run into the dark street, Calle Cabildo.

    IV.

    Tirso and I was only a few feet away from the harbor when I spied upon some rogue lamp lights going in and out of one of the warehouses. I immediately pulled my companion behind the cover of a stack of boxes to avoid attracting the attention of these bandits, for we cannot take them on at this state - considering how outnumbered we are at the moment. There''s more than a dozen armed men loading crates onto two medium-sized fishing boats, and interestingly, on the far left of the warehouse, I can see two of the bandits fighting each other with their fists.

    "What do you suppose they''re loading onto their boats, Marcelo?" Tirso whispered.

    "I don''t know, Tirso. But I''m sure, whatever those scoundrels are plundering from that warehouse must be valuable." I answered.

    "I think we should call for reinforcements...right now." Tirso suggested.

    "There''s no time to wait for the others. We''re it!" I countered.

    "Are you crazy?! We can''t take on fifteen armed men! Let''s wait it out!" my companion argued.

    "If we don''t act now, they''ll get away! Time is of the essence! We can''t sit idl-"

    I was interrupted in my speech when a sudden CRASH on the far end of the harbor caught the tulisanes'' attention. One of them motioned a number of tulisanes to inspect the noise and dispatched three to inspect it.

    ....this gives me an idea.

    "I got it! Tirso, I know how we can thwart this heist...and I need your help!"

    "I hope this is not one of your crazy ideas again." Tirso sighed.

    "No! None of the sort!" I assured him. "You see these heavy wooden boxes scattered across the harbor?"

    "Yes...and what about them?" Tirso asked, his face telling me he hasn''t the slightest idea.

    "I want you to go from stack to stack and make some noise."

    "But that will lead them to my dir...."

    Upon realizing the point of my plan, Tirso''s eyes started to brighten.

    "Yes. Exactly, my friend." I answered with a grin. Tirso nodded in agreement.

    "Divide and conquer, eh?" he replied, his tone reeking of excitement. "Just like when we were kids, huh?"

    "Are you ready to play hide-and-seek, Tirso?" I asked.

    "Always, my friend." he replied. "Always!"

    "Then, let''s get to work!"

 Scene 12 - Cat and Mouse

    We set the plan in motion. Tirso made his way on the far end of the harbor to the right of the warehouse the tulisanes had just recently plundered, while I made my way near one of the stack of boxes just a little ways to the left where the bandits docked their fishing boats. It didn''t take long before I heard a loud THUD coming from the direction Tirso was hiding. That was my cue.

    I then held my rifle in such a way that its butt can be easily used to ram one of the boxes with it, making a loud enough sound to catch the attention of the tulisanes.

    "Huh! Who''s there?!" shouted one of them. I immediately made myself scarce and relocated myself behind another stack of huge boxes.

    Fortunately, I was lucky enough to decide to move earlier to another position, because this certain tulisan actually unloaded his revolver upon the box.

    He must be very anxious - paranoid, even - that he''d fill an innocent stack of boxes with holes just because of a sudden thud. This, however, doesn''t seem to be the case for Tirso, as more and more of the tulisanes are being dispatched to check the noises that he''s been making and not a shot was fired towards his direction. Glass breaking, discarded metal chains rattling about...Tirso was an expert in this child''s play.

    The fifteen men guarding the boats are now down to ten, and one of them seemed to grow wary as the noises around them become more intense. "Putang ina mo! Lumabas ka diyan, duwag!" he would call out, occassionally wasting his bullets on boxes and stowed carts. I, on the other hand, sees this as an opportunity to taunt them. From time to time, I''d throw out rocks, dirt or scraps of wood and quickly move to another position to elude the men tracking my location by the trajectory of the projectile. The cover of night worked greatly to my advantage, and their lamps can only illuminate so much and they don''t have that much lamps to go around. Now, the entire party of tulisanes are on edge and the men guarding the boats are down to three, with the lot of their comrades scouring the entire harbor. The search party was fairly easy to evade, because the light of their lamps give away their location in the dark, and are thus very easy to track.

    "This search is pointless, Pedro. The rest of the Civil Guard might be here soon." said one of the bandits.

    "This search is over when I say it''s over!" countered the man with a drawn revolver. "Whoever threw that rock earlier at me, I want his head! I''ll drag him back to the hideout and burn him alive!"

    "For all we know, he could''ve been long gone from here, Pedro." argued another. "Besides, whoever that was is no real threat to us. We only came here for the rifles. Let''s get out of here before it''s too late."

    Rifles, eh? They went through all this trouble just for rifles? I wonder what kind of weapons are stored in those crates.

    A few seconds later, I heard a huge crash coming from Tirso''s direction. "There! Near that steamer boat! Get him!"

    A volley of rifle fire followed soon after, and the entire band of tulisanes were suddenly on Tirso''s tail. Even the men guarding the boats left their posts and joined their comrades in the chase. Shit. That one tulisan looked particularly bloodthirsty, and Tirso would be as good as dead if he was caught. I was about to launch myself out of cover to fire my rifle when a thought crossed my mind. I can see the boats yonder, bright as day, are now clear of enemies thanks to the lamps hung near the bows of these boats, and I now have the chance to repossess whatever weapons these tulisanes have acquired. But if I do that, Tirso will be left to his own to face the bandits. That idiot is not used to firefights.Stolen story; please report.

    Goddamn it. What should I do?

    ...wait. I got it! The lamps!

    Slowly and carefully, I left the cover of the boxes to approach the vessels of the tulisanes. I may not be able to retrieve the rifles at this point, but at least I can make sure the tulisanes will not be able to use them. Luckily, the boats, the crates and the stock of the guns are mainly made of wood and if I recall correctly...they do not react well with fire. So I immediately collected all of the three lamps from all the three boats, to throw them later one by one inside the boats'' hulls.

    By now, I can hear more successive gunshots from the distance, but after a few subsequent shots and shouts of pain and death, the port became silent all of a sudden. Shit, they must''ve gotten Tirso, so I have to hurry. But as I was about to throw the first lamp, I heard a sharp clicking sound and felt warm steel pointed right at my nape.

    "That''s far enough. Drop the gun and the lamp." said a deep voice from behind me. "Slowly."

    Nervous, I did as the man asked. Damn, I was careless!

    After doing what he asked, he said, "Put your hands up in the air, and slowly turn around."

    Again, I did as I was told. Turning around, I got a glimpse of some of the man''s features. He had moderate height. He wore a strange combination of a camisa and trousers similar to that of a soldier, and, in my peripheral vision, saw hung on his shoulders a body of a young man, about the same age as I am, wearing an attire similar to the students near the streets that I patrol. But as I was about to get a glimpse of his face, he told me to stop. At this point, my head and body is facing to the left of the boat, and immediately, the man shifted to the right to maintain his position behind me. He then gestured with a light tap of my nape with my gun, saying, "Move, lad. We just need to borrow a boat. I''m not here to kill you."

    "You are a tulisan, are you?" I asked. "You look like it, judging by your attire."

    "I am not, young man. But nevertheless, you don''t want to cross me, lad." he threatened, pushing the barrel of the gun a bit harder on my nape.

    "If...if you''re not a tulisan, then what are you?" I inquired.

    He paused, and then I heard a click, and heard two shots coming from the back, ended by the thumps of bodies collapsing on the ground. "Neither enemy nor friend. You were about to burn these boats, correct?"

    "Y-yes." I answered plainly. "My friend''s life depends on my success."

    "You mean the milksop being chased by tulisanes? I took care of the bandits earlier. Those bastards ran like chickens when I shot six of their friends. Your friend is safe." the man said as he withdrew his gun.

    "You expect me to believe that bullsh-"

    "Marcelo! Marcelo!" called out a familiar voice from a distance.

    Well, I''ll be damned. It is Tirso.

    A few seconds later, I heard footsteps from one of the boats.

    "I''ll be off now, young man. The other boats are yours. Do with the guns as you see fit. Until we meet again, lad."

    I turned around, and I saw one of the boats almost fifty paces away from the docks. How in the world is this man able to do that?!

    "Marcelo! You won''t believe what just happened." called out Tirso, who seemed oddly energetic because of excitement.

    I then began to snicker at these words...because oddly enough, for a man who has seen enough combat, I felt the same as Tirso. One man was able to take on fifteen men without even breaking a sweat.

    Perhaps I haven''t seen it all.

 Act I Epilogue

    Walking towards the end of Calle Cabildo, the man wearing a salakot carried on his shoulders a knocked out Francisco. It only took a quick swipe to the back of the head with a revolver to do so. He deemed it a much more efficient way of transporting a captive under the pressure of time.

    ''I was careless'', he thought to himself. His mission was supposed to be simple: go into the city, find and eliminate his target, don''t get found out, and get out. It was just that simple...and yet, here he is, stuck with an innocent young civilian who was just that unlucky to run into him...and his target is still nowhere to be found.

    As he marched on towards the harbor, which was supposed to be an easy getaway if not for the recklessness of Pedro and his men, his mind fell into deep introspection. He could have just simply shot and killed off this youth and moved on, just as he did with the other ''innocent'' witnesses that came across his path, intentionally or not. Finishing him off was the easiest and simplest solution, and yet...somehow...something inside him just wouldn''t allow him to.

    A seasoned killer...feeling mercy for someone that isn''t even related to him in any way. Ridiculous, the man thought to himself. And yet, there was just something in the lad that...awakened a fragment of himself within him...one which he thought was forever lost.

    Perfecto Peralta gasped, trying to bury the thought, and focused on the situation at hand. Yonder the street, he can hear the sound of successive gunfire and the shouts of men in combat - tones that are all too familiar to him. That must be Telesforo''s group, he thought to himself, for before this eventful night, he was with the tulisanes to coordinate a heist on one of the warehouses near the harbor - one where his employer Placido Penitente used to store his obsolete rifles. The plan was to use the tulisanes as a diversion and bait to draw out the Guardia Civil, for his target was a certain Spanish officer in the guard whom Placido wanted dead for blackmailing him. This certain officer has been in the payroll of Penitente for quite some time, and the man, possibly realizing how much Placido was worth, got greedy and asked for more.

    But Placido was not one to be trifled with, and Peralta himself knows and acknowledges this. When men become imprudent in the face of chaos, Penitente kept his cool. Reckless men would have ordered a hit immediately on the snitch to get the problem fixed as soon as possible, but not Penitente. He is a sophisticated man, the shadow behind the curtain - pulling the strings from behind the scenes.

    Peralta''s orders from Penitente were simple: convince the tulisanes to raid Intramuros by giving them an incentive, create a situation where the tulisanes will be forced to fight the Civil Guard, drawing out the officer in the process. And then, in the heat of battle, assassinate the official.

    It was a very brilliant plan, because it eliminates any leads to the possibility of a foul play. If anything, his death would be blamed on the tulisanes, and saves Penitente the trouble of eliminating any possible witnesses. Well...save for one, of course. And to make things worse...in the chaos of the fighting, he wasn''t able to find his target yet and his time is running out. But on a positive note, he was grateful he suggested to have Pedro secure the rifles, because he was impulsive and reckless. He would have charged in guns blazing even if you told him not to, because he understands that the man has the ego of a hundred Emperor Neros, and the intellect of a rooster in a cockfight. If there''s anybody to blame for this chaos, it would be none other than Pedro - and to Peralta, this is a very good thing.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    He stopped near one of the tall buildings he can find in Calle Cabildo, and stumbled upon a law office. He can hear the skirmish of a group of tulisanes against that of the Civil Guard, and so he set down his unconscious captive down in front of the doorstep of the building, unfastened the rope holding the sheath of his bolo, and used it to bind Francisco''s hands and feet together, in a fashion similar to how you tie a pig when cooking lechon.

    Having secured his captive''s bonds, he started climbing upwards, using the awnings, railings and ledges to reach the roof. Upon reaching the top of the building, which is about three stories high, he began scanning the surroundings, and saw a skirmish northeast of his position. Immediately, he began jumping from roof to roof, taking great care not to land too roughly, because beneath the pockets of his trousers were delicate canisters, and if he''s not careful, smoke will come out of his pants and can possibly give away his position. It didn''t take long for him to reach the roof of a pharmacy, which was just a road away from the Ateneo school grounds. With this, the sound of fighting grew louder, and sure enough, he had a very good vantage point of the battle between the tulisanes and the Civil Guard. Shame he didn''t bring his rifle, he thought to himself, for in the distance, he can see a soldier wearing a decorated uniform. And upon his more careful inspection, the features of that individual match that which his employer had given him. Bushy mustache, olive skin, and a scar on his left cheek that looks like a scratch. That''s him, all right. Readying his revolver and taking a deep breath, he aimed down at his sights. But as he was about to get a bead on his target, he noticed seven soldiers carrying a crate rushing towards their comrades. A machine gun, he thought. He then looked to his left, and saw behind one of the wall sections of the school a very familiar face. Telesforo''s men won''t stand a chance against that machine gun. They need to retreat...and fast!

    Peralta noticed how Telesforo''s men focuses on the men carrying the crate. A good move on the part of the bandit leader. However, they were failing spectacularly despite the ten men firing on the crew. The soldiers reached their comrades, unpacked the machine gun from cover, and, upon loading the ammunition, laid siege to the position of the tulisanes with a blanket of gunfire.

    The machine gun was now firing for a good forty seconds when a thought occurred to Peralta. He had to do something. He then removed one of the canisters inside his pocket, and considered his options carefully. If he throws the smoke canister towards Telesforo''s direction, he may be able to save them from certain peril...but he will compromise his position in the process, losing his chance to assassinate his target. He took a deep breath. And, taking out all the smoke canisters from his pockets, he threw them towards the tulisanes''s direction in succession. As expected, the bombs created a thick blanket of smoke, causing disarray among the Civil Guards.

    "Go now, Tales!" Peralta shouted. "The machine gun is short of bullets! Go now while it reloads!"

    At this, Telesforo''s men started to make their move. From the side of the guards, Peralta can see the soldiers operating the machine gun panicking to reload the weapon as quickly as possible, which, upon reloading, started to fire blindly upon the smoke, missing their targets. Hearing the source of the voice, some of the soldiers took notice of Peralta and started firing towards the pharmacy. He immediately ducked and crawled away from his position to relocate to another position.

    The firing continued for almost a full minute, and at this point in time, the soldiers are already firing at nothing. Peralta was already relocated at the roof of the bookshop next to the pharmacy. Slowly, he rose up to fire. The officer was still hiding behind the wall where he was minutes earlier. Seeing this golden opportunity, Peralta took a deep breath, and, having taken a bead on the officer, slid his fingers on the trigger.

    BANG!

 Act II Prologue

    It was another June afternoon in the editor''s office, and we have been shuffling through hundreds of pages of the manifest of a shipment received in the south harbor some months ago. I was lucky enough to get in contact with one of the Filipino cargadores who worked closely with the harbor master, and got my hands on the document to aid me in my investigation. The night before yesterday, two Civil Guards allegedly single-handedly thwarted a heist of a band of tulisanes in one of the harbor''s warehouses. Alarming as the sentence might sound, the unfortunate event uncovered something far more sinister than the one we have at hand. I discovered during my investigation that the crates that were reacquired from the bandits were listed as "gardening tools" in the manifest - and these are actually obsolete, but still usable high-caliber rifles. The manifest also lists a number of other suspicious things, such as ''medical'' nitroglycerin and bottles of opium tinctures, which are highly regulated substances since Captain-General Leonardo Montes came to power.

    And thus, it begs the question: how in blazes did all of this get past customs?

    "This is indeed a great find, Vida?es. Our readers would definitely be excited to see the fruits of our investigations in our next articles!" exclaimed the chief editor, who heaved heavily as he huffed and puffed from his cigar in his excitement. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    "This is still just speculation, sir." I gently rebuked. "We will need to collect further evidences to make any substantial claims in this conspiracy. For now, don''t you think I should be writing articles following the developments of this unfortunate event for the meantime?"

    "Well, what do we have so far?" the editor asked.

    "For a start, sir, I found out that in the aftermath of the coordinated attack of the bandits, it is revealed that the Guardia Civil suffered far lesser casualties compared to the tulisanes. Three to eleven, in favor of the Guardia Civil. It seemed that the funds invested on the wages and training of the Indio soldiers actually paid off." I remarked.

    "Truly? How come? This is indeed interesting...this has never happened before." the editor noted. "The last time the Guardia Civil had an encounter with them, the tulisanes made a fool of our soldiers."

    Ahh, yes." I agreed. "Those were the days. Matanglawin''s band has been a terror in Manila and in the southern provinces for too long. I suppose nobody wins for long, eh?"

    "Indeed!" the editor seconded, puffing out another stream of smoke.

 Scene 1 - The Boatman

    It was almost dawn when the boat that Perfecto Peralta stole from the tulisanes reached the still waters of the Pasig river. The odds were yet again in his favor - thanks to the two meddlesome Civil Guards that stalled Pedro''s band for a surprisingly considerable amount of time. It was another successful mission, he thought to himself - but his weary eyes tell a different story.

    His gaze, watching the vast horizon of the river, slowly panned towards the unconscious youth stowed away on the other side of the boat-hidden beneath the stack of ropes and nets, with a crate of rifles stacked with the lot. He pondered for a while as he examined the youth''s features.

    "Small world, huh?" he muttered to himself, raising his head to the sky. "Well, a promise is a promise. You saved my life once. You better call us even after this."

    As he paddled further into the river, rowing towards one of the boat docks in Sta. Mesa, he was startled by a sudden groan beneath the nets.

    "Good morning! About time you woke up!" Peralta declared, rowing gently down the river.

    "Ughh..." Francisco groaned. "Well, you hit me really hard. Are these bonds really necessary?" he complained.

    "Caution, my boy." Peralta replied briefly. "Just be thankful that I was kind enough to spare you."

    "Oh. Well, thank you, kind sir." Francisco replied in a sarcastic tone.

    "We''ll be approaching the docks, and I need to talk to somebody there." Peralta exclaimed in a calm voice. "For your own good, I need you to shut up and allow me to do the talking. Am I understood?"

    "If it helps me to keep my head, then sure." Francisco answered. "What''s the deal, anyway?"

    "You don''t want to provoke my employer." the man answered.

    "All right. Suure."

    "You''re a feisty one for someone within shooting distance, I''ll give you that." Peralta sneered. "It gives me the impression that this is not the first time you got into tangles such as this."

    "And you''re too kind for a hostage-taker." Francisco responded with a snicker. "Which gives me the impression that this is your first time doing this."

    "Indeed." the man agreed. "Because I usually shoot witnesses on sight. So don''t test me, boy."

    "Truly? Why spare me, then?" the youth asked. "And use a mask next time so you won''t have to go around shooting witnesses, will you."

    "I never needed a mask because I usually shoot my witnesses on sight, and very often my witnesses are usually syndicate members. I don''t kill innocent civilians. You were just stupid enough to run into me last night." Peralta replied.

    "Bosh!" the young man retorted. "You expect me to believe such nonsense? I''ve had run-ins with your ilk in Tondo. You want me to think that you''re a vigilante? Pshaw! More like a bounty hunter."

    "How so? You think that I have a bounty to collect for your head?! Dream on, boy!" Peralta gave a short chuckle. "You have a long way to go before that day comes, lad."

    "You could have just easily pulled the trigger when you found me last night to save you the trouble of...this, yet you didn''t." the young man. "How come?"

    "So? You think I''m soft, is that it?" Peralta answered in a stern tone.

    "No." the young man replied. "But I''m thinking...you need something from me, don''t you? That''s why you can''t kill me."

    "And what would I need from you? I just picked you off the street, boy!" the old man sneered. "Yes, I could have just killed you that night. But professionals have standards. There''s no glory in killing unarmed civilians."

    "Bosh! Nonsense! You expect me to believe that you''re keeping me alive out of the goodness of your heart?! I don''t suppose you were sent by Morales to collect his money, hmm?"

    "Who in the world is Morales?" answered Peralta, who looked genuinely confused at this accusation.

    "No? Hmm. Perhaps Don Custodio? Surely it''s he who sent you!" the youth accused once more.

    "You owe money to that oaf?" Peralta replied with an amused tone, his face even more puzzled.

    "N-no. I just thought that you knew...because...I usually visited-y-you know what, never mind. I''ve said too much." the young man reconsidered.

    The boatman was quiet for a moment, and then his eyes suddenly widened after a realization dawned upon him, and then broke out into sudden laughter.

    "What''s so funny?" Francisco asked, who was answered by the boatman with more laughter.

    "You''ve been secretly visiting Don Custodio''s flame, aren''t you?! Pepay, isn''t it?! For a seemingly tame university student such as yourself, I wouldn''t have expected you to have the audacity of a tulisan. You had my interest at first, but now you have my attention."

    "H-how in the world did you know-"

    "Boy, everyone who has stayed long enough in Intramuros knows that those two had an affair going on. It''s just that people are wise enough to shut up to keep their heads." the boatman replied with an amused smile. "Even that birdbrain Ben-Zayb from El Grito knows when to keep quiet. You''re brave, I''ll give you that much, but quite reckless as well. It''s a wonder you''re still alive."

    "It''s...a guilty pleasure of mine, I''ll admit." the young man answered. "I may be reckless, old man, but I''m not stupid."

    "Oh, are you now?" the boatman sarcastically replied. "Not stupid, eh? How are you feeling back there, by the way? Those bonds seem really comfortable."

    "Stop mocking me. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, that''s all." the youth replied.Stolen novel; please report.

    "Oh, were you?" Peralta asked. "Stupid people are reckless people, boy. You can''t be one without the other. You were strolling along one of the most dangerous parts of town in the middle of the night, in the midst of a raid of a band of tulisanes. What is it that''s so important that you''d risk your life on the streets?"

    "I told you. I was about to go home." Francisco lied.

    "You''re not fooling anyone, boy. You know that I did not buy into that story the last time."

    "That''s the truth! And why is this important, by the way? Is it not sufficient that I''m not bearing any narcotics with me? You said so yourself." the youth replied.

    "I did." the man replied. "But I''m going to cut you loose now, boy. However, I need to know if I can trust you. I need to know the truth. You would want to get out of those bonds, won''t you?"

    "About time." Francisco muttered to himself.

    "What was that, boy?"

    "I mean yes! Of course I do sir! My back hurts so bad."

    "Then I need you to answer some questions, lad. Truthfully." Peralta replied. "So, what happened that night? Why were you roaming around Calle Cabildo?"

    "Well...I don''t think ''roaming'' is the finest word to describe it, sir. I had to go there to avoid the tulisanes!" Francisco replied, "You see sir, I am a student of Arts and Trades, and...we usually take our classes at night, and like what I''ve said, I was about to go home when you found me. My parents are old, sir, which is why I needed to hurry home to look after them, especially since a band of tulisanes were rampaging inside Intramuros."

    "Your...parents? Huh...interesting." the boatman commented.

    "You don''t seem convinced, sir. I swear, I''m telling the truth!" Francisco complained, wriggling heavily in his compartment.

    "Of course you are." the boatman parried. "You''re not protecting someone, are you?"

    "What are you trying to imply? Do I look like I am in league with some cheap Chinese syndicate?" the youth impatiently replied.

    "I did not say anything. But are you?"

    "No! Of...of course not!" Francisco protested with disgust. "I told you what you want to know. Now, please, get me out of these bonds."

    "It intrigues me that you know something about the Chinese syndicates. Not everybody knows about their dealings, let alone their existence. Something tells me that you''re not telling me everything you know."

    Francisco sighed, paused for a few seconds to consider his words before answering again.

    "All right...since you seemed so adamant to know everything, I''ll tell you what I know." Francisco finally conceded. "I work for a journalist named Mauricio Vida?ez. I get paid to feed him information about the goings-on in the towns, especially around Tondo. That''s how I know about the Chinese. But I swear with my life that I have nothing to do with those bastards!"

    "Ahh, so you''re his informant...and a good one at that, too. So that''s why Vida?ez''s articles are very...conclusive. Anyway, thank you for cooperating, lad."

    "Where are you taking me, anyway?" the young man asked.

    "You''ll see. It won''t be long." the boatman answered, paddling his way towards the small stretch of water, closing in on the docks.

    "I''m not supposing you''re planning to dump me in the river?" Francisco exclaimed.

    "Boy, if that was my plan all along, it would have been simpler to just shoot you last night and be done with it. There''s literally nothing stopping me from doing so aside from the fact that you''re just an unfortunate passer-by." the boatman replied.

    "Ohh...yes...right. Point taken." Francisco conceded. "You know, all things considered, if we have met under better circumstances, I''d perhaps mistake you for my godfather. My long...lost...godfather."

    "By the heavens, no. I''d definitely disown you several times over if that is even possible." Peralta replied with disgust.

    Peralta then set aside the paddle for a while, unsheathed his bolo, and slid it in the small gap between Francisco''s wrists - and in a swift but careful sawing motion, he cut the young man''s rope. Francisco, upon being freed, eagerly stretched his arms and legs.

    "About time." Francisco remarked, soothing his wrists.

    "Lad." Peralta called out. "Look there. You see those two affluent-looking gentlemen by the docks? One with a bowler hat and one with a cane?"

    "Yes." he answered. "What about them?"

    "They''re my associates. Speak to none of them, you understand?"

    "Aye." the young man affirmed. "But I need to know-"

    Francisco was about to utter his words when he felt the boat clashing mildly with the wooden platform of the docks. That was his cue. The old man expressly forbade him to say anything once they reach dry land, and so he shall.

    "Took you long enough, eh Peralta." one of the men on the docks exclaimed.

    "Got into a bit of a tangle. But it is done." Peralta replied.

    "And your proof?" the man with a bowler hat asked.

    "The papers today will be identifying the bodies. I''m sure Diario de Manila will be releasing their story shortly. No need for physical proof." Peralta calmly replied.

    "I see. Then as per the club''s rules, we''ll be docking your pay until the kill is confirmed. Do you have any questions?" the man replied in a very astute fashion.

    "None, thank you. Perhaps I''ll take it up to Cristina once I get back." Peralta answered.

    "Very well. Oh, and by the way..." the affluent man interjected. "Who''s the quiet fellow you have there with you, Peralta? I believe we haven''t been introduced."

    Francisco has had his head down throughout the entire exchange that has transpired, keeping to himself just as he was instructed to do. Therefore, it came as a surprise for Francisco when the affluent man decided to reach out and shake the young man''s hand.

    "Ahh, he''s...an associate of mine." Peralta quickly replied.

    "Is that true, young man?" the affluent man asked.

    Francisco wasn''t able to reply for a few seconds, for he was awe-stricken, not knowing what to say. He is now in the presence of a syndicate leader, he thought to himself. He was never expecting this to happen, he looked at Peralta, and his face was saying the same.

    "I''m talking to you, boy." the affluent man called out. "Is what Peralta saying is true?"

    "Boy, say something." nudged Peralta, who was rather nervous as he tapped the young man''s shoulder.

    "O-ohh...uhh...me?" the young man finally replied.

    "Yes, boy! You! Who else is here?" the affluent man answered, annoyed at the young man''s response.

    "Oh, I, uhh...yes, sir. That is true." Francisco replied nervously.

    "You don''t seem too sure, lad." the affluent man suspiciously commented.

    "Oh, uhh...pardon me, sir. I was just...I can''t believe it." Francisco replied apologetically.

    "Can''t believe what?" the man in the bowler hat asked, looking rather confused. Peralta looked at Francisco nervously.

    "Oh, uh, pardon me. I...I was getting ahead of myself." Francisco replied rather enthusiastically as he, in a surprising turn of events, stretched out his hand to shake the man''s hand."Allow men to introduce myself. My name is Julio Perez. I have been working as an informant for Se?or Peralta for quite some time now. I...I''m just...thrilled to tell you that my client''s last hit was my greatest work yet."

    "Ahh, I see Peralta has found a man of skill." the man praised, shaking Francisco''s hand. "My employer would be delighted to know that we have someone like you on our payroll, Se?or Julio. If you ever need a contract, you know where to go." the affluent man remarked, visibly delighted by Francisco''s kind of ''professional service''.

    "S-splendid. I''ll keep in touch." Francisco answered with forced delight.

    "Well then, we need to be off. Business calls elsewhere. We''ll be seeing you soon, Se?or Perez." the affluent man remarked as he withdrew his hand and walked away with his partner, heading towards a black carriage parked at the sidewalks of the street.

    As soon as the two men were clear of the premises, Francisco gave a huge sigh of relief. Rightfully so, as he just pulled off a very colossal lie.

    "That was some snappy thinking, boy." Peralta commended. "I never expected you to ride it out smoothly, but you managed. However, I''ve got some bad news."

    "How could this possibly go worse?" Francisco sighed. "Who are those men, by the way?"

    "We call them ''Supervisors''. They oversee every job that people of my...profession take. To tell you the truth...that last job...was a very complicated one, to put it lightly. Saying those men were impressed by your...work...would be a gross understatement." Peralta cautiously replied. "They were astounded, boy. You sold your story quite perfectly."

    "And...is that a bad thing?" the young man inquired.

    "Yes." Peralta hesitantly answered. "Because from this day forward...

    ...you''re in this shit now."

 Scene 2 - The Journalist

    As soon as I finished my business with the chief editor, I immediately made my way towards the end of the street of Calle Cabildo where I''m supposed to meet two contacts of mine. Of all the places they could pick to meet, they chose a small panciteria. A PANCITERIA, of all places! Dios mio!

    Disappointing, to say the least, as it''s just beside La Cathedral Cafe, where the view is undoubtedly more scenic and the ambiance is more suited to our exchange. But...well, beggars can''t be choosers. These two young gentlemen are by far the best source of information that I have right now regarding the goings-on in the ''business'' district of Tondo, for they are the only ones daring enough to venture that far into the belly of the beast. For some seemingly tame students from a higher institution, their work is quite impressive. It was actually thanks to them that I got my hands on the manifest of the shipment of goods relating to the recent heist made by the tulisanes. Where they get their information, I will never know. However, I''m glad that I have these young men on my payroll. Because without them, my articles would never gain traction in the market and Diario de Manila would not bask in the prestige it enjoys today.

    I approached a small stall situated just beside La Cathedral that matched the description Quintino gave me. The entrance is rather wide, and is adorned with two, red oval-shaped paper lanterns with familiar Oriental characters written on them. The front of the store is rather strange for a panciteria, because the only thing that separates the outside from the inside of the store is not a door, but a long strip of banner-like curtains that hung near the entrance, covering the upper half of it. The lower half of it, however, is visible from the outside and you can see a long stool set in front of a table counter - and from where I stand, I spy a pair of pantalones that''s all too familiar for me not to recognize.

    I casually entered the premises of this ''panciteria'', and lo and behold, before me is a young man slurping noodles from a large, black bowl using a pair of palillos (chopsticks). An elderly man wearing a white traditional robe stood behind the counter, tidying up his table.

    "I have never seen anyone as sloppy as you with palillos." I remarked as I took a seat a few paces beside him.

    "Will you cut me some slack, Vida?ez? This is my first time! I''m trying my best! Unlike you, you''ve stayed in countries like Japan long enough to know how to use these damn sticks! I''ve never had experience with these cursed utensils!" Quintino complained in a frustrated tone, trying to put his meal into his mouth in an awkward pincer.

    "Then use a spoon for goodness''s sake! You eat like a damn child!" I parried. "You''re ruining the ramen!"

    "Ra....what? That''s a weird way to say ''lomi''." Quintino commented.

    "That''s not lomi, you oaf. You do realize that you''re eating in a Japanese noodle stand?" I rebuked.

    "Japanese? Nonsense! There are no Japanese in Intramuros!" Quintino countered. "This is a panciteria owned by an old Chinese entrepreneur. Francisco and I have been frequenting this store for years. We know the owner! I mean, he doesn''t speak a word of Tagalog or Castillan, but he usually acknowledges us with nods of familiarity."

    "I''ve been in Japan long enough to know that this place is indeed Japanese, Quintino." I argued.

    "Then I suppose, since you know some Nihongo, you can converse with the owner, then?" Quintino challenged, wearing a smug smile on his face.

    "You really don''t believe me, do you? I''ll show you then." I muttered softly as I turned to the owner. "Obaa-san (Uncle)."

    "Hai? (Yes?)" he responded neutrally. Apparently, this is what his customers think his name is.

    "Sumimasen. Kore wa ikuradesu ka? (Excuse me. How much is this?)" I asked politely, as I pointed at Quintino''s meal.

    The man''s face brightened and with a smile he replied. "Ahah! Siiiko peso. Siiiko! (Perhaps he was saying five pesos? Rather cheap, I''d say)"

    My mouth curled into a sly smile, staring at Quintino triumphantly and then returned my attention to the owner, telling him to prepare me one of those noodles.

    "All right, all right. You have made your point. Let''s get on with business, shall we?" Quintino sighed, putting his palillos on top of the bowl. "Oh, by the way, before I start, I have to tell you something."

    "What''s that?"

    "How long have I been working for you, Vida?ez?" he abruptly asked.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Surprised by this unusual question, I hesitantly answered, "Two years, I think? Why did you ask?"

    "Ahh. Yes...two years." he repeated. "You know, I have been wondering...Francisco and I have been feeding you information - very valuable information, mind you - for two years, scouring parts of Manila that some men dare not go. And..."

    "All right. Here we go..." I muttered to myself.

    "Hear me out, Vida��ez! Hear me out! Please." pleaded the young man.

    I was silent for a second or two, trying to consider my options. For sure, this wretch is going to tell me one of his fantastic reasons on why he has to charge me more. But then again, the information I need to progress my case is in the hands of this gentleman.

    Basically, I have no choice but to hear what he has to say.

    "All right. Let''s hear it." I replied lazily.

    "So, as I was saying, we''ve been scouring Manila for you for two years now. And...you know, our ''operational costs'' have been rising recently due to the pestilence here in Intramuros, so I was wondering-"

    "A pay raise, is that it?" I interrupted.

    "Exactly." he affirmed.

    "Quintino, for the last five months, you''ve been consistently raising your prices by twenty pesos each month." I ranted, all the while the owner of the stall placing my order on the table. "Does Francisco even know about thi...w-where is Francisco, by the way?"

    "He, uhh...I don''t know, actually." he replied. "I told him to meet me here the other night when I ran into him during the attack. I''m...I''m worried about him."

    "Why so? What happened?" I asked, curious about this tidbit of information.

    "He...the night of the attack, I told him to run away. He said he was going to look for Dr. Mercado-"

    "Dr. Emilio Mercado? The physician from Calle Sta. Lucia?" I interrupted.

    "The very same." Quintino confirmed. "And I haven''t heard from Francisco lately. I pray to God he hasn''t bitten the dust yet. So...you see, Vida?ez, this is the kind of risk we put ourselves in every time we run errands for you. I think raising our prices is more than justified, don''t you agree?"

    "Perhaps." I hesitantly conceded. "And how much of an increase are you proposing?"

    "Well...twenty pesos shou-"

    "Deal. Two hundred and twenty pesos for your information, then!" I immediately agreed.

    "That...that was quick." Quintino replied, startled by my abrupt response.

    "So..." I precluded. "...what do you have for me, Quintino?"

    "I was expecting you to make a counter-offer, but...okay." the young man commented, who then pulled a folded envelope from underneath his coat, placed it on the table and slid it towards me.

    "What''s this?" I asked, intrigued by the piece of paper as I picked it up and examined it.

    "Francisco relayed that to me a week ago." Quintino explained as he took out a cigarette from his coat pocket and lit it with a match. "On one of his...''sessions'' in one of the cockpits in Tondo, he spied upon one of the bettors, and chanced upon that piece of paper which you may well be interested in. Go ahead. Open it."

    Curious as to what this young man is telling me, I did as he asked, and opened the small brown envelope and unfolded the letter inside it and began reading its contents.

    "It''s typewritten." I remarked.

    "That''s a very good observation." Quintino sarcastically replied. " Read the contents, you''d be very surprised."

    I went over the first few lines, and to my surprise, the sentences that I read really piqued my interest.

    "Se?or Li, it has come to my attention that the supply of opium isn''t as steady as promised. Our markets in San Diego and Sta. Mesa are growing weary as the time passes, as the supply that was promised is not delivered. I expect you to make a rectification of the situation.

    T.P"

    "T.P? Who is that?" I asked my contact.

    "I''m just as clueless as you, Vida��ez." Quintino replied, shrugging his shoulders. " But the message...it seems to be from someone operating a narcotics ring. If the narcotics ring is a nest of vipers, this T.P. must be the head of one of those vipers, if you know what I''m saying."

    "I see. Anything else you would like to share?" I inquired some more.

    "It''s rather irrelevant to the case that you''re pursuing, but...I think you''d want to look into this one." Quintino hesitantly suggested. "Do you remember the initiative that was rolled out last February?"

    "The calamity fund because of the flu? Yes, I remember that. That''s the one where-"

    "Where the Captain-General Montes approved the fifty peso handout per household here in Intramuros, yes." he interrupted.

    "What about it?" I asked.

    "You see...two weeks ago, my grandmother went to one of the offices where they give these handouts, and...I noticed something suspicious about the documents that they have signed."

    "This looks interesting." I leaned in to listen. "Tell me more."

    "I reckon you''ve seen the papers being handed out to the people of Intramuros to be signed, yes? One with two segments?"

    "Yes, one acknowledging that the clerk processed the request and the other acknowledging that the amount stated was received. And?"

    "I asked my grandmother why the second segment was already signed, to which she replied that the clerk in charge told her to do so."

    "And did she receive the money?" I asked.

    "That''s what concerns me. The clerk told her that day that she will get the money the next week. It''s been almost four months, and nothing came. The clerk kept denying that he ever said that and that she already received her money."

    Needless to say, I was shocked and quite furious at what I heard. "What the actual...unbelievable. Este lugar se va a la mierda  (This place is going to shit).Those cunning hijos de puta, they have the audacity to steal from an old woman...puta de madre!" I cursed, pounding the counter with my fist.

    "We can''t bring it to court because of my grandmother''s signature on the last segment. There are many others who were tricked into signing the last segment as well and made complaints about this, but nobody from the government would listen."

    "They won''t. That''s because they all have a part in this. From clerks up to the gobernadorcillo - they all have the piece of the pie. What''s the name of the clerk?" I asked, gritting my teeth and barely containing my rage.

    "Dario Manansala." he answered. "Why did you ask?"

    "Oh, nothing." I replied. "Thank you for sharing this, Quintino."

 Scene 3 - The Barmaid

    It was another bustling evening within the confines of the Zodiac Tavern, as a huge number of Don Penitente''s contractors have just come back from their business trips to claim the ''commissions'' for their contracts, with a number of invited clients here and there having their drinks. June has been a very busy month, and interestingly, the bulk of our clients lately have been coming from Tondo and Sta. Mesa - districts that have become opium trade hotspots after well-to-do Chinese traders have taken refuge here in the Philippines following the war that broke out between Japan and China recently. The whole place is just packed to the brim with patrons that I and my fellow hostesses just couldn''t catch a break.

    "Good evening, se?orita. Virgo. 76." greeted one of the guests wearing a three-piece suit as he seated himself in front of the counter, sliding a silver coin towards me.

    "One moment, please." I responded as I shuffled through the stack of neatly-filed brown envelopes behind my counter. "Would you like something to drink whilst you''re here, Don Macaraig? By the way, you look dashing in that suit."

    "Why, thank you. I just had this picked up from my tailor two days ago. I''m glad you like it." he replied with gratitude. "By the way, is there any chance you have seen Don Penitente around?"

    "I''m afraid it''s not within my authority to answer your question. Club regulations, sir. Sorry." I smiled apologetically as I shuffled further into the stack. "Aha. Here we are. Virgo 76. Fresh from the mail."

    I took the envelope out from the stack and placed it on the counter. The parcel was packed, and the red seal barely holds the envelope shut. Don Macaraig immediately picked up the parcel and opened it to inspect the contents. He then proceeded to meticulously scan the documents one by one. The man was going through the documents thoroughly, discarding a page on the counter once he''s done with its contents. However, on the 20th page he began to pause, and took a closer inspection of the document.

    "Is anything the matter, se?or?" I asked.

    "Interesting...so that would be his offer to the bid." he muttered to himself. A few moments later, he turned to me and said with a big grin. "Thank you very much for the information, se?orita. Your service has been most excellent."

    "Likewise! We are grateful for giving us your full confidence on this matter. It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Don Macaraig." I said with a smile as I shook his hand. "If you would need our services in the future, please do not hesitate to send us a request."

    "Oh, I definitely will, se?orita. Give my regards to Don Penitente. I will definitely see you soon. Good night." the man bowed, retrieving the coin and his documents from the counter as he took his leave.

    I wonder what those documents are about? He mentioned something about a bid. Is that the bid for the expansion project of the Bilibid? It has to be. Don Penitente told me once how these bids work. Bidders would have to submit their invoices separately so as to avoid...wait, is he trying to outbid Don Pelaez on the project?

    "Cristina." called out one of the hostesses. "Don Penitente wants to have a word with you. He wants to see you outside."

    "But who would attend to the guests?" I asked.

    "I''ll cover for you. The don says it''s urgent. I''d hurry if I were you. Go on."

    "Thank you. I''ll head out now." I replied as I exited the premises. "Oh, and before I forget, we have a priority package for a group of gentlemen on the far left of the counter. Pisces. 25."

    "Pisces?" she inquired, her expression showing mild shock.

    The lady then turned to take a glance on the group of gentlemen wearing camisas seated round a table, playing cards and smoking cigars. "Ahh. Yes. Of course. Pisces is for-"

    "Supervisors, yes. 25th package in the Pisces section, all right." I interrupted. "And don''t forget the Aries is fo-"

    "For contractors, yes." she continued.

    "Are you sure you''re going to be fine, Josefa?" I asked.

    "I''ll manage. I must''ve just gotten rusty. It''s been a while since I''ve taken on these duties." she answered. "You go on now. Don''t keep him waiting."

    "All right. I''ll go on ahead." I replied, bidding her farewell.

    I then made my way towards the exit, squeezing through a throng of guests and contractors moving from table to table, either to greet their acquaintances or talk with the hostesses serving drinks. By the time I was outdoors, I felt the sea breeze caress my cheeks. It was oddly quiet outside, and the only noise that one can hear are the muffled voices coming from the tavern. On the other side of the street, I see Don Penitente, who seem to have just exited a carriage with his two other companions, who had the same apparel as him, less the cane.

    By the looks of it, they seem to be engaged in a serious discussion.

    A few moments later, Don Penitente turned his attention towards my direction and waved his hand thriftly. I gestured likewise and smiled to reciprocate, to which he answered with a slight upward curl in his lips, and then returned to his discussion with the Supervisors.

    I then walked towards him, and as I drew closer to the other side of the road, the conversation that was unintelligible earlier started to become more audible.

    "Are all the guests in the house?"

    "Yes, sir. All of them, just like you ordered."

    "And what of Peralta?"

    "He just needed to drop off our new guest at the La Venera. I''m sure he''s on his way to Intramuros as we speak, sir."

    "Sir, with all due respect, I am really not sure if the tulisanes will be...cooperative in this undertaking."

    "I trust Peralta with my life. He''s been on tougher assignments before. This will be no different. I trust your preparations for your departure are in order?"

    "Y-yes, sir. We''ll be leaving for Sta. Mesa tomorrow, as per the arrangement. Sir, don''t you think it''s a bit too much to launch an attack on Intr-"

    The three men halted in their conversation upon seeing me approach. "Ahh. Why is it every time we meet you seem to grow more radiant and beautiful by the day?" greeted Don Penitente, who advanced towards me to kiss my hand. "You seem so...tired? What happened?"

    "It''s a bit of a mess back there." I replied with a smile. "I believe you wanted to talk about something?"

    "Ahh, yes...about that..." he then gestured to the Supervisors on his left. "Be a gentleman and usher Josefa to the office behind the counter for a quick briefing. Tell the others to be on standby."

    "Certainly, sir." said the Supervisor, who then immediately crossed the street and jogged towards the front door of the tavern.

    "What''s happening?" I asked.

    "Ahh. Nothing. Just...uh, tidying things up."

    My heart skipped a beat and I let out a gasp, for I know him too well that such subtle hints could only mean something sinister.

    "Oh, nothing to worry about, my love. This isn''t about your fellow hostess." he assured me, having taken note of my expression. "It''s just that the tavern''s going to get a *wee* bit messy after this, and I, uh...just want your friends to be prepared to clean the mess. Anyway, about that thing that I want to talk about...let me brief you somewhere private."

    "All right. Lead the way." I nodded. He then gently led me by the hand inside the carriage, and seated me in front of him.

    "So, what are we to talk about?" I asked.

    "I have some bad news, actually." he started with a sigh. "I''ve recently uncovered a conspiracy of certain individuals planning to sell us out to the government. Some of the bastards that we''ve been bribing to shut up are planning to release a list of our clients and contractors to the authorities. What a shocker." he said in a sarcastic tone.

    "But why?" I inquired.

    "Why?" he replied with an amused smile. "More money, of course. Such a shame, to think that they have been useful to me these past few months. But ever since they tried to spite me with this nonsense - not to mention that they have been causing me a great deal of expenses in bribes - I''ve been biding my time to get rid of these bastards. Well, now I''ve set up the stage, I can finally finish them off. As we speak, Peralta''s heading towards Intramuros to get rid of one of the conspirators - a field officer in the Civil Guard stationed near Ateneo Municipal."

    "You sent Peralta to assassinate an officer? Aren''t you worried about the danger of his actions implicating you somehow? What if he''s caught?" I suggested.

    "Oh, not at all. Peralta is a professional in these sorts of affairs and he accomplishes my orders to the letter. He leaves no trace. He leaves no witnesses. Besides, this assassination plan is foolproof, designed to make the murder look...natural."

    "What do you mean by that?" I asked.

    "You recall Peralta''s connections with the tulisanes, yes?" he asked.

    "Yes." I replied. "What about it?"

    "It has been brought to my attention that Peralta''s old friends are facing a shortage of weapons and ammunition after suffering a major loss in an encounter near Tiani not too long ago, and I''ve decided to...give a show of goodwill to our friends. The plan is to lead the tulisanes within the borders of the Walled City at night under the guise of a promise of a hidden stash of obsolete weapons and ammunition near the docks west of Intramuros. Once the tulisanes have infiltrated the city, Peralta will then instigate a skirmish to draw out the Civil Guard - and with them, the target officer. Once the two forces clash, Peralta will then proceed with the assassination and...I suppose you can guess the rest."

    "I see." I reacted with nonchalance. "Since the incident is a skirmish between the tulisanes and the Civil Guard, the death of the field officer will be counted off as a casualty of the encounter, eliminating the possibility of a foul play. Very clever."

    "Exactly! Thank you." Penitente replied, seemingly delighted by my response. "And we''re going to do the same tonight, which brings us to the agenda we have at hand. Although, I''m...I''m not sure if you''re up to this since...you''ve never done this before, but..."

    "What?" I urged him to go on.

    He answered with a sigh.

    "I understand that you know what sort of favor I''m going to ask of you tonight, yes?"

    "I do." I replied firmly. "You''re going to ask me to kill someone...right?"

    "To put it bluntly, yes." Placido answered, trying break a smile to humor me. "You see, I...I understand the weight of my request is not a light thing to bear. As much as possible, I don''t want to place this burden upon you, as killing someone for the first time is not a very poetic experience as modern literature might advertise. If I can just assign this job to one of the contractors to spare you the trouble of going through with this, I would. Believe me. But...in order to ensure the future of the Club, I need to maintain our clients'' confidence. This incident involving these two conspirators has exposed a huge hole in our organization''s defenses, and we cannot allow that story to go out. If word of this reached the members, I would lose face - and the reputation of Los Desperados Club would plummet to the ground with me. Without good reputation, we could lose current and future business prospects. Nobody wants to do business with a service provider that is at risk."Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    "I understand the importance of keeping this scandal a secret to the survival of this organization, but what does that have to do with me doing the deed? I do not understand the necessity of having me to do the job. Why can''t you just ask any contractor to do it?" I commented.

    "I want to mitigate the spread of information. Contractors can be quite unruly. I mean, for goodness''s sake, you can hear them talk about and brag about their contracts with each other at the tavern all the time!" he said.

    "All right...point taken. If so, then why not assign the job to one of your Supervisors? Surely, they''re more...manageable than contractors. I mean...the two Supervisors working for you already know about this, right?" I suggested.

    "No. All that these Supervisors know is that the contracts I opened for the two targets were sanctioned by an Overseer. They are not aware of the purpose and intent of this operation. As such, they may not realize the importance of the secrecy of this mission without me divulging details. I don''t want risk them digging into the case further than they should." he replied. "I don''t trust these Supervisors to keep their mouths shut."

    "Oh, for crying out loud Placido, they''re your personal guard! If you can''t trust them as well, then who the hell do you trust?!" I complained, raising my voice by a small degree.

    "I trust you, Cristina." he answered firmly. "I trust you more than I would Peralta - or anybody else for that matter. I know that I can declare with full confidence that you will not speak of this incident to anyone."

    "Was that supposed to make me swoon? What if I fail to accomplish this? You do realize that this is a very crucial job and I''ve never killed anyone before!" I complained.

    "You''re the only one I have, Cristina. I have faith in you. You can do this. In fact, only you can do this, as only a hostess can perform this job to make the narrative look convincing - and out of all the hostesses serving in the tavern, the only one I can fully trust to keep this a secret is you." he replied in a soothing voice.

    I let out a sigh.

    "All right. I''m listening. It''s not like I can refuse you with everything that''s going on right now. What needs to be done?" I offered.

    Penitente paused, seemingly surprised at my reaction.

    "My eternal gratitude." he answered as his lips broke into a smile, producing a moderately-sized vial from his coat filled with a white powdery substance. "Here, take this."

    "You owe me a lot for this one." I replied as he handed me the vial. "So...what am I supposed to do with this? How does this work?"

    "That bottle contains 250 grams of powdered potassium cyanide, a very potent asphyxiant produced by Dr. Basilio himself." Penitente explained.

    "In casual Tagalog, please? I''m not very good at science." I replied.

    He sighed.

    "It''s a compound that acts within a few minutes after administration to the body, simulating effects similar to a heart attack. There. Is that explanation good enough for you?"

    "Yes. That''s a lot better." I answered nonchalantly. "So basically, you want me to poison this man, am I correct?"

    "Yes. Correct." Penitente affirmed.

    He then paused for a few seconds, as if considering the words he''s going to use next to reply.

    "You know, I have to be honest with you...you''re surprisingly calm for someone who''s about to kill somebody for the first time. One moment, you were all jittery. Now...this. What gives?" he commented, his eyes reeking of curiosity.

    "You thought I was recoiling at the thought of killing a man? I have been working for you for two years, talking about death and dealing with it as if it''s a casual subject. I do not fear taking a man''s life. I fear that in trying to do so, I would fail. This is my first time doing this kind of job for you."

    At this, Penitente''s smile grew into a grin.

    "This is why I like you so much, Cristina. Ever the modern and practical woman, unlike other women here in the Philippines." he commended. "You can do this. I have faith in you."

    "So...how should I proceed with the poison?" I asked.

    "It has to be either inhaled or ingested for it to work effectively. You''re the barkeep. You know what to do with it." Penitente explained as he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "Here''s a list of wines that you can use to mix the poison with. Dr. Basilio was kind enough to give me this list a while back. We worked together back in the day we were in Hong Kong. He says that these wines mask the odor of the chemical."

    "Really? I wasn''t aware of that." I said, perplexed by this revelation as I received the paper from him.

    "Oh, I haven''t told this one to you? Well, yes, we once worked together there doing jobs for a secret Chinese society from Shandong - they were called "Boxers" by the British authorities if I recall correctly. Basilio was a hell of a poisoner back then."

    "Hold on. If you''ve done this before, then why don''t you do it? If delivering the poison is all that it takes to do the job, then surely someone with experience doing it such as yourself will ensure its success." I commented.

    "No, I can''t be the one to do the deed. It''ll be too conspicuous, and I can''t be implicated in this. What do you think people will think of me if the person I gave the drink to dies of a ''heart attack'' in front of me, with all the other clients present?"

    "Ahh, I get it. So you want me to take the blame for the crime, is that it?!" I answered in a higher tone of voice, enraged by his response.

    "No, you silly. You''re missing my point." he retorted. "I''m assigning you this job because you''re less likely to be implicated in a foul play. We want to make this look like he died of natural causes. To the investigators, you''re just an innocent barmaid serving drinks to a lot of customers, and it just so happens that one of your customers had a heart attack while drinking. What motives would you have in killing him, anyway? None! That is why it has to be you, because only you can make the narrative look convincing. Besides, we''ve tested this poison in Hong Kong many, many times. The substance is barely traceable. A lot of British investigators who took the cases of our victims attributed their deaths to natural causes."

    I paused for a moment, trying to absorb what Placido has just said.

    "And...what happened to those cases that they didn''t rule as a natural death?" I asked.

    "It didn''t stick, as there was a lack of evidence of a foul play."

    "All right...so what''s the plan?" I asked him.

    "Your target is a man named Vicente Parico, a government clerk working for a Club member from Manila. I''ve hired this man in the past to...''help'' mask major Club transactions across the city. The other Club members from Manila vouched for him, so naturally I''d hand over the task of ''fixing'' our financial statements to this guy. The bastard got greedy, and so he plans to sell a list of Club members along with his ledgers to the authorities through one of his contacts. As we speak, he''s inside the tavern drinking with his employer. I''ve instructed Josefa to stall him for as long as she can, so you need to hurry. I''ve arranged for a Supervisor to be on standby inside the tavern to introduce you to the target, as I''m aware that you have no way of identifying him. "

    "I see." I acknowledged. "By the way, how did you get him to come here in Batangas again?"

    "I asked his employer to bring him along here to assist with the transaction, as it''s their job to inspect the rice produce bound for Manila next week. Bilibid Prison is requiring a restock, as their rice supplies are running low and their prison guards are starting to complain. It''s a golden opportunity, so I''m not about to pass it up." he replied. "Well, you better run along now. The target''s not going to poison itself."

    "All right. I''ll be on my way now." I answered as I took my leave, clasping the vial tightly. But as I was exiting the carriage, Placido took me by the hand.

    "Wait. I forgot to tell you something." he said.

    "What is it?" I asked.

    "I know I don''t tell you this much, but...thank you, Cristina. Thank you for doing this." he spoke softly. "Vicente Parico doesn''t know about you or the tavern being an organizational asset, so he won''t be suspecting anything. Be at ease. Good luck, Cristina."

    I chose not to answer, as I had none to give him.

    He let go of my hand as I exited the coach, and I started to make my way towards the tavern once more.

    Inside the building, I was greeted by the Supervisor that Placido sent in beforehand. He courteously pointed me towards one of the tables in the far end of the tavern, and in the distance, I can see Josefa chatting with one of the men seated there.

    "I suppose it''s you who''s going to perform the deed?" the Supervisor asked casually.

    "Yes." I thriftly replied. "Who''s the target?"

    "You see that man talking to your fellow hostess, wearing that fine brown suit? That''s the man." he said as he discreetly pointed the target with his lips. "I''m not sure why Don Penitente wanted you to do the job, but that''s an easy kill right there. Congratulations."

    "Umm...thank you." I replied out of impulse, unsure what is the right thing to say to the Supervisor.

    Without delay, I immediately walked towards the counter and approached the new hostess behind it. "I need a tray and five glasses of amontillado for the gentlemen on the far corner please."

    "?Un momento." she answered as she was preparing my request. "You don''t seem like yourself, Cristina. You look...rattled. Are you all right?"

    "I...I''m fine, thank you." I replied to dismiss her.

    "If you say so." she said as she fills the last glass with wine and places it on top of the tray along with the other glasses. "Here you go."

    "Thank you." I muttered as she turned her back and returned to her duties, arranging the wine bottles in their proper order.

    I then discreetly removed the cork plugged into the opening of the vial and poured the contents into one of the glasses, I then lifted the glass and rock it carefully in a counter-clockwise manner for a few seconds to stir it.

    When the white powder has completely dissolved, I set it down on the tray along with the other glasses, sliding it over my palm and went my way towards the table of my target.

    A mix of laughs and happy chatter can be heard at the table where my mark is sat, as a red-faced Josefa cracked jokes with the men while they drank and played cards. The men took notice of my presence as I approach, and they abruptly stopped playing as I was about to close in on the table.

    "Ah, what do we have here?" commented one of the men as he turned his head towards me, his eyes scanning the entirety of my features. "Oh, my apologies. Where are my manners? My name is Se?or Pasta, and I believe we haven''t been introduced se?orita...?"

    "Dela Cruz. Cristina Dela Cruz, se��or. A pleasure to meet you." I answered as I stretched out my free hand.

    "Ah, an Ind-...Filipina with European class. Or perhaps a Spanish mestiza? I may be mistaken." he answered as he kissed my hand.

    "A mestiza, se?or. Como esta tu noche? (How is your night?)" I asked out of courtesy.

    "Wonderful, wonderful. Muy bien." he replied with a satisfied tone. "Ahh! Allow me to introduce you to my fellow guests here at the table. This is Se��or Laruja, my business partner. This old gentleman over here is the retired lieutenant-general Miguel Guevarra. The bald man over there is Se?or Faustino Eleazar, one of the administrative officer for the logistics in Bilibid, and lastly, Vicente Parico, his certified accountant."

    "A pleasure to meet you all, gentlemen." I greeted as I bowed, to which they responded with positive replies. "The night is still long. Would you like to try our vintage amontillado to brighten up the mood of the night? Courtesy of the tavern for our faithful patrons."

    "Oh, did you say vintage? Well, I would like to try one please." he said as he tried to pick the poisoned one off the tray.

    "Please. Allow me." I said as I placed my hand over his to stop him. I then proceeded to place a glass on each of the men''s hand, handing out the last and the poisoned one to Vicente Parico as I looked intently in his eyes and gave him a sweet smile.

    "Forgive me for my ignorance, but is this the first time you''ve been in our establishment, Se?or Parico? I know the patrons by face, and to be honest, this is the first time I have seen yours." I remarked.

    "Ahh, yes. Actually, I was brought along by Se?or Eleazar on matters of business." he answered as he received the glass.

    "Ahh, I see. Well, I do hope you find this place to your liking." I answered as I lowered the tray and stowed it off on top of my lap."If you ever need anything gentlemen, I''ll be on the counter."

    "Let''s do a toast!" Josefa abruptly announced in her somewhat groggy voice. "Let''s do that fancy whateveritis thing the ilustrados do up North! Come, Cristina! Come, join us!"

    The men were dead silent for a moment, with judging eyes directed at Josefa. Then, a few seconds later, the once quiet crowd broke into a fit of laughter.

    "To what shall we toast to, huh, Josefa?" Se?or Eleazar asked as he wrapped his arms around her, with Josefa reciprocating with a lean on his shoulder.

    "Uhhh...I dunno, to being drunk, I guess...for all I care. Let''s just do the damn thing, for goodness''s saaaake..." was her sloshed reply.

    "Se?orita, come join us!" Vicente invited.

    "Forgive me, but I have to return to my-"

    "Nonsense!" Josefa interrupted. "Faustino, can you get me that clean glass over there?"

    "Certainly, dear." he complied, handing me the glass and pouring a generous amount of the red wine left over on the bottle.

    Se?or Faustino then raised his amontillado, and the rest of us followed suit. "A toast...to being drunk!" he announced.

    "Hear!" we responded in chorus as they raised their glasses. Se?or Faustino then crossed arms with Josefa, downing their drinks as their elbows interlocked.

    "This vintage wine is good! Very...smooth and rich." Se?or Pasta commented as he placed his glass on the table.

    "Can we get another round, Cristina?" Josefa abruptly requested as she placed her glass on the table.

    "That''s...that''s vintage wine, Josefa." I replied hesitantly.

    "Oh, don''t worry. I''ll foot the bill. Bring us a bottle of that vintage amontillado." Se?or Faustino volunteered, pulling Josefa closer to him.

    "Oh, I see. Well, in that case, excuse me, I''ll be back-"

    I was interrupted by the sound of glass breaking on the floor. Vicente Parico, who was quite lively when I came, was now getting a little pale and struggling to prop himself upright.

    "Are you all right, se?or?" I asked to fake empathy. "You don''t look so good."

    "Vicente, talk to me." Se?or Faustino demanded as he took hold of his subordinate. "Vicente, don''t-...doctor! Doctor! Is there a doctor here?! Help!"

    The entire tavern just stopped at this very pitiful sight as Vicente dropped to the floor, struggling to breathe.

    "Out of the way! I am a physician!" announced a Spanish gentleman in a fine tophat and frock coat. He then began to examine the victim, starting with the eyes all the way to his pulse.

    "He''s having a heart attack." he said. The people at the table were all awe-stricken as the doctor attempted to revive my mark with his medical tools and chest compressions.

    "I-I''m going to get help!" I declared as I made my way outside.

    "Wait a minute, se?orita!" he yelled, stopping me in my tracks as he was resuscitating him. "What did you give him? What did he drink?"

    "I...I only gave him a glass of vintage amontillado. That''s all, se?or!" I replied in panic.

    The doctor continued doing chest compressions, interjected with the occassional leaning of his head on the victim''s chest. He did this for a few minutes until finally he stopped with a last lean on the victim''s head.

    "He''s dead." he declared as he took out his pocket watch with his left hand and made a sign of the cross with his right. "Time of death, 12:56 PM. Cause of death still unknown. May God have mercy on your soul. Requiescat in pace." he declared as he stored his pocket watch and produced a notebook from his coat to jot down notes.

    "Shall I call for a wagon, sir?" I asked the doctor.

    "Yes...please. Thank you, se?orita." he replied in a very frustrated tone.

    "Vicente..." Se?or Faustino said under his breath, his hand shaking as he struggled to complete the sign of the cross.

    I made my way out of the tavern and once more into the street and went straight to the house of a nearby cochero.

    In the distance, I saw Placido peek from his carriage, glancing a smile towards my direction before ordering his cochero to move, his grin slowly dissolving into the shadows.

 Scene 4 - Two Weeks After

    "Time of death, 12:56 PM. Cause of death still unknown."

    "...cause of death still unknown..."

    "...death still unknown..."

    "...still unknown..."

    "...unknown..."

    "...unknown..."

    My mind returns to reality as the sound of the calming rain outside the tavern surged back, gradually filling my ears with the rich sound of falling droplets. It''s already afternoon, and the hostess that was supposed to help me for today''s work is late again, so I am alone tending the premises, wiping the tables with the rag I have at hand. Although I find myself having to do more work than I''m supposed to, I don''t have much reason to complain. I like the divine serenity of being alone indoors on a rainy day as I work. It makes the job less tiring and more bearable and it allows for a certain degree of clumsiness that is not forgivable whenever I''m accompanied by other people during my work hours, as my mind tends to wander on things - especially on the events of the past. And I have this one memory in particular that keeps bothering me so much...

    That Spanish doctor...he knew that Parico was having a heart attack at the time. But...he declared the cause of death as unknown at that moment. Why? Lately, I''ve been having this growing suspicion that the doctor that looked into Parico was not subscribed to the idea that the victim died of natural causes, and thus, I''ve been finding myself visiting the local embalsamador (embalmer) that took care of the body before it was transported back to Manila, making inquiries about the findings of the Spanish doctor on the body every now and then. Although, even after he finally certified in the official death certificate that Parico indeed died of natural causes, I''m still bothered by the incident. It''s as if my gut feeling is telling me that this doctor is digging further into the case than what I''d like and I have to do something about it. He asked me that night what drink I gave the victim when he was struggling to breathe, as if he was somewhat suspicious of my involvement in the incident. I want to tell Placido about it, but...I''m somewhat torn because I know what he will do if I did. The doctor, though a Club member, has nothing to do with this and just happened to be added to the mix of this terrible mess. I don''t want to be a tool in the taking of the life of an innocent bystander. But on the other hand, if the doctor found out about the poison I used in assassinating the victim, I might be putting myself and the organization in jeopardy if I don''t do anything.

    I am so confused.

    My train of thought was suddenly interrupted when I heard a knock on the door, and behind the glass panels fitted on the upper half of the door, a figure of a frail man wearing a salakot can be seen standing behind it.

    "...Peralta." I muttered to myself as I left the rag on top of one of the tables I am cleaning. "Sandali lang! (Just a moment!)" I announced as I walked towards the entrance to unlock the door.

    And behold, Peralta is standing at the door wearing his usual rustic apparel, soaking in the rain. There was something different about his demeanor. His eyes look more...active and observant.

    "Tinay, we need to talk. Inside, if you may. Are you alone?" he asked.

    "Uhh...yes. I am. Why? And why do you look so nervous? Did something happe-"

    I was interrupted in my speech when my eye caught sight of a familiar face standing beside Peralta, taking shelter from the rain. He''s so familiar in fact, that I knew in an instant that he isn''t supposed to be here.

    "What in the-!"

    The young man''s eyes widened in shock as he turns to face me.

    "Whoa! What in the-?!" he cried out. "What the fu-"

    I immediately pulled Peralta by the arm and dragged him inside the tavern and slammed the door shut.

    "Peralta, can I ask you something?" I muttered softly, giving him a sharp stare as I crossed my arms.

    "Yes...I know." he confidently replied, as if acknowledging what I''m alluding to. "That''s what I want to talk about today, actually."

    I let out a huge sigh as muffled words and incessant knocks tried to call out to me, asking me to let the source of the sound in.

    "Look, I don''t know what happened during that job in Intramuros Peralta, but can you kindly explain...why the hell is my idiot brother with you here in Batangas?!" I complained as stormed inside the counter, slamming the door open.

    "It''s a long story...with a ridiculous amount of convenient circumstances." he replied curtly.

    "I don''t care! Why is he with you?!" I responded, massaging my forehead in frustration. "Susmarya! I need a drink."

    I then reached for a glass below the counter and an almost-empty bottle of amontillado from the rack of wines and placed them on the countertop, filling the glass with every drop that I can extract from the bottle and emptying the glass in one gulp.

    "Are you all right now?" Peralta asked nonchalantly as I put the empty glass on top of the counter.

    "Barely." I scoffed.

    "I encountered your brother wandering in an empty road on the eve of the attack. I didn''t recognize who he was at first until he was near enough for us to see each other''s faces. He''s lucky I didn''t immediately shoot him."

    "But why is he here?" I reiterated.

    "He saw my face, Tinay. I can''t allow him to run around unsupervised. He''ll compromise me." he explained.

    "Oh, for goodness''s sake, Peralta! He''s just a student. And who would believe a lone witness, anyway?!"

    "He said he''s working as an informant for a journalist from Intramuros. I cannot risk it." Peralta said softly.

    "What?! How in the world..."

    "I learned from your brother that he''s collecting information about the goings-on in Tondo''s underground societies. He even cited the existence of the Chinese syndicates. That''s not something an ''outsider'' would normally know." Peralta continued.

    "Wha-...how?!" I whispered. "Isn''t the majority of our clientele located in Tondo? Then that means..."

    "Exactly." Peralta interjected. "Your brother is feeding intelligence to a journalist who may be investigating on our activities. So, do you now understand the risk that he poses?"

    I paused for a few seconds before answering, trying to absorb everything that has transpired.

    "I see." I conceded. "So, what shall we do?"

    "Well, I need to keep a close eye on him, and I can''t look after that boy if I''m always sent to faraway places. I was assigned by Don Penitente as a correspondent to Dr. Basilio and I cannot be in multiple places at once..."

    "So what do you propose then?" I asked.

    "Convince him to join us. Vouch for him as a Virgo contractor so that I can take him on my assignments." he suggested.

    "The scouts?! Are you mad?! Look Peralta, I know you have done great things for our family back in the day and I will be forever grateful for that. But...this is asking too much. This is my brother we are talking about. I took this job so that I can provide him the chance for a normal and successful life; for him to be able to eat his daily bread without having to worry about a knife pointed at his back. I chose this life so that when the time comes, he won''t have to - and now you''re suggesting that I should introduce him to the very thing that I want to save him from?!"

    "Either someone keeps an eye on Francisco or I shoot him so he shuts up for good. You do realize that I serve as Don Penitente''s cochero and escort during his public appearances and I can''t gamble the possibility of being identified and put our organization at risk. Besides, your brother seems to be doing well for himself on such jobs considering he managed to track down the secretive Chinese syndicates." he parried.

    "Pish! One of his tall tales!" I protested. "He''s a devilish liar and you have just fallen for one of his tricks."

    "Oh, he''s a trickster, all right." he commented. "You underestimate your brother too much. He is surprisingly cunning for his age. He was able to convince the two Supervisors handling my contract that he was my informant for the job in Intramuros. Your claims are not far-fetched."

    "Just when I thought this couldn''t get any worse." I ejaculated in shock.

    "Yes...I know. I''m sorry. I didn''t expect things to turn out that way. He sold his story very well, and I can attest to his skill, judging by the way he handles himself that he''s been through these sorts of tangles before. During the debriefing, I told the Supervisors that he was my associate, expecting them to think nothing of him and move on. I was wrong - and they did inquire about his affiliation with me to confirm. At that moment, my hands were tied. I needed to make up a story fast. If I acted out of character or admitted that he was not associated with me whatsoever, he would have been dead on the spot. But the sly bastard is quick on his toes and was able to manufacture a narrative to save himself in the nick of time. He even thought of using a fake name in the heat of the moment. The young man is very clever and resourceful, I''ll give him that."If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "Being a homeless orphan for 3 years makes you that way." I commented. "Damn it. So there''s no other way for him to walk away from this one, is it?"

    "No, Cristina. If I let him walk away, the Supervisors would eventually catch up with the act. They''ll kill him." he answered firmly.

    "What if I ship him out to Hong Kong? Surely, he''ll be sa-"

    "No. Don''t." Peralta sternly interrupted. "Don Penitente has connections with the Chinese and British authorities in Hong Kong. They''ll know what you''re trying to do. You might even put yourself in danger."

    "...I see..." I acknowledged, letting out a sigh.

    "I suppose you two should discuss this. I''ll be outside." Peralta announced as he made for the door and opened it for Francisco, who was leaning on the entrance wall waiting.

    "I think you and your sister need to talk." Peralta said to Francisco as he made his way outside.

    At this, Francisco stepped inside the tavern as he closed the door behind him. The look of shock and wonder is clearly painted on his face as he stared at me.

    "So...this is where you work? A tavern, huh?" he asked as his hands glide over the surface of the chairs and tables.

    "Yes." I thriftly replied. "Care to explain how you ended up here?"

    "Why don''t you ask your mercenary friend back there?" he retorted in a slightly hostile tone. "Associating with syndicates...unbelievable. So this is what you meant when you said you''re ''travelling to Batangas to find work''?"

    "We are not a syndica-"

    "You''re not fooling anybody here, ate." he interrupted. "I know who he is and what he is doing. I heard what you two were discussing about. I''ve met those...Supervisors. You''re vigilantes, aren''t you? Why did you lie to me?"

    Vigilantes? Is that the story Peralta sold to my brother?

    ...At least he isn''t aware of the true inner workings of this organization. He has been looking up to me as a role model since we were children. I don''t want to lose my brother''s respect. Not now.

    "Perhaps this isn''t the most honorable work, but do you honestly think that I can finance your schooling by working an honest job? And besides, do you realize the service we do for the lower levels of our society?"

    "How? By murdering people and delivering ''justice'' without the due process of the law? I know that you''re trying to crack down on the opium trade ever since it became rampant, and I can understand that. But the people that your friend El Partidista...or Peralta, as you fondly call him, are mostly innocent people. These Spanish individuals have families. Good people. Why are they dragged in a war they''re not a part of?" he replied in disgust.

    "If you''re suggesting that I am killing indiscriminately in the name of some false sense of justice, then by now you should have been dead." Peralta interrupted as he barged in, calmly walking towards my brother, who then briefly glanced at me and gave me a quick nod. "I don''t take death as lightly as you might think. We''ve had scouts investigating on their dealings for months and the evidence they found was more than enough to convict them."

    "Well, then why did you decide to kill them? Is that your idea of solving this drug epidemic?" my brother challenged.

    "Do you honestly believe that turning these people in to the court of law will solve anything? Have you not learned from your father-"

    "Who the fuck do you think you are, talking as if you knew him?! I barely even know you!"

    Peralta was about to respond when I slightly raised my hand, gesturing him to not speak. "It''s all right, Peralta. I''ll take it from here."

    I then quickly turned to my brother. "Kiko...do you remember the week before our father died? How frantic he was that day...?"

    "Yes...he was trying to secure some documents in a rusted strongbox. I vividly remember it being seized by soldiers when the government repossessed our property. Why are you bringing this up now?" he answered, his brows knitted in confusion.

    I made a short pause. "Have you never considered why they let us keep some of our valuables during the repossession, but insisted on that strongbox, which essentially had no monetary value?"

    "Why? What is in that strongbox?" my brother asked.

    "Letters of correspondence between the Americans and a certain Captain-General, detailing an agreement to secretly turn over the entire country in exchange for a very large sum of money." Peralta interrupted as he reentered the tavern. "Your father tried to expose Aquino for the traitor that he is by trying to release the evidence to the press. But as you can see, the very people he was trying to save had no qualms in stabbing him in the back...and all of that...for fucking money."

    "What?!" my brother gasped. "But the official reports said-!"

    "That he was killed by some drunkard passing by the barracks? You honestly believe their bullshit?! He was killed by the very people he considered as comrades!" Peralta replied in a strong hostile tone.

    My brother fell silent.

    "No investigation was made in the wake of his death. Not a single one in the barracks was even detained for questioning. And you honestly believe that following due process in this land works? I''m not quite sure whether your head is just rusted from disuse or you''re just outright stupid."

    Judging by the look on my brother''s face, Peralta''s words have been quite the revelation...and understandably so, as he was not old enough to understand the intricacies of everything that''s happened at the time.

    "I served under your father''s command when he was still alive, and I can attest to how deplorable the headlines in the newspapers were after his death. You see, true justice was never achieved in this country when its agents bound themselves to the rule of law when their enemies are not. Have you never asked yourself why, despite the massive raids done against opium traders, their enterprises remain operational? You are young, and the youth tend to be idealistic. But a word of advice, kid. For your own good, don''t let it go to your head. The world is not run by the rule of law. It is run by money...and the power that comes with it."

    "But we could change that." my brother countered.

    "Maybe..." Peralta replied. "But how are you going to achieve that kind of change when you deny yourself the tools that level the playing field �C the very tools your very enemies use to gain the upper hand?"

    Peralta then paced past my brother, who was frozen in place after all the things he had heard thus far.

    "After your father''s death, I broke into the barracks when I learnt of what the Guardia Civil did to your family''s property. I was the one who leaked the documents to Vida?es, who then wrote and published the famed expos��. Kid...I joined this organization not because of the money, but because I believed in what your father died for. Your father died a martyr, but truth be told, him playing by the rules only caused a dent against the monster he is trying to slay, but as his friend, I intend to finish what your father started so that he can rest knowing that his death wasn''t for nothing. I firmly believe that the only person who can control our destiny is ourselves. But somehow, I''m starting to think that our encounter in that street that night was not an accident. You are your father''s son, and it has always been your father''s desire pass on his beliefs to you and to continue his fight. Where Lieutenant Francisco Perez failed, the son bearing the same name shall succeed. You know how painful the feeling is knowing that your father''s reputation was tarnished for fighting a righteous cause. Nobody else has to go through such a nightmare, and by joining us, you have the power to help end such a thing. We wage an unrighteous war to fight a righteous cause. You are an excellent scout. Our organization could use a man of your talents."

    "And what if I refuse your offer?" my brother responded.

    My heart suddenly skipped a beat, as I know that Peralta''s resolve is strong and would not back out from his word. I let out a soft gasp as I anticipate Peralta''s response.

    "If that is your final decision, then so be it. But know that I shall not be deterred from my mission." he replied as he drew his revolver and pointed it towards my brother''s head. "I am willing to die for my beliefs. Are you willing to die for yours?"

    Slowly, Peralta primed the firing pin. From where I stood, I can hear my brother''s short gasps for air as he froze in fear. I felt a surge of adrenaline course through my veins. Out of instinct, I went in and stood between Peralta and my brother.

    "You shall not harm my brother, Peralta. If you''re going to kill him, you''re going to have to go through me." I warned him.

    "You think that will stop me from killing him?" he challenged.

    "You wouldn''t want Penitente as your enemy, would you?" I retorted, my lips curling into a smug smile.

    Peralta stood still, hesitant to shoot. Apparently, the implications of his actions had just dawned on him, knowing how close I am with Placido. Peralta may be a cold-blooded killer, but he isn''t stupid. He knows that killing me will send Placido into a bloodlust and would not hesitate to use every bit of resource he has to hunt him down.

    Peralta fell silent for a moment, and after a few seconds of contemplation, his lips opened into a grin. "You are a smart one, Cristina. However, your words are nothing but empty threats. Like I said, I am willing to die for my beliefs."

    His hands began to squeeze on the trigger. And like a lamb being led to the slaughter, I bowed my head and closed my eyes in anticipation of his bullet piercing through my heart. However, at the last second, I heard a voice scream from behind me...his tone all too familiar.

    "Stop! I give in! I will join you. Just...please, don''t kill my sister!" the voice yelled. I opened my eyes to turn around, and here I see Francisco, weeping on the floor like a deranged hag who lost her children. "Please, don''t kill my sister. I''ll do whatever you want." he begged.

    "Well, that settles it, then." Peralta replied, withdrawing his weapon and stowing it away in his holster. "You have chosen well, kid. Now, I want you to go to the office near the back of this tavern. I need to talk to your sister."

    Without hesitation, Francisco gathered himself, dragging his feet on the floor as he sobbed, and proceeded to do as Peralta commanded. As soon as my brother entered the room, Peralta broke into a soft, maniacal giggle.

    "Do you find something amusing?" I ranted. "You almost killed me, you bastard!"

    "No, not at all. You did your part well, Cristina. I wasn''t even sure if it was going to work. Congratulations!" he replied with an amused tone, chuckling.

    "So that was a ploy all along?! And an untested theory to add! Your sick sense of humor is disgusting, Peralta. You''re crazy!" I complained.

    "Well, I never intended to kill you from the beginning, Cristina. But, you see, I have learned many things in my line of work, and there''s one really interesting thing I found out about love and death. People tend to sacrifice anything and everything to not lose the one that matters most to them."

    Like a miracle, my rage subsided instantaneously upon hearing Peralta''s explanation. It was as if his words brought light to the wisdom of his old age, and it was only then I began to understand why Placido has put so much faith in this man. My brother, who is a tough nut to crack, was forced into submission without him even hurting a hair on my brother''s head. He understands how people think, and this is probably why my father respected him so much.

    "Well, that''s about it. I''m gonna have to talk to your brother and brief him on the details of his assignment. I need to travel to Manila in two weeks. I trust that you know what to do with Placido until then?"

    "Yes." I replied. "I''ll get it done."

 Scene 5 - The Way to San Diego

    I peeked through the small opening of the window of the carriage to spectate a view of huge houses as our horses galloped along the dusty road to San Diego, hometown to the late philanthropist Don Rafael Ibarra. It has been a while since I last set foot in this place, and strangely enough, I found it to be much better than it''s former state. A sudden and rather unsettling chill of nostalgia surged throughout my body as we drew closer to the town, chorused by an uncontrollable urge to light myself a cigarette. I tried reaching for a stick from my coat pocket, but a voice coming from my front suddenly interrupted me with a warning.

    "Could you not restrain yourself just a little while longer?" he warned me. "We''re going to meet with the council members of the ayuntamiento, Isagani. We wouldn''t want to smell of smoke upon our arrival."

    "Come on, Basilio. Just a stick. I''m itching for a smoke." I replied with an annoyed tone.

    "Don''t tell me you''re already getting cold feet, Isagani? Deep breaths will help, my friend." he suggested. "Besides, smoking is bad for you, you know."

    "Hoho! Really? You''re the one to talk." I sneered as I returned the cigarette inside my coat.

    "Well, I am a doctor, Isagani. Doctors are supposed to look out for your health." he retorted with a smile.

    "Why, thank you good sir. I wouldn''t know what to do without you." I replied in a mocking tone.

    For a moment, the coach fell silent as Basilio turned to the window sill, with his eyes fixed at the horizon outside of the carriage. Only the sound of galloping horses and rolling wheels can be heard as I observed my partner ponder on something.

    "Time flies so fast, ain''t it?" he abruptly asked. "Can''t believe it''s been a decade."

    "So it seems." I thriftly replied.

    "I wonder if Paulita''s in town." Basilio said in a rather mischievous tone.

    "Don''t even think about it, Basilio." I answered hostilely. "Even if she is, so what? We haven''t got time for such trivial matters.

    "Trivial?! Barely!" he declared with a loud voice. "I''ll have you reminded that Paulita is a Pelaez now, and the Pelaezes have a huge influence in San Diego - much greater now that they have the resources of the Orendas and Espada?as!"

    "What does it matter? We''re well-off without their help. Besides, you said it yourself: no funny business with Paulita this time. And you know very well that Juanito and I are not on the best of terms." I complained.

    "We need their help. It just occurred to me that the town of San Diego has strategic value and they have great influence over it. We cannot build the school without their help. We could use a man like Don Timoteo Pelaez to our advantage. He is, after all, allied with the diocesan corporations." Basilio answered in a challenging tone.

    "Are you deaf?! Juanito and I go way back. Trying to gain their support would be utterly impossible!" I angrily reasoned with him.

    "They have no quarrel with me. I can talk them over to our favor." he rebutted.

    "Oh, yes. Of course. An associate of mine will definitely be welcomed with open arms."

    "And why not? Associate or not, would the Pelaezes say no to a client, especially one with huge purchases? We require a long-term supply of galvanized iron to construct our schools. They need customers. A partnership with them will help solidify our position here in San Diego." he parried with a smile.

    "Well, you do realize that the Pelaezes are just resellers of the goods and we can just go directly to the suppliers themselves, yes? " I argued.

    "It''s not about the expenses, Isagani. Look at it this way. Favors are earned with goodwill. And in this country, money is the only goodwill these spineless bastards know and recognize."

    "Are you suggesting that you''re making the partnership to serve as an excuse to get close to the Pelaezes? Don''t we have any other...practical options? I mean, come on, we can take over this town by ourselves. Besides, they might get suspicious. " I countered.

    "No. We can''t do that. The Pelaezes have a strong hold over the people of San Diego. We can''t take them head-on right now. We need to weaken them first. You don''t need to worry about them prying in our affairs. So long it''s a matter of money, the Don won''t mind. He keeps his faithful clients within his circle. If I''m lucky enough to be one of the Don''s "friends", there''s a chance that we''ll need not worry about requisitioning lands within the town for our future projects. You, on the other hand, will have your part to play with Paulita." Basilio answered sternly. "There are only two people in this world with whom Don Timoteo would most likely confide in: his only son and his daughter-in-law. And according to what I''ve heard, Juanito Pelaez''s health is failing him. So, when the time comes, I want you to get to her to make sure our hold of the town would be secure. And who knows, we might even get something extra out of it. The way I see it, she sees you as somewhat of a good friend - if not a dear sweetheart. There is a reason why she volunteered to meet you back at the hotel. I don''t know what, but my gut tells me that she still has some feelings for you. I know I''m asking too much, considering what happened between the two of you years ago. But we all have our battles to fight, don''t we? This is your battle."

    "Can''t I have a say on what battles I must fight? I don''t want to have to deal with Paulita again. You don''t know what sort of woman she is." I answered, letting out a sigh.

    "I know." Basilio replied with a smile. "But right now, Paulita has her uses to us, and only you can get close to her."

    At this, I rubbed my chin in contemplation. To be fair, there is merit to Basilio''s argument. Though a bit lavish and seemingly impractical, a business partnership with the Pelaezes is not a bad idea, considering the benefits that we''ll enjoy once they become our friends. And Paulita...though we didn''t part on the best of terms, may...still have some feelings for me after all this time. I took note of that on our meeting and perhaps Basilio might have picked up on it too. But I still have my reservations...The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    "But...what if they get in the way? You know, pry into our affairs? Sooner or later they''ll poke their noses into our business and it''s not like we can simply dispose of them." I asked.

    "Like I told you, you don''t need to worry because they won''t." Basilio promptly answered. "So long as there''s money coming in, they won''t bother us. Besides, they won''t have any reason to anyway! We are venerable entrepreneurs in the eyes of the public. What is there to sleuth for?"

    I let out a sigh. "I guess you''re right. I might just be overthinking."

    "Don''t think too much about it. Everything will go smoothly, just like we planned. Just do what you have to do and let me handle the rest, hm?" Basilio assured me, giving me a pat on the shoulder.

    Seconds later, Basilio, who was seated on the side of the car near the driver, knocked a few times on the roof and called out to him.

    "Peralta! Are we there yet?" he shouted.

    Peralta, the new cochero who had a rather deep voice, said in response, "We''re almost there, se?or! We''re approaching the town as we speak."

    "Muy bien! Full speed ahead." Basilio replied as he turned to me. "About fucking time. I''ve been sitting here for an hour."

    Minutes passed, and the carriage slowly came to a halt. Outside, I can hear numerous footsteps and Spanish chatter closing in on our location.

    "What''s the hold-up, Peralta?" I asked the cochero.

    "It''s the guardia civil, se?or. They''re inquiring about our business here in San Diego." replied the coachman.

    "Tell them we have an appointment with the Pelaezes." I replied. "Goddamn soldiers always getting in the way with everything."

    At this reply, although hardly audible, conversations began to ensue outside the car. Peralta, who is a man of rustic appearance, surprised me as he conversed with one of the soldiers in Spanish with utmost proficiency and fluency that, if one had no knowledge of his origins and ancestry, would have mistaken him for a Spanish mestizo, or perhaps even a Spanish pure-blood.

    Moments later, a knock from the outside sounded in the car.

    "Sir, they need papers. Invitations, as our noble friends put it." Peralta called out.

    "Tell them we have them. I''ll be coming out in a second." Basilio answered as he reached for the inside pocket of his coat. "Ahh, finally. My ass can finally be free from this pain." he exhaled in his relief as he opened the door and stepped out into the open.

    By the time my partner got out, I held the carriage door open for the purpose of letting the fresh morning air into the car as I lit myself a cigarette. At a distance, I can see Basilio dealing with the soldiers with Peralta, who seemed very confident with the words they utter. We were hold up for a few more minutes as the soldier standing near the check point asked a few more questions, until finally, the guards dragged the obstruction from the path, allowing us to pass.

    At this, Basilio returned to the car. And with a sneer and a smug smile, he told me, "We''re clear. Those fuckers didn''t seem too convinced at first. Who do they take us for, for fuck''s sake?!"

    "What''s with the barricade, anyway?" I asked.

    "Tulisanes. Recently, there was an attack in the town of Tiani by a band led by a certain former cabeza. They say they almost got the leader. Goddamnit." Basilio answered with a raised tone.

    "You don''t seem too happy about it." I remarked.

    "Of course I''m not! The leader of the bandits is my father-in-law!" he angrily hissed.

    I was taken by surprise upon hearing this.

    "What''s the matter?" he commented, noting my facial gesture.

    "Oh. I-it''s nothing. So, uhh...who is your father-in-law again?" I asked as I exhaled smoke high up in the air.

    "Have I not mentioned this to you before?" Basilio asked.

    "I believe so." I affirmed.

    "I see. His name is Telesforo, and according to what I''ve heard so far, he''s well-known now around these parts by the name Matanglawin (Falcon-eye). Their gang has grown notorious since we fled from this country." he replied.

    "Matanglawin? I believe I''ve heard that name before..." I remarked.

    "Yes, you have. That''s the nickname of an infamous outlaw from the days of old. Now, get inside the coach so we can move along. And throw that damn cigarette away! I just forbade you to smoke earlier and you did the exact fucking opposite!" he roared impatiently as he was shooing me to enter the car. By the time he found himself seated, he knocked on the car roof. "We''re all set. Peralta, vamonos!"

    At this, a loud crack from the whip and the galloping of horses sounded as the vehicle moved forward.

    "By the way you described Julianna to me during our academy days, I never really expected her to have a father who is...not exactly in accord with the law. Basilio, if you don''t mind me asking, how did...how did your father-in-law become an outlaw?" I asked in a careful tone.

    With this question, he replied with a dry smile and said, "Why do you want to know?"

    "Well, I am your friend, or rather, your only true friend around, so I believe I deserve your explanation for this." I reasoned in a confident tone.

    "Touch��." Basilio replied with a short laugh.

    "So?" I urged him as I rested my chin upon my fist.

    "Okay." he began as he took a deep breath. "Well, to put it simply, he was once a law-abiding citizen - like any typical citizen of the Philippines. A man of honor, a loving and hardworking father who toiled tireless day and night on his fields which, by law, is rightfully his. Unfortunately, he had some run-ins with curates. The religious corporations seized his property and he fought for it in court. It was a long and arduous battle, and as it slowly became apparent that he was bound to lose, he gradually realized that the rule of law in this country was not meant to serve its citizens, and thus..."

    "...he became a tulisan." I replied.

    "Exactly." Basilio agreed.

    "No wonder." I continued.

    "Yeah." Basilio sighed. "No wonder."

    "Hmm. He''s notorious bandit, you say? We could sure use people such as himself to help us in the future." I suggested.

    "Sure...if we can find him before the government does." Basilio answered curtly.

    "Come on, Basilio. Don''t be a pessimist. I have the skills to track him down and you have the skills to persuade almost anyone, plus you have the advantage of being his son-in-law. You can talk him and his men to our side. Besides, both him and us have a common enemy."

    "No need for you to track him down." Basilio replied. "I have the means to get in contact with him. It''s just..."

    "What?" I urged him.

    "Juli..." Basilio continued. "...I promised I would protect Juli no matter what...and I failed him."

    "You were in jail back then, Basilio. There''s nothing you could have done." I responded. "Talk to him. I''m sure he would have understood your current circumstances."

    "It''s no use." Basilio parried. "He probably wouldn''t see it that way."

    "We can at least try." I countered. "Their gang is most likely in need of resources. We HAVE those resources. We still have something to bargain with, don''t you agree?"

    Basilio replied with a snicker. "I wish I had your optimism."

    "So...are you in this or not?" I asked, trying to give him an ultimatum. "We need to hire a lot of muscle, remember?"

    He thought long and hard, rubbing his chin as he tried to weigh his options.

    "...''Tang-ina. Bahala na! Fuck it. Let''s do it, Isagani." Basilio finally agreed.

    "Excellent. I knew you would come to your senses." I commended him. "If we can get his gang to join our side, we may not need to be very subtle in taking over San Diego."

    "The good old shock and awe, eh?" Basilio replied. "Why do you always have to be so...vigorous in everything you do?"

    I answered with a chuckle. "What better man is there to bring to life your subtle machinations?"

    "We''re here, se?ores!" announced Peralta as the carruaje came to a halt. "Watch your step."

    "All right. We''re here, Isagani." Basilio exclaimed. "Break a leg."

 Scene 6 - Mother and Child

    It was a busy afternoon at the estate, with our attendants moving about the premises in preparation for the coming feast. Spectating from the balcony of the house, I can see them attend to a variety of tasks - with a majority of the women preparing the meats and other ingredients for the meals, while the men are busy unloading crates of wines and fruits and carrying them to towards the pantry at the back of the house.

    Unexpectedly, I felt a light tug at my skirt, followed by a yawn that sounded all too familiar for me not to recognize.

    "Mama."  the boy called out. "Are my friends here yet?"

    I turned to gaze at my little boy''s unkempt hair as he went towards the railing of the balcony to spectate the view. "You''re up early, my dear." I answered as I tidied Miguel''s hair with my fingers. "I''m afraid your friends are still having their siesta at this time of the day."

    "Aww." my son pouted in disappointment. "Can''t you ask them to get here a little earlier, mama? I''m getting bored."

    "Now, what did I tell you about that attitude of yours?" I gently scolded him. "You won''t make a lot of friends if you''re like that, Miguel."

    "But I''m bored, mama! If only papa would take me to the shooting range..." Miguel complained.

    "Now''s not the time for that, mijo. Today''s your birthday, remember?" I said with a smile. "You''re a big boy now, and big boys don''t act like that, yes?"

    "But mamaaaaa..." Miguel bawled.

    At this point, my gaze started to sharpen. "Miguel!" I warned him. But as I was about to reprimand my little boy, my attention was caught by something familiar approaching from afar. From a distance, I can see a carriage moving towards the gate of the estate. The car itself was not known to me, but the cochero wearing a salakot...he looked familiar.

    "Isn''t that Penitente''s cochero? What is he doing here this early in the afternoon?" I muttered to myself.

    "Mama...who is that?" Miguel asked curiously, pointing at the direction of the carruaje.

    "He''s...a friend." I lied as I patted my boy''s head. "Now, be a good boy and go to your room, mijo. Mama just needs to talk with her visitor." I ordered as I sent him away. Miguel, though reluctant, complied with my orders and went inside - dragging his feet along the way. As soon as I heard the door of his room close, I immediately went down the stairs in order to greet the guest.

    As I made my way outside, the carriage went into a halt, it''s car door facing the entrance of the house. The cochero then got off the carriage and opened the car doors for its passengers. What happened next subverted my expectations.

    "Good afternoon, Do?a Pelaez." Isagani greeted with a smile as he got off the carriage, with Don Basilio closely behind him. "I hope you don''t mind us coming here this early unannounced. We just thought we''d drop by to pay you a visit. Is Don Timoteo home, by any chance?"

    "I''m afraid Don Timoteo is off attending to some important matters at the moment. Have the two of you gentlemen had your lunch? Would you like me to call for our attendants to prepare you one?" I offered.

    "That won''t be necessary, but thank you, Do?a Pelaez." Don Basilio answered, waving his hand apologetically to chorus with his refusal. "Perhaps my friend Isagani would like a meal."

    "Uhh, no. Thank you. I have had a hearty meal earlier in the morning. Perhaps you could offer the meal to our cochero Peralta instead. Perhaps he would like to have some lunch before we depart." Isagani presented.

    "Yes, please. I''d very much appreciate a meal, se?ora." the cochero Peralta exclaimed.

    "Very well. I''ll have one of my atten-"

    "Mama!" shouted a boy''s voice from behind me as quickly paced thuds sounded from the wooden stairs.

    "Miguel!" shouted a short, middle-aged Filipino woman as she emerged from the stairs, running frantically as she chased my son.

    "Miguel..." I whispered to myself as I turned around to face him, urging him to run towards me as he descended the stairs.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    "My apologies, se?ora." said the short Filipina woman. "Miguel...he''s-"

    "It''s all right, Aling Maria." I assured her. "I''ll take it from here. Please attend to our guest, Se?or Peralta. I assume the adobo is ready?"

    "Yes, se?ora. Right away." Maria answered as he turned his attention to the rustic cochero. "Right this way, se?or." she exclaimed as she led him towards the workers'' mess hall.

    "Is this your son?" Isagani asked as he took a gander. "My, what a handsome boy you have. He really took after you, didn''t he?"

    "Thank you. This little man''s a stubborn one. A real piece of work." I smiled apologetically as Miguel held me close by the skirt.

    "No, I''m not!" Miguel protested.

    "Well..." Isagani replied, his brows raised. "...point taken."

    At this point, Isagani knelt towards Miguel, smiling as he''s trying to take out something from his coat pocket.

    "Hey, little one. How are you?" Isagani asked in English.

    Understandably, my boy was cagey at first, hiding behind my skirt. It took Miguel a moment to muster up his courage. "I...I''m fine, mister." he answered in kind in English.

    "Not too bad." Isagani commented, gazing back at me with a satisfied expression - kneeling as he drew closer to my son. "What''s your name, boy?" he asked in Tagalog.

    "Mama, who is this man?" Miguel asked as he looked at me, his eyes filled with wonder.

    "It''s okay, anak (child). That''s your Tito (Uncle) Isagani. Don''t be shy." I urged him.

    Though hesitant, my son answered Isagani''s question.

    "M...my name is Mi...Miguel...Pelaez." he answered sheepishly.

    "He''s really anxious around strangers." I explained.

    "That''s fine." Isagani replied as he smiled at me. He then turned his attention to Miguel.

    "Oh, by the way, Miguel. I brought you something." Isagani exclaimed as he reached for something inside his coat. "I heard you like these a lot, so I had this made just for you. Well...your Tito Isagani can''t really give you the real thing, so...I had these made instead. I really hope you like it. Happy birthday, Miguel."

    At this, Isagani pulled out a wooden model of a revolver. He then flicked the wooden gun to the left to expose the cylinder - demonstrating to Miguel that the toy was made to resemble the inner workings of the mechanisms of the real gun as well.

    Miguel''s eyes shone with excitement upon seeing Isagani''s gift. "Wow! Awesome!" he shouted with joy as he snatched the gun from Isagani''s hand.

    "Hep, hep! Aren''t we getting ahead of ourselves?" I reprimanded him as I snatched the toy away from his hand. "Aren''t we forgetting something, Miguel? What do we say when we receive gifts from others, hmm?"

    Like a penitent man in a church, Miguel lowered his head. "...Thank you po, tito." he said in a low voice.

    "That''s more like it." I commended him.

    At this, I slowly handed the toy back to my son. However, as soon as the gun''s handle touched my boy''s hand, the little rascal immediately snatched the wooden gun and immediately ran up the stairs.

    "Hey! Miguel! Don''t run up the stairs! You''ll trip and fall! Ugh, you little...!" I shouted at the top of my lungs in a vain attempt to stop him.

    For a short moment, Isagani was silent.

    "...Wow..." Isagani remarked, his eyes wide open in shock. "I...honestly did not expect that from you."

    "Please excuse me, gentlemen. It''s really difficult to be a mother sometimes." I answered in a very apologetic tone.

    "It sure seems like it." Isagani remarked as he broke into a smile. "Good Lord! With a mother like you, my first thought would be to run, too."

    "Isagani!" I replied playfully.

    "Where is he going, anyway?" Isagani asked.

    "To his room. He''s a shy boy. Although he isn''t too keen on showing it, Miguel really liked your gift. It''s...really rare for other people to elicit that kind of response from him when it comes to gifts." I answered. "Thank you, Isagani. I...really appreciate what you did for my son."

    Don Basilio, whose expression seem to display a mix of impatience and boredom, immediately pulled out his pocket watch to check the time.

    "Uhhh...Don Timoteo might take a while for him to get back to the house. He''s a very busy man. Would you like to wait for him at the sala (living room), or is there anything else I can do for you today, gentlemen?"

    "No, I suppose that''s all for now, Do?a Pelaez. Thank you. Perhaps we''ll talk with Don Timoteo at another time." Don Basilio replied. "Please give Don Timoteo our warmest regards."

    "I will tell him of your visit, Don Basilio." I replied. "Uhh...should I call for your cochero now?"

    "Yes, please." Don Basilio affirmed. "I suppose he would have eaten his fill by now."

    "I see." I replied. "Maria!"

    Maria then rushed in to answer my call.

    "Yes, se?ora?" she asked.

    "Could you call the cochero for me? Our guests are to depart." I ordered.

    "Certainly, se?ora." she replied curtly as she immediately departed for the workers'' mess hall.

    I then turned my attention to my guests. "Se?ores, do you want to leave a message for Don Timoteo before you depart?"

    "Nothing, se?ora. I suppose we''ll take it up to him at the celebration." Isagani answered. "Although I have to ask: where''s...Don Juanito? I haven''t seen him around for a while. Is he not home?"

    "Uhh...my husband went with my father-in-law''s trip, I''m afraid." I lied. "Do you want to leave a message?"

    "Uhh...no." he abruptly replied as he looked around the premises. "I''m just curious. But thank you anyway."

    "You called for me, se?or?" the cochero called out as he emerged from the premises of the mess hall, with Maria closely accompanying him.

    "Yes. I assume you had eaten well?" said Don Basilio in a rather strangely accented tone.

    "Si. Muchas gracias to our very generous host, Do?a Pelaez. The adobo was a fine meal and Aling Maria was a quite the cook." the cochero commended. "Please excuse me, I have to tend to the horses."

    "Well, we will be off, then." Isagani exclaimed. "Thank you once again for receiving us. I look forward to meeting with you again at the celebration."

    "Likewise." I answered with a smile. "A safe journey to you, gentlemen."