CHAPTER 1

"THE NIGHT THAT NEVER ENDS"

I was gasping for air, running in circles, my feet soaked with dew and grass. The path seemed endless—as if no road could lead me home.

Am I lost?

Darkness had swallowed everything. The bamboos swayed in the wind, and their rustling sounded like whispers of memories that refused to sleep. I looked up—but all I saw were shadows.

Then I saw it.

Our house—on fire.

My body turned cold as I slowly approached. My feet didn’t want to move, but memory pulled me forward. My lips trembled as I uttered the words:

“Mama… Papa…”

Tears streamed down my face as the light of the flames reflected in my eyes. It felt like I was trapped in a nightmare that kept coming alive, night after night.

When I turned to the right, I saw a child—crying, screaming, calling for help.

“Elleo…”

My eyes widened. It was him.

“Elleo…”

I reached out, trying to get to him through the flames. His cries grew louder as the smoke began to swallow me whole.

“ELLEO!”

I shot up from bed.

My back was drenched in sweat. I was gasping for breath, though the breeze in the room was cool. My heart pounded—as if I had just escaped a burning house.

Ten years had passed.

And still, the same nightmare wakes me up every night.

I glanced silently at the old clock beside the bed.

6:34 AM.

I had to get up.

I headed downstairs to help Tita prepare breakfast. As I walked toward the kitchen, I noticed the TV was on.

Breaking news: “Another fire broke out last night in the neighboring town. Witnesses say the flames spread rapidly and—”

I froze. Something tightened in my chest. That same feeling again—like the past was catching up to me.

Moments later, I heard the soft creak of a door from upstairs. I turned, and so did Tita.

Tito came down slowly. Quiet. Each step heavy. Wordless.

When he reached the living room, he gently took the remote beside me and turned off the TV. Just one click—and the news was gone.

I looked at Tita. She didn’t say anything, but she avoided my eyes. There was a forced smile on her lips, but the worry on her face was unmistakable.

Tito…

I couldn’t help but wonder. I watched his every move—his hands, the way he looked at things.

“Ellerie, can you get my lighter from the cabinet?” he asked, while arranging things on the table.

“Po? …Ah, yes po,” I replied, though my voice wavered with unease.

I stood up and went to the cabinet. I picked up the lighter.

I’m holding it now.

And as I stared at this small object, a question slowly began to form in my mind:

Why does this feel… wrong?

I handed it to him quietly. “Here it is, Tito,” I said softly.

He looked at me for a moment. But there was a coldness in his eyes that I couldn’t explain.

We locked eyes briefly. It was as if his eyes wanted to say something—something that words couldn’t express. But he looked away and went back to what he was doing.

He sat down quietly and took the coffee Tita had prepared. Then he pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket.

Silence.

No words.

I watched him even more closely.

He placed the cigarette in his mouth.

Click.

When he lit the lighter… he used his left hand.

My brows furrowed.

I didn’t know why I suddenly froze. It was such a small thing, but something about it was off. Familiar. Confident. The motion was quick, precise—without hesitation.

As he exhaled the first stream of smoke, a sharp pang hit my temple. Like a memory clawing its way to the surface—blurry, incomplete, but tinged with fear.

The hand. The fire. The smoke.

And I—could no longer hide what I was feeling.

Something is gnawing at me.

I don’t know the whole truth yet, but there’s one thing I’m sure of:

Tito is hiding something.

And I want to know what it is.

What really happened... that night I lost consciousness?

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