Chapter 1 – The Vlogger

The comment section was already blowing up, and Maricar hadn’t even left her condo yet.

💬 “OMG I can’t believe you’re doing this!!! Haunted mansion IRL??”

💬 “Queen Maricar gonna slay the ghosts fr”

💬 “Drop the link to the show!!!”

Maricar glanced at the flood of reactions as she adjusted her phone on the tripod. She took a deep breath, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and flashed her signature confident smile. The LED ring light caught the glint in her eyes.

"Alright, mga ka-vibes, this is it!" she said, voice brimming with excitement. "I'm about to head to the Escape the Script set. Yup, your girl got invited to be part of a live reality challenge — influencers versus horror. The twist? It's filmed in the most haunted place in the Philippines."

She paused dramatically. “Lopez. Mansion.”

The live chat exploded again.

She let the moment simmer before speaking again, this time dropping her tone to something more serious — just a little.

“I know you all love my spooky vlogs. But this one hits different. The mansion? It’s got real history. People vanished there. Paranormal experts don't even enter it anymore. Some say a Babaylan’s spirit guards the place.”

Maricar felt a slight chill at her own words. She shook it off and grinned again. "Pero kaya natin ’to. I’ll vlog everything — even the things the show won’t show. You’ll get the uncut version, live."

She reached over to end the stream, then paused. Her hand hesitated over the screen.

For just a second, she thought she saw her reflection in the mirror behind her blink — after she did.

She shook her head. “Girl, get it together,” she muttered, and ended the stream.

The van that picked her up was all black, with tinted windows and no branding. Two other influencers were already inside when she stepped in: Jasper, a prank channel guy known for being extra, and Nikki, a fashion-beauty influencer who looked like she’d rather be at a beach resort.

“Yo, Maricar!” Jasper fist-bumped her. “Heard you’re the horror queen. Ready to be spooked?”

Maricar smiled. “Always ready.”

Nikki looked up from her phone. “They better not mess up my lighting. I didn’t sign up to look dead on camera.”

“Oh honey,” Maricar smirked, “that might be the point.”

The van rolled toward the outskirts of the city. The buildings gave way to trees, then crumbling provincial roads. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the jungle swallowed them whole.

By the time the iron gates of Lopez Mansion creaked open, the night had settled thick and heavy around them.

The mansion was a towering relic of Spanish colonial design — moss-covered stone, iron-barred windows, broken stained glass glinting like shattered jewels. An overgrown fountain sat in the courtyard, dry and cracked, surrounded by the crumbling faces of angels who had long stopped watching.

Maricar stepped out of the van and immediately began filming with her phone.

“Alright, mga ka-vibes. This is it. The infamous Lopez Mansion. I swear, it’s like the air is heavier here.”

Her viewers were already logging in again. A heart emoji burst floated across her screen. She read the comments aloud.

💬 “Looks like a whole horror movie set.”

💬 “Girl you better not die first.”

💬 “Zoom in on the window behind you! I saw something!”

She turned instinctively to the second-floor window they mentioned.

Empty.

Still, her skin prickled.

The production team gathered them in the courtyard. Lights were set up. Drones hovered silently above. A man in an immaculate black suit, with a face that somehow avoided cameras, stepped forward.

“I am the Director,” he said smoothly. No name. Just the Director.

“The rules are simple,” he continued. “You and four other influencers will spend seventy-two hours in the mansion. Challenges will appear. Scripts will be handed out — follow them, or don’t. But beware… the story writes back.”

A few people laughed. Maricar didn’t.

The Director’s eyes flicked over her, and for a second, they locked.

Was that… recognition?

He moved on quickly.

“You may livestream your experience. Your audience will help or hurt you. Everything is real. Or is it? That’s for you to decide.”

He gestured toward the open double doors. The mansion yawned open like a mouth.

“Enter. The game begins now.”

Inside, the temperature dropped instantly.

The mansion’s main hall was vast and dark, lit only by candles and antique chandeliers hanging precariously from the ceiling. Every step echoed louder than it should. Maricar’s boots thudded against the wooden floor, her phone raised to stream.

Behind her, Nikki whispered, “This place feels cursed.”

Maricar whispered back, “It probably is.”

She panned her phone to the far wall, where a massive oil painting loomed. A stern-looking woman in old tribal garb — the original matriarch of the Lopez family, rumored to be a Babaylan. Her eyes seemed to follow them.

Suddenly, her stream glitched. Static. Then a voice whispered through her earbuds:

"You came back."

She froze. Her livestream chat exploded.

💬 “Who said that?!”

💬 “OMG did y’all hear that voice???”

💬 “This ain’t fake. That was NOT edited.”

She pulled her phone away from her ear.

No one else had reacted.

The stream stabilized again.

Her heart was pounding, but her lips curled into a slight grin.

“Mga ka-vibes…” she said slowly, “Did you catch that? Looks like we’re not alone.”

She was trending already.

And the house had only just said hello.

End of Chapter 1

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