"Ang hindi magmahal sa sariling wika ay higit pa sa hayop at malansang isda." (Those who do not love their own language are worse than animals and foul-smelling fish.)

– Jose Rizal

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[Capítulo Uno: Consummatum est (It is Done)]

ONCE again, I found myself standing beside Marianne near the bridge's railings. The lights adorning it twinkled like stars, mirroring in her eyes.

My heart raced, a beat that strayed from the scripted instructions. Uneasiness lingered whenever I was with her. From the first meeting, her naughty personality grated on my nerves.

Taking a deep breath, I exhaled slowly. After this scene, I'd finally be liberated from this unpredictable encounter. The yearning for my homeland, Korea, tugged at me. I sought a place to call 'home.'

Raised by my Korean mother in America after my father's departure, his whereabouts remained unknown. Yet, meeting my grandmother changed everything.

My mother's ascent to a top agent left her consumed by busyness. In response, I channeled emotions into songwriting, gaining fame online. When I visited my grandmother in the Philippines with earned money, she imparted the wisdom of embracing the present.

Engaging in collaborations with bloggers and TV shows, I immersed myself in a vibrant life, attempting to bury the revelations about my parents. Then, on a fateful day, I lost my grandmother, coinciding with the need to care for my ailing mother in America.

.

THE feeling of strangeness tugged my heart out of my reminiscing, leading me back towards the present scene. As consciousness returned, a touch on my shoulder rendered me momentarily paralyzed, my heart racing. A voice, serious in tone, whispered by my right ear, anchoring me in an eerie reality.

"3, 2, 1. Action!" The clapperboard signaled us to resume the scene. Closing my eyes, I regained control over my body. Scanning the surroundings, I caught a glimpse of a mysterious woman in a white dress vanishing into the crowd.

"Cut!" The director's voice pierced the air, causing my heart to skip a beat. "Jong, what happened?"

"S-Sorry," I stammered, attempting to shake off the disconcerting sensation clouding my mind. Perhaps fatigue from consecutive tapings was taking its toll.

"Again!" he commanded. "3, 2, 1. Avoid any more unnecessary movements, Marianne... Action!"

Once more, I closed my eyes, aligning my body with Marianne, a scripted move I resisted internally. Unwanted as it was, compliance seemed necessary for the success of this film.

"Walang gagalaw (Nobody move)!" a commanding voice echoed, cutting through the scene. Determined not to disrupt the moment, I maintained my character, leaning closer to her. Yet, a subtle unease crept in, prompting me to open my eyes abruptly. To my surprise, I found myself dangerously close to the ground. Reacting swiftly, I arrested my descent, straightening my spine in a rapid recovery.

"그 여자는 어디 있어요 Geu yeojaneun eodi iss-eoyo (Where is she)?" I demanded, a surge of anger and embarrassment flooding my thoughts.

As my gaze descended to Marianne, a disconcerting scene unfolded-a man in a black mask and cap, gripping her neck with his arm. In his right hand, a gun was pointed menacingly at the woman's head.

"Tulungan mo akong Koreanong panot ka (Help me, you creep)! Annyeong, help! Help! (slang: no translation)!" Fear eclipsed Marianne's eyes, a silent plea etched in her scream as she gasped for help.

"Is this part of the set?" I inquired, my gaze shifting towards the director.

"No!" he replied with an anxious voice. "No, it's not part of the show." Standing amidst the crowd, his hands trembled, mirroring the unease that gripped the scene.

"Pakawalan mo siya (Release her)!" he thundered, his voice slicing through the tense air. I witnessed the veins pulsating in his clenched fists, the silent tremor coursing through his hands as he surged upright from the chair. Eager to intervene, he poised for a step forward, but the concerned staff swiftly formed a human barrier, thwarting his desperate attempt to reach the men before us.

"Delikado, Sir (It's dangerous, Sir)," the staff uttered with a palpable blend of worry and fear echoing in his voice.

The man's eyes, like a predator assessing its prey, pivoted toward the director. In a menacing tableau, he leveled his gun not just at the director but at the entire group, the metallic threat hanging heavy in the charged atmosphere.

"Walang kikilos sa inyo (None of you move)!" he bellowed, his voice devoid of any hint of fear. The command echoed, a chilling proclamation that hung in the air, leaving no room for doubt about the serious consequences awaiting anyone daring to defy him.

As I contemplated a step backward, a frigid metal pressed against my forehead. A voice, cool and calculated, reached me from behind, "You, too, Mr. Jong Hee. Don't move a muscle."

The crew palpably tensed, the air thick with anxiety. The set, cleverly arranged, limited access to only our colleagues. The extras, drawn into the perilous scenario, huddled with the staff, fearing a stray bullet as they pondered their exit strategy.

In that charged moment, a plan crystallized in my mind. Swiftly, I leaned away from the menacing gun and dropped to the ground, delivering a forceful kick aimed at the mystery man's foot. The firearm clattered to the floor, yet he remained an ominous statue, unmoved by the sudden turn of events.

A towering figure, seemingly in his mid-twenties, loomed before me. A black mask concealed his mouth, but his dark hair framed his face with an air of mystery.

I stood frozen, my fingers alternately clenching and unclenching at my sides. Amidst the tension, a voice pierced through the silence. "You can do it, Jong Hee!" cried the woman who had brought me coffee earlier. The words seemed to resonate with the man, prompting him to tilt his neck from side to side, signaling an ominous invitation to engage.

However, the precarious situation escalated as the one holding Marianne hostage erupted, "You, Korean boy! Stop that, or I'll shoot your girl!" The threat hung heavy in the air, amplifying the stakes of the impending confrontation.

"Hayaan mo na (Let him be)," the man in front of me sneered with an evil grin. "I can handle this myself. Let's let this little boy play for now."

As he advanced, preparing for a right punch, I anticipated his move. Swiftly, I evaded to my right, seizing his arm and executing a forceful twist. Holding onto the twisted limb, I delivered a high kick to his stomach, causing him to stagger backward, a momentary disruption to his confidence replaced by a lethal glare.

Given a fleeting chance to escape, my commitment wavered as I considered the potential harm to the crew if I abandoned them. Instead, I pressed the man's back to the ground, asserting control and preventing any retaliatory move. The standoff hung in the balance, a precarious dance between danger and the instinct to protect.

"Itigil mo 'yan (Stop that)! Stop what you're doing!" the man with the girl pleaded urgently.

Marianne's tear-streaked face revealed the emotional toll of the perilous situation, her silent anguish echoing the gravity of the unfolding events.

"Tulong! 'Yaw kong ma-deads ng walang retouch (Help! I don't want to die without any retouch)," she begged. "Please po, pakawalan niyo po ako. Magreretouch lang ako (Please, let go of me. I will just retouch my makeup)."

Despite struggling to comprehend most of her words, a clash of annoyance and sympathy stirred within me. I yearned to aid her, yet the looming threat that the man I subdued could rise again, endangering her safety, held me back.

Amidst this internal struggle, a glimmer of hope emerged. The director, surreptitiously advancing from behind, clutched a bottle of wine from our props. A potential weapon in his hands, it hinted at a desperate yet strategic attempt to alter the course of this perilous confrontation.

"Tumahimik kang bata ka (Shut up, kid)!" the man exclaimed, oblivious to the director's stealthy approach. His annoyance reverberated in his voice as he tightened his grip on Marianne.

In a swift turn of events, the director emerged, wielding the glass bottle as a makeshift weapon. With a resounding impact, he struck the man on the head. The assailant crumpled to the ground, rendered unconscious by the decisive blow. "Bitiwan mo ang anak ko (Let go of my daughter)!" he roared in anger, the shattered glass scattered around the fallen figures on the ground.

In a poignant moment, the girl, on the verge of reuniting with her father, tears streaming down her face, was abruptly halted. Without warning, a sniper's shot pierced through her chest, shattering the fragile hope of their impending reunion. "Anak (Sweety)!" the director's shout echoed, his eyes widening at the tragic turn of events.

In the distance, the flickering red and blue lights signaled the arrival of the police, dismantling the barriers set up by the movie staff to secure the shooting grounds.

Amidst the chaos, my attention snapped back to the man I had subdued. Seizing the opportunity, he retrieved his gun and, realizing the police had arrived, swiftly fled the scene. Though he was gone, the looming threat of the sniper lingered.

Instinctively, I heeded the stranger's advice, racing toward the girl, her blood staining the ground, as the urgency of the situation propelled me forward.

Jump down the bridge! You'll be safe there. Trust me!

With my life hanging in the balance, desperate for safety, I cradled her in my arms. In that critical moment, the stranger reappeared, and from a distance, a woman in a distinctive dress emerged, rushing toward one of the abandoned cameras.

Caught in the intensity of the situation, our eyes locked with the stranger's. Unbeknownst to me, a bullet was hurtling towards us, an imminent threat I failed to perceive in the chaotic whirlwind of danger.

Run!

As my focus snapped back, urgency propelled me to rise and sprint toward the bridge's edge. In an abrupt interruption, a searing pain flared in my right arm-a bullet striking its mark, a harsh reminder of the relentless danger pursuing me.

Run, jump, and don't look back!

Struggling against the weight of the lady in my arms and the searing pain in my wounded arm, I pressed towards the other side of the railings. A quiet whisper escaped my lips, "I just wish that I would be back again to my normal life."

In that moment, a sudden paralysis gripped me. The strange, haunting vision from earlier resurfaced, casting an ominous shadow over my thoughts. Contemplating a retreat instead of a leap, my body hesitated on the brink. Yet, before I could step back, the ground seemed to vanish beneath me, and I found myself tumbling into the abyss. The lingering sounds of gunfire and panic enveloped me, marking my descent into a disorienting and uncertain abyss.

𝙻𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚓𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚊𝚓𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚎

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