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PHOTOGRAPHS of beasts and mythological beings cluttered the table, each image vividly captured on camera. Newsworthy at the time, these pictures had been printed on bond paper, with three to four images neatly arranged on each sheet.

“These are just some of the newly captured images that have piqued the interest of people, especially those living in the province of Nueva Aurora and the city core,” Raine said, gesturing toward the images.

“Why are you showing these to me?” Zane asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“More and more people are convinced that the elusive murderer is a mythical being,” she replied. “I noticed your interest in the topic, and I need to identify why they think that way.”

“First off, I’ve got a question,” he began, catching the slight raise of Raine’s eyebrows, her silent cue for him to proceed. “Wasn’t it illegal for us to sneak into that event last night? What’s the status of the case? Was it compromised? Is it closed?”

Raine paused, weighing her words before answering. “Well, I’m fairly certain I had permission to attend. The detective inspector handling the case gave it to me.”

“So, you’re a private detective?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Better yet,” she replied with a slight grin, “I’m a newly hired crime scene investigator, after the detective noticed me as a freelance crime solver.”

"Alright, great!" Zane nodded. "But why let me tag along?"

"You were following me!" Raine exclaimed.

"But—"

"Alright," she interrupted, her expression softening. "I thought you might make a good assistant." She paused, then added, "As for the case, we’re still tracking down the people who need to be interviewed."

"I’m not interested in crimes or killing people," Zane said.

“But you’re meant for saving people,” she countered. “Who knows, maybe one day your help will be needed.”

“Nah, I’m too busy,” Zane interrupted. “And even if I weren’t, that day won’t come anytime soon.”

“You sure?” Raine asked. “Because I’ll need your help with your expertise in medicine and your love of mythology.”

Zane involuntarily pouted.

“This will provide valuable information for finding a solution,” Raine added. “You want to end the madness of that killer, right, Professor? You want the normal Nueva Aurora, am I correct?”

Zane furrowed his brow, chewing thoughtfully before taking a large bite of his pie. “Fine, then,” he muttered, his tone resigned.

Raine watched him for a moment before asking, “People say an aswang attacked the victims. Do you believe in those beings?”

“First of all, what is an aswang?” Zane asked, his curiosity now fully piqued. Finally, someone was recognizing his hidden passion. “For basic information, it’s from Philippine folklore. It’s often depicted as a creature that can change its form—a shape-shifter! It could be a dog, a pig, or something else.”

Raine listened closely, her scepticism evident, though she couldn’t help but feel intrigued. She tried to piece together the fragments of what the police had discovered so far. Birds had been seen circling the first victim. A cat had been reported near the second. But her thoughts snapped to the third victim, the details blurring in her mind.

“Shape-shifting, huh? How can a normal human do that?” she asked, her brow furrowing. “Are they mutants? Did scientists experiment on that thing?”

Zane chuckled softly. “I’m a science teacher, but there are still many mysteries in this world, just like the vastness of the universe, or whether the multiverse really exists. We don’t even know where the moon came from!”

“How are we suddenly involving the universe and our solar system in this very traditional conversation?” Raine asked, bemused.

“Well, it’s the solar system and the universe, alright. Part of the world’s greatest mysteries, just like that aswang. Maybe even more famous than the aswang,” Zane replied. “Sometimes, we misinterpret these beings. People claim to have seen an aswang, but in reality, it might just be a shadow or a wild animal,” he added, carefully picking up the pictures from the table, one by one.

“I checked those, and I have a feeling that they might just be overreacting, or some of them were even edited,” Raine said.

The first image showed something with red eyes peering from the bushes. The second depicted a strange figure with red eyes standing tall in the distance, captured in front of a car. Another photo featured a flying figure resembling a person hovering atop a building, along with four more images.

“For me, some of these could be true,” Zane said, studying the images closely. “Others seem suspicious, but some were taken by coincidence… a perfect coincidence.”

“Relating it to the recent killings, what can you say about people thinking that an aswang committed those gruesome acts?” Raine asked.

“I read about those rumours in the news, but I don’t have any other information about the victims, and I have no right to invade their privacy,” Zane replied.

“Just tell me how they hunt,” Raine urged. “It’s a simple question.”

“Shape-shifting, as I mentioned. That’s essential for them to approach their targets without raising suspicions among both the victims and potential witnesses,” Zane explained. “These creatures also feed on flesh and blood of their victims. Their hunting typically  occurs at night. Some say they have long tongues, while others describe sharp fangs to extract blood.”

“Missing hearts are common for the case, but there have been no reports of flesh-eating,” Raine mused to herself. “There might be a case where they feed on the blood of the victims, but why didn’t they take more based on how much blood was still present at the scene?”

“Unconvinced yet? They can also be masters of stealth and deception. They might mimic voices familiar to the victim or appear as friends or family members. This allows them to gain trust before attacking,” Zane added.

Raine’s mind snapped back to the third victim, visualizing her standing at the last known location and recalling a random person approaching her, potentially luring her to the bathroom where she met her end.

For the fourth victim, the lack of early reports of terror or screams from nearby apartment tenants suggested that the victim likely trusted the killer before the drug was injected.

“Some even say that aswangs possess magical powers. They can cast spells or curses to weaken their victims,” Zane replied. “It’s similar to what witches do, but these beings are more akin to cannibals.”

“Typical victims. Who are they?” Raine asked.

“Well, these creatures tend to prey on children due to their vulnerability,” Zane replied. “Parents often invoke the aswang myth to scare their children into staying home or going to bed early.”

“There were no children among the victims. I wonder why,” Raine murmured, gazing out the open window at the vehicles passing by.

“Pregnant women are also prime targets! Like children, they’re often too weak to resist,” Zane added.

“The first victim was indeed reported as having a three-month-old fetus,” Raine said, her eyes widening at the revelation. “But why attack the other girls? They weren’t reported to be pregnant.”

“It’s like a two-for-one deal for them—the mother and the child,” Zane jested, managing a slight smile. But he quickly returned to seriousness when he noticed Raine didn’t react with laughter or even a smile.

“How about men?” Raine asked.

“Well, they also target isolated individuals,” he replied. “They tend to attack those who are sick or weak.”

“Anything else?”

“There are movies featuring unwary travellers who are new to an area. Since they’re unfamiliar with their surroundings, aswangs find them ideal targets,” Zane explained, finishing the last bite of his egg pie. “Are you… going to eat that cake? It might end up like the one we have back at our place.”

Raine absorbed the information, her gaze lingering on the table for a moment before she snapped back to reality. “Thanks for answering my questions. I may have a few more... or many. Just wait for it.”

She finally picked up her spoon, taking a bite of cake, relishing the taste. As she ate, she carefully slid the photographs back into the envelope and handed the book to Zane. “That’s the one you borrowed from Mrs. Nuñez’s café. Apologies for taking it when it was left unattended in the living room,” she said with a small smile. “Just a reminder, though—Mrs. Nuñez is strict about rules and order. Return it by the end of the day, or at least ask her for an extension.”

“I doubt she’ll mind too much, but sure,” he replied, setting the book on his lap. Raine shot him a look, her expression silently saying, “Have it your way.”

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THE next day marked the first day of school and Zane’s debut as a university professor. For Raine, it was just another busy day ahead.

The blaring alarm from his phone ripped Zane from his sleep. He squinted at the dim light streaming through the door and scanned his living room. The amber wood walls, adorned with intricate designs, felt warm and cozy. The analogue clock on the wall ticked steadily, its hands pointing to 5:00.

“Buenos días,” Raine greeted casually from the bluish kitchen, seated at the table. She glanced at him between bites of rice, already dressed in a formal teacher’s uniform.

“You’re up so early. Why are you dressed like that?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Going to work,” she replied, enjoying the yellow part of her sunny-side-up egg.

“You have an undercover mission?” he asked, yawning and stretching his arms.

“I’ll be working as a professor because that’s my job,” Raine answered.

“You— Oh! What school?” Zane asked, curiosity piqued.

“I saw your name on the newly hired staff list, so I knew you were a Science teacher,” she revealed.

“Ha! I knew you couldn’t deduce that so easily!” he exclaimed, grinning.

Raine offered him a slight smile, concealing the fact that she had made many more deductions about her flatmate, despite lacking concrete information or evidence.

“Now hurry up, we have class!” Raine reminded him as she stood up and placed her now-empty plate in the tiled sink.

“But it’s only five, and the flag ceremony doesn’t start until sev–” he protested.

“It’s tough to catch a ride around here. The traffic is always terrible,” she replied, glancing at the clock. “Are you really sure about this whole professor gig?”

After a long, cramped ride on the minibus from Eunoia District, they finally arrived at the university, greeted by the grand entrance. The institution’s name was carved in silver, arching high above the dual gateways—one for the throng of students pouring in and the other for the school staff, which is where Zane and Raine entered.

Dressed in grey polo shirts adorned with scarlet braids symbolizing Nueva Aurora University and black slacks, they blended into the sea of students clad in their red and white uniforms. Slacks were paired with blouses for both men and women, while some female students opted for knee-high black skirts. All students were required to wear black shoes.

“Which college are you teaching? Criminology? Business management?” Zane asked as they huddled together to navigate the bustling crowd.

“Education,” Raine replied as they continued on their way.

“Oh, same! I’m glad to have company!” Zane beamed, quickening his pace while juggling their laptops and bags.

They stepped into the faculty room, and Zane was taken aback by its size, far larger than he remembered. The chatter of his colleagues filled the air as they exchanged greetings with Raine, receiving warm smiles and nods in return. The room exuded a calm energy, the walls bathed in rich purple tones, while plants added splashes of vibrant green. Teachers’ desks, arranged in various formations, seemed to create pockets of conversation and work. At the heart of it all, Raine’s desk stood proud—her name elegantly etched on a metal plaque, just above the title Doctor of Philosophy.

Zane’s desk sat diagonally across from Raine’s. As he shuffled through his belongings, his eyes drifted to the plaque on her desk. A sudden jolt of memory struck him, brief and elusive. A flash of an image—a face, perhaps—flickered in his mind, accompanied by the distant sound of a young girl calling his name. The vision vanished as swiftly as it had appeared, leaving only a lingering sense of confusion.

At that moment, a woman approached, her path crossing his. She stumbled slightly, catching herself just as she dropped into the seat beside him. “Oh, sorry!” they both exclaimed in unison, their voices overlapping in surprise.

Zane settled into his chair, observing the woman as she arranged her own things. She adjusted her pink square glasses, wiping them before her gaze shifted to him. “Hi,” she greeted.

“Good morning, Ma’am, sorry again,” Zane said, taking note of her waist-length wavy hair pulled back into a ponytail.

“I’m sorry about that as well, sir,” she replied with a grin. As she smiled, a flicker of recognition washed over him—a smile almost identical to another he once knew.

Before Zane could give the fleeting memory another thought, the sharp ring of the bell cut through the air, its echo reverberating through the halls. It signalled the start of the year’s first assembly. Students—first-years, transferees, and shiftees—along with staff, were expected to gather at the covered court for the welcoming ceremony, a time-honoured tradition marking the beginning of a new academic year.