"How much for a kilo?"
"160."
"160? That's too much! How about 150?"
"…"
"Sister, how much for those fish in a bundle?"
"…"
"How much are those bananas per kilo?"
"100. And 50 for half a kilo."
"Alright. I'll take those."
"…"
It was early in the morning, yet the air was already filled with mixed sounds. Most came from buyers haggling with sellers. The rest were random, ambient noises.
The wet market was large, but the countless rows of packed stalls—each varying in size–made it feel cramped. The narrow paths between them barely allowed people at all.
Even worse, everything was soaked, filthy and pungent. Hell, there was even a subtle scent of rotting fish.
Porters wove through the narrow, slippery paths—balancing heavy sacks on their shoulders with practiced ease. Their bodies were lean and muscular–clearly suited for the job. Each one headed in a different direction.
But one stood out.
A struggling young man in his twenties, wearing a sleeveless white shirt and black shorts. Compared to the others, his frame was thin–clearly underweight. His arms were barely able to support the massive sack on his back. He had pale skin, subtle chestnut brown hair, almond eyes, and a distinctive mole under his right eye.
Soon, his steps slowed. He stopped briefly, exhaled deeply, and shifted the sack that was larger than his body.
"You fine?" someone asked from behind.
Unable to turn his head, the young man replied weakly, "Yes, brother."
"Don't force yourself," the man continued. "Just drag it along the floor. No need to make things harder."
He glanced at the wet ground, hesitating. Shaking his head, he exhaled again and pushed forward.
The man behind followed.
"I've been meaning to ask. Why are you even working here? And so early? There are better—paying jobs out there."
"Uh… well, I need money," the young man admitted. "To help my grandma and little brother."
After a moment, he continued. "And I couldn't pass most of the jobs I applied to. They asked for these absurd requirements–like years of experience and a college degree."
"And they pay minimum wage, yes?"
"Yeah. Pretty much."
The older man laughed bitterly. He was working for his family too. But such was life in this country. It was as though God had set its difficulty to hell.
Just to survive, people clung to any job they could. Regardless of how shameless it was. Below minimum wage. Hazardous environments. Scorching heat or relentless rain. No one chose these conditions. Rather, they had no choice.
And the government barely seemed to care.
They continued walking.
Eventually, they arrived at their destination. The young man groaned as he gently lowered the sack with help. He sighed, rubbing his aching right shoulder.
Behind the stall stood a woman, frowning at him.
"What did I tell you, Kaelos? You could've carried the smaller ones." She clicked her tongue. "You'll hurt yourself at this rate. You could've dragged it instead."
"I told him that," the man said, "but he insisted."
They both looked at him in question.
Kaelos scratched his head. "But… it'll get the sack wet and dirty."
"Hay!" she exclaimed in exasperation. "What would I tell your grandma if something went wrong, ha?"
He smiled sheepishly.
Seeing his expression, the woman rubbed her forehead. At first, upon seeing his frail frame, she had tried referring him to other jobs–ones less physically demanding. Though, they paid less.
But Kaelos was stubborn. He insisted on this job because it paid more.
Weeks had passed since he started working under her, but her heart still ached every time she saw him struggle. He reminded her of her son. And since he was her friend's grandson, she was obliged to help him.
Not only that, she had a very great impression of Kaelos. She knew he had multiple jobs. And he had been working since he was a kid.
After a short break, they began weighing the sacks.
"9.5 kilograms," the man said. "8.3 kilograms."
Once done recording, the woman paid the older man, then handed Kaelos his wage.
Kaelos counted the bills and frowned. "Sister… isn't this—?"
"Not enough?"
"Ha–no… no" He quickly shook his head. "This is more than enough. Thank you, Sister."
She had given four hundred---fifty pesos–one hundred---fifty more than the minimum wage.
"But–"
She cut him off with a raised hand. "Use the extra to eat more. Take care of your health."
"And don't come back later. I'll be away," she added.
Kaelos nodded and smiled warmly. "Thank you."
To others, an extra hundred---fifty pesos might not mean much. But to Kaelos, it was everything.
He was especially grateful to the woman. She didn't mistreat him. He remembered how she had increased his pay by fifty pesos on his first day. And since then, it only increased more.
Still, Kaelos looked toward the man beside him, worried he might be offended. But the man only smiled. "Keep it. You need it more than I do."
He added. "Eat more, ah. You're like a walking skeleton."
They all laughed.
After chatting a while longer, Kaelos bid goodbye and left the wet market.
The sun was just beginning to rise. Birds chirped. Chickens crowded. A cold breeze hugged his skin.
He exhaled into the crisp morning air, gazing up at the sky. "This won't do…"
'I need more money…'
'Could I even manage another job?'
He scratched his head and continued walking.
The streets were grimy and polluted. Trash littered every corner, like no one cleaned them in weeks. Stray, malnourished cats and dogs scoured the trash for food.
Kaelos felt his heart ache at the sight of the poor animals. He approached them slowly, crouched, and pulled a piece of bread from his pocket.
Tearing it into small pieces, he scattered them on the ground and stepped away. Only after seeing them eat did he nod to himself and continue on.
Kaelos strode along a narrow, broken sidewalk. When it wasn't cracked or uneven, it was blocked by parked motorcycles or cars.
The road was already busy. Jeepneys and buses zipped by, packed with commuters heading to work or trying to avoid the early traffic.
Eventually, he turned into a tight alleyway. The ground changed–dirt embedded with trash replaced concrete. The smell turned putrid. A nauseating mix of rot, urine, and decay hit his nose.
The houses were tiny and dilapidated–patched together from tarpaulins, scrap wood, and rusty metal sheets. Outside them were wooden carts, junked appliances, and heaps of garbage.
His expression remained unchanged.
Kaelos passed several people still asleep–curled up on carts or under low shelters. Most of them were homeless.
Stopping at a small neighborhood store, Kaelos bought Pancit Canton and a carbonated drink–his comfort food. Cheap, easy to cook, and flavorful. Though, they were unhealthy if regularly consumed.
Soon, he arrived at this home–no different from the others.
He frowned. Election posters littered the walls, all bearing the same face and slogan: "New Voice, New Tomorrow."
Kaelos' expression darkened. "Damn, Villars," he muttered.
He hated these people in particular. They always reminded him of their miserable situation. His family were barely living. Scratch that–barely surviving.
Looking at the smiling woman on the poster, his expression darkened even more. Everyone knew how corrupt and evil their family was.
They monopolized the land. Stole from the poor.
Such people were corrupted to their core. To Kaelos, they were monsters.
'Already built a dynasty from the people's money. Yet they still wanted more?' He began tearing each one down. 'The rich… become richer…'
'Rich…'
Kaelos didn't hate rich people. Some. In fact, he respected those who truly worked hard to achieve such status.
What he hated were those who were already born rich, yet wanted to become even richer through nefarious means. Or those who had built their wealth off illegal ways.
He looked up at the sky. The sun had fully risen.
'I wish I was rich, too…'
Kaelos recalled a saying: "If you are born poor, it's not your fault. But if you die poor, it is."
'But what if there were no opportunities? Even if there were, then why were they only present to those lucky ones?'
A rage bubbled inside of him.
'Carve your own path? Create your own opportunity?'
Opportunities weren't equal. Luck often played a huge role. And if society or the government didn't offer any…
He had tried–countless times. But it was never easy. It never was.
Kaelos exhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm.
'Only if I had power… such is life.'
He shook his head and opened their door using the hole where the knob used to be. The bottom scraped against the floor with a grating noise.
Inside, Kaelos ducked his head–there wasn't much vertical space in the entrance.
The space was small and crowded with old, recycled items. The ceiling was cracked wood and decayed. The floor was made of cheap wallpaper. And the neon blue walls were obnoxious to look at.
He tossed the posters into the trash and walked over to the small bed. His grandmother and little brother were still asleep.
Kaelos looked at them for a long moment, feeling his tiredness vanish. But as his eyes lingered on his grandmother's frail body, her back bowed with age and her face lined with deep wrinkles. It felt like something was stabbing straight into his heart.
'I'll work even harder, Lola… and for Martin as well.'
Quietly, he headed to the kitchen. He cooked rice and eggs for them. And cooked what he had bought for himself.
After eating, he began preparing pastil–shredded meat boiled until tender.
He heard it was popular among college students. Cheap, filling, and tasty. Twenty pesos a meal.
For many, it meant survival on a tight budget.
While the meat boiled, he checked on his tarantulas. They were kept in a transparent, homemade container. Seeing the beautiful, intricate structures of their webs, he smiled. He found them mesmerizing.
After cleaning their space and feeding them, he showered quickly and changed into his college uniform. He felt a little nervous–it was his first year. And he didn't know what to expect.
A smile shone on his face as he remembered how difficult it had been to attain what he had now.
"Have you eaten already, Kaelos?" his grandmother asked softly.
Kaelos flinched, caught off guard.
"Lola! Don't scare me like that!"
She laughed.
"Yeah, I've already eaten," Kaelos said. "I've cooked eggs for you and Martin."
His grandmother smiled and opened her wallet. "Here. For you."
Kaelos quickly shook his head. "No need. I've–"
"Hay. Just take it."
He looked at her for a moment before sighing. Sitting beside her, he said, "I don't need it. You need it more… or save it for Martin instead."
She didn't reply as she stared off into space.
Seeing her expression, Kaelos changed the topic and chuckled. "How's your back?"
"It no longer hurts," she said as she stretched slightly.
Kaelos nodded. "That's good."
He gently touched her back. "I'll massage you later."
"You said that, ah."
Smiling, he packed the pastil he planned to sell on campus and organized his things.
"Your class is at 8:30?"
He nodded.
"What time will you be home?"
"Uhh… afternoon."
"Okay. Get home safely, ah."
"Yes, yes, yes."
Just before stepping out, Kaelos turned and looked at her. "Don't work, okay?" Your bones are already old."
"This kid! When I was your age–"
"I know, I know. You've told me that like a dozen times already."
"Che."
"But seriously. Please rest. We don't want you ending up in the hospital, okay?"
"Fine."
Relieved, he smiled. "Just play bingo with your friends or gossip with the neighbors."
"Just get out!" she said jokingly.
"Take care, okay?"
His heart warmed at the sound of her worried tone as he closed the door.
"As if something bad would happen to me.' He shook his head internally.
Kaelos went to the bus station to meet with his friends. He sat, absentminded, his thoughts drifting to the future.
'Will BPO accept me?'
'15k a month. If I pass, then…'
He felt his eyelids droop.
"Ah!"
He jolted awake. A man was laughing beside him.
"Such an annoying bastard you are, Joseph."
Joseph had curly hair brushing his eyebrows, a dark complexion, and a perpetual smirk. He was the same height as Kaelos but clearly more muscular. It was evident he was going to the gym.
"If you weren't so strong, I'd punch you in the face.'
"Yea. For sure." Joseph crossed his arms. His voice was sarcastic and annoying.
Kaelos rolled his eyes.
Moments later, another friend arrived. Chubby, with round glasses and neatly parted hair. Unlike Joseph, he had a calm presence and a constant, gentle smile.
"Hey, Xandrell," Joseph greeted.
"Have you been here long?" Xandrell asked them all. His voice was gentle.
"Not me. Kaelos arrived first." Joseph pointed at Kaelos.
"I just arrived a few minutes ago."
"Have you finished it?" Xandrell asked them all again, referring to a game they played.
Kaelos wanted to join regularly, but he didn't have a PC and time. Still, sometimes he played with them at nearby computer shops.
"The first act?" Kaelos asked.
"It was easy, for me at least," Joseph said. "How'd you beat it, Xandrell?"
"..."
Eventually, the rest of their friends arrived.
"Well, well, well. If it weren't the usual suspects." Ian said.
Kaelos chuckled. Xandrell laughed.
"Hmm. Alfonse said he was 'on the way,' but he was still in the shower when I got the message," Rafael said dryly. He was tall and thin–similar to Kaelos. With flat, side---parted hair, he appeared bored.
Alfonse gave a sheepish smile. He was short and looked like a gentle soul, but in fact had a mischievous demeanor similar to Joseph but subtle–and a complexion similar to Kaelos.
"Come on. We're already late," Kaelos said as he stood up.
Just as they began walking, the ground rumbled beneath their feet. They froze. Their steps receded.
"Earthquake?" Joseph asked nervously.
"No." Alfonse blinked. "Of course, it's an earthquake you idiot! The ground is shaking!"
However, just as they were about to speak more, they felt the surrounding space twist.
"This… this is not an earthquake," Kaelos said with horror.
Without warning, space distorted. Then shattered like glass.
And the next moment…
Reality crumbled.
Then there was nothing.