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I was just casually sitting on a low cement fence near the sari-sari store, drinking a lukewarm soda in a plastic cup, when I saw a guy kicking what looked like an ancient lamp. No kidding—it looked exactly like the kind of lamp you'd expect a genie to pop out of in some cheap movie. The guy, wearing a faded *Angkas* jacket and flip-flops that looked like they'd been through war, muttered angrily:
> "Stupid lamp! I paid 1,000 pesos for this? It's not even copper—it's just rotten iron!"
He gave it one last dramatic kick, like he was Messi in a finals match, and it rolled straight into a pile of garbage like it belonged there all along.
Now, I'm not saying I believe in genies or magic or any of that Disney nonsense. But I was *curious*. I mean, the thing looked weirdly old, like something you'd see in a museum or a haunted house. So, after the guy left, still grumbling, I casually walked over, checked if anyone was looking, then fished the lamp out of the trash bag like a low-budget treasure hunter. I even wiped it on my shirt because I'm classy like that.
Walking home, I passed by an old *lola* sweeping the pavement in front of her house.
"Hello po, Auntie!" I greeted.
She looked up and smiled, "Ay, Ron! Still alive, I see. That's good. Be careful at night—some spirits like to wander."
I laughed nervously. "Haha… yeah, I'll watch out for the wandering spirits."
She started sweeping again like she hadn't just casually mentioned the undead, and I kept walking.
---
My house isn't much. A single-story bungalow with two rooms, one tiny bathroom, and a kitchen where the fridge hums like it's singing the blues. But for a guy living alone, it's alright. The roof only leaks *sometimes*, and the power only goes out during major storms—or when Meralco feels like playing roulette with our area.
I tossed the lamp on my small desk next to my second-hand monitor and plopped on the couch. My back cracked like bubble wrap. I turned on the TV, scrolled through the same old local shows and anime reruns, and sighed.
> "Life's hard, man," I mumbled to no one. "I wish the world would change... or at least send me a little thrill."
I didn't know it yet, but that was the first time I accidentally asked the universe for something.
---
Anyway, hi. I'm Ron. Ron Heard. Yeah, weird last name—I think my grandfather was American or half, or maybe someone just messed up the birth certificate. Doesn't matter.
I'm 27. I live in the Philippines—yep, I'm a *Pinoy*, born and raised. And honestly? Sometimes it sucks. But I love the Philippines too. It's warm, the food's amazing, and you can buy a full meal for 80 pesos if you know the right carinderia.
I've never had a girlfriend. Not because I'm ugly or anything (I mean, I'm not exactly *Enrique Gil* but I have all my teeth and no obvious curses). I just… never felt like chasing love. I've got friends, sure, but we're not super close. I'm not into drama. I just live quietly. Too quietly.
The truth? I want more. I want *something*—an adventure, a thrill, a break from the cycle.
Work-home-work-home.
---
I work in a small firm. Nothing special. Just paperwork, Excel sheets, emails, and trying not to scream every time my boss sends me a 5 p.m. task. I'm basically a corporate NPC. But somehow, I've saved up about ₱500,000. I don't own a car, but I *do* own this little house, and that's already better than most guys my age.
So yeah—boring life, but stable.
---
A few days later, I was up late again playing *Mobile Legends*. I should've slept, but the thrill of scoring kills was too real. My team was garbage, as usual.
> "TRIPLE KILL! MANIAC! SAVAGE! …Defeat."
"Bro, I swear this system is cursed. Always giving me teammates with no brain cells," I said, flinging my phone onto the couch like it betrayed me.
I stood up to get water. And then it happened.
I tripped.
On. The. Damn. Lamp.
> "AAARRGH! What the—how the hell is this thing here?! I left it on the table!"
I hit the floor hard. The glass I was holding shattered into a million shards like a telenovela moment.
A piece sliced my palm just enough to sting and bleed a little. Nothing dramatic—just enough to ruin my night.
I stood up, gritting my teeth, ready to throw the cursed lamp into the trash once and for all.
But just as I grabbed it with my bleeding hand—
**Something happened.**
The blood dripped onto the metal, and it shimmered. Like, *really* shimmered. I'm talking "sponsored by Photoshop with maximum glow filter" type of shimmer. It pulsed, like the lamp had a heartbeat, and then it let out this low, metallic *hummmmmm*.
I blinked.
> "...What the hell? Did I just activate a Wi-Fi signal in an ancient lamp?"
Then it shook slightly.
And before I could even scream or run, it started glowing. Bright. Like "your future is in danger" bright.
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### TO BE CONTINUED...
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