The first morning in the hacienda was painted in soft gold.
Bianca woke to the sound of roosters somewhere far off—odd, since she hadn't seen a single chicken yesterday.
She stepped onto the balcony outside her bedroom. The air was clean in a way city air never was—fresh, almost sweet, like flowers that hadn't been picked yet. Dew clung to the grass in glittering drops.
From here, she could see the orchards again: rows of mango and lanzones trees standing proud, their branches empty but promising. Beyond them, the bamboo forest swayed gently, the sound like a low whisper.
Her phone pinged. A message from her best friend, Lara:
Lara: Girl, I still can't believe you're in some Spanish-era mansion. When are you gonna show me pics??
Bianca: Later. Gotta clean and explore first. There's too many things to do.
Lara: Fine, but send me the creepiest room. I want ghost vibes.
Bianca smirked. If Lara wanted haunted mansion energy, she might be disappointed. The place wasn't scary—it felt alive, yes, but not in a way that made her want to run. More like… it was waiting.
---
After breakfast—Lydia's sinangag and fried eggs—Bianca wandered the mansion. She passed grand hallways lined with faded portraits of stern-faced ancestors. One painting near the staircase caught her eye: a young man in an old barong, his eyes soft but watchful. She couldn't place why, but something about him made her pause.
"This was Lolo Berto's father," Lydia said, appearing beside her with a rag in hand.
"A serious man. But they say he loved the land more than himself."
Bianca nodded, filing the detail away.
---
By midday, she was in the backyard, inspecting the poultry shed. The smell of old wood and hay lingered, but no sign of life. She crouched to check a dusty feeder and muttered to herself, "With a little work, I could get this running…"
The wind shifted. Leaves rustled.
She turned.
Nothing.
Except…
From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw movement near the mansion's side door—a quick dart of color, like brown fur and a flick of a tail.
---
Curiosity tugged her inside. The side door led to a narrow hallway she didn't remember from her childhood visits. At the end of it, she found a heavy wooden door with an old iron handle. It creaked loudly as she pulled it open, revealing a staircase spiraling downward.
The air grew cooler with each step. The scent of earth and something faintly sweet filled her nose.
At the bottom, the room widened into a dimly lit basement. Dust motes danced in the sunlight filtering through a tiny window. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with jars of preserved fruits and—oddly—old wooden chests carved with the same vine patterns she'd seen on the front doors.
Something moved behind one of the crates.
Bianca froze. "Hello?"
A small head popped out—a round face covered in short, caramel-brown fur, eyes impossibly large and golden, ears like tiny leaves.
---
End of Chapter 3