By 3 AM, the videos had been viewed 12 million times.
By 5 AM, international news outlets were calling.
By 7 AM, Glad was hiding under her bed.
"Go away," she called out as someone knocked on her door. "I'm dead. I died. Tell everyone I moved to Antarctica."
"It's me," Kim's voice filtered through. "I brought coffee and your favorite blood-to-go cup."
"I don't have a favorite blood-to-go cup."
"You do now. I bought it at the airport. It says 'I'm not a creature, I just look like one.'"
Glad crawled out from under the bed. "That's... actually kind of funny."
"I thought so." Kim entered, carrying two cups and a tablet loaded with notifications. "We have a situation."
"We have MANY situations."
"The situation is: you're famous. Not infamous. Famous. Look at the comments."
She handed Glad the tablet. The latest video—Tita Hanya's live stream—had been clipped, edited, and set to various TikTok sounds. The most popular version used "What Is Love" by Haddaway, with Glad's wave perfectly timed to the beat.
Comments:
"She's literally me when I see someone I kinda know in public"
"The awkward wave of someone who just realized she's on camera"
"New crush unlocked: flying tita with anxiety"
"POV: you're a centuries-old creature and the internet found you"
"She's so real for this"
Glad scrolled, bewildered. "They're... not scared?"
"Some are. The scared ones are quieter. But most people? They think you're entertaining. Relatable. The awkward flying auntie who just wants to exist."
"That's... insane."
"That's 2024." Kim took a sip of her coffee. "Also, you have interview requests. GMA, ABS-CBN, CNN Philippines, and someone from BuzzFeed who wants to know your skincare routine."
"My what?"
"Your skin is very good for 173. They want tips."
Glad sat down heavily. "I use blood as moisturizer. I can't tell them that."
"Say it's tomato extract. Close enough."
A new knock at the door—this one more hesitant. Glad peered through the peephole to find Colene and Rigen, both looking guilty and excited respectively.
"Tita Glad," Rigen called. "My Ate wants to apologize. For the first video. But also... we have a proposition?"
Glad looked at Kim. Kim shrugged.
She opened the door.
Colene Rivera, tech vlogger and accidental catalyst for Glad's entire crisis, stood with her hands clasped nervously. "Ms. Gladys, I'm SO sorry. I didn't mean to—I had no idea you were actually—I mean, I thought it was—"
"You thought I was a costume," Glad finished. "Yes, Rigen mentioned."
"BUT." Colene held up her phone. "Now that everyone knows you're real... you need a manager. A social media team. Someone who understands platforms and trends and how to turn this into a positive thing."
Glad blinked. "You want to manage me?"
"I want to HELP you. There's a difference. I won't exploit you. I won't make you do anything uncomfortable. But I know how the internet works, and right now, you have the world's attention. If we handle this right, you can write your own narrative."
Rigen nodded. "I can handle the tech side. Build you a website. Manage your accounts. Make sure trolls get blocked."
"Wait." Glad held up a hand. "You're not scared of me? Either of you?"
Rigen laughed. "Tita, you helped me with my math homework last week. You're scary, but like... tita scary. Not monster scary."
Colene added, "And honestly? The wings are cool. Like, really cool. Can I film them in slow motion sometime?"
Glad looked at Kim. Kim looked at Anino, who had emerged from his nap and was watching the scene with mild interest.
"What do you think?" Glad asked her cat.
Anino yawned.
Then, very deliberately, he nodded.
"Did your cat just—" Colene started.
"He has neck spasms. Very common."
"Right. Of course."
Glad took a deep breath. "Okay. Fine. We'll try this your way. But if anyone calls me 'content creator' to my face, I'm flying to Boracay and never coming back."