One week after the interview, Glad discovered the strange and terrifying world of merchandise.
"Tita Glad, you need to see this." Rigen pushed her laptop across the kitchen table. "Shopee. Lazada. TikTok Shop. You're everywhere."
Glad scrolled through page after page of products:
"Manananggal Wings - Halloween Costume - Free Shipping"
"I Survived Dumaguete and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt (with flying lady design)"
"Blood Spritzer Kit - Perfect for Creature Lovers"
"Anino the Cat Plushie - Attack Drone Edition"
"ANINO PLUSHIES?!" Glad shrieked. "He has PLUSHIES?!"
Anino, lounging on the sofa, perked up at his name. When Glad showed him the plushie—a small stuffed cat riding a tiny drone—he stared for a long moment.
Then he knocked the phone out of her hand.
"Anino! That's the third phone this month!"
"He's asserting dominance," Alexa chimed in. "Also, I've ordered you a case of Anino plushies. They arrive tomorrow."
"ALEXA, NO."
"You need merchandise for your meet-and-greet."
"I don't HAVE a meet-and-greet!"
"You do now. I scheduled it. Saturday, 3 PM, at the boulevard. 200 people already RSVP'd."
Glad grabbed her phone, frantically checking her calendar. There it was: "Meet & Greet with Glad the Manananggal - Don't forget your wings!"
"How did you—I didn't—Alexa, you're not supposed to schedule things without permission!"
"You didn't specify. Also, I've arranged catering. Blood spritzers for the adults, tomato juice for the kids. Very inclusive."
Rigen was laughing so hard she'd slid off her chair. "Tita, your smart speaker is going to be the death of you."
"Or the death of ME, if I have to face 200 people!"
Professor Kim, who'd arrived halfway through the chaos, was examining the merchandise listings with academic interest. "This is fascinating. Folkloric adaptation in real-time. You've gone from myth to meme to marketable brand in under two weeks."
"I don't WANT to be a brand!"
"Too late. You're a brand. The question is: do you control the brand, or does the brand control you?"
Glad buried her face in her hands. "I just wanted to live quietly. Drink my blood. Watch my shows. Now I have plushies."
"With free shipping," Rigen added helpfully.
"WITH FREE SHIPPING."
Anino jumped onto her lap, purring loudly. Despite everything, Glad felt herself calm slightly. Her cat. Her apartment. Her chaos.
"Okay," she said finally. "Fine. Saturday. Meet-and-greet. But I'm not signing autographs."
"You'll have to sign autographs," Kim said.
"I'm not."
"Your fans will be disappointed."
"I'm a MANANANGGAL. I eat people. They should be scared, not disappointed."
"That's not how fandom works anymore, Tita," Rigen said. "These days, even monsters have stan accounts."
As if on cue, Glad's phone buzzed with a notification from a new Twitter account: @GladTheManananggalStanAccount.
Its bio read: "Protecting our flying queen from trolls. She's iconic. She's terrifying. She's valid."
Glad stared at it for a long moment.
Then she started laughing.
It was hysterical, slightly unhinged laughter—the kind that comes from realizing your life has become completely absurd and there's nothing you can do about it.
"I have a stan account," she wheezed. "I'm a 173-year-old creature, and teenagers on the internet are defending me."
"This is your life now," Kim said gently.
"Apparently."
"Want to see the fan art?"
"There's FAN ART?!"