I've never been the type who enjoys tagging along behind gangsters or pretending to be someone's little follower inside the center. Still, the rumors about a certain legendary figure from the underworld—someone who had just been admitted into the rehabilitation center—kept crashing into my ears all day long.
I heard about him in the gym.
I heard about him in the dining hall.
I heard about him at night when guys sat on the stone benches smoking under the dim yellow lights.
Everywhere I went, someone was talking about him.
The way they told the stories, you'd think once the guy finished detox he'd hand each of them a hundred thousand pesos in red envelopes.
Naturally, I got curious too.
Who the hell was this terrifying character lying inside the detox ward that everyone was so excited about?
In my mind I pictured a massive guy built like a professional wrestler—tattoos covering every inch of his body, a face so fierce it could scare children into silence.
That's what a real gangster should look like, right?
A few days after the arrival of that legendary figure, another newcomer entered the center. And strangely enough, this one caused just as much commotion as the gangster.
Because she was beautiful.
And more importantly, it was her first time in rehab.
Girls entering the center for the first time were usually naïve, easy to approach, and—most importantly—something new for the pack of horny wolves living inside the place.
The day she arrived, I happened to be sitting alone on a stone bench, feeling miserable and homesick enough to cry.
Then the iron gate opened.
For a split second I almost jumped up and ran toward it, like I could somehow escape back into normal society. But when I noticed the batons hanging from the guards' belts, I shut my eyes and stayed exactly where I was.
That's when I saw them.
Two female guards walked in escorting a girl between them.
The funny thing was—they weren't exactly dragging her like a prisoner.
They were almost… comforting her.
The girl didn't look like a drug addict at all. She was crying and struggling, complaining loudly like a kid being forced to attend school. Strangest of all, she was still wearing a school uniform.
Her face was messy with tears and snot.
But even like that, you could tell she was stunning.
She had pale, rosy skin and delicate features that almost looked half-European. Still, from the way she behaved, you could tell she was very young.
The moment she stepped inside, the entire yard froze.
Guys stopped kicking the soccer ball.
Someone dropped a cigarette.
For a second everyone just stared with their mouths open.
Then the whistles and shouting started.
"Hey Mom! Let me stay here forever! I just found my wife!"
I couldn't help laughing.
These idiots actually had a sense of humor.
Unfortunately, the girl didn't seem very entertained by their jokes. She walked quickly toward the detox ward, waving her hand angrily at the noise behind her.
From that night on, the most crowded place in the center wasn't the cafeteria anymore.
It was the windows of the detox ward.
Ignoring the guards completely, the inmates gathered there like flies around sugar.
One group kept asking about the health of Victor Santos—the legendary gangster lying inside detox.
Another group tried to get updates about the new beauty in the ward.
Angela.
The current queen of the entire center.
The guys sent everything they could through the guards—snacks, milk, fruit, sweets—so much that one of the older guards finally exploded.
"If that girl eats all this stuff, by the time she gets out you idiots will run away because she's gotten fat!"
The boys just laughed.
Personally, I wasn't that interested in the so-called legendary gangster lying in detox.
First of all, I wasn't gay.
Second, I had no intention of climbing the social ladder inside this place.
If I had to be interested in someone, I'd rather pay attention to the girl—Angela.
She was unbelievably beautiful.
And from what I heard, she was just like me: not really an addict.
According to the rumors floating around the yard—and the guards who loved gossip—her story sounded almost identical to mine.
Seventeen years old.
Still in school.
She had attended a birthday party with some rich party-kid friends when the police raided the place and arrested everyone.
The moment her parents heard the words drug investigation, they panicked.
The very next morning, they sent her straight to rehab.
Just like that.
Another unlucky soul.
I sighed.
But strangely enough, knowing someone else had suffered the same ridiculous fate made the world feel a little less dark.
At least I wasn't the only one with terrible luck.
***
Even though I was curious about Angela, she obviously had no idea who I was.
She was lying inside detox, after all. And I wasn't the kind of guy who spent every night pressing my face against the window like the rest of those idiots.
But something far more shocking happened.
The legendary gangster himself… asked about me.
And the way he did it was pure gangster style.
Instead of sending some harmless kid to call me over, he sent a terrifying Chinese gangster built like a raging bull—tattoos covering his body, face so fierce it could scare the devil himself.
That afternoon I was sitting alone with a cup of coffee when my roommate ran over, looking pale.
"Marco… you're dead."
"What?"
"Ramon Tan has been looking for you everywhere. He's standing outside the room right now."
My heart skipped.
That guy was famous for many things—but inviting people for coffee wasn't one of them.
Before Victor Santos arrived, he had been the number one boss in the center.
I quickly searched my memory. I hadn't offended anyone.
So I shook my head confidently.
"He's got the wrong guy. I don't even know him."
The words had barely left my mouth when the man himself appeared.
Ramon Tan marched toward me like a charging buffalo. His shirt was open, revealing dragons and serpents twisting across his chest.
He looked like he was coming to smash my face in.
I glanced around desperately for a weapon—but the center's coffee cups were made of plastic.
Great.
Ramon Tan stopped in front of me, studied my face for a moment, then asked:
"You're Marco, right?"
Wait…
Why was a gangster speaking so politely?
I nodded carefully.
"Yes."
"Victor Santos wants to see you."
I blinked.
"Victor Santos?"
"He's inside detox. Go now—he's waiting."
***
When I walked toward the detox ward, a group of younger inmates were already gathered there.
The moment they saw me coming, they shouted excitedly.
"He's here, kuya Victor!"
I swear, in that moment I felt like some kind of celebrity.
People were waiting for me.
They were announcing my arrival like fans greeting a pop star.
Inside the window of the detox room, one eye peeked out and studied me.
"Are you Marco?" a voice asked.
The accent sounded northern.
Interesting.
I straightened my posture politely.
"Yes, kuya."
The tone inside softened immediately.
"I'm Victor. Before I came here, your brother Carlos asked me to look after you for a few days. How long have you been here?"
Relief washed over me.
Having someone like this protecting you inside the center meant life was going to get a lot easier.
"About two weeks," I answered.
"Have you joined a table yet?"
Inside the center, a "table" meant a group of guys who pooled money together to eat, live, and fight together.
I shook my head.
Victor chuckled softly.
"Then when I get out, you can join my table."
The legendary gangster of the entire rehabilitation center… inviting me to join his group?
Everyone outside the window went silent.
I wanted to say something bold like, Are you kidding me?
But the only thing that came out of my mouth was a quiet,
"Yes, kuya."
***
After that meeting, my status inside the center skyrocketed overnight.
Before, I had to fight for a shower.
Now people patted my shoulder and said,
"Come use our spot, Marco."
In the cafeteria it was the same story.
Even guys like Ramon Tan or Jun Mercado waved me over.
"Bring your tray here and sit with us."
I smiled politely, thanking them.
But inside…
flowers were blooming in my heart.