Whispers of Avarice (Casa de Castillo 1)

Chapter 5

Pest

My parents are not home again. They are at the hospital, fulfilling their duties as heroes of this country. It's true that heroes would sacrifice you for the world, while villains would sacrifice the world for you. How tragic it is that my parents are always there for everyone else but not for me?

"Saan ka pupunta?" Leah asked.

"Park," maiksing sagot ko.

I recalled the mysterious guy mentioning a park nearby. Under the cloak of night, I ventured into that park. The park unfolded beneath the moonlight, its pathways illuminated by soft, amber-hued lamps.

Towering trees whispered ancient secrets, creating an enchanting canopy overhead. The gentle rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of a nearby stream heightened the serene atmosphere. I couldn't help but appreciate the park's tranquil ambiance, as it wrapped around me, instilling a sense of peace that stayed long after I left.

Umupo ako sa bench at pinagmasdan ang mga nagtataasang puno. Sumasayaw ang mga ito kasabay ng malamig na simoy ng hangin. The cold breeze gently caresses my skin, creating a soothing sensation. Despite its chilly nature, there's a paradoxical warmth it imparts. It wraps around me like a comforting embrace, bringing with it a refreshing sense of tranquility that contrasts the cool temperature.

"Mabuti naman at hindi ka na umiiyak ngayon."

Turning around, I discovered the mysterious man standing under a tree, once again shrouded in his signature hoodie. My curiosity deepened, fueling my desire to uncover the identity behind the disguise.

"I don't talk with strangers," I retorted, mustering a sarcastic smile.

"Stranger pa ba ako? We've met for the third time now. A stranger is someone you meet for the first time," he countered, offering a playful smile.

"A stranger refers to a person whom one does not know or is not acquainted with. It typically implies someone unfamiliar, not part of one's social circle or known community. Strangers are individuals with whom there is no previous personal connection or recognition," I explained, my gaze wandering to the bustling playground where children were playing.

"Hindi nga ako stranger," he insisted.

Rolling my eyes, I dismissed him with a casual, "Whatever, Mr. Hoodie Man."

Shifting the conversation, he asked, "Why are you here? You're not crying, but your eyes tell me a tragic story."

"Eh ikaw? Why are you here?"

A tragic story? Can one truly decipher the narrative within someone's soul by merely observing their eyes? Perhaps he was right. A tale of tragedy indeed resides deep within my being, hidden behind the gaze that speaks volumes.

"Maglalaro kami basketball," he explained, pointing toward the court where five men, including Karsyn, were gearing up for a game. "Why? Wanna play with us?"

I sighed and rose from my spot. I thought I could find peace of mind here in the park. Apparently, I was mistaken. It's frustrating how they decided to play now, disrupting the serene atmosphere that once enveloped the surroundings.

The first week of classes is dull. Professors seldom show up, much like today when our professor is absent. To make good use of my time, I decided to head to the library. Even though the discussions haven't officially begun, I'm starting my advance reading. I don't want to waste any time.

As I was about to read my books, an unexpected disturbance interrupted the library's silence— a woman's moaning voice echoed through the shelves. Intrigued, I stood up and traced the source of the noise, only to discover a couple engaged in a rather intimate encounter.