EPISODE II
The next morning, Alex woke up to a peculiar sound leaking into his dreams. It was something between an ancient chant and a slightly off-key Enya impersonation. He sat up carefully and shuffled toward the living room, still half-asleep.
Mayuri stood in the center of the room, arms outstretched, wrapped in an old blanket like it was some sort of ceremonial robe. She was murmuring words in a language that didn't seem to belong to any known human dictionary.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.
"I'm blessing your dwelling," she replied, eyes closed.
"It has wise cobwebs and ancient dust. The spirits of your appliances have accepted me."
"Please don't bless the microwave," he said, wincing at the memory of past culinary disasters.
"It tends to explode on its own sometimes."
She opened one eye slowly.
"That explains the scent of sacred burning."
He went straight to the kitchen. Instant coffee, stale bread, and butter with a suspiciously colorful film. He served two mugs and carried them carefully to the living room. She approached and sniffed the coffee with intense curiosity, like a small animal inspecting unfamiliar territory.
"Is this… a potion?" she asked.
"No. It's what keeps 80% of the population alive," he replied dryly.
"It tastes like disappointment," she said, taking a sip.
"Exactly."
Still, she drank it and then helped herself to a second cup.
Just then, someone banged on the door—loud and impatient.
"Oh no," he muttered. "It's Mr. Tanggol."
"An enemy?" she asked, half amused.
"My landlord. Worse," he replied with a resigned smile.
He opened the door with little hope. The man, with greasy hair and a sharp nose, stared at him with his usual expression of eternal dissatisfaction.
"It's nine o'clock, and I've got a question: why is there salt on the doorstep?"
"Ah… energy cleansing," he replied quickly.
"And those black candles on the stairwell?"
"Alternative therapy. Crystals. It's trending on YouTube."
The old man frowned and peeked inside, his eyes locking on her. She greeted him with an exaggerated bow.
"Hail, keeper of the monetary temple," she said solemnly, with a mocking undertone.
"Who is she?" Tanggol asked, suspicious.
"She's… a friend. A guest. Foreign. A bit… mystical."
"Does she have a rental agreement?"
"No."
"National ID?"
"Also no."
"Does she know what a water bill is?"
"She's unaware of the metric system itself," Alex added.
Tanggol closed his eyes, sighed, and started mentally counting. Alex knew the rule—if he got to twenty, the rent would go up.
"You've got until Friday for this situation to be either legal or invisible. Understood?"
"Yes, Mr. Tanggol."
"And lose the incense. It smells like a funeral."
The door slammed shut.
He looked back at his guest, who was now spinning a spoon like it was a divination tool.
"Could you please not perform any more rituals before breakfast?" he asked with a weary smile.
"Spiritual protection knows no schedule," she replied, dead serious.
"Yeah, well, it also doesn't know anything about lease agreements," he muttered.
She laughed—and to his surprise, so did he.
They spent the day between mundane chores and impossible conversations. She insisted on blessing the fridge, and he discovered she had no clue how to use a remote control—but was an expert at opening impossible kitchen jars. They argued about the morality of penguins, and she claimed they ruled a secret continent beneath the ice.
"You know you're driving me crazy, right?" he said.
"You know you already were," she replied with a mischievous grin.
As night fell, blanketing the city in soft lights and distant traffic whispers, he lit a small lamp and sat across from her.
"What's going to happen to you?" he asked softly.
"Are you going to stay here forever?"
She curled up on the couch, hugging her knees like she needed shelter from the world.
"I don't know," she said.
"Gods don't make plans. They just fall. And sometimes, they stay where there's bread, kind people… and microwaves with personality."
He smiled, finding something strangely comforting in that uncertainty.
Maybe, he thought, madness was contagious.And honestly, it didn't seem to bother him at all.