Manila did not welcome Elena gently.
It swallowed her.
The bus arrived before sunrise. The sky was still dark blue, and the air smelled like smoke, gasoline, and fried food. It was loud — even at 4 a.m. Jeepneys roared past like colorful beasts. Vendors were already shouting. Somewhere, a radio blasted old love songs.
Elena stepped down carefully, clutching her suitcase.
She had never seen so many people in one place.
In her province, mornings sounded like roosters and tricycles. Here, mornings sounded like engines and urgency.
She adjusted the necklace under her blouse, suddenly aware of how small she felt despite the attention her beauty attracted.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:
"Agency driver waiting near Bay 4. Red cap."
She scanned the area nervously.
A man waved lazily from beside a van. Red cap. Chewing gum. He looked bored.
"You Elena?" he asked without smiling.
"Yes, po."
"Get in."
No welcoming speech. No congratulations. No excitement.
Just traffic.
As the van moved through Manila's crowded streets, Elena pressed her face slightly against the window.
Tall buildings.
Billboards with flawless women.
LED screens flashing advertisements.
She should have felt excited.
Instead, she felt very, very small.
---
The "agency" was on the third floor of an old commercial building. The sign outside read:
Golden Horizon Promotions
The paint was peeling.
Inside, about twelve girls sat in plastic chairs, all dressed nicely. Some wore heavy makeup. Some looked nervous. Some looked experienced.
Every single one of them was beautiful.
Elena swallowed.
For the first time since the necklace changed her appearance, she didn't feel special.
She felt average.
A tall woman in heels walked out of an office.
"New arrivals, line up."
Elena joined the line.
The woman walked past them slowly, examining faces like products.
When she reached Elena, she paused.
"Hm."
Just that.
"Hm."
She tilted Elena's chin up slightly.
"You have good proportions. Natural look. That's marketable."
Elena wasn't sure whether to feel complimented or inspected.
"You'll stay in the dormitory upstairs," the woman continued. "Casting tomorrow."
Dormitory.
That word sounded better in Elena's imagination than in reality.
Upstairs was a large room with bunk beds packed tightly together. Suitcases under beds. Clothes hanging everywhere. Electric fans spinning loudly.
A girl with short dyed hair looked at her and smiled.
"New?"
"Yes."
"I'm Camille. Don't worry. The first week is the hardest."
Elena smiled weakly.
"What kind of jobs do they give?" she asked quietly.
Camille shrugged.
"Mall events. Club promotions. Product launches. Sometimes international gigs if you're lucky."
International.
The word lit something inside Elena.
Maybe this was it.
Maybe this was the door.
But when the lights turned off that night, and the city noise didn't stop — not even for a second — Elena stared at the ceiling and felt something else.
This wasn't glamorous.
This was survival.