"Are you sure about this?" Kim asked for the seventeenth time.
"No," Glad admitted. "But I've said yes, and Rigen already booked the flights, and apparently there's a contract, so..."
"GIRL, YOU'RE GOING ON TV!" Colene bounced around the apartment, filming everything for her vlog. "NATIONAL TV! PRIMETIME! WITH BOY ABUNDA!"
"I don't know who that is."
"Only the most beloved TV host in the Philippines! He's going to interview you! On his couch! With his gentle voice and dad jokes!"
"Sounds terrifying."
"It's going to be AMAZING."
The day of the taping was a blur of preparation. Kim drilled her on talking points. Rigen fixed her phone (again). Ariel showed up with a good luck charm—a small amulet that supposedly warded off interview anxiety.
"It's enchanted," he explained. "Very powerful."
"It's a rock with googly eyes glued on."
"Exactly. Very powerful googly eyes."
At the studio, Glad was overwhelmed by the chaos—runners everywhere, cameras on tracks, lights so bright they could probably hurt her if she weren't already dead-adjacent.
"Ms. Samotiloy!" A cheerful assistant grabbed her arm. "This way! Wardrobe needs to check your wings!"
"My wings are fine."
"We have to make sure they're camera-ready! No offense, but they looked a bit... dull in your last video."
"DULL?!"
"We can add sparkles! Very subtle!"
Twenty minutes later, Glad's wings had been dusted with biodegradable glitter, her makeup was flawless, and she was sitting on Boy Abunda's famous couch, trying not to hyperventilate.
"And here she is," Boy Abunda said warmly, turning to face her as the cameras rolled. "The woman everyone's been talking about. Gladys Samotiloy—the Manananggal of Dumaguete."
"Hi," Glad squeaked.
"Hi! Welcome to my home! How are you feeling?"
"Nervous. Terrified. Also, someone put glitter on my wings, and I'm not sure how I feel about it."
Boy laughed—that warm, genuine laugh that had put guests at ease for decades. "The glitter looks fabulous. Don't worry about it."
The interview flowed surprisingly easily. Boy asked about her history, her adaptation to modern life, her sudden fame. Glad found herself relaxing, even enjoying the conversation.
"When you first saw yourself going viral," Boy asked, "what went through your mind?"
"I thought my life was over. 173 years of hiding, ruined by a teenager with a phone." Glad smiled. "But then people started being... kind. Supportive. They didn't see a monster. They saw someone trying to figure out selfie sticks and blood delivery subscriptions."
"Speaking of blood—dietary concerns have been raised. How do you address those?"
"I use ethically sourced medical blood. No hunting. No harming. I have a delivery subscription like everyone else. Well, I HAD a subscription. Now I have a guy named Ben who sells hemoglobin brownies."
"Are they good?"
"Life-changing. I'll send you some."
By the end of the interview, they'd covered everything—her dating life ("it's complicated"), her cat ("he's the real celebrity"), her plans for the future ("figure out taxes as a supernatural creature; apparently there's no category").
As the segment wrapped, Boy leaned in. "Final question. What message do you have for the Philippines?"
Glad thought for a moment.
"We're all just trying to live our lives. Human, creature, whatever. We all want to be understood. Accepted. Loved." She smiled at the camera. "And we all struggle with selfie sticks. That's universal."
The studio erupted in applause.
Back in Dumaguete, millions watched.
And in the unmarked van, the two observers made notes.
"Subject is media-trained and publicly beloved. Direct approach would cause backlash."
"Director's orders?"
"Wait. Observe. Find the right moment."
The van remained.
But now Glad had googly eyes on a rock.
She was protected.