Anton Saño did not believe in ghosts, but tonight his chest felt haunted.
The apartment still carried Krystel's scent, faint vanilla mixed with the powder she used after her nightly showers. Her mug was on the counter, lipstick faint on the rim. A cardigan hung by the door, as if she might slip it on and return at any moment.
But the silence mocked him.
For the seventh day was supposed to be an ending. A pact.5Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQq3qCffTsD
Instead, it was a disappearance.
Anton sat at the edge of the bed, fingers curled around the thin bracelet she had left behind. He remembered the way she laughed when he teased her about it being loose, as if she wanted to lose it on purpose so he'd find it later.
Did she plan all of this?
He pressed the bracelet to his forehead. His ribs hurt from a hollow ache he couldn't name.
That was when he noticed the corner of the pillowcase was bulkier than usual. Out of restless instinct, he tugged, and a small leather-bound notebook slipped into his lap. His pulse spiked.
The journal.
He stared at it, hands trembling. Part of him wanted to throw it across the room, afraid of what he might discover. But another part—the part that couldn't stop whispering her name—needed the truth.
He opened it.
Journal Fragment – Krystel's Handwriting
Day 25Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMJ8rb1CvCJ
"If time is measured by breaths stolen instead of given, then I don't have much left. St. Felicity Ward, Room 314—don't forget. If they find out I've been writing, they'll know. But Celestine said to leave traces. She always knows more than I do."
Anton's eyes scanned the page again and again. His breath hitched. St. Felicity Ward? A hospital? Room 314?
He flipped forward.
Journal Fragment
Day 45Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVJUz33hnmr
"Princess thinks I'm just tired from work. I hate lying to her, but how do I explain that some days my body feels like it's betraying me? Jamal keeps asking if I need help—he means well, but I can't tell him either. If he knows, he'll tell everyone. And I don't have the strength for pity."
Anton swallowed, throat tightening.5Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeqqczW5bot
She was sick?
The more he read, the more questions piled. But one name returned again and again, scrawled almost angrily.
Celestine.
He closed the journal, pressing his palms against the leather. His mind reeled. There was only one way forward now. He needed answers—from the people who knew her best.
Anton's POV – Meeting Princess
Princess Ybáñez blinked at him, arms crossed, as if expecting a fight. Her tiny café smelled of roasted beans, but Anton only tasted bitterness in his mouth.
"You found it, didn't you?" Princess said quietly.
Anton froze. "What?"
"The journal. She told me once, if ever she vanished, you'd be the one to find it."
He stiffened. "You knew she was planning this?"
"No!" Princess snapped, eyes glossy. "I thought she was being dramatic. She said sometimes she felt... chased by time. I thought it was about Jamal, or maybe you. I never thought—"
Her voice broke.
Anton's jaw clenched. "What did she mean by chased?"
"I don't know," Princess whispered. "But... she did mention a hospital once. Something she swore me to forget. I didn't listen. I wish I had."
Jerry's POV – The Warning
Later that night, Jerry Yangco found Anton hunched over the journal at his desk, scribbling notes.
"You're spiraling," Jerry muttered, leaning on the doorframe.
"I can't stop," Anton admitted, rubbing his temples. "Every line feels like it's written for me, but also... not. She's hiding, Jerry. Or worse."
Jerry crossed the room, grabbed the notebook, and slapped it shut. "You loved her for seven days, Anton. You can't save someone who doesn't want to be found."
Anton's gaze hardened. "She wanted me to."
Jerry exhaled, defeated. "Then you're going to need allies. Because right now? You're walking blind into her shadow."
Anton's POV – Confronting Jamal
Jamal Rañada's office reeked of printer ink and desperation. He leaned back, fake-calm, when Anton arrived.
"You're here about Krystel," Jamal said before Anton could speak.
Anton's chest tightened. "You know where she is?"
Jamal smirked. "If I did, why would I tell you? She was planning to leave, Anton. I told her this game you two were playing would break her. Maybe she finally listened."
Anton studied him. His words were too polished, too rehearsed.
"You're lying."
Jamal stiffened. "Excuse me?"
"You said she was leaving, but she left her passport here. Her ID too. Nobody runs away without those."
Silence stretched. Jamal's eyes flickered.
"Whatever she told you," Jamal muttered, "you won't understand. She was already halfway gone."
Simeon Valeros – The Mentor
Anton's search led him to Simeon, his old mentor. The man sat in his cluttered library, spectacles perched on his nose.
"You've come for answers," Simeon said simply.
Anton nodded. "Krystel... she asked you about me?"
"Yes," Simeon admitted. "She wanted to know why you never speak of your scars."
Anton's gut twisted. "And you told her?"
"I told her scars are history carved on the body. She said hers were invisible. That was the difference between you."
Anton's grip tightened on the journal. "Did she... tell you anything else?"
Simeon sighed. "Only that someone named Celestine knew the truth. She seemed... afraid, Anton. As if whatever bound her to that name would eventually tear her away from you."
Princess's POV – The Letter
Back in her apartment, Princess searched through Krystel's things. In an envelope hidden under the mattress, she found an unsent letter.
"Dear Papa,5Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd5ec22XljJ
I don't know if I'll make it. I don't want you to blame Anton, or Princess, or anyone else. If you ever meet Celestine Pontanares, please forgive me for trusting her. She said this was the only way."
Princess's hands shook. Tears blurred her vision. What the hell were you into, Krystel?
Anton's POV – The Revelation
By the third night without sleep, Anton sat again with the journal. He flipped past scattered doodles, notes, phrases that meant nothing. Until one page.
The name written in bold, circled three times:
Celestine Pontanares.
Anton's breath stopped. He traced the letters with his fingertip, as though the ink itself might lead him to her.
"Krystel..." he whispered into the dark. "What were you running from?"
And for the first time, he realized—5Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgUnqxjE6aS
This was no game.5Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡY0aMWHEVEl
This was a countdown.
5Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4G84nZlekw
and then Add to home screen.