Life in the BGC apartment had officially pivoted from "High-Tech Sanctuary" to "Total Clusterfuck." Having the nation's most powerful CEO and a world-class architect under one roof—specifically Chano's roof—was a digital and social dumpster fire.
Phase 1: The Breakfast War
Chano walked into the kitchen at 7:00 AM, desperate for a quiet cup of coffee. Instead, he found a scene that looked like a culinary laboratory.
On the left, Bella was supervising her private chef, who was plating a sophisticated Truffle Egg Benedict. "Chano needs protein and complex fats for brain function," she said, tapping her fountain pen. "I've cleared his 9:00 AM for a strategy briefing."
On the right, Rina was using a thermal scanner on a bowl of plain steel-cut oats. "Nonsense. High-fat diets cause mid-morning lethargy. My 'optimized' oats are calibrated for sustained glucose release. And his 9:00 AM is booked; he's helping me recalibrate the building's structural sensors."
"He's eating the eggs," Bella said, her voice dropping an octave.
"He's eating the oats," Rina replied, not budging an inch.
Chano didn't say a word. He walked past both of them, grabbed a cold piece of leftover pizza from the fridge, and headed toward the door.
"Tol! Save some for me!" Philip shouted, sliding across the floor in his socks. He snatched half the slice. "Ma'am, Rina... relax. It's way too early for a category five typhoon."
Phase 2: The Training Session
By 10:00 AM, Philip had successfully bullied everyone into the building's private gym for "mandatory team-building."
"Listen up! A sharp mind is useless in a soft body," Philip barked, wearing a headband that said NO FEAR. "Marco, help me out here."
Marco stood by the weights, looking stoic. "The objective is stamina. Chano, let's see your pull-up count."
Chano hit the bar, moving with a fluid, practiced strength that made both Bella and Rina stop talking. Bella tried to look professional in her designer athleisure, while Rina was busy measuring her own heart rate on her tablet, complaining that the gym's ventilation was "3% inefficient."
"Master," Elijah's voice giggled in Chano's ear. "I'm monitoring their vitals. They aren't working out for health anymore. They're competing for 'Alpha' status. It's a bloodbath."
Phase 3: The Night Out (Inuman Na!)
To ease the tension, Bella decided they would spend the evening at a high-end, private karaoke lounge in Uptown. After Bella's commanding power ballad and Rina's razor-sharp J-Pop performance, the air was thick with a competitive chill.
"Your turn, Chano-san," Rina said, handing over the mic with a defiant glint. "Show us this 'Master' soul you keep hidden."
Chano took the mic and gave a mischievous smirk. He punched in the code: 5-3-0-4. The screen flashed neon, and the upbeat, chaotic drum intro of "Inuman Na" by Parokya ni Edgar kicked in.
"Magbukas ka pa ng tuna... at kukulangin ang isa! Maglabas ka pa ng baso, at tatagayan ko kayo!"
Chano started singing with a raw energy that made Philip jump off the sofa. He wasn't the "Master" right now; he was just one of the boys. By the time he hit the bridge, he was high-fiving Marco and even managed to get a genuine, unpolished laugh out of Bella.
The Walk Home: The Uninvited Nuisance
As they left the lounge, Rina frantically tapped her tablet. "No... not now! Battery is at 0%. Chano, do you have a power bank?"
"Left it at the apartment," Chano said. "Don't worry, we're almost there."
As they walked back to the Maybach, Chano's phone suddenly vibrated with a priority alert.
"Master," Elijah's voice hissed, sounding more annoyed than worried. "We have a situation at the door. Someone is physically camping outside your unit."
Chano adjusted his earpiece, the fun-loving mask slipping. "Is it a professional?"
"No, Master. He's... well, he's remarkably dumb," Elijah replied. "He didn't hack anything. He just tailgated a delivery guy. He's wearing a tuxedo that smells like a perfume factory exploded on him. He's holding a bouquet of wilted sunflowers and a giant teddy bear."
Chano looked at the security feed on his watch. He recognized the man—the greasy guy from the mall basement stall.
"Wait, is he waiting for someone?" Chano whispered.
"Yes, Master," Elijah giggled. "He's standing in front of your door, practicing a speech. He's looking at his reflection in the elevator chrome and whispering, 'Where are you, my Basement Queen?' over and over. I think he's completely lost it."
Chano glanced at Rina, who was still fumbling with her dead tablet. She had no idea her "encounter" at the mall had inspired such a persistent, greasy devotee.
"Philip, Marco," Chano commanded quietly. "We have a 'Don Juan' at the nest. Get the ladies to the car. We're going to need to handle this... delicately."