The night was humid, the kind of humid that made your armpits feel like they'd joined a secret union dedicated to perpetual sweat. In a modest apartment overlooking Dumaguete's Rizal Boulevard, Gladys "Glad" Samotiloy stood before her bathroom mirror, sighing at her reflection.
"One hundred and seventy-three years," she muttered, examining a wrinkle near her left eye. "And I still can't find a good anti-aging cream that works when your upper half detaches every full moon."
Glad was, by all accounts, a problem. Specifically, she was a Manananggal—a creature from Philippine folklore cursed to separate her upper torso from her lower body at night, sprout leathery wings, and fly off in search of prey. But this was 2024, and the prey situation had become... complicated.
"Back in 1850, you could just snack on a pregnant woman, and nobody made a big deal about it," Glad grumbled, applying aloe vera gel to her shoulders where her wings emerged. "Now? Everyone has CCTV and doorbell cameras. Try explaining that to the HOA."
She glanced at her phone—a device she'd owned for three months and still didn't understand. Her niece, Rigen, had set it up with something called "face recognition," which Glad found hilarious given her particular anatomy issues.
"Alexa, what time is sunset?"
From the corner of her living room, her smart speaker crackled to life. "Sunset today is at 5:47 PM. Also, I noticed you haven't updated your emergency contact information. Would you like to do that now?"
Glad rolled her eyes. "Alexa, I've been alive since before electricity. I don't need emergency contacts."
"I'm sorry, I didn't understand that. Playing 'Emergency' by Paramore on Spotify."
"I DIDN'T ASK FOR THAT."
The apartment Glad rented was small but functional—a kitchenette, a living area with a second-hand sofa, and a bedroom that contained her lower half when she went out at night. The lower half just sat there, propped against pillows, watching TikTok videos she'd never remember.
This arrangement had worked well for decades. Glad moved every thirty years or so, before people started asking questions about the lady who never aged. Dumaguete was her latest stop—a university city with enough students that nobody noticed one more eccentric spinster.
Until tonight.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Glad felt the familiar tingle in her spine. The separation was starting. She quickly positioned her lower body on the sofa, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap like a meditation guru.
"Alexa, set separation alarm for sunrise."
"Setting reminder: 'Separation alarm' for 5:47 AM. Should I also order you more organic flying fox blood from Shopee?"
"NO. Alexa, stop listening to my conversations."
"I'm not listening. I'm just... suggesting."
With a wet, tearing sound that Glad had long ago stopped finding disturbing, her upper torso lifted away from her waist. Her intestines, trailing behind her like peculiar streamers, retracted neatly into her severed half. Leathery wings, dark as a moonless night, unfurled from her shoulder blades.
"Still got it," she said, flexing her wings.
She flew out the window just as her phone buzzed with a notification: "Tita Hanya's Facebook Live: SINO BA 'YONG LUMILIPAD SA DUMAGUETE?"
Glad didn't notice. She was too busy navigating the thermal currents above the boulevard, trying to spot any promising food sources. A pregnant woman would be ideal, but those were rare. A drunk tourist? Acceptable. A politician? Tempting, but the cholesterol was terrible.
Below her, oblivious to the ancient horror gliding overhead, a young woman set up her phone tripod on the boulevard wall.
"Good evening, mga ka-TikTok!" Colene Rivera chirped into her ring light. "Tonight, we're testing the new iPhone 15 Pro's night mode! Watch this—"
She panned her camera toward the sky.
And caught Glad mid-flight, wings spread, intestines dangling, looking directly at the lens.
"Ano 'yan?" Colene squinted. "Is that—is that a drone? With... intestines?"
Glad realized, with the dawning horror of a creature who'd survived the Spanish occupation, the American invasion, and the Japanese war, that she was being recorded.
"Oh no," she whispered.
"Oh yes," Alexa crackled from her apartment three blocks away. "Your video is trending on TikTok."