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He could not believe it had been a year since the last time he had seen this place. It felt like it had only been a few days earlier when he had stepped out of his living space and pulled its door closed.

After waking up in the hospital exactly three months ago and accepting the truth that he had possessed a stranger's body, Laurence trained his mind to treat everything as though he was only moving away from home to start a new job. Despite the appearance of an expected variable in the person of Isaac Ruiz, the unfamiliarity of his environment and people around had helped him adjust to the bizarreness of his case.

But now that he was standing in front of the place he had lived for many years, the gravity of his situation began to weigh on him again.

A vibration from the pocket of his pants broke through his musing. Laurence took out the phone, which Jade had gifted him when he had been discharged from the hospital, and checked his inbox.

From: Big Sis

Where are you, Rence?

He looked at the text message, a faint smile of concern crossing his lips as he imagined the older woman being worried about him right now. Jade Villena had been living away from their family, but since her younger brother had come back home, she had made it her duty to visit the residence every day to check on him.

Laurence had learned that before his incident, even Florence had used to stay independently in a one-bedroom flat a couple of streets away from their parents' house. Because the Villena women wanted to have someone watch over him in case he "recovered his lost memories back," Camila and Jade agreed to let him return to his childhood home. Though he could tell that the daughter would have preferred it if her younger brother could just stay with her. She wasn't keen on letting their father anywhere near Rence, it seemed.

A light feeling spread through Laurence's chest as he acknowledged the genuine care Jade had for Florence. He had been an older brother too, so he understood the woman's overprotectiveness.

Putting his other hand around the phone, he typed his reply.

just having sum stroll. dont worry. i'll let u know if i'll be able 2 come back b4 lunch

After hitting the send button, he fixed his gaze on the homescreen and took note of the time. 9:43 a.m. The date on the upper side of the display also got his attention.

Sat. 13 Jan 2024.

One year. It had been exactly that long since the accident that had started this all. Laurence still had a hard time wrapping his head around this fact, as he had been asleep for the most part of it.

Since he had regained consciousness, he had been occupied with the transitions in his life and he had not had enough chance to probe into this odd phenomenon that had struck him. He thought here was the perfect time and place to get the investigation underway.

Laurence shifted his eyes back ahead of him, studying the façade of the old two-storey, ten-unit apartment building. It looked similar to how he remembered it, but at the same time, it was different.

Moss covered more than half of the cream-painted walls while vines crept around the left corner post of the exterior corridor.

"Hello, mister. Are you looking for a rental apartment?" A feminine voice came up behind Laurence.

He turned to the source of the question and was greeted by a pair of young women balancing the full plastic bags in their hands. Making out the cups of instant noodles and canned goods in their grocery items, Laurence remembered that a number of his previous neighbors in this place were also university students who had survived on instant foods most days.

"I heard there are still two vacant units in our building," the shorter of the female duo said, revealing that she was the owner of the curious voice earlier. She bobbed her head to gesture at the old apartment. "But there's been an interesting rumor going around about the one on the second floor. They said the previous tenant was—" She yelped as her taller friend pinched her on the arm.

"Stop that." The other young woman chided her companion before addressing Laurence with a courteous bow. "We're very sorry, mister. Please ignore her."

Laurence watched as the taller one dragged her friend by the arm until they reached the building and got into the middle room on the first floor. He scowled contemplatively, intrigued by the young woman's unfinished statement.

A rumor? Laurence wondered what it could be this time. During his years of stay in this building, his younger neighbors would also often make up stories about him just to satiate their boredom. They would tell their friends that he was a freak and an ex-convict who used to belong to a criminal organization. That he had obtained the burn scars on his face and arms because he had tried to sever his affiliation with the underworld group; the gang leaders were not happy about it, so they persecuted him by setting him on fire. Fortunately, he was able to escape, and he had ended up in Perlientas to have a low-key life.

Laurence shook his head at the memory and let out a quiet, incredulous chuckle. Young people could be vicious sometimes, and what was even scarier was their belief they were doing harmless things just for fun. They lacked the awareness that they had the power to ruin someone else's life only with their words.

Deciding he had dallied enough, he rounded the side of the apartment and arrived at the foot of a staircase. He climbed the steps, noting the view around had not changed so much. The tall narra tree still stood firm next to the building while its leaves occasionally fell on the outdoor hallway of the second floor. A few meters ahead, there was a canteen shack frequented by a lot of students, especially during weekdays.

Laurence made it to the landing of the upper storey. He ambled on the exterior corridor, his fingers sweeping the metal railing. Voices, giggles, and electronic buzzes came from behind the closed doors of the rooms. As he passed by the third unit, he whiffed a rich aroma of sauteed garlic and onion.

He stopped once he got to the last room. The silence from the inside told him no one was occupying it at the moment. He tentatively put his hand around the knob and turned it. As expected, it didn't budge.

Laurence took a step back and glowered at the door. He glanced to his side, disappointment crawling in when he could not see the cacti and succulents he used to grow in terracotta pots. Their absence also meant the disappearance of the spare key he had hidden in one of them.

Recognizing he had encountered a dead end, he fiddled with his ear piercing and contemplated what he was going to do next. Laurence did not realize he had been standing on the same spot, spacing out, until a familiar grungy voice of an old man brought him back to the current situation.

"Hello there, son. Are you looking for a place to rent?"

By instinct, Laurence gave a soft smile to the newcomer. He regarded the rangy, white-haired man, glad to see him looking well. The landlord might have already been in his late sixty's and he might appear frail, but he never had any problem climbing up and down the staircase at least once a week.

Somehow, the sight of the elder's wrinkled face provided Laurence an assurance that he had not truly lost everything from his previous life, that some people and things he knew had remained the same.

Grandpa L was the nickname the lessees had given the old householder from the initial of his first name, Luciano. Laurence had always held a soft spot for this elder because he was one of the few people who had ever been so kind to him.

He recalled the days when some of his college neighbors would voice out their sentiments to the landlord about how they didn't feel at ease living in the same building with a suspicious person. The old man had defended him to the young people, saying he was just misunderstood, and that he was a good guy who often lent a hand to the maintenance of the apartment. Grandpa L had told the students that if they were just going to keep spreading lies about Laurence, then they were better off searching for another place to rent. In the end, the young tenants had stayed because, despite the old-fashioned exterior of the building, the individual units were more than decent for their cheap monthly rate. Not to mention, it was the closest rental apartment to the state university they were attending to.

Laurence was just about to greet his old friend and ask him how he had been doing when he remembered that Grandpa L could not recognize him in Florence's body. His anticipation morphed into melancholy as he willed himself to focus on the landlord's question.

He gave another sidelong glance at the door of his former room before he said in a low voice, "Ah, no, are you the landlord here, mister?"

The old man nodded.

Laurence hesitated, debated whether he should make up an excuse or just leave and search for another way to get any information about his original body.

You're here anyway. Might as well do what you came here for, the rational part of his mind reasoned out.

Laurence shuffled his feet. "So, I'm just wondering if you know the guy who used to live here. Laurence Villegas, the name might have rung a bell?"

For a fleeting moment, Grandpa L's weary eyes opened wide. A shadow fell upon his ashen face. "Oh, are you that kid's friend?" he asked, forcing a regretful smile.

"Well, guess you could say that. Though, we haven't been keeping up-to-date with each other for a while because..." Laurence shrugged and hoped he didn't appear too anxious. "Well, some circumstances. I heard from a mutual friend that he used to rent a room here until last year, so, uh, I'm just wondering if you know where he is now."

The creases on Grandpa L's forehead deepened. He scanned Laurence with a perplexed gaze. "Have you not heard what happened to him, son?"

Laurence gulped, but chose not to say anything.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," the landlord continued, an edge of sadness lacing his quiet voice. He cast a glance at the closed door of the last room. "But, that kid, that friend of yours..." Grandpa L let out a weary sigh and then stared at Laurence in the eye. "He's been dead since last year."

A cold January breeze blew, causing the younger man's black and green hair to flutter. The wind was gentle against his skin, yet the landlord's last couple of words came to him like a sharp slap on the face.

Laurence staggered and reflexively grabbed on to the railing. He choked back the acid that fought its way through his throat. His gut twisted while a stifling sensation surged through his chest.

A part of him had always known that was the answer he would receive, and he thought he had prepared himself enough to accept the harsh reality. He had not expected that having an acquaintance confirm the truth and hearing it with his own two ears could make any difference. That it could affect him this much and still make him feel like crap.

Perhaps it was because he'd held on to that tiny possibility that he'd gotten it wrong. Perhaps because, deep inside, he'd hoped that someone could invalidate his worst assumption.

He was dead.

No, he was still here. He was alive.

But his body was dead.

Laurence's head whirled with questions and thoughts. What was he supposed to do with this information? Was he supposed to be happy or sad knowing he was still here while his body was no more? And what about Florence Villena? Did the guy die in place of him?

"I apologize, son. That might have been too much to take in."

The gentle tone and touch on his upper arm helped Laurence compose himself a bit.

"Would you like to talk about it inside?" The old man motioned his hand to the closed door.

Laurence shook his head. He could not trust himself to keep his emotions in check. He imagined he would only spiral further if he saw any evidence of his previous existence inside his old unit.

"No, I'm sorry for overreacting. I'm fine. I'm... yeah, just shocked." Veins popped out at the back of his hand as his grip on the railing tightened. Laurence swallowed to quell the dryness of his throat. With a deep breath, he attempted to suppress the quake in his voice. "Do you... do you know the details about his death, sir?"

Grandpa L did not immediately respond as he studied Laurence with a concerned expression on his face. He drew his hand back, moved closer to the rails, and directed his observation to the scenes below.

"I'm afraid I'd been a useless landlord who had only heard the news about one of his tenants' death through the other kids who love to tattle. It was his young neighbors who kept me up to speed about it. And I learned only a week after he supposedly died. Until now, I still think I'd been really terrible for not visiting him once during his burial or not attending his funeral."

Laurence picked out not only the grief but also the guilt in the old man's cracked voice. He wanted to tell Grandpa L that there was no reason to feel sorry when he had not been informed about the incident soon, that he was, in fact, grateful to know that there were people like him who cared enough to mourn when he was gone.

But all he could do at the moment was offer a wan smile.

"They said that boy had met with a car accident on a night of the same month last year. They rushed him to the hospital, but it was too late. Dead on arrival, they said."

As new riddles formed in his head, Laurence's heartbeat sped up. Who was it that actually died in the hospital that day? Did he and Florence already switch bodies during that time? Did they really switch? Or did he start to possess Florence's form only after he died in his original body?

Determined to get to the bottom of all of it later, Laurence parked the questions in the back of his mind for now.

"Ah, now I remember those kids talking about how that boy died on Friday the thirteenth. This day is his death anniversary, isn't it?" Grandpa L muttered more to himself. "No wonder those young tenants were making a buzz about it earlier more than usual. They have been saying Laurence has been haunting them, and that they have been sensing his spirit around the building. But one of those kids down there has gone as far as to believing he saw the boy near the narra tree during the crack of dawn today."

Laurence's gaze dashed to the old man. "What?"

"Those kids just love fabricating tales to entertain themselves."

He knew. He knew very well. But Laurence could not believe that, even on his death, rumors would keep on following him. Now that he thought of it, he was also the center of gossip in his current life as Florence Villena.

Drained, Laurence drew in a heavy breath and ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair.

Just when could he take a break?