VIO

I know that you miserable fools missed my point-of-view chapter, so I'm gonna get right to it. And yes, I'm aware that this is me breaking the fourth wall. I'm not one of those numbnuts. Why do you care anyway?

I HAD said this before. I didn't know much about Damon. I didn't care about him, unless he's the subject of my article. Well, he had become the center of attention and intrigue, thanks to his mysterious death and the commotion during his memorial.

Now I had to pretend to care about him. I had to talk to people who knew about him. I had to pick up the pieces of the puzzle and put them together to see the whole picture of one Damon Dominic. I had never written more than three articles about the same topic. I usually wrote one then moved on to the next.

Even after his death, Damon managed to give someone who's completely unacquainted with him an added responsibility. What an asshole.

One thing that I liked (and hated at the same time) about my job as a campus journalist was the amount of leg work that I had to put in every article. For normal news coverage, my only routine was to visit a certain office and request for an interview which would usually last for an hour. Then that's it. Straightforward and boring, but quick. However, for investigative work, it would require more than my usual effort.

For my Damon article, imagine how much I dreaded the thought of communicating with a lot of people. I started with his classmates, then his instructors. I promised not to leave a stone unturned so being thorough was something that I expected.

"Damon is really a nice person. He didn't deserve what happened to him."

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second. That's the seventh time that I heard people describing him that way. Damon's kind. Damon's good. Damon's the best boy. I wouldn't be surprised if one of them would say Damon's the Messiah. Almost every classmate of him parroted the same set of adjectives. Couldn't they be more original?

More importantly, couldn't they be at least honest? The guy's already dead. He would be buried six feet under soon. He couldn't come after them anymore. Unless, of course, he turned into a ghost and started haunting everyone who spoke ill of him.

My fingers froze before I could type anything on my tablet. There's no use taking note of something that had been said over and over. This was just a complete waste of time.

"Were you at his memorial?" I pushed my spectacles up the bridge of my nose.

The female student named Tricia nodded. "Oo naman. Ni-require ang class namin na um-attend bilang respeto sa kanya. We also want to pay our last respects to him."

"Then you must have heard the same thing that everyone did," I reminded her. If she wasn't paying any attention, then she wouldn't know what I was talking about. "You heard what the heckler said. You watched the video played on the projector screen. Don't you think those comments contradict what you've just said to me? About him being a nice person?"

"Hindi ko alam kung ano o saan ang pinaghugutan ng heckler," she answered with a shake of her head. "Alam naman nating sikat si Damon sa campus kaya 'di malabong may basher siya. Ano nga ulit 'yong kasabihan? Ah! Kapag ang puno ay hitik sa bunga, binabato."

My eyes narrowed at her. "So you think those comments were unfounded?"

She shrugged. "Iba ang pagkakakilala ko kay Damon. Iba rin ang pagkakakilala ng ibang estudyante sa kanya. Basta ang alam ko, mabait at mabuti siya sa akin. Wala akong masasabing masama tungkol sa kanya."

My disappointment was immeasurable as I left her in the hallway. I thought I would have something juicy for my article. Rumors of the late overachiever's bad habits would be interesting to read. Just to be clear, I was not hoping for any dirt to smear his name and image. All I wanted was to expose the real him, to unmask who he actually was. Because that's my thing. The truth. The naked and unfiltered truth. It might be unpleasant for everyone to see and hear, but the truth wasn't supposed to please everyone.

Clearly, Damon's classmates wouldn't say anything against him, either out of respect or ignorance, so I needed to look for another place where I could possibly get more information. And my next stop was none other than the exclusive club that he was a part of.

Knock! Knock!

I knocked twice before swinging the door of a clubroom inward. The words "Honor Society" were engraved on the frosted glass panel. It's located on the second floor of the University Library, the symbol of the campus' center for knowledge.

"Good morning!" the female student at the reception desk greeted me. There's a lounge at the entrance with sectional couches and glass center table. "Is there anything that we can help you with?"

Yeah, the truth. I approached the desk and held up my media ID in front of her. She instantly recognized with just a glance. "I'm Octavio Agustin from the Clarion. I've been assigned to write an article about the late Damon Dominic who happened to be one of your prominent members."

"Ah! Ikaw 'yong nagsulat ng front page articles tungkol kay Damon? I've read your write-ups. They're quite good!"

Thanks, but I wasn't here to fish for compliment. I came here to fish for information.

"In line, I was wondering if you can point me to other HonSoc members who were close to him," I went on with my business. No more chit-chats. I wasted a lot of time talking to students who had offered nothing to me. "I'm assuming that he's made some friends here and they might know him a little better than most students on campus."

"I'm not privy to Damon's relationships with other members, but I might be able to ask around," she said with a forced smile. "Before we proceed, meron ka bang letter for interview request signed by your editor-in-chief? If I remember correctly, Ed is the head of the Clarion, right?"

"Hindi naman 'to isang formal interview kaya hindi na ako nag-abala na humingi pa ng interview request letter. Is my media ID not enough to make them talk?"

Our chief's a member of this honorable society. I didn't want him to think that I was up to something else, so I didn't inform him or my editor that I would be paying this place a visit. It had to be done in utmost secrecy.

"Sorry, but whether the interview is formal or not, we prefer that an official letter for interview request would be presented before we engage with the members of the campus press."

My eyebrows furrowed. What kind of unnecessary nonsense was that? "The interview won't be about the Honor Society itself, but a member of your exclusive group. And I won't be taking too much of their time."

"I'm really, really sorry! Sumusunod lang ako sa protocol na ipinapatupad dito. As long as the Honor Society or any of its members is involved, a request letter is a must. We value honor and tradition here kaya hindi namin basta-basta pwedeng labagin 'yon."

Didn't they realize that this preference was making them look more suspicious?

"Then I guess I'll talk to some of your members outside this clubroom." I jerked my thumb toward the door. "There won't be any problems with that workaround, right?"

I wanted to make her understand how futile and unnecessary the request letter was. If she's smart enough to pick up what my intention was, she would give in to me.

"If anyone's willing to talk to you," she added. "But as far as I know, all members are committed to not engaging with the campus media unless there's express permission of the Society. That's why the letter is important. Kailangan naming siguruhin na mape-preserve namin ang integrity ng student organization. We can't just let any of our members say something that's out of line."

"I admit, your Society has some damn strict rules," I commented. Harsher words almost escaped my lips. Thank goodness that my tongue held back. "You're taking this too seriously."

"As I've mentioned, this is part of our tradition," she repeated. "It's meant to protect us and any of our members from unnecessary exposure and scrutiny.

Fuck tradition. It's only a convenient excuse to hide something from the public. I had little to no expectations when I came here. Now that I encountered this level of resistance, something must be stinky in this group. And I'd find out what the source of that smell was. In one way or another.

"I'm really sorry kung hindi namin basta-basta mapagbibigyan ang request mo sa ngayon. You can return to us when you have the letter. We'll gladly entertain you and assist you in the interview."

I was about to say my obligatory "It's okay" just to show that I had no issues with it, but my attention was caught by the door behind me opening. I turned around to see who came in. Two guys did. Both had golden crane brooches on their lapel. Both also had familiar faces. And one of them was the last person I'd like to see in this room.

"Good morning!" the female student also greeted the two.

"Vio?" Edward Inigo Carreon, the editor-in-chief of the student publication that I was writing for, stood just a meter away from me. There's a hint of surprise and shock on his face. "What are you doing here? Nag-a-apply ka rin ba sa Society?"

This was bad. The situation was not going exactly as I had wanted.

"I'm sure he'll be welcome here, especially once he becomes your successor," Vladimir Pascual, the vice president of the University Student Council, stood beside him. "Nabasa ko na ang ilan sa articles na sinulat niya. Thanks to him, I got the chance to be the new VP. Should the day come that he applies to the Society, I'd surely support his application."

Now that's an unusual combination to behold. While there's no rule that a member of the student publication and an officer of the student council shouldn't be seen together, this sort of optics was not nice—to put it mildly. What would the students think if they saw these two being chummy with each other?

"Actually, he's asking if he could interview some of our members who knew the late Damon Dominic personally," the student at the desk said. She should have shut up and let me do the talking. "But I can't let him do the interviews unless he has a request letter."

"Interview?" Edward's eyes squinted at me. That's the look that would spell trouble for me. "Why do you want to interview HonSoc members? 'Di ba ang assignment mo ay ang memorial ni Damon?"

I didn't want to lie to my boss, so I had to choose my words carefully. "This is still related to the memorial. I want to know more about the subject through his friends and close acquaintances to see if the comments that were thrown at him had some basis. We can't ignore the heckling and that audiovisual presentation, can we?"

"Can you excuse us for a moment?" Edward told Vladimir before bobbing his head toward me. He walked out of the clubroom and I reluctantly followed behind him.

I got the feeling that I was in trouble.

Once the door behind me was shut, he opened his mouth. "Vio, alam kong gusto mong maging thorough sa pagsusulat mo ng article. I admire that aspect of you. But in this particular instance, I don't think it's necessary and respectful to the late student. Someone just died. His family hasn't buried him, and now you want to dig up some dirt on him?"

"I'm not digging up some dirt," I began to explain. He made it sound like I was a gossip reporter trying to ruin a celebrity's image. "I only want to present the whole picture of the great Damon Dominic. Wala namang masama kung i-fact check ko ang mga pambabatikos na ibinato sa kanya, 'di ba? If they're true, then the student body deserves to know."

"Wala namang masama ro'n," he sighed. "But the timing is off. Maybe after a few weeks or months, but not now. Totoo man o hindi ang mga narinig natin sa memorial, bigyan pa rin natin siya ng respeto."

"After a few weeks or months, he's no longer relevant and the campus might have forgotten about him already," I countered. "Plus I might be drowning in my other assignments by then. The perfect timing is now. You know the saying 'strike while the iron is hot'?"

Edward turned his back on me and ran his fingers through his hair. "If you pursue this angle, I won't publish it in the front page or anywhere else in our next issue. Even on our website. All this investigative stuff might be fun for you, but there are a lot of factors to consider here, Vio. You may not understand it now because you're just a staff writer. But maybe soon, you will. Once you're in my shoes."

If I were a gullible staffer of the Clarion, I would have believed him in a heartbeat. I would have believed that he only had my best interest—as well as the Clarion's—in his heart. But I could smell some bullshit here. He didn't want me to pursue that angle for some reason.

Why? Did he have anything to do with Damon's death? Did the Honor Society have anything to do with their member's untimely demise?

"Just focus on the memorial and leave those unverified details out," Edward ordered. "We don't report gossip, remember? We're only after the facts."

But he didn't want me to report the facts. He's trying to cover up something. I could smell it from miles away.

"Fine," I sighed. "Sorry if I caused you any trouble. I'll take my senior's advice and focus on the memorial instead."

"Good." He nodded and patted me on the shoulders. "Now if you'll excuse me. We still have a meeting in the Society."

He went back inside the clubroom and left me alone outside.

If he seriously thought that I would give this up, he's a fool. If he's involved in any cover up, then he's much worse than a fool.

Something's rotten inside that Society. And I promised to expose it too.

-30-

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