(This is an entry for the Open Novella Contest III. I hope you enjoy the chapter!)

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Bilay was looking through the window of their vehicle as it passed through the city proper of the town that she lived in most of her life. She tried to convince herself that she was only going to move about ten kilometers away from the place she called home for sixteen years. It wasn't like she was going to travel to a completely different province.

It was only an estimated 20-minute drive into their new settlement. She never saw the location prior to today. All she knows is that it was an ancestral home that was held in possession by generations and generations of Mallari's. Her late grandmother, Biyaya, (who she was named after) never mentioned it, and neither did her parents, but somehow, as circumstances would put it, papers just arrived at their doorstep, stating how the nearly 150-year-old house was now registered under her parents' names. It was apparently written in her grandmother's will to pass it down to Bilay's father and spouse, and specifically stated that if at least one of the parents are deceased, or proven incompetent in handling the manor, its title would immediately be transferred under Bilay's name.

Bilay never knew she would have something planned out for her even before she was born. This was a first. Although by this time, she had told herself that if it turns out she'd been in some business agreement to marry someone even before she was conceived, she wouldn't be surprised.

Things would be different. She imagined herself sleeping in a queen size bed that probably smelt of vintage perfume. Shaking the thought off, she brought herself a step back to think about how her great grand ancestors would not spray themselves in lavish fragrances before laying in bed. To each their own, I guess, Bilay thought. She wasn't exactly in the place to judge.

Would they have a balcony? Would they have one for each room? She wondered if the silverware, utensils, and other miscellaneous items were safe to use. It has been almost a hundred and fifty years, after all. Things such as cutlery didn't do too well with age.

Would the manor have a bathroom just as ancient? Maybe not, Bilay answered herself. Proper toilets weren't really established during the Spanish colonial era. Would it even have one?

Bilay left her thoughts on bathrooms with a concept that irked her slightly but decided not to think about it longer. She really did hope there was at least a proper toilet.

Despite the new things she thought she would encounter, Bilay also accounted for the idea that not everything would be different. Maybe it would take a bit longer to complete her commute going to and back from school, but other than that, she'd be taking the same route. School would not be too different than before, except that she had to get used to writing a different address when application and registration forms needed it.

The whole family moved, so no one would be detached from anyone, and to safely say that nothing was left behind. It was as if nothing changed, just the coordinates of the living space of her whole family. Everything would just go on as usual. Bilay wasn't too sure which one she wanted more: something entirely different, or for everything to stay the same.

Bilay stared out the window for a few more minutes before giving into her mind's urgent request for a distraction. She fished out a pair of earphones, detangled it with minimal difficulty, and placed only one of the earbuds into its respective ear. That way she wouldn't have any difficulty in responding to any of her mother's calls. (Unless she falls asleep, that is.)

Bilay scrolled through her phone's music application, in search for an album or playlist to fit her current liking. She settled with an album by a pop punk band that was known for especially noisy, but at the same time, harmonic, instrumentation. Once the introduction of the first song filled up a single ear, she leaned into the backrest of the seat she claimed with all of her legs.

If things were different, maybe Bilay wouldn't be able to spread her two legs across the seat. Maybe she would have someone seated next to her. Maybe it would be her sister. Maybe they would actually be conversing about something they had liked in common. They'd talk about the latest Korean artist they had been listening to, maybe even ramble about a dance they would both find interesting to learn. But whatever Bilay thought, she had her legs still occupying the whole seat, with no one seated beside her.

Bilay closed her eyes. She wasn't intending to fall asleep, but there weren't any options left for what she could do.

She woke up when she felt a sudden jolting motion. The car had hit a pothole. She took a second to register where she was again. It was a moderately tree-filled area and the asphalt of the road looked old, ridden with cracks.

For the first time since the car ride started, Bilay spoke up, her voice slightly raspy from her nap.

"Ma, are we near?" Bilay yawned directly after asking. She looked at her mother. Ides was seated at the front passenger seat, fiddling with the corner of a plastic envelope containing some documents.

Ides Mallari was a woman who looked stern at first glance but was actually quite sweet when conversed with. She was someone who was stressed out. Her eyes had very evident dark bags underneath and her hair was thinning out. She definitely looked tired, as if she could sleep three straight days. Despite this, Bilay's mother was undoubtedly beautiful. Her father, Jose, never failed to remark that. Jose was quite the opposite in terms of first impressions. He looked very kind and soft-spoken, but he was actually very strict and precise with his words when engaged with.

"Yes, just through that kanto right there," her mother replied in a sweet tone, gesturing to the left side of a road where there was a turning corner.

Just as Ides said so, Bilay's father turned on the blinker and the familiar ticking sound emanated. They turned a corner and now Bilay could see a black gate. Bilay felt like she should've rendered this as a sign for something, but she ignored it.

As the car drove towards it, Bilay is hit by a wave of something she couldn't describe. It was as if she was entering a portal of some sort, giving her goosebumps all over. That was something she'd noticed, but once again, she didn't pay much attention to it.

Jose stopped the car and went outside carrying a key. There was a padlock fastened onto a bunch of chains that slithered around both the meeting edges of the gates. Bilay watched her father carefully unlock the padlock and take off the chains. She noticed that on the left gate, there was a smaller gate, most likely meant for letting people pass through. That part was chained shut as well.

"Papa hasn't put the sliding gate latches yet?" Bilay asked her mother.

"He was very busy this week," Ides answered and got out of the car to transfer to the driver's seat.

Once the gates were wide open, Ides let go of the breaks and proceeded to enter the property. The gates revealed a two-storey building, very Spanish-influenced in structure, with something similar to a 'watchtower' above the roof of the second floor. Two of the faces were seen from their entry point and were mostly the same throughout. The first floor's outside walls were lined with teracotta bricks, and barred glass windows were positioned about four feet apart. The second floor was mostly painted white except for the dark brown wooden ornaments that lined the shape of the walls and similar to the first floor, it had windows, although without bars, positioned four feet apart. Ides continued driving and went around the mansion. Bilay was able to observe the other two faces of the mansion.

The next face of the building that greeted the Bilay had two sets of cemented stairs, one from the right, and one from the left, meeting and merging laterally to form a mini-balcony, and continuing forward as one set of stairs, directly to the second floor, leading into what looked like the living room. The building was mostly painted white at this side, except for the brown wooden ornaments that lined the shape of the walls. On the second floor directly to the right of the stairs was a window that had its own balcony.

As Ides continued to drive around, revealing the last face of the mansion, Bilay noted that there were two buildings: the main house, and a long building that formed a right angle, lining two faces of the house. The long building was connected to the house where the main entrance was, forming a roof between the two buildings. This was where Ides parked their car.

Bilay was now looking to her left, where there was a fancy small set of stairs leading to a dark brown, wooden door. Everything she saw so far looked like it came from a history book. It looked ancient, in a nice way. Bilay wasn't really a fan of anything with regards to history, but this was quite an experience, and she wasn't even out of the car yet.

When she noticed that her mother had been long gone and out of the car, Bilay quickly gathered her things and opened the car door with a force that showed her eagerness.

Bilay followed her mother and father as they opened the dark wooden door to the mansion. It was considerably darker compared to the outside afternoon sun. She took a deep breath and the first thing she thought was how this place didn't smell ancient at all. Whoever had been in charge of maintaining the house was very good.

"It's weird how it doesn't smell like an old house," Bilay expressed out loud.

Her father laughed at that, "Would you rather it smell like one?"

"No," Bilay answered without getting too agitated.

"Manang Tinay did a great job keeping everything in order," Ides announced. Bilay knew Manang Tinay ever since she was a toddler as a family friend. She knew Manang Tinay was asked to look after her sometimes, but she didn't know she housekept for them.

Bilay let her eyes wander and she saw the wooden stairs leading to the second floor, and on both sides of that main set of stairs were two sets of stairs leading to the first floor. From what Bilay can see, the first floor was tiled and had two doorways despite them leading to the same hallway.

Ides turned to her daughter and addressed her. "Biyaya," she called out. Bilay looked to her mother and responded, "Yes?"

"Would you like to see your room?" Ides asked.

Bilay's eyes lit up and she nodded. "Yes, please."

Ides led her daughter up the main set of wooden stairs and to the second floor. There, Bilay noticed, was a chandelier hanging above the stairs. It looked so Phantom of the Opera-esque. When they reached the second floor, the environment was so much brighter, both due to the open windows and hallway leading outside through the cemented stairs, and the lights that had been installed.

Looking forward from the entryway of the second floor from the wooden stairs, there was about two by three meters of space before the doorways to different rooms, and oppositely, looking backwards, there was a U-shaped hallway lining the space for the stairs leading to a number of different rooms as well.

Ides took her daughter to the first room on the left, nearest to the opening of the staircase. This was the one that was directly next to the cemented stairs. When Bilay realized this, she had a big smile plastered on her face.

"It's this one?" she asked her mother excitedly. Ides nodded.

"I get my own balcony!?" she gushed and Ides laughed while nodding, "Yes. Yes, you do."

Bilay hugged her mother with a squeal.

"Alright," Ides said as she broke the hug. "I'll leave you to do what you need to do. I'll be downstairs."

Bilay nodded and shot her mother a quick thanks. Ides let herself out and Bilay looked around for somewhere she could sit.

In her new bedroom was a closet. It was tall and looked like one of those vintage closets one could easily find online, or ones that are usually in movies involving the first world war. She hoped she could fit all of her clothes there. A vanity was positioned to her right. It had a mirror that looked well enough from the 20's. It was surprisingly not cloudy, considering its probable age. On the vanity table was an old hairbrush, a glass perfume bottle set near the edge, some sewing materials , and a picture that was encased in a silver frame.

Bilay went to the vanity to sort these things out. She noticed that the vanity table had a drawer as well. She observed the hair brush. It didn't look like it was old like how the rest of the house is, but it did look very used. Noticeable strands of hair were still present. Bilay thought that this must have been the room that Manang Tinay stayed in when she kept the house and that this hair brush must have been hers. That would explain the sewing materials as well. There was a pin cushion with needles and pins protruding from it and they didn't seem to be wasting away in rust, suggesting that these were still relatively recently produced materials. Pieces of thread were scattered around the general area where the pin cushion lay.

Bilay moved on to look at the framed picture. It was a black and white picture of what seemed like a family, with the year 1884 written in black ink at the upper right corner. There were two adults — a stern looking man wearing what looked like a suit and simply staring into the camera with a poker face, and a woman, looking just as stern as the man, dressed in full-on Maria Clara filipiniana — and two children, both of which were girls. The children, unlike the adults, were smiling in the picture. They were both wearing sunday dresses, and looked very familiar.

"Psst."

Bilay quickly turned around to look at the room. No one was there.

She stared a bit at the closet then to the curtains leading to the balcony, before brushing it off. Bilay thought that maybe her father was right about earphones and the volume of the music she always plays. It was always too loud, and now maybe she was starting to become deaf and make up things she would hear. Bilay sighed and set her attention back to the picture.

She looked at the girls again, analyzing what features she could see clearly.

Then she snapped. She got it. Bilay found them familiar because one of them looked like her grandmother. She quickly took her wallet from her bag slung on her shoulder. She opened it and searched for a particular picture. When she found it, she let it stand beside the framed picture. It was a picture of her grandmother as a child. However, Bilay thought it didn't make sense since that certain picture wasn't taken until 1945.

"Psst."

Bilay rapidly glanced around the room again. Still nothing. She then turned to the curtains that covered the wooden-framed glass doors leading to the balcony. She quickly set them aside, opened the doors and looked outside. Nobody was there either. She only saw her father emptying out one of the rooms adjacent to the house in the long building she'd assumed was a bodega. She turned back around to look past her doorway and to both sides of the hallway. Nothing.

She knew her mother was downstairs. Her father was simply rummaging through a stockroom in the other building. It could have been either of them, but it sounded so near, as if it emanated from within the room.

Bilay took a deep breath. She could hear her pulse in her ears. She decided to ignore it, feeling as if she was about to uncover a big mystery or treasure with her act of piecing things together to make things more sensible.

Internally, she made a threat, if I hear that 'psst' one more time.

Bilay shook her head and returned her focus on the two pictures. How on earth would this be possible? Again, a light bulb appeared above her head. Duh, she rolled her eyes at herself. Bilay realized that the person in the black and white picture would most likely be her great- or great great-grandmother or even an auntie.

Satisfied, she set the photo of her grandmother down next to the perfume bottle. Unbeknownst to her, the bottle was very close to falling off the edge of the table, and onto a spot quite close to where her foot was currently situated. She was only wearing sandals.

Slightly high on her discovery and slightly disappointed on her not realizing it sooner, Bilay forgets her strange experience and continues on with exploring the vanity. Eyeing the drawer carefully, she pulls at it cautiously as to not cause the worn-down wood any more damage. In it, she finds another picture. This time it was a picture of two people — teenagers, a boy and a girl. One looked similar to her grandmother again, the other one was a boy.

He stood mostly straight, and there was a regal vibe to him. However, there was a playful smile on his face which contrasted the frosty vibe of his posture, along with a slight slouch. He had chinky eyes, making him eligible to be called a chinito. From what Bilay could infer from the greyscale photo, he had a complexion that was slightly darker than the girl's. He was wearing a camiso de chino, which was a white, long-sleeved shirt made out of a thick variant of cheesecloth called katsa, paired with black pants, and slippers on his feet.

Bilay thought this was amazing. She actually found an actual tangible picture of the typical Filipiniana wear back in the late 1800's.

Bilay flipped the photo.

Silay Cantanilla & Pedro Batungbakal. 1895.

Bilay's eyes widened. Silay . . .

That was her great-grandmother.

Bilay was about to lean on the vanity, the perfume bottle close to tipping over the edge, when a voice rang out, very crisp and clear, in Tagalog, "Huy, miss, you might break the bottle."

Bilay turned around as quickly as she could, changing her footing, bumping into the vanity. The glass perfume bottle dropped and smashed right next to the spot where her foot was previously right next to. She flinched and squeaked a little at the sound, but the bottle dropping was the least of her concern as of the moment.

She was breathing heavily, face to face with a boy. It only took Bilay a second to realize that she wasn't staring at just any boy. He was wearing the same camiso and black pants.

It was the boy in the picture.

She was staring straight into his eyes widely.

"O, are you okay?"