"Victory has a bitter taste when it comes with blood on your hands."
---
Back to the Queen
Manila — La Reina del Pacífico, Venice of the East — glimmered in the morning sun, but something felt different.
The war in Mindanao was over. Los Tigres Negros were destroyed. El Tigre was dead.
But as Juan stepped off the military plane at Villamor Airbase, he was not welcomed as a hero. No parades. No medals. Just cameras. Flashing. Blinding.
The headlines?
> "Vigilante or Terrorist?"
"Escolta's Shadow Returns, Bloodied."
"Is This Justice… or Just Revenge?"
---
Haunted Streets
Escolta was no longer the same. The jazz bars were quieter. The mestizo-Chinese cafés dimmer. The old men playing rondalla music in Plaza Moraga had gone silent.
Children stared at Juan with awe. Adults looked away.
He walked alone down Calle David, barong wrinkled, boots dusty, bolo tucked beneath his coat like a relic of war. The same man — yet no longer the same soul.
---
A Hero's Doubt
At Don Eduardo's old house — now in ruins — Juan found Maria sitting on the balcony, sipping black coffee, gazing over the river.
> Maria: "They're calling you a murderer."
Juan: "Maybe I am."
Maria: "You saved thousands, Juan."
Juan: "And killed hundreds."
Silence.
Only the sound of the wind brushing through the old Spanish balustrades.
> Juan (softly): "Do you remember Escolta before the war? When we danced? When we thought this city could be saved?"
Maria: "It still can. But not with shadows alone."
---
Whispers in Intramuros
Rumors spread fast in the walled city.
In dimly lit taverns, the mestizo merchants whispered:
> "He brought justice."
The politicians in their cigar rooms scoffed:
> "He broke laws."
The poor from Tondo said:
> "He fought for us."
The police? Silent.
And still, Juan kept walking — through San Agustin Church, through the old halls of Ayuntamiento. Every step echoed a question:
> Am I the monster… or the only man brave enough to face them?
---
The Final Question
At the ruins of the Sombra Headquarters, now hidden beneath a restored colonial house in Binondo, Juan stood before a mirror.
His face — scarred. His eyes — darkened.
He touched the pendant Maria gave him before Zamboanga. Inside was a photo of the old team: Juan, Maria, Don Eduardo, Isko, and even James Smith… before the betrayals.
And then he whispered to himself:
> "This city doesn't need a savior. It needs a ghost."