While Renzo was busy choosing his new shoes and clothes, his two brothers were busy talking to a man wearing a hat and a black jacket.
As they watched Renzo, the man they were talking to nodded. Then he pulled out money from his small money bag. Ten bundles, each with 10,000.
From inside the store, Renzo showed the shoes and clothes he had chosen to his brothers who were outside the store not far away.
"Kuya!" he called softly, waving the clothes and shoes he had picked.
They approached Renzo, together with the man they were talking to.
"Is that what you chose, Renzo?" asked Michael, his eldest brother from the same father. He was fifteen years old at that time.
His height was 5'6, brown-skinned, and his eyes were round. While Renzo was 10 years old, 4'9 in height, with long eyelashes, and slightly slanted eyes he inherited from his mother.
"Yes kuya, it's really nice, it suits me so well!" the boy said cheerfully as he tried on his clothes.
But Ryan was restless, 14 years old, 5'5 in height, almost the same as Michael. Like Michael, his skin was brown, but his nose was more pointed.
He was his second brother from the same father too. Michael and Ryan were full siblings, while Renzo and their youngest brother Larry, 7 years old, were half-brothers. They had different mothers but the same father.
His body felt cold, and he rubbed his arms while glancing around the mall. Michael nudged Ryan slightly with his elbow.
He bent down and brought his face closer to Renzo."Ah Renzo, this is Tito Bong, father's brother. He will pay for the clothes and shoes you picked," he said to Renzo, patting his younger brother's hair.
"Yes… father still has a brother? Why is it only now that I saw him?" Renzo asked curiously.
The man stepped closer and tapped Renzo on the arm. "Uncle is always busy, that's why he rarely visits you," the man explained with a laugh, looking at the brothers.
"Ahh… we'll go ahead outside, we'll wait for you there," Michael said."Okay kuya," Renzo replied with a smile, watching his brothers leave.
The man accompanied Renzo to pay for the shoes and clothes he had chosen. His smile stretched so wide with joy that he finally had new shoes and clothes.
After paying, they went down from the mall and headed to the parking area where the man's car was parked.
The man let Renzo ride in his car. When he sat down in the driver's seat, Renzo asked him,
"Uncle, where are my kuyas?" he asked curiously, frowning, and glancing outside the car."We'll pick them up, they just bought something over there," the man answered.
They left the place and began the trip.
While leaning on the seat, Renzo hugged his new shoes and clothes. He didn't notice the strange silence inside the car—no music on the radio, only the hum of the engine could be heard.
From time to time, he glanced at the driver's seat, where the man was smiling, but his eyes seemed lifeless, focused only on the road.
"Uncle… are we almost at my kuyas?" Renzo asked again, his voice soft and sleepy."Almost," the man answered coldly. No glance, no extra words.
And there, Renzo's eyes finally closed, not knowing that with every kilometer of their journey, he was going farther and farther away from his family.
After several hours of travel from the mall where Renzo had bought his shoes and clothes, they finally arrived at the place where Renzo would be taken.
Renzo slowly opened his eyes. His head was still heavy, as if from deep sleep. The first thing he smelled was the scent of old wood and oil, no longer the cold and clean air of the mall he had left earlier.
"Uncle… where are we now?" he asked softly, still hugging his shoes and clothes."We're almost home," the man answered without even looking at him. His voice was hard and without warmth.
Moments later, the car stopped in front of an old warehouse. The surroundings were dark, with only one flickering streetlight giving light. They went inside, and Renzo immediately felt the chill of the cement floor, with traces of water and the smell of rust.
In one corner of the wide room, he noticed several children—his age, some younger, some a little older. They sat on the floor silently, almost not daring to look at him. Some hugged old blankets, others seemed lifeless, staring only at the wall.
"You stay here," the man said, pushing Renzo lightly on the shoulder.
"But Uncle… where are my kuyas? Aren't we supposed to pick them up?" Renzo asked, frowning, clearly confused.
The man smiled, but it was cold and insincere. "Later… you'll see them."
He left and went out of the warehouse, closing the steel door with a shrill screech. When it closed, it was as if a wall separated Renzo from the world he once knew.
He sat down beside one of the children and tried to smile."I'm Renzo… you, what's your name?" he asked softly.
The child did not answer, only glanced at him briefly and turned his gaze back to the floor. There, Renzo noticed a small wound on the boy's arm and his worn-out slippers that were almost broken.
Renzo's chest throbbed. The joy and excitement he had felt earlier in the mall was replaced by cold fear. He hugged his new shoes and clothes tightly—as if they were the last sign of his normal life.
For the first time, he began to feel a fear he had never felt before.
Time passed quickly. The light from a single bulb hanging from the ceiling of the warehouse slowly dimmed. Its weak electricity flickered, like a dying candle.
The children around him were silent. Some lay on the cold cement, others sat, eyes closed but unable to sleep. The sobs of one could hardly be heard, stifled so no guard would notice.
Renzo lay on an old piece of cardboard, still hugging his shoes and clothes. Earlier, he thought maybe tomorrow his brothers would fetch him. Maybe his father and mother would arrive and tell him this was just a joke. But as the night grew deeper, he felt more and more that he was far from his home.
"Kuya…" he whispered faintly, almost breaking his voice. But no one answered.
He heard heavy footsteps from the door. Slowly, it opened, and in came the man who earlier introduced himself as "Tito Bong." He was carrying a plastic bag with bread and bottled water. He handed them to the children, one by one, but no one spoke.
When he reached Renzo, the boy looked into his eyes. He did not see the kindness of a real uncle. Instead, cold, sharp, and without a trace of compassion. He handed Renzo bread and water."Eat. Stay here. Don't cause trouble," the man said coldly before leaving again and closing the door.
From his pants pocket, he took out his cellphone to call a Chinese national named Chen.
"Hello, Mr. Chen. It is all good now," he said, straight and without hesitation."Good. Tomorrow night. Same place. Cash ready." Mr. Chen's voice from the other line."Yes. Everything is prepared. Ten kids, all in good condition," he continued.
He ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket.
From the side, Renzo was watching, still holding his shoes and clothes like a treasure. He did not understand everything the man was saying, but he felt in his tone that something bad was going to happen.
One of the older children, about twelve years old, came closer and whispered to him."No one goes home from here. They will sell us to the Chinese. There… we will work, sometimes… even worse."
Renzo gasped, his eyes widening. "That's not true… my kuyas will get me… they'll come back," Renzo replied hopefully, but with fear and doubt if he would ever return.
But the boy shook his head, his voice cold. "That's what we said before, but until now, we're still here."
Silence continued.
Renzo bit the bread, but it was hard and he could hardly swallow. His tears fell without him realizing.
"Kuya, where are you," Renzo cried softly, unable to stop himself from sobbing.
The children would be sold to a Chinese national and taken to China for forced labor