Elena's first week in Alfonso proved that the town, while quiet, had its own rhythm. It was a rhythm she did not fully understand yet, but one she was slowly learning to feel. Even as she stayed busy organizing events at the Alfaro Eco-Resort and handling the new challenges that came with it, her restless spirit kept searching for more. The trails of Alfonso, wrapped in greenery and fresh air, became her new playground. For her, it was more than a way to pass time. It was a way to escape the grounding imposed by her sister and to reconnect with herself after the chaos she had left behind in Manila.
Her energy, what some of the staff were already calling her crazy poise, was a unique mix of fearless exploration and effortless charm. She decided to plan something she called a curated hike. It was not just a casual walk through the woods. It was an event designed for adventurous guests who wanted more than relaxation by the pool. She arranged for a guide to point out local plants and birds, and she herself prepared notes, determined to lead the group with her own blend of wit and elegance. She also brought water bottles, small snacks, and a first aid kit, making sure the experience would be safe as well as entertaining.
One early morning, she set off with several resort staff members and a group of tourists. The trail twisted through the hills, the ground wet with morning dew. The smell of damp earth clung to the air. Elena moved confidently, pointing out wild orchids, explaining the sound of a woodpecker echoing through the trees. Guests laughed at her jokes, impressed at how easily she seemed to belong in the environment despite being a city girl. Some visitors took notes, others tried to mimic her pronunciation of local plant names. Elena encouraged them, her voice carrying excitement, her hands animated as she told little stories about the animals and the plants, making the forest feel alive.
But as the trail wound deeper, into a spot near a cluster of thick bamboo where few usually passed, something changed. A sharp, sour odor cut through the air. It was not the smell of plants or flowers. It was the smell of rot. Elena slowed, her nose wrinkling, her instincts flaring. She felt the hair on her arms stand up. Even the birds seemed quieter here, as if they sensed something wrong.
"Wait," she said softly, tilting her head.
One of the staff looked at her with concern. "What is it, Ma'am Elena?"
Her eyes scanned the brush. Just beyond the ferns, partly hidden in the growth, she noticed something that made her chest tighten for a moment. A fragment of human remains. A bone gnawed by insects, the tattered edge of clothing clinging to it. Her heart skipped. She knew immediately this was no animal. It was too large, too wrong. This was the remnant of someone. Possibly Rodrigo, the abusive tenant who had vanished weeks earlier. She swallowed hard but kept her face calm, noticing how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting strange shadows across the scene, almost like the forest itself was watching her reaction.
Her instinct told her danger. But her mind, sharp and quick, reacted differently. She could not show panic in front of the guests. She could not open a door she was not ready to walk through. She had learned in the city that panic spread quickly. People needed guidance more than fear.
"Looks like a wild boar died here," she said calmly, forcing her voice steady. "Or maybe a stray dog. Happens sometimes in the forest. Let's keep moving before the smell ruins the hike."
The staff accepted her explanation without question. They were used to her practical tone, the way she carried authority with a smile. The tourists wrinkled their noses, grateful she had dismissed it quickly. Elena subtly steered the group onward, her body moving with ease but her mind running in circles. The sight would not leave her thoughts. It was not fear that dominated her. Strangely, it was fascinating. What had happened here? Why did she feel as though the wilderness itself was whispering secrets to her?
As they continued, she noticed small signs of decay in the underbrush, leaves crushed in odd ways, footprints that did not seem to belong to animals, broken twigs. Her curiosity was sharpened, but she stayed composed. She asked the guide questions quietly, mentally mapping out the area. She realized that this part of the forest was rarely visited, creating the perfect hiding spot for something, or someone.
Later that day, after the hike ended and she had returned to the resort, Elena tried to shake the discovery from her mind. She threw herself back into her routine, meeting guests at her café, charming them with her mix of grace and playful wit. Among the guests was Christian, a good-looking man from Manila who owned a small real estate business. He was known for being confident, always ready with a clever line. He was also slightly arrogant, always trying to show he belonged wherever he went, but Elena was not intimidated.
He leaned across the table with a smile that had won over many women before. "Your hike was great, Ma'am Elena. I think I'd enjoy walking in the forest more if it was always with you."
Elena smiled, tilting her head with practiced charm. "Oh, Sir Christian, maybe the jungle here is too much for you. I think you're more used to the city jungle." Her eyes sparkled, and the group around them laughed. She made a subtle joke about skyscrapers and crowded streets, and the tourists appreciated her way of connecting city life with the calm of Alfonso.
Christian reached out as if to touch her hand. For a moment she let the air between them tighten, then she pulled back gently. Her dignity remained intact. She never gave in easily to shallow flirting. Her choices were deliberate. She allowed attraction only when it stirred something real inside her. Christian, despite his looks and charm, did not quite meet that bar.
"I should check on the kitchen," she said smoothly, flashing him one last smile before leaving him hanging, curious, and a little frustrated. Elena knew exactly what she was doing. She enjoyed the power of selectivity.
High above, inside the Alfaro mansion, Drake watched from the shadows of his balcony. Word had already reached him about Elena's curated hike and her surprising ability to dismiss the remains she had found. Her quick rationalization intrigued him. Most people would have screamed, panicked, or called the police. She had brushed it off, almost effortlessly. To him, that was unusual.
But what unsettled him more was her effect on people. She had a way of pulling eyes toward her, of creating movement in a place that thrived on silence. She was making Alfonso noisier, stirring attention, unraveling the careful stillness he maintained. In his mind, this could only mean one of two things. Either she was reckless, or she was playing her own game. He began to see her as either a tool to be used or a problem to be contained.
Later, as he walked down into town for an inspection of the lumber yard, an old woman named Aling Selya stopped him. She was known for gossip, her words spreading through Alfonso like fire.
"Sir Drake," she said with a smile, "the new girl from Manila is so beautiful. She fits right in at the resort. I think she would be perfect with you, Sir."
Drake stopped, his face blank. His voice came out flat. "Aling Selya, the Alfaro estate makes sure everything is clean. We take care of our own house. Do you understand?"
He meant more than she realized. For him, "clean" was about removing threats, wiping away those who disturbed order. To the villagers, though, such words were brushed aside as quirks of the rich.
Aling Selya chuckled nervously. "Of course, Sir Drake, you are always clean. Everyone knows you are neat. But you are also so handsome." She laughed, waving her hand, missing the cold weight in his tone.
Drake gave her nothing more than a nod and walked away. His words, which had been meant as a veiled warning, had once again been dismissed as odd humor. The villagers called it "Drake's jokes." He allowed them to think that. It suited him.
Meanwhile, at the café, Elena noticed a man sitting alone at a corner table. Tall, serious, eyes sharp as if cutting through the room. She had seen him earlier that day in town with two officers. He now sat drinking coffee quietly, scanning the place with the patience of a hunter.
Elena approached with her professional smile. "Good afternoon, Sir. Is everything to your liking?"
He looked up at her. His eyes were sharp but calm. "Perfect, Miss Reyes. Though I must say, you've brought a certain energy here. Alfonso feels different."
Elena laughed lightly. "I will try. Exile can be boring, Detective. I have to create my own entertainment."
He extended a hand. "Detective Arthur Garcia. I'm investigating the recent disappearances. I also heard about your curated hike this morning. You did not notice anything unusual on the trail?"
His eyes held hers, searching for a crack. Elena's instincts told her to protect herself. She let her crazy poise rise again. "Only a poor boar, Detective. Nothing a city girl hasn't seen before. In Manila, you see worse, minus the tusks." She added a laugh, light and deliberate, to disarm him.
Detective Garcia studied her. "You must have many interesting stories from Manila. And connections. None of them are tied to the kind of people who've gone missing here, I hope?"
Elena met his gaze directly. "Detective, my Manila connections are all about fashion, parties, and drama. No disappearances. Unless you count my ex-boyfriends, but they usually just vanish from my phone, not the town." She winked, drawing another soft laugh from a nearby guest. With that, she smoothly shifted the topic to his coffee preference, turning the moment into light conversation while closing his line of questioning.
When evening came, the café grew quieter. Elena stepped outside, standing near the resort's edge as fog rolled across the hills. The conversation with Detective Garcia lingered in her thoughts. He had asked about unusual discoveries, about connections. Her mind flashed back to the bone, the torn fabric on the trail.
Then she thought of Drake. His piercing eyes, his silent power, his name always whispered with caution. She pulled out her phone and once again saw no signal. Isolation pressed on her, and boredom wrestled with curiosity. She wanted stimulation, something to keep her from falling into despair.
Drake was beginning to feel less like a distraction and more like an answer. He was a puzzle, a mystery wrapped in Alfonso's fog. And she, with her restless energy and fearless curiosity, was ready to solve it.
The fog thickened, covering the town, the trails, the mansion in the distance. Elena realized something as she stood there. The fog did not only hide things. It magnified them. Every shadow became a possible story. Every whisper sounded like a clue. Alfonso was not just in exile. It was an invitation. And she was ready to read between the lines.
She turned back toward the café one last time before night fully settled. Lanterns glimmered, casting soft light over wooden tables and the colorful displays she had arranged. Guests still lingered, laughing, exchanging stories, and Elena felt the satisfaction of control, just like Drake did when he surveyed his estate. But unlike Drake, her control brought life rather than fear. Yet she could sense, deep inside, that Alfonso held dangers she had yet to fully measure.
Her mind wandered again to the forest, to the gnawed bone, to the idea that the town was alive with secrets, and that maybe her own spark of curiosity would lead her into paths she had not imagined.
She whispered to herself, smiling at the uncertainty, at the thrill of possibilities. "Let's see what secrets you are hiding, Alfonso."
The fog rolled on, thick and heavy, curling around every house, every tree, every shadow. Night had fully claimed the town, but Elena felt wide awake. She felt a pull, a promise that her story in Alfonso was only beginning.