Jay POV
I don't know when three hours disappeared.
One moment, Elara was explaining a formula, her pen moving calmly like time itself was scared of her.
The next moment, my neck started aching, my eyes burned, and something inside me whispered check the time.
I slowly turned my head toward the clock.
12:30 a.m.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…What?" I muttered.
I checked my phone. Same time.
I looked back at Elara, then at my open notebook filled with actual answers—correct answers.
Three hours.
Three. Whole. Hours.
"How did this happen?" I asked, half accusing her, half accusing the universe.
She finally looked up. "You were focused."
I gasped dramatically. "Focused?? I don't do focused at midnight."
She smirked. "Yet here you are."
I leaned back on my chair, stretching my arms. "I'm hungry."
"Just this one topic," she said calmly, already turning the page.
I opened my mouth to protest, then sighed.
"…Okay."
(Somewhere inside, my lazy soul cried.)
She continued explaining, and annoyingly—tragically—it made sense. Like actual sense. I was nodding. Writing. Understanding.
I hated how much I liked this.
That's when—
The door slowly creaked open.
I didn't notice at first.
A head peeked in.
Percy.
He looked at me.
Then at Elara.
Then at the books.
Then at the clock.
His face froze.
He rubbed his eyes once.
Then again.
Like maybe sleep deprivation was making him hallucinate.
He muttered something under his breath—sounded suspiciously like,
"What kind of nightmare is this…"
Then, without another word, he quietly closed the door and disappeared.
I stared at the door.
Then at Elara.
"…Did Percy just witness character development?"
"Done," Elara said, putting the pen down like she had just defeated a final boss.
I looked at the page.
I looked at her.
I looked back at the page again.
"I… actually understand this," I said slowly, suspicious of my own brain. "Is this legal?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Don't question miracles."
I suddenly jumped up from the chair. "I'M FREE."
Then immediately clutched my stomach. "Also, I'm starving."
She glanced at the clock. "Midnight hunger?"
"I run on hunger. Day, night, trauma, exams—hunger is constant."
Without waiting for permission, I grabbed her wrist and dragged her out of my room. "Come. Kitchen. Food. Survival."
We reached the kitchen.
I opened the fridge.
Empty.
I opened another cabinet.
Empty.
Another.
Still empty.
I turned dramatically toward her. "We're going to die."
She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, way too calm for someone standing beside a future corpse. "Relax. I'll make something."
I stared at her. "In this kitchen?"
She nodded. "Do you have gram flour?"
"…Do we have what?"
She sighed and started opening cabinets like she actually lived here. After a few seconds, she pulled out a half-forgotten packet.
"This," she said.
I squinted. "It looks expired."
She checked the date. "Barely alive. Just like us."
She handed me the packet. "Now gather vegetables. Whatever is raw and not judging us."
I ran around the kitchen like a raccoon on caffeine.
"Spinach!"
"Potatoes!"
"Oh—cauliflower!"
I dumped everything on the counter proudly. "I present… chaos."
She washed her hands, rolled up her sleeves, and started cutting the vegetables with shocking precision.
I watched, impressed. "You look like you've done this before."
"I've cooked," she said simply.
"That sentence alone makes you dangerous."
She tossed the vegetables into a bowl, added gram flour, salt, spices, and then paused.
"You people don't have enough spices."
I offended-gasped. "Excuse me, this is a respectable household."
She looked at the shelf. "There's only chili and turmeric."
"…Respectable but lazy."
She mixed everything into a thick batter while heating oil in a pan.
Then she dropped spoonfuls of the batter into the oil.
They fell in… weird shapes. Uneven. Lumpy. Slightly concerning.
I leaned closer. "They look like abstract art."
She didn't look at me. "They'll taste better than they look."
The oil crackled.
The smell slowly filled the kitchen.
Warm. Spicy. Comforting.
My stomach growled loud enough to be considered a threat.
She flipped one and said, "Taste."
I was just about to reach—
"Elara," I said seriously, bending toward the pan, "if this tastes half as good as it smells, I might forgive you for torturing me with studies."
She lifted one pakode with the spatula and held it out. "Careful. It's hot."
I bent closer, blew on it dramatically, and was just about to take a bite—
creeeak.
A sound.
Very soft.
Very wrong.
I froze mid-bend.
Elara's hand stilled too. Her eyes lifted, sharp, alert—not scared, just… ready.
Another sound. Footsteps. Slow.
I straightened instantly.
"Did you hear that?" I whispered.
She nodded once.
The kitchen light didn't reach the hallway. It was dark there—too dark. A shadow moved.
My heart started racing. My brain didn't help; it immediately chose panic mode.
I quietly grabbed the nearest object.
A vase.
A heavy vase.
Elara looked at me like, Seriously? but didn't stop me.
"Who's there?" I called out, voice shaking despite my best efforts.
The shadow stepped forward.
I raised the vase.
"Jay—" Elara started, low and warning.
The shadow moved closer, and the light finally caught his face.
"…Aries?" I blurted.
I froze so hard my arm almost locked.
Behind him, another head peeked out.
"…Percy?"
There was a long, stupid silence.
They stared at us.
We stared at them.
Percy rubbed his eyes slowly, like his brain refused to accept reality. "Am I dreaming… or are you two cooking at twelve-thirty at night?"
Aries sniffed the air. "Whatever this dream is, it smells illegal."
I lowered the vase, embarrassed. "You scared me!"
Percy pointed at it. "You were about to kill us."
"In my defense," I said, "you both looked like horror-movie shadows."
Elara exhaled, shaking her head. "Next time, make noise. Normal humans do that."
Percy grinned. "We were coming to steal snacks."
Aries crossed his arms. "And now we've found the source."
Percy's eyes followed the snack like it was some legendary treasure.
He leaned so close to the pan that I almost pulled him back by his collar. "Wait. WAIT. Are those snacks?"
Aries deadpanned, "No. It's modern art."
Percy ignored him and looked at Elara with full respect. "Can I… taste?"
Elara raised one eyebrow. "You're asking like I'm about to hand you my kidney."
"It's equally important," Percy said seriously.
She lifted one piece with the spatula and dropped it on a plate. "Hot. If you cry, do it silently."
Percy nodded like a disciplined soldier, blew on it once—pure drama—and took a bite.
Silence.
Then—
"…Oh."
Aries frowned. "What kind of 'oh' is that?"
Percy closed his eyes. "The kind that changes lives."
I laughed. "Relax, it's just—"
"What's this called?" Percy
interrupted, staring at Elara.
"Pakode," she said calmly.
"Pak—what?" he tried.
"Pakoday?"
"No."
"Pakodae?"
Aries tried next. "Pak—kod—ee?"
Elara sighed. "Just eat."
Aries grabbed one and took a bite.
He froze mid-chew.
"…Why didn't you tell me this was being made in our kitchen?" he asked me accusingly.
"I didn't know either!" I protested. "I thought she was summoning something."
Percy tried again. "So these are… Pakoray?"
"Pakod—" Elara stopped herself, rubbed her forehead, and gave up. "Yes. That."
Percy nodded proudly. "Pakoray. Legendary."
I took my first bite.
Crispy. Hot. Perfect.
My eyes widened. "Oh. OH."
Elara smirked. "Now you understand."
Aries grabbed another. "We need more of these… Pak—Pak—"
"Don't," she warned.
Percy stuffed his mouth and mumbled, "Too late. Pakoray supremacy."
We were in the middle of our third round of "Pak—whatever" when I felt it.
That sixth sense.
The Kuya-ang-is-about-to-appear-and-end-our-lives sense.
Before I could even warn anyone, a shadow fell across the kitchen light.
I turned slowly.
Kuya Angelo.
Standing there. Arms crossed. Sleeves rolled. That calm-before-the-storm look on his face.
Silence.
Percy froze mid-bite. Aries swallowed so fast I thought he'd choke. I was still holding a plate like evidence from a crime scene.
Kuya's eyes scanned us.
The pan.
The oil.
The clock.
"Care to explain," he said slowly, "why my kitchen smells like a street food festival at midnight?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
Percy opened his mouth. Elara stepped half a step forward.
Before any scolding could fully load—
I shoved the plate forward.
"Pak..kkk..ode."
Everyone looked at me.
Kuya looked at the plate.
Then at me.
Then back at the plate.
"…What?"
Elara, very calmly, "Pakode."
Kuya frowned. "Pak—ko—day?"
Percy whispered, "Close enough."
Kuya shot him a glare so sharp Percy immediately became religious.
Kuya picked one up.
"Is this vegetarian?" he asked.
Elara nodded.
He took one bite.
Just one.
The anger… paused.
His jaw moved slowly.
Then he took another bite.
Then—without saying a word—he took a second pakode.
And then a third.
We all stood there.
Watching.
Silent.
As Kuya Angelo—our demon disguised as an angel—finished the entire plate.
He licked his fingers once, very un-kuya-like.
"…Pakode," he tried again.
Failed.
Sighed. "Whatever this is."
He looked at Elara. "You made this?"
She nodded.
He turned to us. "Clean the kitchen. Go to sleep."
We were still standing there, stunned, watching the empty plate like it was a crime scene.
Kuya Angelo wiped his fingers with a tissue—very calmly, very regally—then turned around as if he hadn't just committed daylight robbery at midnight.
"Go. Sleep," he repeated.
And just like that, he walked away.
The kitchen door swung shut.
Silence.
For exactly three seconds.
Then—
"HE ATE ALL OF IT."
Percy whisper-yelled like his soul had been betrayed.
Aries stared at the plate. "Not even… one… survivor."
I held the plate up, shaking it slightly. "Kuya didn't even leave crumbs. CRUMBS, Elara. Even villains leave crumbs."
Elara blinked innocently. "He liked it."
"He devoured it," Percy said, offended on a spiritual level. "I had only two! TWO! He had, like… senior citizen privilege or something?"
Aries muttered, "I swear, he came in angry and left fed. That's emotional blackmail."
I peeked toward the hallway, then leaned closer and whispered,
"He didn't even scold us."
Percy scoffed. "Of course not. His mouth was full."
Elara covered her smile with her hand. "He tried to pronounce the name."
I burst out laughing. "PAK—KO—DAY."
Aries joined in, mocking softly, "Pakoré? Pakoday? Pak—whatever, just give me more."
Percy shook his head dramatically. "I will never forgive him for this betrayal."
Then he added, louder, "BOSS YOU ATE EVERYTHING."
From the hallway came a single, dangerous voice:
"Percy."
Percy froze.
Smiled awkwardly.
"Love you, Kuya."
The door didn't open again.
The moment we were sure he was gone, we lost it.
I clutched my stomach laughing. "Next time we cook, we make two plates. One for us, one as bribe."
Elara raised a brow. "Or we hide."
Aries nodded seriously. "We definitely hide."
Percy sighed. "Imagine telling people this. 'The great Angelo, feared by many… defeated by pakode.'"
I looked at the empty plate one last time and whispered,
"Traitor."
We cleaned the kitchen quietly after that—but with dramatic sighs, exaggerated movements, and at least five whispered curses toward a certain pakode thief.
And honestly?
Totally worth it.