Disclaimer: The author's imagination and passion are the only sources of inspiration for this novel, which is a work of dedication. Parallels between these pages and the past or present may be apparent to some readers, but they are completely coincidental. You are free to interpret this art anyway you see fit, and it is meant for your enjoyment.
Against the rain of a typical Manila monsoon, the 7-Eleven neon sign in Makati flashed. With a sigh, Elizien tucked her leather portfolio beneath her arm. Her existence was characterized by spreadsheets, tax seasons, and the chilly fluorescent hum of the office as a senior auditor at one of the "Big Four" accounting firms in Ayala. It was 11:30 p.m. She was currently waiting beneath a leaking awning next to a small, obscure store in a back alley of Legaspi Village after her Grab car got caught in the "carmageddon" of EDSA.
The hand-painted sign for the shop read, "Ang Kapalaran ni Aling Rosa."
Elizien whispered to herself, "I'm an accountant," as she adjusted her glasses. "I deal in cold, hard assets. Not tea leaves."
However, the shop door was already open, and the humidity was oppressive. The noise of the rain was broken by the quiet, beautiful ringing of a bell. The scent of pricey sandalwood and sampaguita filled the air within. A woman with eyes that seemed to have witnessed the Spanish colonial era sat behind a table draped in a barong Tagalog fabric that had been eaten by moths.
Aling Rosa said, "Maupo ka, hija," her voice sounding like gravel on silk. "You've been counting other people's money for so long, you've forgotten how to count your own heartbeats."
With her professional defenses up, Elizien sat. "I'm just waiting for the rain to stop, po."
The elderly woman paid no attention. She shuffled an old deck of big, shabby cards. It was a crisp sound, like a casino dealer snapping a deck of cards. She set down three cards.
The Ace of Pentacles (Reversed): "You have the wealth of the mind, but your pockets of joy are empty."
The Tower: "A sudden change. Not a crash, but a takeoff."
The King of Skies: This card was unique. It showed a man with sharp, Chinito features, wearing a dark pilot's uniform, standing amidst a storm with a golden compass.
"He is five years older than you," Aling Rosa said. "A man of mixed blood—the discipline of the North and the warmth of the Islands. Everyone sees the pilot, but no one sees the empire he carries on his back. He flies the planes, but he owns the air."
Elizien laughed. "A pilot? I don't even have time to go to Boracay, let alone date an aviator."
"The cards don't care about your audits, Elizien," the reader said with a laugh. "He is grumpy, like a storm cloud. He has the temper of a man who hates wasting time. But for you? He will change his flight path. Look for the man who doesn't smile, but whose eyes never leave you."
Elizien dropped a five-hundred-peso bill and got to her feet. "Goodnight, Aling Rosa."
"Watch the sky, Accountant!" exclaimed the elderly woman. "The Dragon of the Clouds is already looking for his landing strip."
Monday Morning: The Private Hangar, Pasay
The "San Jose Audit" had changed course. The reclusive Ty family, the largest client of her firm, had asked for an on-site emergency audit of their Palawan regional logistics hub. They were sending her by private cargo-and-passenger service due to necessity.
Elizien was standing on a private hangar's tarmac close to NAIA. The asphalt was glistening with heat. A man who appeared to have been carved out of marble and mahogany stood beside the nose of a sleek, tough Cessna Grand Caravan.
He had the distinctive appearance of a "Tisoy-Chinito" star and was tall—at least 6'1". His eyes were extraordinarily piercing and slightly slanted behind a pair of Ray-Ban Aviators, and his complexion was a sun-kissed tan. The sleeves of his immaculate white pilot's shirt, which had captain's bars on the shoulders, were rolled up to show off his toned forearms.
With a deep, frighteningly attractive frown on his face, he was staring at a clipboard.
"Excuse me?" Elizien approached, her heels clicking. "I'm Elizien Mallari from the accounting firm. I'm supposed to be on the 0900 flight to El Nido."
The man didn't raise his head. His watch, a tough black Garmin flight watch, was scrutinized. "You're four minutes late, Miss Accountant. In my cockpit, four minutes is the difference between beating a typhoon and flying straight into it."
He rumbled in a deep, powerful voice. Although he had a subtle, affluent "Manila Boy" accent when speaking Tagalog, his tone was chilly and abrupt.
"The traffic in Sales Road was—"
When he finally turned to face her, he yelled, "I don't care about the traffic on the ground." He had flint-like eyes. He looked from her clean bun to her shiny heels. Her very presence seemed to irritate him. "I'm Captain Zayrius Tan. Get your bags. We're wheels up in five."
Elizien snapped. "I didn't realize punctuality was a personality trait, Captain."
With his face inches from hers, Zayrius leaned down. She smelled the jet fuel and peppermint. "In this plane, my word is the law. You handle the numbers; I handle the lives. Understand?"
He didn't wait for a response. With one hand, he picked up her bulky bag and threw it into the cargo hold. The ground staff didn't simply call him "Captain"; they bowed slightly when he passed. Elizien saw a small jade pendant hanging from his flight bag as he got into the pilot's seat. This pendant is a traditional symbol for "Protection."
Elizien settled inside the tiny, opulent cabin. The aircraft encountered a pocket of turbulence over the Mindoro Strait halfway through the voyage. Elizien gasped and clutched the armrest, her fingers whitened.
The intercom crackled abruptly. The abrasive, scathing tone had vanished. It was replaced by a voice that was surprisingly gentle, almost defensive.
"Steady, Elizien," Zayrius said, using her first name for the first time. "It's just the wind saying hello. I've got you. Close your eyes and breathe. I won't let anything happen to this plane."
Elizien turned to face the cockpit. His strong jawline and intense gaze were visible to her in profile. The rich conglomerate Tan Holdings Group, which controlled the company she worked for, was the owner of the "Tan" in its name, but she was unaware of this at the time. She was unaware that he flew these local trips to avoid his father's boardrooms.
And Zayrius experienced an odd pull in his chest as he gazed toward the horizon. He detested traveling by train. He detested interruptions. However, he found himself checking the weather forecast once again as he looked in the mirror at the stern, pale accountant in the back.
He was no longer only searching for storms. He wanted to make this flight last as long as possible.