“M- Mr. Santos!?”

Mr. Santos was equally confused with the situation. “What are you doing here!?”

“Woah!! You know each other?” Calla asked, her voice a mix of surprise and innocent curiosity.

Lae was perplexed; she hadn’t expected the person in front of them to be the same one Triggs had mentioned earlier. Still, to keep the mission on track, she stuck to their plan.

“Hello po, we're students conducting survey research for our thesis. Is it okay if you and your family could be one of our interview candidates?” Lae asked, trying to maintain her composure.

“Wait… I know you…” Mr. Santos squinted, trying to place Lae. “You’re Micah Castro, a candidate for Honours at our University.”

“Uhm… Ehh…” Again, Lae didn’t foresee that Mr. Santos would recognize her too. “Y-Yes po! And like I said, we’re here to conduct our survey for our thesis po.”

“Thesis!? You’re not even in the same course (program) as Mr. Celestial here. What are you talking about?”

“Uhm… Ahh…” Lae was starting to panic internally, realizing their alibi might not hold. To save themselves, she did one desperate act to keep their covers from being blown. She grabbed Triggs’ arm intimately and said, “He is my boyfriend.”

Triggs was taken aback but played along. “Yes, we’re dating, Mr. Santos.”

“Wait!? You guys are dating!? Why didn’t you tell us!?” Calla’s reaction. She was genuinely convinced.

“And uhm…” Lae switched her grasp to Calla as she introduced her to Mr. Santos. “... Calla here is my groupmate. We’re the only ones assigned to this area. Our other groupmates are covering different Barangays.” She then whispered discreetly in Calla’s ears, “Please act along, Calla..”

Luckily, Calla was able to understand the assignment. “Hallo! I am Calla Paglaom, her awesome research partner! Nice to meet you, Mister-Sir!”

Mr. Santos, still skeptical, scrutinized the trio. “If you’re really doing a thesis, then what’s the title?”

“Exploring the Genetic Basis of Mystical Capacities: A Study of the Correlation Between Genetic Markers and Spiritual Giftedness,” Lae stated, hoping the title would be convincing.

“Genetics? Mysticism?” Mr. Santos scoffed, clearly not buying it. “Take that nonsense somewhere else,” he said as he was about to close the gate.

“Wait, Mr. Santos! We really need you for this thesis!” Lae pleaded.

“Please, Mister-Sir! This is a life-and-death situation!!” Calla followed.

“Who are you fooling? I’ve been a professor for God knows how many years, and I can tell you for a fact that no university or institution would approve a research topic like that!” Mr. Santos argued. “And even though it’s true, what does it have to do with us?”

The trio was starting to lose hope.

“Whatever your true intentions are, I’m telling you… I won’t let you have it,” Mr. Santos said, followed by a distrustful leer at Triggs.

“No, please…” Lae murmured, sounding defeated.

But just before Mr. Santos could totally close the gate, another person stepped out of the house: his wife.

Mrs. Santos exuded a completely different aura from her husband; hers was welcoming and hospitable. In her late 50s, she had a chic sense of fashion, with her hair softly layered in waves. Her sun-kissed complexion hinted at an active lifestyle when she was younger.

Her face was characterized by a warm, inviting complexion, with subtle lines that speak of a life rich in experience and wisdom. Her skin retains a natural radiance, glowing softly even without makeup. Her cheekbones were gently pronounced, adding definition to her face and enhancing her overall poise.

Her eyes were expressive and lively, framed by well-groomed eyebrows. Her nose was elegantly proportioned, complementing the soft contours of her face. Her lips were curved into a friendly, engaging smile that highlighted her approachable and inviting demeanor.

Overall, she was very different from her husband in terms of appearance and ambiance.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“I heard you from inside. Why are you raising your voice again, Honey? Is something happening?” Mrs. Santos asked her husband.

“These kids thought they could fool me with their antics,” the grumpy man replied.

“Come on, don’t say that. They must have an important reason for being here.”

“They claim they’re conducting a survey for their questionable thesis.”

“Really?” Mrs. Santos asked, her curiosity piqued. “What’s it all about?”

Lae repeated the thesis title, “Exploring the Genetic Basis of Mystical Capacities: A Study of the Correlation Between Genetic Markers and Spiritual Giftedness.”

“Oh, that sounds interesting,” Mrs. Santos commented.

Noticing Mrs. Santos' receptive attitude, Lae seized the opportunity. “Would you be willing to be one of our respondents?”

“Sure! I’d be happy to help you with your research,” Mrs. Santos agreed.

With a face of disbelief, Mr. Santos questioned his wife’s decision, “Seriously? You’re going to believe them? You’re a licensed teacher as well!”

Oh, Honey. There's no harm in accepting their request. As an educator, wouldn't it be nice to help these students complete their academic requirements?” Mrs. Santos replied calmly. “And their thesis does sound interesting.”

Mr. Santos frowned in disbelief, shaking his head disappointedly. “You know what? I’m out of here,” he said, retreating into the house.

“Actually, we need two more people to complete our survey today. If Mr. Santos isn’t available, could anyone else in the house help?” Lae asked.

“Hmm, we have our son Elijah,” Mrs. Santos replied. “I’m sure he’d be happy to join too.”

Triggs and Lae exchanged a knowing glance, relieved to hear the name of their true objective.

And again, Calla got a bit over-excited, “Ooh! Definitely! We really want him to answer our questions!!”

Lae quickly corrected, “What she meant is that we really need him to help us meet our survey goals for today. Hehe…”

“Oh, I understand,” Mrs. Santos said. “How should we start? And if you’d like, you can come inside. It’ll be more comfortable to discuss your thesis on the couch.”

“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Santos,” Lae said. “We’d be happy to come inside if it’s convenient.”

“Oh, don’t mention it. Come on in!”

“Yaaaay!” Calla cheered.

Without further ado, Mrs. Santos Mrs. Santos led the trio inside.

…

Inside, the house mirrored the exterior: minimalist design with a cozy, warm ambiance, reflecting the family’s atmosphere.

The first floor was not very spacious, with the living room occupying most of the space. A leather sofa set was arranged in front of a flat-screen television, surrounded by various antique furnishings.

The dining area was just a few feet away from the living room, with the kitchen located on the far side of the dining space. Between the small dining area and living room, a staircase led to the second floor.

The floor was tiled with marble plates, looking very lustrous, suggesting that the house had recently undergone a general cleaning.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Mrs. Santos uttered as she accompanied the trio onto the sofa.

Triggs, Calla, and Lae took their seats on the longest sofa, behaving like obedient students.

Soon after they settled, Mr. Santos reappeared, heading towards the door with a purposeful stride.

“Where are you going, Honey?” Mrs. Santos asked.

"To the grocery store… we need to stock up again," Mr. Santos answered. Before stepping out of the house, he cast one last suspicious glance at Triggs. He then gave a final message to his wife: "Remember why I had to take a leave from work and come back here—your son is still grounded."

Mrs. Santos nodded her head in agreement. “Take care.”

With that, Mr. Santos left the house.

“Sorry for my Husband’s attitude,” Mrs. Santos apologized. “He’s not usually like that. It’s just... a lot is going on in our family lately.”

“We understand po,” Lae replied with sympathy.

“My husband talks loudly, so I heard your conversation earlier. Is it true? You’re students from the university where my husband teaches?” Mrs. Santos asked.

“Yes po. I’m Micah Castro, and this is Calla… uhm… Paglaom, my groupmate in this thesis research,” Lae answered as they introduced themselves. “Actually, Mr. Santos has never been our teacher. We just see him around campus a lot. Triggs here, however…”

“... Yes. Mr. Santos is one of our teachers,” Triggs followed.

“‘Triggs’, hm?” Mrs. Santos uttered as if it rang a bell. “What’s your surname, Mister?”

“Celestial po,” the young man answered. “Triggs Celestial.”

“Oh? So, you’re really him, huh?”

“Uhm… Yes?” Triggs replied, puzzled. “You know me po?”

“Yes, my husband mentioned you,” Mrs. Santos said. “He spoke about what happened in class that got you suspended.”

Triggs’ face flushed with embarrassment. “R-Really?”

“Yes, but I admire your bravery,” Mrs. Santos said genuinely. “Standing up for what you believe in is commendable.”

Triggs, still feeling awkward, managed a shy, “T-Thank you po…”

Sounding like a true teacher, the concerned woman lectured Triggs, “But I think you already realize, Mr. Celestial, that there are things you just can’t say out loud in public…” and then she emphasized the last statement, “...no matter how true they are.”

Triggs caught the nuance in Mrs. Santos' words and met her meaningful gaze. He understood it as if Mrs. Santos was truly acknowledging what he did in class back then.

“But let’s focus on why you’re here,” Mrs. Santos said, shifting the conversation. “Sorry for my failing memory, but what’s the title of your thesis again?”

“Uhm… Exploring the Genetic Basis of Mystical Capacities: A Study of the Correlation Between Genetic Markers and Spiritual Giftedness,” Lae reminded.

“‘Mystical Capabilities’... ‘Spiritual Giftedness’... I see, I see…” Mrs. Santos mumbled with a faint scoff. After that, she fell into a perplexing silence.

Triggs and Lae exchanged glances, sensing the sudden shift in the air.

All of a sudden, without saying another word, the woman stood up from her seat and slowly walked to the door, closing it firmly. Then, she moved to the windows, ensuring they were tightly shut.

Mrs. Santos stopped in her tracks and let out a deep sigh. When she faced the trio again, her demeanor shifted from welcoming to one of coldness and hostility.

With a stern voice, she asked, “So, ‘students’, tell me… What is your true purpose here?”

The trio was astonished; they felt as if they were slowly being exposed.

“So… Sorry po. I think we don’t understand what you meant by that, Mrs. Santos,” Lae replied, still holding on to their act.

“Out of all the households out there, why us? I'm certain you have a completely different reason for wanting to speak with our family.”

Feeling trapped, the trio felt there was nowhere to go and nothing to do but admit their true intentions.

“I’m asking you one last time… What do you want from our family?”

Suddenly, the earlier moment of Mrs. Santos’ meaningful look came back to Triggs’ mind. Determined, he responded, “We need to talk with your son Elijah.”