Prologue: Sorrow in Some of its Forms

“I quit.”

Shinichi Nishiyama, better known to the world as Subaru Nishiyama, charismatic (and often enigmatic) front man of Pleiades Project, looked up sharply when he heard those two words.

Lusia Saavedra, nicknamed Luce by everyone who knew her, was standing behind Shinichi’s chair. She wasn’t a very tall woman (five feet and four inches, somewhat augmented by the platform-soled silver-buckled boots she wore), but the way she carried herself gave people the impression that she was taller than she actually was. Her dark hair was very long, but was currently caught up in a severe chignon at the back of her head.

Like everyone else who worked with Pleiades Project, she was dressed up in Lolita fashion. Luce, however, eschewed the girly-girl Sweet Loli and the more extreme Punk Loli aesthetic. Instead, her clothes were all in the Classic Lolita manner: a more mature appearance, sensible colors, a look more functional than whimsical. As she sometimes put it herself, it was a look well suited to her Baroque figure. Today’s outfit was an almost-severe black dress with a white bib collar, and a neatly tied black bow at the throat. Coupled with the grim look on her face, it made Luce look like she was in deep mourning.

“I thought you weren’t coming back from Manila till next week,” Shinichi said as he swiveled his chair to face her.

“Change of plans,” Luce replied, sitting in the chair Shinichi pointed to her.

“I take it your vacation didn’t go exactly as planned?” Shinichi rose and strode across the room to the sideboard where he kept a modest collection of wines and liqueurs. He turned inquisitively to Luce. “Want a drink?”

Shinichi saw her nod and expected her to opt for red wine (the Pleiades Project team’s tipple of choice), a shot of lemon vodka, or some Bailey’s Irish Cream on the rocks. When she asked for brandy instead, he knew that something was definitely wrong.

“What’s bothering you, Luce?” he asked as he handed her a snifter before returning to his desk.

“Martin and I broke up,” came the blunt reply.

Shinichi’s eyes widened in surprise. Luce and Martin Arevalo had been dating since their college days and just got engaged the previous Christmas. Despite the distance between them, they were able to make the relationship work. Or so everyone thought till now.

“I went to his office to pick him up for dinner,” Luce related in a soft voice between sips of brandy. “I arrived on time and thought he was ready to go.” She grimaced at the memory. “I was wrong.”

“What happened?”

“Something I should have foreseen,” Luce replied bitterly. “I found Martin shagging his secretary on the floor of his office.”

Shinichi nearly choked on a mouthful of brandy.

“It was something I would have totally expected from you or some other guy with libertine tendencies,” Luce went on as Shinichi spluttered. “Not from Martin.”

In his mind’s eye, Shinichi could see Martin: a tall young man with Castilian features and wavy hair. He shook his head, wryly; Luce couldn’t imagine her man cheating on her, but Shinichi knew for a fact that girls should never trust handsome boys who spoke with a wheedling tone in their voices the way he remembered Martin did.

“I blame myself for it,” he now heard Luce say. Her face was blank but her eyes were filled with pain. “Maybe if I wasn’t such a prude…”

Shinichi shook his head. While he himself was sexually active, he admired his second-in-command for her unnerving self-control, her unwavering restraint. Luce stayed a virgin not because she was a prude, but more because she was too busy with everything else to actually get a shag even from her boyfriend. Luce was a woman with a plan – and had never been about to let anyone get in her way.

“Don’t beat yourself over the head about it, Luce,” Shinichi admonished her as he finished the last of his brandy. “It wasn’t your fault. It’s all his; damned fucker couldn’t keep Mr. Happy in his pants.”

Wearily, Luce pressed a hand to her forehead. “I need to get out of all this, chief,” she sighed. “I want to go somewhere far, far away from everything familiar.”

Shinichi leaned forward and regarded her worriedly. “Where will you go?” he asked. “What will you do?”

Luce shrugged. “Go back to Manila,” she said. “Get into another field; maybe try technical writing for a while. Distance myself from anything that can – and will – remind me of Martin.”

“Luce, you’re the best publicist in the field!” Shinichi exclaimed in protest. “You can’t just quit!”

“I can.” Luce drained her snifter and put it down. She gazed directly at her boss. “I will, and – my God! – if it helps, I’ll enter a convent and just stay there for the rest of my life!”

Shinichi stared at her in consternation as she rose and left the room. When the door slammed behind Luce, he began to laugh. Good luck, Luce! he thought mirthfully. I’m willing to bet that no convent in the world will ever be able to take you on!


***


Meanwhile, in a posh funeral chapel in Quezon City, the sound of Buddhist funeral mantras echoed in the still, cold air. Around the room were the traditional trappings of Chinese-Filipino mourning: a garishly colored paper house that would be burned at the funeral, paper “money”, offerings of incense and fruit, and a portrait of the deceased decorated with black and white ribbons on a table beside the casket.

The three Huang siblings – Bettina, Graham, and Gilbert – were huddled together on one of the couches, looking dreadfully pale and wan.

Their mother had finally joined their dad in the Great Hereafter. Anastacia Kua-Huang’s health went downhill when her husband died in an accident a couple of years before, and the poor woman never recovered. As she told her youngest child at her deathbed, “I don’t mind going, so long as I get to be with your father again.”

Poor Mama, Gilbert, the youngest of the three, thought as he rose and stood beside his mother’s coffin. She loved Papa so much that she really couldn’t live without him. He rested his hand on the coffin lid and sighed. Well, at least, they’re back together.

He slid a glance over to where his brother and sister sat with their significant others. His older sister’s husband stood protectively behind the couch, his hands resting on her shoulders. His older brother’s fiancée sat beside him, their hands entwined in his lap and her head resting on his shoulder.

Lucky ducks, Gilbert thought enviously. Then again, he was barely 21 and more than a little shy around girls. There would be time enough for that. At least, he hoped he would have time for that.

He knew he could bury his grief in his new job – his first job, as a matter of fact. His mother was so proud when he came to the hospital to tell her he aced the interview and signed the contract! It broke his heart to see the joy shining in her pain-ravaged eyes and tears had spilled down his cheeks when her shaking hands cupped his face for the last time.

“Don’t you cry now, syoti,” she had whispered to him, calling him “baby” again after all these years. “Just remember that I’ll be in a better place – no more pain, no more suffering.”

He blubbered like an infant when she said that; it was a memory that hit him most acutely as he stood by her coffin.

Someone’s mobile phone rang; it was his sister’s and she quietly excused herself to take the call in a small room that served as a temporary kitchen. Even if she went to another room and even if she was in mourning, those weren’t enough to tone down the sound of Bettina Huang-Tanner’s voice or her bubbly personality.

“Lusia!” they heard her exclaim. “Thank you so much for the flowers. It’s a blessing you remembered how Mama loved pink roses and jasmine.”

Gilbert’s eyes strayed to the fragrant bouquet that had been draped over their mother’s coffin. In fond remembrance was written on the black ribbons in silvery script. He then remembered his sister’s closest friend from college. Gilbert never met her and could never remember her name, but he heard about her all the time when he was younger and was delighted whenever she sent Japanese sweets and things over to their house. From what his sister said, she was a very kind woman.

“How long will you be in town?” Bettina now asked. Then, a hint of stupefaction (if not outright horror): “What?!? Oh, you poor girl! Why, why we ought to kill the bastard!”

Gilbert’s jaw dropped in shock at that; similar expressions of surprise were on the faces of those who were with him.

Bettina emerged from the kitchen, shaking her head as she stowed her phone back into her pocket. She stood beside her youngest brother and sighed.

“That poor girl!” she exclaimed to their mother’s body, as if she were merely making a complaint to a living person. “You liked her lots, Mama; I think you’d agree with me about what should be done to that jerk she just broke up with.”

“Bad breakup?” Gilbert murmured.

“And then some!” Bettina grumbled. “Talk about catching the guy in flagrante delicto!” She frowned and shook her head. “Luce is quitting her job because she doesn’t want to have anything that’ll remind her of happier times. “Worse: she’s thinking of entering a convent!”

“A convent?” Graham exclaimed in consternation from where he sat. “Lusia?” Despite his grief, Graham managed to laugh. “She’s kidding, isn’t she, Achi?”

“I hope so!” Bettina replied. She grinned mischievously at Graham. “I wonder if Mama ever got around to telling you she would have wanted you to date my friend?”

Graham grinned back and put an arm about his grinning fiancée. “I wouldn’t last five seconds with her,” he said dryly. “She’s a wonderful person, though; pity about her current twist of fate.”

“I never met her,” Gilbert remarked absently.

“I hope you do meet her one of these days, Gib,” Bettina told him, a curious smile on her face. “I really hope you do.”

***