The Bleeding Bean café in Cebu was everything Glad hoped for and nothing she expected.
Hidden in a quiet alley behind Colon Street, the café catered exclusively to supernatural creatures—vampires nursing hemoglobin lattes, a group of tiyanak playing poker in the corner, and what appeared to be a santelmo hovering near the ceiling, occasionally setting off the smoke detector.
"First time?" asked the barista, a cheerful woman with fangs and excellent skin.
"Is it that obvious?"
"You're gripping the menu like it owes you money." The barista smiled. "Don't worry. We all started somewhere. What can I get you?"
Glad scanned the offerings: Abigor Mocha, Blood Bank Frappe, Plasma Pour-Over. "What's good?"
"The Aswanagalog is popular. It's our signature blend with a shot of—"
"Aswanagalog?"
"Bad puns are mandatory here. Creature Comforts of the Philippines, Article 3, Section 2."
Glad ordered the Aswanagalog and found a table near the window, wings carefully retracted. Her date was late. Five minutes. Ten. She was about to leave when—
"Awooooo!"
A black dog bounded through the door, shifted mid-leap, and landed in the seat across from her as a human man.
Ariel—AswangAriel—grinned at her expression. "Sorry! Traffic was terrible, so I ran. Dog form is faster."
Glad blinked. "You... shifted. In public."
"Everyone here shifts in public. That's the point." He gestured around the café. "No humans allowed. Strictly supernatural. They have a bouncer and everything."
She looked toward the door and, sure enough, a kapre sat on a stool, smoking a cigar and checking IDs.
"This is... amazing."
"Right? I come here every week. The wifi is great, and they have charging ports for both phones and... you know... energy vampires." He nodded toward the santelmo, which was now plugged into what looked like a modified outlet. "Very inclusive."
Their drinks arrived. Ariel's was in a bowl on the floor—dog form preferences die hard, apparently. Glad sipped her Aswanagalog and felt something she hadn't felt in decades: comfortable.
"So," Ariel said, "tell me about the viral video. What's it like being the most famous aswang in the Philippines?"
"Terrifying. Exhausting. Also, I have plushies now."
"PLUSHIES?!"
"Of my cat. He attacked a drone. It's a whole thing."
Ariel laughed—a full, genuine laugh that made his dog ears twitch. (He hadn't fully shifted back; some parts took longer than others.) "I saw that video! Your cat is a legend."
"He knows. Trust me, he knows."
They talked for hours—about creature politics, the challenges of modern supernatural life, the best blood delivery services. Ariel ran a small business selling enchanted amulets on Shopee. He had two roommates (a kapre and a duwende) and a plant that was definitely haunted.
"So," he said eventually, "would you want to do this again?"
Glad felt her centuries-old heart flutter. "I'd like that."
"Great! Next time, my place. I'll cook. Do you eat regular food, or—"
"I can eat regular food. I just prefer blood. Less chewing."
"Noted." He shifted back to dog form, gave her a quick lick on the hand (which was weird but also kind of sweet), and bounded out the door.
Glad sat there for a long moment, smiling at nothing.
"First date?" the barista asked, clearing his bowl.
"First date in 112 years."
"Oof. How'd it go?"
Glad looked at the door where Ariel had disappeared.
"I think... I think it went well."
Back in Dumaguete, Anino sat on her windowsill, watching the moon.
He'd known Glad for fifty years. He'd seen her happy, sad, terrified, furious. But this was different.
This was hope.
He purred softly.
Maybe the internet wasn't so bad after all.