The room stayed quiet for a while after that.
Not the kind of quiet that feels peaceful.
More like the kind that lingers after something heavy has already left, but everyone is still catching up to the fact that it's gone.
Mrs. Perez didn't let go of her daughter. Not even slightly. Mr. Perez stayed close beside them, one hand resting on the bed like he was afraid that if he moved, everything would rewind itself.
For a brief moment, it really looked like everything was over.
Safe.
Done.
But my mind didn't slow down with the rest of the room.
I straightened.
The warmth in the air didn't matter to me.
A job is still a job.
Gratitude doesn't change the fact that resources were used.
I exhaled slowly and stepped forward.
"Since everything's settled," I said, voice steady, careful not to cut too harshly into the moment, "we'll proceed with the payment."
That was enough to shift the atmosphere.
Gino blinked like he just got pulled back into reality.
Sarah straightened immediately.
And Cynthia…
Cynthia was already ready.
She stepped forward smoothly, hands clasped together, wearing that polite smile that somehow felt more professional than anything else in the room.
"Mr. Perez," she said gently, "we're really glad your daughter is safe. Sorry to interrupt such an emotional moment."
A pause.
Her tone stayed soft.
Then she tilted her head slightly.
"But since this is a service-based operation, we'll need to settle the consultation fee so we can continue operating properly."
It was said so politely it almost felt like she was apologizing for reality existing.
Gino leaned slightly toward me and muttered, "She's terrifying."
I nodded once. "Yeah."
Mr. Perez let out a breath, then actually chuckled.
Not bitter.
More like someone who had already accepted everything at this point.
"So this is the part where I get scared," he said, glancing at all of us. "How much is saving my daughter going to cost me?"
No resistance.
No anger.
Just acceptance.
Because his daughter was alive.
That was the only thing that mattered now.
I stepped forward again.
"We opened this service to be compensated," I said plainly. "We used items during the operation. Those are included in the total."
I didn't soften it.
There was no reason to.
I already knew the weight of what was used.
And more importantly, I already knew how much it cost to replace.
In my head, the conversion was automatic.
Whatever this was worth in real terms… it was never cheap.
And somehow, it always felt like I was still losing more than I was gaining.
Mrs. Perez carefully guided their daughter back to a resting position again, sitting beside her like she was afraid even blinking too hard might break the moment. The girl looked exhausted, but the danger was gone now. That much was clear.
Mr. Perez stayed still for a second longer, then looked back at us.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Just… tell me the total."
Cynthia immediately moved like she had been waiting for that exact sentence.
She pulled out a notepad and pen.
Calm.
Precise.
Like she wasn't negotiating a supernatural aftermath, but closing a business deal.
"Four Holy Crucifixes," I began, counting in my head. "Five thousand each."
Cynthia wrote without hesitation.
"Holy Rosary," I continued. "Ten thousand."
Another clean line.
"Holy Water," I added. "Ten thousand as well."
I paused for a moment, doing the math again.
"…That's already forty thousand just for items."
Gino exhaled lightly. "Expensive way to pray."
Sarah elbowed him. "Seriously, not now."
I ignored them and continued.
Then I stopped.
Because the next part wasn't itemized yet.
The service fee.
Cynthia looked up at me, waiting.
I leaned slightly toward her and lowered my voice.
"Ten thousand for service," I said quietly.
Fair. Simple. Enough to cover effort.
Cynthia nodded once.
Then she wrote something else.
I saw it immediately.
Fifty thousand.
I blinked.
"…That's not what I said."
She didn't even look apologetic.
"They almost lost their daughter," she replied calmly. "That's not something you underprice."
Gino leaned in slightly. "That escalated so fast."
Sarah didn't even argue this time. Just accepted it like it was logical.
I exhaled through my nose.
"…Fine."
Mr. Perez had been watching the entire exchange like he was witnessing four young adults redefine what professionalism meant in real time.
Then he chuckled again.
"I feel like I'm being robbed by professionals," he said, shaking his head.
Cynthia smiled sweetly.
"We prefer 'properly compensated,' sir."
That almost got me.
Almost.
She finalized the total.
Ninety thousand pesos.
The paper was slid forward like it was just another receipt.
"Final computation," she said.
Mr. Perez looked at it.
Then leaned back slightly.
Then laughed properly.
Relief. Exhaustion. Gratitude. All mixed together.
"That's it?" he said. "That's all it costs to bring my daughter back?"
He didn't hesitate. He seemed like he was expecting something grand. Was I really asking quite cheaply? I wouldn't know.
He pulled out his phone and made the transfer.
We all watched.
Silently.
The amount appeared.
100,000 pesos.
Cynthia blinked. "Sir, the total was-"
"I know," he said with a small smile. "The extra is a tip."
I didn't respond.
I just watched the number sit there like it didn't belong in this room.
Ninety thousand.
One hundred thousand.
Just like that.
For them, it was gratitude.
For me…
It was numbers breaking into meaning I was still getting used to holding.
Gino leaned back. "Nice. We got paid."
Sarah nodded. "Good work."
Cynthia was already organizing everything again like this was just another business day.
And me…
I kept looking at the screen a second too long.
"…I'm the only one still surprised by zeros," I muttered.
Gino glanced at me. "What?"
"Nothing."
I turned away.
But my thoughts didn't.
Because somewhere in the back of my mind, everything was already being recalculated.
Not just money.
Not just cost.
But what it meant to keep going at this pace.
And one thing was clear.
This wasn't going to stay simple for long.