Chapter- 8 The Blood Brothers
1086 Words
The year was 1990. Sto. Domingo wasn't a city of glass hospitals yet; it was a town of sugar fields and dirt roads. Nickolas Agrapino was the son of a fallen landowner, and Eduardo Magdallena was the son of a farmer. They had nothing but a shared bike and a promise.The sun was setting, casting long, orange shadows over the Narra tree. Two ten-year-old boys sat on a branch, their legs swinging in the humid air.
"Balang araw, Ed," Nickolas said, looking at the horizon. "Magtatayo ako ng pinakamalaking gusali dito. Isang ospital. Para wala nang mamamatay sa baryo natin dahil lang walang pambili ng gamot."
Eduardo grinned, wiping dirt from his brow. "At ako ang magiging driver mo. Ako ang magdadala sa'yo kahit saan mo gusto. Basta, siguraduhin mong libre ang gamot ng nanay ko, ha?"
Nickolas pulled a small pocketknife from his pocket. He made a tiny nick on his palm, then handed the knife to Eduardo.
"Blood brothers," Nickolas whispered.
They pressed their palms together. The blood was warm, bonding the son of the rich and the son of the poor.
"Hinding-hindi kita iiwan, Ed," Nickolas promised. "Kahit anong mangyari. Ang yaman ko, yaman mo rin."
Ten years later, they were young men. Nickolas had used the last of his family’s land to get through medical school. Eduardo had stayed behind, working three jobs to support Nickolas’s dream, believing in the "hospital" they would build together.
But the world was harder than they thought.
The bank was going to foreclose on the clinic. Nickolas was desperate. That’s when the Pharmaceutical Conglomerate approached him with a "Research Grant." They needed a place to test a new drug—away from the eyes of the city, on a population that wouldn't ask questions.
"Ed, it’s just a trial," Nickolas pleaded in the backroom of their tiny clinic. "The money will save us. We can build the hospital for real! We can save thousands later if we just sacrifice a little bit now."
Eduardo looked at his friend—the brother he had bled for. "Sacrifice? Nickolas, these are our neighbors. These are the people we grew up with. You’re talking about using them like rats."
"I'm talking about progress!" Nickolas shouted, the hunger for power finally eclipsing his heart.
That night, Eduardo realized his brother was gone. He sat under the Narra tree, holding a notebook. He began to write the music—not as a melody of joy, but as a map of the truth. He started the code that would eventually become the "Unfinished Symphony."
He didn't know that Nickolas was watching him from the shadows, already calling the police—already calling Jullian’s father to report a "theft."
The tragedy wasn't that they hated each other. The tragedy was that they loved each other, but Nickolas loved the "Crown" more than the "Brother."
Jullian traveled to Spain not just to find Elena, but to arrest Nicko. He wanted to close the 2008 case with a neat, legal bow. But while digging through the old archives of his own father’s private locker, he finds a hidden compartment. Inside isn't a "Red File"—it’s a Black Box containing the original 2008 police radio transmissions.
MADRID — THE BACKROOM OF THE FIGHT CLUB
Jullian sat in a dim office, the neon lights of the fight club flickering outside the door. Across from him stood Elena and a bloodied Nicko. Jullian held a small, old-fashioned tape recorder on the desk.
"You wanted justice, Elena? You wanted to know why the system 'forgot' Eduardo Magdallena?" Jullian’s voice was hollow. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. "I found out why my father was the 'Hero of Sto. Domingo.' He wasn't a hero. He was a hitman."
He pressed Play.
[POLICE RADIO - AUGUST 2008]
Officer Veloso (Jullian's Father): "Target in sight under the Narra tree. He has the files. What are the orders, Chairman?"
Nickolas Agrapino (The Father): "Do it, Veloso. If those files reach the capital, we both go down. Remember the 'incentive' I gave you. Your son’s tuition, your wife’s debts... it all goes away tonight."
Officer Veloso: "Copy that. Making it look like a struggle. Reporting 'Notorious Criminal' resisting arrest."
A pause. Then, the sound of Jullian's father's voice, shaking but determined:
Officer Veloso: "Forgive me, Eduardo. It’s for my son."
The sound of the shot.
The tape ended with a hiss of static. The silence in the room was even louder. Jullian looked at his hands—the same hands that had worn his father’s ring, the same hands that had carried a badge he was so proud of.
"Justice?" Jullian let out a choked, broken laugh. "My father didn't kill yours because he was a cop, Elena. He killed yours to pay for my life. My education, my food, my clothes... they were all bought with the blood of the man who died under that tree."
"Jullian..." I reached out, but he flinched away.
"I came here to arrest Nicko for being the son of a murderer," Jullian said, looking at Nicko with a strange, tragic brotherhood. "But I'm no different. We’re both just the 'benefits' of our fathers' crimes. I'm not the law, Elena. I'm just the evidence."
Nicko stepped forward, his knuckles still raw from the pit. "Then what do we do, Jullian? Two sons of two murderers... and the girl who lost everything because of us."
Jullian looked at the tape recorder, then at the "Unfinished Symphony" notebook on the table. He stood up and unpinned his badge, dropping it onto the desk.
"The system won't give us justice," Jullian said, his eyes now cold and sharp. "The system is built to protect itself. If we want the truth, we have to burn the system from the outside. Elena has the code. You have the underground network in Spain. And I... I have the police access codes my father left behind."
The triangle was finally complete. The Prince, the Policeman, and the Scholar.
"Anong plano?" I asked, looking between my ex-boyfriend and my childhood love.
"We don't just finish the song," Jullian whispered. "We broadcast it. Every Alcasid laboratory, every corrupt police precinct, every news station in the Philippines. We’re going to play the 'Unfinished Symphony' until the whole country can’t hear anything else."
- Writer
