Marked by Monsters

Application and Ads

3 years later. 8:47am. Calder Properties Building, Balete City.

The building was glass and steel and too clean for 8am.

Air conditioning that hit you like a wall. A security guard in a navy uniform who checked IDs like he was paid per frown. A directory in the lobby that listed 14 companies Dax Calder owned, all with names that sounded expensive and vague.

Shiloh stood in front of it with a folder in her hands.

The folder was thin. Resume printed on the cheapest paper. Transcript with a highlighted GPA. Barangay clearance that still smelled like ink. 3 recommendation letters from professors who probably didn’t remember her face, just her grades.

She hadn’t slept. Again.

She’d been awake since 4am, riding two jeeps and a bus to get here. She left before Nanay Rosa and Tatay Ben woke up so they wouldn’t see her leave with nothing to eat. Her white hoodie was gone. Now it was a black polo, borrowed from her blockmate, a size too big. Jeans washed too many times. Rubber shoes with the sole starting to peel. Hair in a low bun. No makeup. No jewelry.

She looked up at the ads taped to the glass doors, already curling at the edges from humidity.

*`HIRING: MARKET STALL ASSISTANT - BALETE NIGHT MARKET`*

*`HIRING: ADMIN AIDE - CALDER PROPERTIES`*

*`HIRING: INVENTORY CLERK - WAREHOUSE 3`*

Minimum wage. No experience needed. Can start immediately.

She needed all three.

Tuition was due next week. ₱18,500. Her adoptive parents’ sari-sari store barely covered rice and electricity. She’d been picking up odd jobs for 3 years. Laundry for boarding students. Encoding for a thesis writer. Selling load and GCash. None of it was enough. She was behind.

Shiloh pushed the door open. The AC hit her face.

---

*8:52am. 12th Floor. Calder Properties.*

Dax didn’t look up when his assistant said “There’s a line for applications, sir.”

“Send them to HR,” he said. He was on a call. “No, move the Tanauan warehouse to next quarter. I don’t care what it costs. Just do it.”

He hung up. Rubbed his eyes.

He was 29 now. Same coat, but tailored now. Different problems.

The market was bigger. The city was louder. Calder Properties owned 3 more blocks. And the ache in his ribs hadn’t come back in 3 years.

He didn’t think about the girl under the streetlight anymore. Not often. Just sometimes, when he did rounds at 3am and saw a white hoodie in the crowd.

His phone buzzed. Marco:

`North is asking about the lease again. And there’s a girl downstairs. 4th time this month. Keeps applying for everything.`

Dax frowned. “What girl?”

`White folder. Doesn’t talk much. HR says she’s qualified but overqualified for stall assistant. Business degree. Keeps coming back.`

Dax stared at the ceiling. He had 20 minutes before his next meeting.

“Send her up,” Dax said. “5 minutes.”

He had no idea why.

---

*9:05am.*

Shiloh sat across from him.

The office was all glass and wood. No photos. No clutter. Just a desk, two chairs, and a view of the city that made her feel small.

She didn’t recognize him. Not really.

The coat was different. The hair was shorter, neater. He looked cleaner. Richer. Tired in a different way. The last time she saw him he was bleeding under a streetlight, coat open, voice low. This man wasn’t bleeding. This man looked like he signed the checks.

Dax didn’t recognize her either.

3 years. Different clothes. Different face. The girl from the market had been softer. Hoodie too big. Eyes on the moon. This one was sharp. Guarded. Shoulders straight like she was bracing for impact.

“Shiloh Beltran,” Dax said, reading the resume. “Business Administration. Dean’s Lister. 3.8 GPA. Dean’s award for accounting.”

“Yes sir,” Shiloh said. Her voice was even.

“You applied for stall assistant. Admin aide. And inventory clerk.”

“Yes sir. Whatever’s available.”

“Why?”

Shiloh hesitated. Her hands gripped the folder. “Tuition. And... family.”

Dax looked at her. Really looked. She was thin. Dark circles under her eyes that makeup couldn’t have covered. The polo was borrowed. He could tell by the way the shoulders didn’t fit.

“You don’t look like someone who needs a stall job,” Dax said.

“I need money, sir,” Shiloh said. Flat. No shame. “Not a title.”

Dax leaned back. He’d interviewed 40 people this month. Most of them talked too much. This one didn’t waste words.

“We have an opening in accounting,” Dax said. “Night shift. 10pm to 6am. Pays more. But it’s at the market office. You’d be dealing with vendors. Cash. Reports. Complaints at 2am.”

Shiloh blinked. “I can do that.”

“You sure? It’s not easy. People get loud. Some of them don’t pay on time.”

“I’m used to loud,” Shiloh said.

Dax nodded. “Start Monday. HR will call you today for requirements.”

Shiloh stood. “Thank you, sir.”

She turned to leave.

“Wait,” Dax said.

Shiloh stopped. Didn’t turn around.

“Have we met before?” Dax asked. Casual. Like he asked everyone that.

Shiloh turned. Frowned. “No, sir.”

“Right,” Dax said. “HR will call.”

Shiloh left. Closed the door quietly.

Dax watched her go. Something about the way she walked. Straight. Fast. Like she was expecting something to jump out from the hallway.

He shook it off. He had a meeting in 10.

---

*9:30am. Outside.*

Shiloh sat on the steps of the building. The sun was already hot.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t smile.

She just exhaled.

One job. Night shift. ₱22,000 a month. Enough to pay tuition. Enough to help at home.

She pulled out her phone. The screen was cracked. Texted Nanay Rosa:

*`Got it. Accounting. Night shift. Starting Monday.`*

The reply came fast:

*`Praise God anak. Be careful at night. Eat something.`*

Shiloh put the phone away. Looked up at the building.

She didn’t know who owned it. Not really. Just “Calder Properties.” The name on the ads.

And the man inside didn’t know her.

That was good.

She stood up and walked away. Two jeeps and a bus back home. She’d sleep on the ride.

---

*The next 5 days.*

Shiloh didn’t sleep much. She went to HR. Submitted papers. Got her uniform: black polo with “CALDER MARKET OFFICE” on the chest. Got her schedule.

She told Nanay Rosa and Tatay Ben she got a job “in an office.” She didn’t say night shift. Not yet.

She went to the market once, on Saturday afternoon, when it was closed. Just to see it. The stalls were empty. The lights were off. It looked smaller in the day.

---

*11:00pm. Sunday. Balete Night Market.*

Dax was doing rounds. He still did that. Once a week.

Lena was at the coffee counter, even though it was closed. She was wiping down machines.

“You look tired,” Lena said.

“New hire,” Dax said. “Starts tonight. Accounting.”

“Name?”

“Shiloh Beltran.”

Lena paused. The rag stopped moving. “Shiloh?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Lena looked out at the market. At the streetlight on the corner. The same one from 3 years ago.

“No reason,” Lena said. “Just... be good to her.”

Dax frowned. “I always am.”

Lena didn’t answer.

Across the market, a girl in a black polo was sweeping in front of a closed stall. Getting familiar with the place before her first shift. Checking where the office was. Where the bathroom was. Where the exits were.

She didn’t look up.

Dax didn’t see her. He was already walking toward the warehouse.

*10:30pm. Market Office.*

Shiloh clocked in.

The office was small. One computer. Stacks of receipts. A fan that buzzed.

Her supervisor, Ate Grace, was 40 and tired. “You’re the new one? Good. Here’s the logbook. Count the cash from stalls 1 to 30. If anyone argues, call security. Don’t leave before 6.”

“Yes, Ate,” Shiloh said.

The night started. Vendors came in to pay. Some were nice. Some were drunk. Some tried to shortchange her.

Shiloh didn’t flinch. She counted. She logged. She stayed quiet.

At 2:14am, a man yelled about his rent. Shiloh looked up, wrote it down, and said “I’ll note it for Mr. Calder.” The man left.

At 4am, she took her break. Ate the pandesal Nanay Rosa packed. Drank water.

At 5:50am, she finished the reports.

She was locking the drawer when the door opened.

Dax.

He wasn’t supposed to be here this early.

He stopped when he saw her.

Shiloh stood. “Good morning, sir. I’m Shiloh Beltran. Accounting. Night shift.”

Dax looked at her. At the uniform. At the logbook. At the dark circles.

“Right,” Dax said. “The new hire.”

“Yes sir.”

Dax nodded. “How was it?”

“Quiet,” Shiloh said.

Dax almost smiled. “It usually isn’t.”

He walked past her to check the books. Shiloh went back to her seat.

Neither of them said anything else.

Outside, the market was starting to wake up. Vendors setting up. The smell of coffee.

Dax left without another word.

Shiloh clocked out at 6:01am.

On the bus home, she fell asleep with her head against the window.