The Rebel’s Masterclass (Tagalog)

Chapter 4

Buong gabi na namang hindi nakatulog si Nabiya. Kahit ano kasing gawin niyang punas sa laptop niya gamit ang basahang may kaunting alkohol ay ayaw na talagang bumukas ng power light nito. Ang disenyo niya para sa architecture major plate ay tuluyan nang nabura at naging mantsa ng kape. Ang mas malala pa roon, naging usap-usapan siya sa buong university nila. Buong araw siyang pinagbubulungan sa mga corridor, tinuturo ng mga estudyanteng hindi naman niya kilala at binabantayan ng mga kaibigan ni Golda na parang mga buwitre.

She was officially the most hated girl in school at lahat ng iyon ay dahil sa dalawang tarantado sa paningin niya: si Golda na walang magawa sa buhay, at si Rakan na bigla-biglang nagpapakabayani nang walang dahilan.

"Bakit ba kasi kailangang makialam ng lalakeng 'yon?" inis na bulong ni Nabiya habang naglalakad mag-isa sa labas ng campus pagkatapos ng huling klase niya.

The sky was already turning into a bruised shade of purple nang makarating siya sa gilid ng isang tahimik at madilim na kalsada malapit sa school. Nagulat na lang siya nang biglang may humintong pamilyar na black Ducati sa tapat niya. The engine let out a low, aggressive growl bago ito pinatay ng driver.

Rakan pulled off his helmet, his messy hair falling perfectly over his forehead. "Get on."

Nabiya took a step back, her eyebrows furrowing in pure annoyance. "Ano? Tarantado ka ba? Bakit naman ako sasakay sa motor mo?"

"I don't have time for your stubbornness, Torillo," Rakan said, his grey eyes deadpan as he tossed a spare helmet straight into her arms. "Your laptop is dead, and your plates are ruined. Unless you have an extra fifty thousand pesos lying around to buy a new machine tonight, I suggest you shut up and get on the bike."

"Wala bang pera ang girlfriend mo? Bakit ikaw ang bibili ng laptop ko?"

Rakan smirked at her question. "She wouldn't spend a dime on you."

Nabiya looked at the helmet, then at Rakan's serious face. Gustuhin man niyang ihagis ang helmet sa mukha nito, alam niyang tama ang gago. Her major plate was due in forty-eight hours. Kung hindi niya iyon mauumpisahan ulit gamit ang matinong computer, bagsak ang scholarship niya. Magdadalawang-isip pa sana siya, pero dahil sa galit at desperasyon, isinuot niya ang helmet at sumakay sa likod ng motor nito.

The ride was a blur of neon lights and speeding through the traffic of San Castores City. Hindi sila pumunta sa isang mamahaling mall o computer shop. Imbis na roon ay huminto ang motor sa harap ng isang malaki at abandonadong talyer sa gilid ng District 2. The place had a heavy metal rolling door na binuksan ni Rakan gamit ang isang remote control.

Inside, it wasn't just a regular garage. Habang pumapasok si Nabiya, napanganga siya. Half of the space was filled with expensive motorcycle parts and tools, pero ang kalahati naman ay parang isang high-end apartment office—complete with air conditioning, a sleek leather couch, and a massive, liquid-cooled desktop computer na may tatlong malalaking monitors.

"You can use the desktop. All the architecture software you need is already installed," Rakan said casually, tossing his leather jacket onto the couch and lighting a cigarette.

Nabiya took off her helmet, still looking around the massive place. "Magkano naman ang sisingilin mo sa akin dito? Baka akalain mo may pambayad ako, ha."

Rakan let out a slow smoke, leaning against a half-dismantled motorbike. "I don't need your money. I have more than enough of that bullshit."

"Yabang talaga," Nabiya muttered, but she immediately sat in front of the computer to start working on her plate. "Sana all mayaman para bullshit na ang tawag sa pera."

The garage fell into a comfortable silence for the next two hours, broken only by the sound of Nabiya’s rapid clicking on the mouse and Rakan fixing some metal gears in the background. It was the first time Nabiya felt safe since the incident with Golda. Out of nowhere, she stopped typing and turned around to look at him.

"Hoy, Velasco," untag niya. "Bakit mo ba talaga ako ipinagtanggol kay Golda kahapon? You could have just ignored me like you always do."

Rakan froze for a second, the wrench in his hand staying still before he slowly turned his head to look at her. "I told you, I hate loud noises. And Golda’s voice makes me want to commit a felony."

"Sus. Sinungaling," Nabiya countered, crossing her arms. "You knew who I was. Alam mo ang tungkol sa nangyari sa convenience store kahit nakatalukbong ako nun. Sadyang bored ka lang ba talaga kaya mo ginagawa 'to? Ganito ba ang pampalipas oras ng mayayaman?"

Rakan dropped the wrench onto the metal table with a loud clank. He walked slowly toward her, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet garage, until he stopped right behind her chair. He leaned down, his grey eyes locked intensely onto hers, the scent of tobacco and clean cologne invading her senses.

"You want the truth, Torillo?" Rakan asked, his voice dropping into a dangerously quiet whisper. "Fine. I helped you because you're a thief, and I need a thief."

Nabiya’s heart skipped a beat. "Anong sabi mo?"

"The campus thinks I’m just some billionaire’s spoiled son who spends his allowance on fast bikes and high-end parties. But that’s all a f*****g lie," Rakan said, a dark, cynical expression taking over his features. "The money I use? It's dirty. Because I am the only son of Senator Alistair Velasco."

Nabiya felt the air leave her lungs. "Senator Velasco..."

"Yeah."

"Si Senator Velasco? 'Yung tumatakbong Presidente ngayon? Ang balita sa TV, patay na ang asawa niya at wala siyang anak na kasama sa mansion niya—"

"Because he hides me. Because to him, I am a liability that he can't control," Rakan explained, his jaw clenching in raw, unfiltered rage. "Everyone thinks my mother died of a sudden heart attack five years ago. But she didn't. She discovered his offshore bank accounts, his human trafficking connections, and his corporate briberies. She was going to expose him to the media, so he had her killed and paid off the coroners to cover it up."

"Gago pala ng tatay mo?"

Rakan didn't know how to react. But Nabiya stared at him, completely paralyzed by the weight of his words. Ang lalaking akala ng buong university ay may perpektong buhay, ay may ganito palang karumaldumal na lihim. Nabiya cleared her throat. "Kung ganoon... bakit mo sinasabi sa akin 'to ngayon?"

"Because his secure private vaults are inside the high-security Velasco Estate in Aura Ridge. The security system is military-grade, and the guards are heavily armed," Rakan said, leaning closer until his forehead almost touched hers. "I can disable the digital network from the outside, but I need someone small, invisible, and fast enough to physically bypass the motion sensors and retrieve the true autopsy files and the encrypted digital ledger from his safe. I need a ghost, Nabiya. And you're the best amateur I've ever seen."

Nabiya let out a nervous laugh, her chest tightened with fear. "Baliw ka ba? Senator ang tatay mo! Pwede tayong mamatay kapag nahuli tayo roon! Putcha, shoplifter lang ako dahil nagugutom ang pamilya ko, hindi ako professional criminal!"

"I will fund everything your family needs for the next ten years, Torillo. Tuition, medicine, food, a new house—name it, and it’s yours," Rakan countered smoothly, his grey eyes holding an intense, protective promise that made her knees weak. "You help me expose the murderer who killed my mother, and I will make sure you never have to steal a single box of milk for the rest of your life. Do we have a deal?"

Nabiya looked at his desperate, angry eyes, then at the ruined plate on the desk. She knew that stepping into Rakan's world meant putting a target on her back, but looking at him now, she realized they were both just trying to survive the monsters of San Castores City.

"Sige," Nabiya finally whispered, her voice hardening with resolve. "Pero oras na mapahamak ang pamilya ko dahil dito, ako mismo ang papatay sa'yo, Velasco."

Rakan’s lips curved into that rare, genuine smirk that sent a strange warmth blooming in her chest. "Fair enough, Torillo. Welcome to the rebel's masterclass."