1807.
Astana Putih, Philippines.
Jet black hair falls through her shoulder. Cecilia treads onto the nipa hut. Plastering a poker face, she heeds to the reverent adviser's command to gather the list of Defenders of Moro trainees for the final selection.
Today's another boresome day, she mutters, glances left and right: no person, no spy. Clink!
The entrance unlocks.
Behold, a Filipino-Chinese man, three years her junior, organizes the Moro group's files standing before her.
A new clerk.
She smirks, requesting papers.
He nods and turns back, finding the materials she needs. Cecilia gazes at him secretly, amused by his figure. His eyes, lips...
Pretty boy.
Today's a lovely day.
