Juan lay flat on the sala couch while sister Nene put wet face towel on his forehead. Mrs. Cruz prepared a cup of barako coffee, Juan's favorite, which she gave to Nene.
Give this coffee to your brother. Avoid scalding him. Juan slightly regained consciousness after Nene applied the wet towel.
What happened? Juan asked his sister. Drink this coffee before you talk. After a few sips Juan could remember the mayor's dinner – the Chinese food and the strong wine which downed him, but he could not remember anything else, like signing a document.
Go to sleep, Juan, the mayor will see you tomorrow. Juan lost consciousness and dreamed that he was back in the city of the damned. No sooner had he entered the gate of hell when the damned spirits surrounded him. Some she devils got hold of his arms, while the other male devils were pushing him with their trident. He was made to feed on exotic food which suddenly turned to worms and scorpions laced with putrid blood.
Juan woke up with a start. He sweated coldly. What have I done? Then he remembered St Peter.
If this was the will of the Holy Father that I dwell among the fallen and the damned, I accept my fate. But grant me my last will, that I die fighting for the good. And Juan went back to sleep.
The morning birds were chirping and chasing each other in the garden when Juan woke up. Sunlight was breaking through the trees and filtered through the laced curtained windows of Juan's room. He rose with a start and looked at the wall clock. Half past five. He went down to the kitchen and found his mother cooking a "torta"—eggplant dipped in eggs and some dried tuyo. Juan greeted his mother and prepared a cup of coffee.
Son, just to remind you that the mayor is coming over. Juan remembered his dream and braced up for the encounter.
Thank you, Mother. I'll take my shower.
The mayor did not come during the appointed hour, so Juan thought that he was not coming. He was wrong. The mayor arrived when the sun was about to sink behind the western horizon covered by dark clouds. A thunder storm was coming. Soon rain splattered on the roof. Lightning flashed and cracked in succession, sending the bats which were coming out of the old abandoned lighthouse in disarray.
The mayor came out of his car into the rain but he was not wet when he appeared at the door of Juan's home.
May I come in, Juan. Juan was not surprised. He knew he was part of the damned spirits.
Please come, have a seat, mayor.
I won't stay long, Juan. If you could remember, you signed a contract with me. Yes, I can remember, but you made me sign it when I was not in my proper mental state. You made me sign a wager after which my soul is yours.
Twenty years of prosperity and comfort. Your family will be spared, what else can you wish for, said Beelzebub, disguised as the mayor.
And if I refused to surrender to your evil design?
You and your family and your beloved people will suffer.
Give me a few days to think it over. I want to consult my lawyer.
Or Peter? derided Beel.
Well, I'm not yours yet. I'm free to pursue my life the way I want it.
You have signed the wager.
Under duress.
So be it, quipped Beel. You mortals are weak and prone to errors.
And you take advantage of our weakness.
Alright then. I will not force you to abide by the wager. But it's a close deal. Enjoy your life, Juan. You can have your peace. And the devil puffed out from Juan's sight. Twenty years, said Juan. Not a bad wager. I can still pursue my wager. God, you are my shepherd.
