Even Witches Need Cheats

Aurora didn’t sleep that night.

She lay on her back, glaring at the ceiling. Grandma’s words kept looping in her brain like a mantra:

“The spell would only work if he’s in love with you.”

She flipped her pillow from side to side, groaning. Her thoughts were tangled into knots even a mangkukulam would struggle to undo.

Maybe the spell failed for technical reasons. Grandma was old. Maybe her instructions were outdated. Maybe Victor had counter-spells.

But none of that mattered. Because deep down, she knew what she was really afraid of.

That if he kept sticking around… she’ll fall harder than she meant to.

— • —

Aurora curled under the blanket.

She hated how vividly she remembered the ways he made her feel like she mattered.

She hated how even now—especially now—he was still showing up. Still smiling. Still acting like she wasn’t a walking disaster.

She hated it so much that it hurt.

And the spell not working? That only made it worse.

Victor had no true feelings for her.

And she had to kill any future hope before it turned into something painful.

She sat up, blanket tangled around her legs like vines.

If she was falling into something dangerous, she wasn’t going down unarmed.

And she needed to act fast.

— • —

The next morning, she walked into the kitchen, eyes sharp and lips tight.

“Lola,” she said, “Do you know a manggagayuma*?”

Grandma blinked slowly over her steaming cup of salabat*, setting the mug down on the coffee table.

“…Are you serious?”

Aurora nodded once.

Grandma looked into her eyes, then let out a long, wheezy chuckle.

“I know someone,” she answered. “My friend’s granddaughter. She makes them.”

“Really? What’s her name?” Aurora asked.

“Luningning.”

She rubbed her chin. “Sounds like a noontime-show backup dancer.”

“Don’t make fun of her. She sells gayuma* on Shopit and was raking in money.”

Aurora wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh, wince, or commend Luningning's online marketing prowess.

But she was sure of one thing.

If the heart wasn’t going to listen?

She’d just have to cheat.

— • —

Grandma opened a shopping app and began scrolling.

Aurora leaned over just slightly, watching the screen over her shoulder, amused at how she knew how to navigate this “techie” stuff. After a few swipes and taps, Grandma found it—the storefront.

A cheerful pink icon with glittery borders.

💖Luningning’s Essentials — Cute Items, Charms, & Gayuma 💖

Grandma tapped "Message Us." A chat window opened instantly, revealing a recent conversation.

Right there, in plain text, was an address.

Aurora squinted. “…You’re talking to the gayuma seller directly?”

Grandma didn't answer fast enough. Aurora’s lips curled into a smirk.

“Hey, Lola,” she said slowly, teasing, “why do you have a conversation with a gayuma shop?”

Grandma knew that tone of voice. She turned her head slowly. Menacingly.

In one terrifying, fluid motion, Grandma yanked a slipper from her foot and raised it like a weapon deprived of war.

“YOU BRAT! I was just asking for my friend’s address!”

Aurora cackled and scrambled backwards across the couch.

“I knew it! You’ve been buying—OW!”

Grandma never missed. Smack. Right on the butt.

“Next time I’ll curse you myself,” she hollered, pointing at her with the slipper in hand.

Aurora winced, rubbing her hip.

And grandma slid the slipper back onto her foot with all the dignity of a queen.

— • —

The next morning, Aurora left the house early—before the sun could guilt her into staying.

She had the address saved in her Notes app, scrawled in Grandma’s voice:

"Tell Ningning I sent you. And be polite!"

Three jeepney stops, one train ride, and a tricycle later, she finally arrived.

It was a quiet corner of a sleepy barangay, where the streets were narrow and the breeze carried hints of coffee and dried sardines with fried rice. She stood in front of a small, pastel-painted shop tucked between a local noodle place and a Korean salon.

The sign read:

Luningning’s Corner

Aurora smirked.

“…This looks like a place that sells Hello Kitty merch.”

She cautiously stepped inside. The interior hit her like a glitter bomb.

Shelves lined with plushies, phone charms, and glass jars filled with candies and handcrafted zipper tags. Fairy lights crisscrossed the ceiling. The air smelled like baby powder and cherries.

Everything was pink. Soft. The kind of place you brought a six-year-old niece to. Or a high-school girl who binged on anime. Aurora felt like an anomaly just standing there with a secret mission.

Then a voice rang out from the counter.

“Hi! Welcome~!”

A sweet girl in round glasses, bob cut, and an oversized cardigan waved from behind a glass case filled with lip balms and tiny bottles.

Aurora took a step forward. “Um… hi.”

The girl tilted her head, smiling. “Looking for anything specific today?”

Aurora scratched her cheek, suddenly awkward.

“I’m… looking for someone named Luningning?”

The girl froze.

The warm sparkle behind her glasses dimmed just slightly. Her posture straightened.

“…Why?”

Aurora blinked. “I need... uhm…”

Silence.

Then—

The girl calmly adjusted her glasses. She scanned Aurora up and down. Slowly.

“Hm,” she muttered. “You’re not exactly bursting with feminine appeal, are you?”

Aurora’s brow twitched. “I’m sorry—what?”

“You want love, but you’re walking around like a depressed, overworked student-employee.”

Aurora scoffed internally.

“I’m Luningning.” The girl stepped out from behind the counter, her cardigan swishing like a robe. “Relax, take a seat. Let me do something about your love life.”

Aurora’s lips twitched, fists clenched.

Grandma didn’t warn me she was this evil.

— • —

Minutes later, Luningning returned—coming from behind a sliding shelf that definitely didn’t exist moments ago—holding a tiny glass bottle filled with clear liquid.

She placed it in Aurora’s hand.

“Here,” she said. “It’ll take effect the next morning after the target drinks it.”

Aurora stared at the bottle. Then at Luningning.

“…This is it?”

Luningning sighed. “If you’re expecting something red or something that smells like dead roots, you’ve come to the wrong witch.”

Aurora narrowed her eyes, “It’s literally just water.”

“It’s infused,” Luningning snapped. “Modern customers don’t like long waits. We don't do old school anymore.”

Aurora blinked, then… laughed. A little sheepishly.

“Okay, okay. Fine. I believe you.”

Luningning crossed her arms. “You better.”

As Aurora turned to leave, Luningning called out one last time.

“Oh—and one more thing.”

Aurora paused at the door.

“The gayuma won’t work if the person’s already in love with you.”

Aurora’s brows furrowed.

“...Wait, what?”

“Because it wouldn’t make sense, right?” Luningning just waved. “Just don’t cry if nothing happens. No refunds.”

Aurora nodded as she left the store. She walked towards the tricycle parking, gripping he bottle.

“This should work, right? He’s not in love with me…”

Suddenly, a small ache tugged at her chest.

“But what if he is…?”

Aurora’s head throbbed slightly as she juggled details inside her brain. And her chest tightened, heavy with some vague hope she doesn’t know how to deal with.

But she steeled herself anyway.

A decisive answer.

That’s all she needs.

— • —

Monday came. Aurora walked up the school steps like she wasn’t carrying magical napalm.

The same lights flickered in the same hallway, with the same noise.

And just like always—

“Good morning!” Victor called out.

Aurora flinched a little. Everyone turned to see what's next.

She said nothing and kept walking, calm, cool, composed.

Victor walked beside her like a puppy. He glanced at her hand.

“Whoa—milk tea?”

Aurora nodded, gripping the plastic cup a little tighter. And higher, like an emotional Trojan Horse.

Victor grinned. Then, without warning, he slung an arm around her shoulder.

Aurora gulped.

“He wouldn’t, right? He wouldn’t just…”

And Victor bent down and took a long, thirsty sip.

The hallway gasped like he’d just proposed.

Aurora stared. “Of course he’d drink this. He chugs milk tea like water.”

Victor straightened up, licking his lips.

“Wintermelon. And half sugar, nice.”

Then he strolled into the classroom like nothing had happened.

Aurora stood frozen in the hallway. She clutched the cup like letting go would unravel her inside out.

“Oh no. He drank it. He actually—he really—"

She shut her eyes.

“Okay. It’s fine. If nothing happens tomorrow…

...then I’ll know.

But if it does—"

Aurora paused. She stood in that quiet hallway, unsure about how deep into the rabbit hole she had fallen.

— • —

Author's Notes

Manggagayuma - a person who makes love potions.

Gayuma - a love potion. If a person drinks this, he/she will fall in love with the one who gave him/her the potion.

Salabat - ginger tea