Homecoming, Embrace of Chaos, Is that an Inspector?

Chapter Fifteen: Homecoming, Embrace of Chaos, Is that an Inspector?

Home again.

The familiar scent of old wood, burnt coffee, and stale dust wrapped around me the moment I stepped inside. The shop looked exactly the same—every worn floorboard, every chipped corner—but after everything I’d been through, it felt different.

Less like a storefront. More like a sanctuary.

A cathedral of clutter. A chapel of second chances.

“Squaaawk!”

[BEP TRANSLATION: You still look like a wet rug, hairless ape. But… good job.]

Kapitan sat on his perch, his blue feathers ruffled, voice rough from what I assumed was days of screaming at haggling customers.

“Kuya Pepito! Welcome back!”

Marikit popped up behind the counter like a spring-loaded miracle. She dropped her rag and rushed over, her eyes scanning me from head to toe, checking for missing limbs.

“You’re okay!”

I laughed shakily. “Yeah. I’m back—for good this time.”

I collapsed into my chair behind the counter. It creaked in protest, a loud, complaining groan, but it felt like a throne. After sleeping on dirt and dodging shadow monsters? I’d earned this creaky seat. I almost died for it.

“What was it like?” Marikit asked, perching on a stool, eyes wide. “Being an adventurer? Did you fight dragons? Did you save a princess?”

“Oh, it was amazing,” I said, stretching sore limbs that popped like bubble wrap. “Want the full version?”

“YES!”

So I told her.

I painted the Forest of Amihan in dread and moss. I described the ambush. I might’ve exaggerated my bravery just a little—okay, a lot. I left out the part where I screamed like a banshee and focused on the tactical brilliance of the firecrackers.

I kept Tak’s heroics intact, though. Credit where credit’s due.

Marikit gasped, flinched, and cheered.

“You beat two Tikbalang?!” she squeaked.

Whistle.

[BEP TRANSLATION: “Weh, di nga?” (Oh really? I doubt it.)]

Kapitan eyed me with skepticism.

“Alimpatak did most of the fighting,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. “I mostly… screamed helpful things. And threw spicy air at them.”

“They said you saved them!” Marikit insisted.

“Well… I was terrified. But now I know what adventurers actually need. Call it market research—with teeth.”

She giggled. It was a good sound. The shop felt alive again.

Then—

“Pee-pitohhh! It’s me, Susan! Are you home?!”

The voice came from outside, shrill with worry. I cracked the door open.

“What’s wro—”

WHAM.

She slammed into me like a rhinoceros in pearls.

“Oh thank God you’re safe!” she cried, crushing me in a panic hug. “Are you hurt? Do you need a healer? A shaman? Holy water?!”

She was shaking. Actually shaking.

“It’s my fault,” she whispered into my shoulder. “I never should’ve sent you… I thought the guild would send seasoned veterans, not…”

I wanted to reassure her. I really did.

Unfortunately, my face was currently buried in the Lakanbini’s very ample, very noble bosom.

“Mmmrgh—!”

“Pepito?! Your throat?! Is it crushed?!”

Squaaawk!

“MISS SUSAN!” Marikit yelled, scandalized but helpful. “KUYA PEPITO CAN’T BREATHE!”

Susan froze. Looked down. Realized she was essentially waterboarding me with cleavage.

“Oh my gosh!”

She released me instantly. I staggered back, gasping for air, clutching the doorframe.

“Muntik na ’ko mamatay sa bundok,” I wheezed. (I almost died in the mountains.) “But this? This was a much closer call.”

Susan turned a brilliant shade of crimson, clasping her hands together. “You’re okay!”

“Alimpatak did the fighting,” I said, regaining my composure. “I mostly… item-chucked from safety. Strategic cowardice.”

She frowned, her brow furrowing. “That’s not what I heard. Tak came by the Town Hall. He said you handled the fight. He said you… erased the monsters.”

Record scratch.

“What exactly did Tak tell you?!”

She dropped to her knees, right there on the dusty floorboards.

“Whoa—hey!” I knelt immediately. “Susan, get up. The floor is dirty.”

“I thought I sent you to your death,” she whispered, ignoring the dust on her silk dress. “When I heard about the Shadow Longstrides… Pepito, those are Crystal-rank. People don’t come back from that.”

“I’m alive,” I said gently, offering her a hand. “Thanks to them. And thanks to… well, being weirdly prepared.”

She let me help her up. She leaned on my arm for a second, composing herself. She took a deep breath.

Then—click.

Business Susan activated.

Her posture straightened. Her eyes sharpened. The weeping friend vanished, replaced by the Lakanbini of Sarimanok.

“So,” she said, smoothing her skirt. “Was it worth it?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, switching to business mode myself. “I’m ready for the inspection.”

Her gaze narrowed. She stepped closer, invading my personal space again, but this time with interrogation intent.

“You have a storage skill, don’t you?”

Panic. System crash. Windows shutdown noise.

“Wh—what?!”

She smirked. “You’re a terrible liar. Cute, though. Tak mentioned the ‘Logistics Magic.’ And you always pull the exact right gear out of that small bag.”

“…Okay. Yes.”

“I knew it,” she said smugly. “I knew there was a reason you were so confident.”

“I thought you said it was your intuition.”

“I lied.”

“You what?”

“Lesson one in negotiation, Pepito: Never reveal your source.” She winked. “Do you have anything that might impress the Royal Inspector? Because if you have a Spatial Inventory, you must have goods from… wherever you’re from.”

I grinned. “Plenty.”

“Ooh! I wanna see!” Marikit bounced closer.

I opened my phone. [Protocol: Show and Tell initiated.]

“Ladies… behold.”

I pulled items from the Tampipi app, laying them on the counter.

* Lightweight Survival Meals (MREs): Specifically the beef stew variant.

* Thermal Emergency Blanket: A folded square of silver Mylar, smaller than a wallet.

* Collapsible Water Flask: Silicon, durable, and space-saving.

Susan picked up the foil square. “This is… a blanket? It looks like jewelry wrapper.”

“Unfold it.”

She did. It crinkled loudly, expanding into a massive, shimmering sheet. She draped it over her shoulders.

“…It’s warm,” she whispered, eyes widening. “Instantly warm. It reflects my own body heat back at me.”

“Correct. Lightweight. Waterproof. Windproof. And it makes you look like a baked potato, which is a fashion statement.”

“These are incredible,” she murmured. “The army would kill for these. The explorers… the fishermen…”

“Just the beginning.”

She smiled sweetly. A dangerous smile.

“Good. Because the Royal Inspector? They’re already in the next town.”

Silence.

“…Already?”

“Better hurry, Pepito. Fix the shop. Make it shine.”

Interlude: The Fairy Warning

That night, before the inspection, I made a quick run back to Pasig via the portal in the pantry. I needed stock, and I needed answers.

Ninang Josie was counting receipts at her stall, smoking a cigarette with the intensity of a dragon.

“Ninang,” I said, dumping a box of instant noodles on the counter. “Quick question. During my adventure… I saw a girl. Floating. No wings. She warned me about the monsters.”

Ninang paused. She looked at me, smoke curling from her lips.

“Anak,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Those are called Engkantada. Like Maria Makiling.”

“So… not a fairy?”

“No. Fairies are small and play pranks. Engkanto… they are the spirits of the land. They guard their domain. If she warned you, it means she likes you. Or she thinks you’re amusing.”

“Amusing is better than dead,” I muttered.

“They are territorial,” Ninang warned, pointing a calloused finger at me. “Do not disrespect the forest. And do not litter. If you litter in an Engkanto’s forest, you won’t just get a fine. You’ll get turned into a banana tree.”

“Noted. No littering. Thanks, Ninang. Gotta go. Inspection day.”

“Take care, Anak! Bring me gold next time!”

The Long Wait

“This inspector is taking a long time,” I sighed, leaning back in my creaky chair.

The next day had been agonizing. I’d scrubbed the floor. Marikit had polished the glass jars until they were invisible. Kapitan had been bribed with premium crackers to not bite anyone.

The shop groaned with me like two veterans of failed paperwork.

“Do you think they got lost, Kuya Pepito?” Marikit asked, wiping the counter for the fiftieth time. The cloth squeaked like it was mocking us.

“I doubt it,” I said. “The road from the port is straight. They’re just taking their time. Bureaucracy-style. It’s a power move. They make you wait until you’re sweaty and desperate.”

Outside, the sky looked like a crime scene—orange smears, bruised purple clouds, sunlight bleeding into the bay. Somewhere at the docks, Lakanbini Susan was probably standing perfectly still, regal and furious, waiting for a guest who ghosted her.

Then—CLANG.

The evening bell rang. One long, final note from the town center.

“Well,” I muttered, checking my phone clock. “Guess they’re not coming today. You can head home, Marikit.”

“You too, Kuya!” she chirped. “Are you leaving?”

“I’ll wait a bit longer. Just to be sure.”

“I’ll stay with you!”

“Nope.” I gave her the don’t test me eyebrow. “Your mom will summon lightning if you’re late for dinner.”

She groaned, pouted, then skipped out anyway, waving. “Bye-bye, Kuya Pepito! Don’t let the ghosts get you!”

The door shut. The lock clicked.

I waited.

One hour passed.

Then two.

The sun disappeared completely. The street outside emptied. No lanterns bobbed in the dark. No footsteps echoed on the cobblestones. Just the sea breathing in the distance and the rhythmic tock-tock of the wall clock.

I stood up to flip the sign to CLOSED.

Then—

A silhouette filled the doorway.

She didn’t knock. She didn’t stomp. She just appeared.

Tall. Still. Composed.

The woman stepped inside before I could lock the door. She moved smoothly, almost gliding. She wore leather armor—scuffed but meticulously maintained—and a traveler’s cloak that had seen better days but was high quality. Her hair was tied back severely.

Her eyes were the scary part. Cool. Measured. Missing nothing.

“Hello,” she said. Her voice was like a calm river—pleasant, but cold. “Is this the shop?”

Technically, the shop didn’t have a name yet. But it was the shop.

“It is,” I said, putting on my customer service smile. “Welcome. We were just about to close, but for a traveler, we stay open.”

She relaxed—just slightly. A tiny fraction of tension leaving her shoulders.

“I’m glad,” she said. “A friend told me about this place. I wanted to see it myself.”

“You’re an adventurer?” I asked, merchant instincts kicking in. High-level gear. Confident stance.

“Not exactly.” Vague. “I travel. Feel free to ignore me. I just want to browse.”

“Browse away,” I said, gesturing to the shelves. “Ask anything.”

“I will.”

She moved through the shop slowly. She didn’t just look; she inspected. She picked up a bar of soap, smelling it, checking the density. She ran a finger along the wood of the counter. She checked the dust on the shelves (there was none, thanks to Marikit).

She stopped at the display of lighters.

“These?” she asked, holding one up.

“Bestseller,” I said. “Windproof. Waterproof. Instant fire.”

I took it from her gently. Click. The blue flame bloomed instantly in the dim shop.

Her eyes reflected the light. “Incredible. No flint? No oil?”

“Pressurized fuel. Reliable.”

She nodded, placing it back with extreme care. Her eyes shifted to the foil rectangle beside them.

“And this?”

“Survival blanket,” I said. “Warm. Compact. Makes you look like a baked potato, but saves your life in a blizzard.”

She raised an eyebrow. “A baked… potato?”

“It’s a metaphor. Try it.”

She unfolded the Mylar sheet. She draped it over her arm. She paused.

“…It’s absurdly warm,” she said, her voice losing its cool edge for a second. “It reflects the heat instantly. And it weighs… nothing.”

“Great for cold nights. Rain. Suspicious caves where the temperature drops.”

She folded it back up. It took her a moment to figure out the creases, but she did it perfectly. Methodical.

I watched her. She looked tired. Not sleepy-tired, but soul-tired. The kind of tired you get from walking too many miles and judging too many people.

“You look like you’ve been on the road a while,” I said.

“I have.”

“Have you eaten?”

She hesitated. “Not since midday.”

“Free sample,” I said.

I reached under the counter and pulled out a styrofoam cup. I poured hot water from my thermos into it.

“Instant Arroz Caldo,” I said, sliding the steaming cup toward her. “Ginger chicken rice porridge. Filipino classic. Good for travel—or for when the world is annoying you.”

She stared at the cup. She sniffed the steam. Ginger. Garlic. Chicken. The smell of comfort.

She looked at me, suspicious. “Free?”

“Market research,” I lied. “I need to know if it fits the traveler’s palate.”

She hesitated. Then, she picked up the plastic spoon. She took a sip.

Silence stretched in the shop.

She took another sip. Then a bigger spoonful. Her shoulders dropped two inches. She let out a breath she’d been holding for hours.

“…This is very good,” she said softly.

“Five-year shelf life. Zero regrets.”

A soft chuckle escaped her. Controlled. Careful. But genuine.

“You have an interesting shop, Mister…?”

“Pepito. Pepito Espiritu.”

“Pepito,” she tested the name. “You have strange wares. And strange hospitality.”

She finished the cup. She placed it down gently.

“Thank you for your time,” she said. She adjusted her cloak. “I’ll be going now.”

And she turned to the door.

“Wait,” I said. “You… you don’t want to buy anything? The blanket? The lighter?”

She paused at the threshold. She looked back. Her face was unreadable again.

“No,” she said. “Not today. But I have seen what I needed to see.”

“Oh. Okay. Safe travels!”

She nodded once, and stepped out into the night.

The door clicked shut.

I stood there in the silence. The shop smelled like ginger, firestone, and disappointment.

“…What a waste of sales pitch,” I muttered, scrubbing the counter. “She looked like a whale customer, too. Loaded with gold.”

[BEP: User.]

“What?”

[BEP: Analysis of Subject’s movement and speech patterns complete.]

[Subject: Unidentified Female.]

[Behavior: Evaluating structural integrity, hygiene, inventory quality, and proprietor attitude.]

[Key phrase used: "A friend told me."]

[Susan stated the Inspector was already in town.]

I froze. The rag fell from my hand.

The questions.

The posture.

The deliberate neutrality.

The way she checked the dust.

My stomach dropped through the floorboards.

That wasn’t a customer.

That wasn’t a lost adventurer.

That was the Royal Inspector.

And I had just spent two hours in my pambahay slippers feeding her instant porridge in a styrofoam cup.

“Oh no,” I whispered. “I didn’t even offer her a napkin.”

[BEP: Correction. You offered her 'Market Research.' Technically, you just bribed a government official with soup.]

I stared at the closed door.

“Well,” I said weakly. “At least she liked the ginger.”

Author's Note:

Surprise Inspections: The worst kind of test is the one you don't know you're taking.

Arroz Caldo: The ultimate comfort food. If you can't win them over with technology, win them over with carbs and ginger.

Next Chapter: The verdict. The Inspector returns, this time with a clipboard and a title. And she has questions about the "Baked Potato" blanket.

- Author