Outside, the sky was still gray, but at least it wasn't raining anymore. But it was still cold, though. And now we're wet from the sprinkler. Oh well. Anyway, the city hall isn't far from our location, just directly across from our location, so we just need to cross the street to get out of this cold weather.

  We stood under a stoplight, waiting for the sign to turn green.

  I turned around and took one last look at the exit of the mall and saw that no one was coming after us. "Looks like the staff didn't follow," I said.

  "They're probably swamped with dealing with all those people," Cana said.

  "Yeah," I agreed. With all those customers and potential goods being stolen, there's no way they are going after us.

  I saw the price tag on Cana's white top and hid it under her hair. "It would be bad if people saw this. Especially where we're going." Then I reached over my shoulder, felt around for the tag of my V-neck shirt, and made sure it stayed down.

  The green LED man started walking. And so did we. We crossed the street in silence. Upon reaching the gate of the city hall, we saw that there was a queue at the information desk. We stood in line.

  Nothing to see here, folks. Just your average, not haunteds that are definitely not being chased by fanatic gunmen. I thought.

  I looked around to pass the time.

  Haunting Department. The plaque read.

  I tapped Cana's shoulder, who was in front of me in the line. "Hey," I said, pointing at the plaque.

  "How can I help you?" the help desk receptionist smiled.

  "Haunting Department, please."

  "Room 128. Third Floor," The guy said. Then he gestured towards the building on our right. "There's a stair as soon as you enter. Can't miss it."

  We thanked him and went inside.

  "That was easy," I said.

  "What were you expecting?" Cana asked.

  I don't know, I said. "I thought it would be weird for us to be asking about this in the middle of the month."

  "Well," Cana said. "It IS a haunting MONTH."

  "That makes sense," I said. "But what do they do, though?"

  Cana shrugged. "Who knows? I think we're lucky that they operate the entire month."

  "Agreed."

  Everything looked...normal. Well, I guess I should have expected that. We took the stairs up and proceeded down the first room numbered 112. The next room was numbered 113 so I guess we're in the right way.

  "So how do we do this?" Cana whispered. "It's not like we can just walked up and say "Hello, we're haunteds. And we just got separated from Major Coleman after being ambushed this morning by the cult you believed died out over 50 years ago."

  "Yeah no," I agreed. Major Coleman told us to keep all of these a secret to avoid a repeat of the Dark Year— the year of mass killings of haunteds by the public, blaming the haunteds for the Shade. To the public, the cult is history. So if a news media got hold of this story and put it on the evening news, a repeat would be ensured. "Well, we do want him to take us back to Biringan. Or at least have them drive us to that checkpoint. Like last year."

  "But only haunteds are brought there," she said.

  Only haunteds are brought there. I repeated in my head. Well, that's easy. The real problem is telling him we are haunteds without giving away any information of what just happened this morning...

  "Listen," I said. "There are supposed to be only twelve haunteds, right?"

  "Right."

  "But what there's more?" I said, my voice dropping to a whisper every time we past by another employee or civilian. "What if this year you and I are haunteds thirteen and fourteen? That way, we can still reveal to him that we are haunteds and hopefully bring us back to Biringan. But he won't us ask too much questions since to his knowledge, we aren't involved in anything yet."

  "What? You mean trick him?" Cana whispered. "This guy works at the Haunting Department. He knows this stuff."

  "He knows what he is told," I said. My eyes followed the back of the employee until I was convinced he was far enough to not overhear us. "Like Major Coleman said during our orientation," I said in my normal voice. "All of these protocols were only possible through the Shade study conducted by generations of haunteds. And these past few weeks just proved that nobody, not even Major Coleman, is an expert on this matter."

  "You know what? True," Cana said. "They all rely on our handbook."

  "Right,"

  Cana stopped in front of a door and looked up. My eyes followed suit. "119," she said. "Just a little further down."

  We continued walking and talking in alternative low and normal voice as we went further in the building. The further we went it, the fewer people we encounter. Which isn't surprising. Because who else would have business with the Haunting Department in the middle of the month when the haunteds had already been identified?

  "You know he'll ask for proof, right?" Cana said. "Take our picture."

  "So we let him," I said. "Then he'll see that we're telling the truth. That we are haunteds. And because our heads, let alone our faces won't appear in the photo. There's no way for him to check it against our profiles with Major Coleman."

  "An unprecedented incident like that," Cana said. "That would turn his life upside down. What if he panics? Just like we did when the Shade grew eyes for the first time. What if he made us call our parents? And keep us in here indefinitely?"

  "Then at that point," I said. "We have no choice but to tell the truth. But I'm skeptical that the Major Coleman would just give our personal information to civilians. Even to the Haunting department."

  We stopped in front of another room, numbered, 128. A plaque that reads, Haunting Department, was on the door.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  "Well, let's hope you're right," Cana said. "So, how do you want to do this?"

  "Well," I started. Then I told her my plan.

  "Okay," Cana said. She took a deep breath. "Ready?

  I nodded.

  Cana knocked three times on the door and twisted the door handle open. She sticks her head in the opening. "Hello?"

  "Come in," I heard the voice behind the door said. I could hear a popular youtuber's voice echoing behind the door.

  Cana looked at me. "Let's go."

  "Good afternoon," The man greeted. He had a clean, barber's cut. Looks 45, 50. And was wearing a formal, light blue long sleeves. He had his phone down on the desk, screen facing downward, I take that to mean that he's in work mode now.

  "I'm surprised you're still open," Cana said.

  "We get that a lot." He said, smiling. "So what can I do for you Miss?"

  Names! I thought. They had the records on all haunteds this year so if we gave him our real names, it would open up conversations we would want to avoid.

  "Mark Bautista," I blurted out in a hurry. "And that's my sister, Andrea Baustista."

  Cana looked at me with wide eyes. But her smile returned like everything was normal. "Yes, that's us." She giggled.

  I've always hated it when Major Coleman put us in this kind of situation and expected us to go along with it like some improve comedy club. But apparently, it was useful training for moments like this one.

  "Is it all just you?" Cana asked.

  "Right now, yes" he said. "But during the first day, when I expect things to get busy, I hire part-timers."

  "Yeah, that was what we were talking about on our way here," Cana said. "Why is this place still open when the haunteds are all identified during the first day?"

  "As you can imagine, "he said, gesturing for us to take a seat at the cushioned, wooden chairs in front of the desk. " This month is a very stressful time for parents. Especially for those who chose to homeschool. It's comforting to know that there is a place they can go to should they have questions. Like, for example, our most common visitors during this time are those who we call false positive."

  Come to think of it, this was my first time here. Or really, any department here in the city hall. So my eyes wandered as we stepped towards him.

  "False positive?" Cana said, pulling back her chair out.

  "People who think they're haunteds. Because you know, they took a selfie which turned out to be lacking something particular."

  "Their heads," I answered as I sat down.

  He pointed at me. "Correct. And now they're worried about being haunteds, even though it's already past the middle of the month."

  "So what do you do then?" Cana asked.

  "Well, most of the time," the guy said as he leaned back to his office chair. "It's just camera effect that they didn't know they applied. Like panorama shot. So I'm really just here to assure whoever visits that they are not haunteds."

  "But how can you be so sure that all haunteds are already identified?" Cana said. "Do you have a list of their faces?"

  "The government, the military doesn't see it fit to divulge such information to someone like me. I'm sure you can understand why."

  Oh, we more than understand. That's exactly what we are hoping for. I thought. Then I nodded to Cana.

  "So," Cana squint her eyes at the desk name plate. "Mr. Oliveros. We wanted to ask you some questions about this whole Haunted Identification System works."

  "Oh?" Mr. Oliveros said. He looked at Cana, then me. "You two look like you're in high school. Surely, your teachers and parents have told you about it? Don't you watch the news?"

  "Yes, our parents and teacher had spared no effort in reminding us of it."

  "Oh." Mr. Oliveros said. "Then—"

  "But we just wanted to make sure," Cana said. "There are only twelve haunteds per year, right?"

  "Yes, that is correct."

  "And are all those twelve identified this year?"

  "Yes, all twelve had been identified and are currently staying at the shelter as we speak."

  Cana looked at me.

  I guess it's my turn. I thought.

  "And it's always twelve, right?" I said, joining in on the conversation. "No more no less."

  Mr. Oliveros. "Correct. It was twelve last year, and it was twelve the year before that, and the year before—"

  "We just found out both my sister and I are haunteds." I interrupted.

  Mr. Oliveros blinked. "Excuse me?"

  "I said my sister and I are haunteds." I repeated.

  He looked at Cana.

  "It's true," She said.

  "Ah I see," he said. "Like I said, most of our visitors come here for that exact reason."

  "But last night we took a selfie—"

  He handed out his hand. "May I see?"

  Cana and I shared a look.

  "We don't have it with us," Cana said.

  "It was our mom's phone," I added. "She brings it to work with her."

  "Well, luckily, I have my camera with me," Mr. Oliveros said, waving his black smartphone.

  Then he showed us his phone's camera app. "See, no filters, no panorama, no other effects. Okay?

  We nodded.

  He pointed the phone at us. "Hmm, can you two scoot a little closer to each other? So we can do it in just one shot."

  We did as we were told, dragging our chairs with us to the middle of the table.

  There was no flash. But there was that "click" sound effect that tells us the picture had been taken. But we didn't need to hear that to know that the picture was taken. We only need to see the reaction on his face. His smiling, relaxed expression melted. His jaw dropped. His eyes popped out. He looked at me. Then at Cana. Then he took another photo. He stood up so fast he bumped his table hard, causing his mug to topple and spilled coffee all over the surface.

  Cana and I jumped out of the away just in time.

  "Well," Cana said. "Were we right?"

  "We're still headless?" I added. Just to dig in the point even further.

  "I—I don't understand..." he said. His face started beading with sweat. In this air-conditioned room. "This has never happened before. This—this wasn't in the training."

  Cana and I exchanged looks.

  He turned around and rummaged through the black, metal file holders arranged neatly in the cabinet behind him.

  We sat down as he kept digging. Finally, he turned around and dropped a dusty brown envelope on the table. Dust flew as the envelope thudded on the table. Cana and I waved at the air to prevent the dusty particles from coming our way. He quickly sat down and opened the envelope. He pulled out a white folder and spread it open before us.

  "But luckily the government had this covered," he said. Then he started reading.

  We sat in silence as he read. It was only a single paper, so I doubt it'll take him long.

  "Okay," he said, closing the folder. "So the protocol isn't actually that different from the first day. The only difference is that since we no longer have a driver, I'll have to drive you guys to this place. I can't tell you the details, but for now, follow me."

  He then stood up and walked away. We promptly followed him. He stopped in front of a bookshelf. He reached for a book and pulled it down. Surprisingly, the book pulled back in place. Even more surprising is that the bookshelf swung open, revealing a hidden room inside.

  "Okay," I said. "That's awesome."

  "Indeed," he said. He looked as amazed as we are, like this is the first time he's ever seen this. He reached inside, and the dark room lit up. "Choose whatever and put them on," he said, stepping aside to let us through. "While I put on the Lunchbreak sign on the door."

  "It's 10 am," Cana said. Mr. Oliveros went ahead and pulled the door closed when both of us were inside. Once the door was closed, I noticed how secure this hiding place was. There were no windows in this room, no holes I could find to peek through.

  Cana was browsing through the clothes hanging on the rack. There was another one next to me. The hangers and the clothes themselves left a dusty layer on my fingerprints as I skimmed through the small collection of disguises on the hanging rack on my side.

  I recalled the first time I saw Indigo in Biringan. She wore white shoes and a dress that fit her perfectly. She was wearing her own clothes. I'm certain of this because all of these clothes are too big for me. And I'm bigger than her. And I have yet to see any dresses. These clothes are mostly T-shirts, jackets, and hoodies. There are also caps as plain as the ones we are currently wearing. And sunglasses. The protocol for homeschooled youths is for the city hall to arrange transport through one of the schools to Biringan. So it's a safe bet to say that Indigo never saw the inside of this room. Or was even aware of its existence. So why does this room exist? Then I remembered...

  "Hey, didn't someone try to break into this room a few years back?" I asked through the wall as I took a brown leather jacket off its hanger.

  "And if you've followed that news to the end," Mr. Oliveros said. It sounded like he was rummaging through his desk. Probably looking for the lunch break sigh. "You'll remember that we captured that person and he is still serving jail time." I heard his drawer slide closed. "That's the price of Dark Tourism. It attracts the crazies."

  "So there's a chance someone will break while we are here?" Cana asked.

  "The same system will apprehend anyone who dares try," he said, his voice slightly farther. He doesn't sound convinced of his own words. Not really reassuring for us.

  "They have a system too," I whispered to Cana. "Like Biringan."

  "Yeah," she said. "Look how well that turned out."

  We've heard the door open.

  "Good morning," The voice said. We've heard several footsteps come in. "We've had questions about Haunteds. We were wondering if any haunteds came here just recently."