Gilded Truth

Chapter Ten

"News from the Capital, 'Premier Lilibeth Hugo passed away in her sleep,' said her family. Admiral Florentino Adira assumes her position as the new premier of the country. A state funeral is set following her sudden death."

It's as if the thunder and lightning have chosen the best time to strike and bring horror to the capital as the news interrupted the normal broadcasting schedule of the state television with the news of the premier's death. After the mortifying announcement of Premier Hugo's death follows a short memorial of her service to the country; the television screen flashes the face of the beloved premier and the year of her birth and death, followed by the insignia of the premier while the national anthem is playing in the background. All of a sudden, the room where my family and I are goes somber. It's eerily silent and awkward that all I can do is watch my father and mother drain of colors.

Days ago, the news of the premier's deteriorating health spread like wildfire in the tabloids and the internet. Speculations of her stepping down from the position had become the favorite topic of the media and other political analysts. Admiral Adira as the current state regent had been the talk of the country along with the talk of the premier's inability to manage the state at this moment. They talked about how the admiral stepped into the job of the premier with grace as the regent, taking the job seriously with a smile on his face every time he faced the press, that the admiral would eventually be as loved—if not, even more loved by the citizens compared to the current premier who had stood and dedicated her life to public service. A mother not just to her family but to her nation, a grandmother to leaders, and an inspiration for lifelong service.

Premier Hugo had been in the political arena ever since she was in her prime. She was an activist and a leader who was known to listen to their subordinates. She had an impeccable wit and humor that could brighten the room. The way she spoke and projected herself could make every table turn and listen to her. She held so much power even in an arena where men were considered superior. Premier Hugo was able to go into power because of her capability and proved that women were also capable of leading a country. She was the first female premier that came into power.

I had a fair amount of interaction with the premier, and those accounts said by her were something that I could vouch for. She adored her citizens so much that if they turned their backs on her, she would still serve them wholeheartedly. I think it was her genuinity, passion, and empathy for the common citizens that won the hearts of the people. However, politics are nowhere to these beautiful things, even with her being the beloved premier of this country, some would still oppose her, contesting her true intention. There would always be people who would throw dirt at her just to tarnish her reputation. Yet she nurtured herself to be the beacon of hope even amidst the dirty propaganda against her.

It was where my father's job came in. As the purveyor of truth, my father would clean every slander thrown at her with facts.

My gaze whisks at my father who goes in deep silence as he watches the news. He's deep in his thoughts, jaw clenching. It's been weeks since we last encountered the admiral and his wife. Ever since that day, he tends to lock himself in his study, and be in deep thoughts most of the time just like how he is right now. The telephone rings in the living room, breaking the ominous silence as we digest the news of the premier's death.

"Excuse me." Father wipes his mouth with a table napkin and strides to the living room to pick up the phone as if he has known that it is for him. I play with the food on my plate not knowing what to say or what to do, or if I have the right to speak at that moment. Father's voice reverberates from the living room to the kitchen, his footsteps pacing back and forth as he walks around the same spot in the living room. I watch as my father grows exasperated with whomever he is talking to through the phone. The untimely death of the premier will put this country in disarray no matter how good the regent is, in this case, Admiral Adira.

I always hear about the impending crisis to come in the country, and my mother and her team are working on projects and policies that could alleviate this coming crisis. I have read and watched about what's happening right now and the death of the premier will just put our country in instability. The world is suffering because of strife between two powerful countries causing a domino effect on those they trade with. Fuel price hikes are coming left and right, as well as shortages in commodities in the far-fetched areas of the country. My parents have become busier than ever, barely having the luxury of staying at home, or even if they did, they were stuck in the study talking about the pressing issues of the country that I could only read on paper or listen to through the news.

My mother heaves a sigh as she pushes her body back and stands from her seat. She's already dressed for the morning session this day. She unbuttons her blazer and puts it down neatly on the armrest of our sofa. She takes the phone away from my father, turning the phone call off. The two of them talk in a hushed voice, father runs his fingers through his hair, exasperated, however, my mother remains composed as she always does. Their faces are somber, but mother handles hers with grace. My mother barely talks but once she speaks, everyone will listen to her. She always tends to talk with her head before her heart. She is known for her radical mind and reasoning and is the only person who can keep our family in check amidst the chaos. I never knew what my father and the admiral talked about that day, but how my family reacted before might be about what happened today, and it might threaten our family. He has been paranoid and easily startled these days.

My mother looks at me, turning her heel from my father. Her heels click on the hardwood floor of the kitchen as she strides to my seat. She kisses my hair and whispers, "Be good. We will come back later."

I nod timidly as I watch my parents fetch their blazers and coats. They walk out of the house still talking in hushed voices, leaving me alone in front of our luncheon. Staring at all the appetizing food in front of me feels like they are nothing but a display of our status. I already lost my appetite because of the sudden news of the premier's death. She was loved by many even amidst her controversies. I bet people are talking about how great she is as a leader, a revolutionizing premier who made the country bounce back through her economic reforms and non-traditional approach to public administration.

I stare at the door of our home as if helplessly hoping that my father and mother will come back and finish their meals with me, but silence only envelopes our home. It's as if the gloomy outside shines a light on this empty place. The only thing that breaks the silence in this room is the continuous ticking of the antique grandfather's clock in our living room. I have lost count of the minutes I have spent waiting for my parents to come home till I decide to clean our dining table. I heave a sigh as I keep our leftovers in the refrigerator and mount our dishes in the dishwasher.

It's drizzling outside when I finish cleaning up our dining room. I go inside the study and check for books that I can read. I don't have the energy to watch the news because they're all about documentaries and news about the former premier. It is already depressing enough, and in addition, the weather is not helping either. When I find a book to read, I step out of our study and play some classical music in the background, turn the lamp on the side table, and find a comfortable position for me to read. However, before I find my comfortable spot, the telephone beside me rings.

My parents have always warned me not to pick up a phone call, but I don't know what is on me at the moment that I decide to pick it up. There is silence from the other line, nothing but faint beeps and bops. Weirdly, those faint, little sounds manifest with my heart racing for an unknown reason, it is a minute-long silence. I am about to put the phone down when a distorted voice speaks from the other line.

"Have you considered our offer, Fidelio?"

My eyes widen and I stifle a gasp. My lips quiver and my body turn cold as that short line echoes inside my head. "Who . . . who are you?" I don't know where my courage to speak comes from, I have even failed to recognize my voice. Before I can ask further, the line cuts off and the ominous beeps and bops go back as if it's tinnitus tingling my senses. I don't realize that I'm holding my breath the whole time till I put the telephone back in its place. I can feel the colors of my face draining and my heart beating faster than normal. I want to ask what's happening, but at this moment, no one can answer my inquiries, all I know is that something ominous and perilous might befall me and my family.