#yuna_hime

[ginhawatranslations]

Where The Tides Reside - Chapter 3

“Hey, girl! Instead of staring off into space, why don’t you just go buy stuff for lunch? We’re out of stock!”

I snapped back to the present from my daze because of Teyang’s loud mouth. I glared at him in annoyance, but they just waved the money in front of me. Ugh, so annoying. I was still replaying what happened last night. A ridiculously handsome guy just asked me to be his partner.

Guess I’m that pretty.

“You know what, girl? Sometimes I really want to choke you out just so you’ll shut up,” I joked.

“If you’re gonna do it, why don’t you choke yourself first? You’re unbelievable, girl. You didn’t even help clean the bar earlier and now you’re just spacing out. What are you even thinking about now?”

I quickly snatched the money from their hand. I didn’t answer their question. I just gave them a smug grin, leaving them with a puzzled expression. They won’t stop pestering me until he squeezes the gossip out.

Tenten, on the other hand, was busy serving the few customers we had. In the morning, the bar turns into a resto. Our smoothies are a hit here - made by the fabulous Teyang. Besides gossip, that gay knows how to blend a good drink.

Mama Jessie left early today to pay the bills. That’s when I realized I really don’t do anything to help with the bar in the morning. Spacing out while pretending to clean...I couldn’t help but laugh at myself.

I stepped outside and let my eyes feast on the beauty of the island. The market wasn’t far from the bar, so I figured a short walk wouldn’t hurt. I couldn’t help but wonder, if only my family had accepted me and we discovered this island together, it would've been nice to explore it with them. But that’s just a dream...more like a nightmare, even in my own head.

“Hey, Wayo!” I didn’t react right away when someone called me.

People here knew me more as Wayo than by my real name. I think only Mama really knows my full, true name. I prefer it that way, honestly.

“Drop by the bar later!” I shouted back to a tourist I recognized from last night.

“Sure! You’re special to us!”

I grinned. Sometimes I secretly laugh at these guys. Their animal urges - they can’t hide them for long. I know it’s one of the reasons they like me. It’d be a miracle if I ever meet a guy who loves me for who I truly am. Someone who loves me fully and genuinely.

I continued walking to the market. The island was packed with tourists even though it wasn’t summer. Well, that’s how much people love the beach, I guess.

When I reached the path leading to the market, I stopped. Something caught my eye. I took five steps back and saw a large building under construction. It looked like a mall! Fancy - there’s gonna be a mall in the middle of the island. Cool.

My eyes lowered and landed on someone familiar. He was talking to a foreman. Biting my lower lip, I stared at him. He looked different today!

He was wearing a white polo shirt with the top three buttons undone. Then some orange Hawaiian shorts. On his feet were strappy leather sandals. His hair, which was neatly styled last night, was now just left down. Aviator sunglasses on his face, and still looking formal with that watch on his wrist. I wasn’t surprised that people were nearly breaking their necks staring - not at the building, but at him.

How can he look that simple yet still be drop-dead gorgeous? Damn, life’s unfair.

I walked toward him slowly, a basket in my hand. I leaned against the foundation of the building, arms crossed, watching him intently. I chuckled a bit, thinking of how serious he was talking to me last night and how formal he looked now while working. Can’t he smile while talking? But that makes him hotter, though.

I stood upright when he lifted his head and met my gaze. He was wearing sunglasses, but I recognized that look. That heated stare that feels like it pierces your soul.

I saw him pat the foreman on the shoulder before walking away. As he started toward me, I waved at him with a grin. So formal. And so ridiculously handsome. It’s not like I go for formal guys. I prefer the wild ones - a match for a wild queen like me - but... damn, he’s a hunk.

“Have you thought about my proposal last night?” he asked, right off the bat.

“Hey! No, okay? I already told you, I’m not interested,” I replied defensively.

His eyebrows furrowed.

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m heading to the market.” I showed him the basket in my hand. “Just so happened I saw this building and then you.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. He nodded and glanced at the building, which I assumed he was having constructed. Rich guy. So he owns this mall?

I saw him look up at the building. And I wondered, why would someone like him offer me something like that? Okay, maybe I judged him too fast last night. I said he was just like Taba but now, seeing and talking to him again, he just seems... desperate, for reasons I don’t know.

“This building's yours?” I asked in a low voice.

He looked down at me.

“Yeah,” he answered shortly. “Why won’t you accept my offer?”

I turned fully toward him, giving him my full attention. I stared at him, eyebrow raised, and noticed his expression hadn’t changed. Was he seriously asking me that?

“Because I don’t know why. Why me? There are lots of other gays out there if you’re just looking for a fling,” I said bluntly.

He looked offended by that. I wasn’t going to take it back. I said it; it’s the truth anyway.

“It’s not like that. I have my reasons. Sorry if I came across that way last night.”

I swallowed. Why so serious? I gave up, this guy's too formal. If I say yes, could he even handle me?

“Then what is your reason?” I asked, curious.

I looked at him suspiciously. He stared at me for a long while. Fine, let’s have a staring contest. First one to flinch loses.

“If I tell you, will you say yes?”

Oh, damn. He got me with that.

I sighed. Fine! What if he has some terminal illness and dating a gay guy is on his bucket list before he kicks the bucket?

I nodded. “Alright. Whether I say yes depends on how heavy your reason is.”

The corner of his lips lifted slightly. I don’t know, but I felt like his eyes sparkled behind those glasses.

Have I just walked into a trap?

“Then, I’ll tell you tonight. I’ll be going to Vizcara.”

[ginhawatranslations]

Where The Tides Reside - Chapter 2

Sweat dripped from me as I finished what I was doing. I wasn’t surprised that aside from praise, money also rained down onto the stage. My eyes wandered over the crowd for a moment before I made my final walk, collecting those bills in my hands.

"Why won’t you offer extra services in your job, Wayo? You’d definitely be a hit," one of our regulars said.

I squinted at the chubby old man. He had a thick mustache, and his gold rings sparkled on his fingers. I remembered he owns a casino. He has some Chinese blood.

"Not in the contract, boss," I replied with a grin.

"What if I buy your contract? Will that work?"

Greedy bastard! Even if you bought my whole soul, I still wouldn’t sell myself to you. Please, my beauty doesn’t entertain the likes of Majin Buu.

I approached him since he was seated right in front of the stage. He expertly tucked money into the sides of my cycling shorts. One touch to his chin and he was covered in goosebumps. No attempt to hide his true colors, huh? The color of a pervert.

"Your offer is good, but sorry, I am not for sale," I said flirtatiously.

I gave him a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. Seemed like that was enough to satisfy him. The crowd around us whistled and roared again. I puckered my lips and scanned the area once more. Once satisfied, I waved to them - it was the end of my show.

Another profitable night. Nice.

"Your beauty really is something, sis. You just climb up and down that pole and suddenly you're rich," said Tenten.

Tencio Batumbakal. One of my coworkers here at Vizcara, though unlike me, this gay works as a waiter. Tenten said they prefer that so they can flirt more freely with the customers.

"Please, looks like you’re raking it in from tips tonight. We’ve got tons of customers."

"Ugh, correct. Tenten's super jealous. Meanwhile, I’m just here with white eyes from all the eye-rolling. Weak flirting skills, weak earnings too," said Teyang.

That’s Theofilo Dela Vega. They’re the bartender here at Vizcara. I know they're one of Mama Jessie’s best friends - the owner of Vizcara. After finishing college, they all teamed up to build this bar. I don’t know the full stories of their past lives, but I know Vizcara became home for all of us gay folk.

Jenzen Fontanilla a.k.a. Mama Jessie is the drag queen who took me in here. They're the owner of Vizcara. I love them dearly because they became like a mother to me. They took me in without hesitation, even when they barely knew me.

Two years have passed since then. Did I think about my family during those two years? No. I became happier in life even without them. It feels like leaving them, even if I'm related to them by blood, gave me the freedom I always wanted.

"Gotta smoke, folks," I told the two who were now busy eyeing the guests again.

Before stepping out, I looked toward a particular spot I had been watching from the stage. When I saw it was empty, I finally stepped outside.

I sat on a wooden bench outside the bar. From here, you could see the quiet ocean. The only noise and light came from the fire dancers nearby and their captivated audience. In the distance were the hotels and little markets. At the far edge of the island was Vizcara.

My thoughts drifted to my work. Gazing into the fire spinning before me, I wondered: was I ashamed of what I did? If someone asked, I'd answer no. When I’m on that stage, expertly moving my body, I show who I truly am. That’s me. Why would I be ashamed?

When the crowd cheers my name, when they shout out “Wayo!”, my heart ignites. I feel their acceptance of who I am. I would never trade these for my past life.

On my fifth drag, the ocean vanished from my view. The fire dancers were replaced by a tall, solid, fragrant figure.

I smirked. I thought he was gone?

"You're Wayo, right?" My hair stood on end at the sound of his deep, formal voice.

My eyes traveled from his midsection up to his face. He was standing while I was seated. And wow, he was handsome. No. He was drop-dead handsome - my knees actually trembled!

"Yes. Do you need something from me, Sir?" My voice was laced with charm.

I saw his face twitch. His nose crinkled - he clearly hated the smell of my cigarette. I ignored it and kept staring at his fine face.

His black hair was neatly styled. A precise part divided the smaller section from the rest; a clean comb-over. It suited his face, which was spotless and clearly well-groomed.

Deep hazel brown eyes. Even in the dark, I could feel the intensity behind them. The way they stared at me made me want to give myself over. It was like he was trying to solve me like a mystery. I felt completely vulnerable under his gaze. I’d sensed it even earlier on stage.

Even his clothes screamed “formal.” Definitely a businessman. Rocking a black duster jacket with a black turtleneck underneath. Slacks that hugged him just right. Leather cap-toe Oxfords. Time seemed precious to him, given his expensive watch. Clearly, an organized man.

This is the kind of man you fantasize about, but fear to claim. A high-caliber man.

"Done checking me out?"

I snapped back to reality. I subtly wiped the side of my mouth, in case I was already drooling like a rabid dog. Damn.

I smiled. "So what exactly do you need from me?"

He sighed, eyes fixed on my cigarette. I raised an eyebrow, expecting a reprimand. Then his desperate request betrayed him.

"I want you to be my boyfriend," he said flatly.

I blinked at him. Maybe he noticed that, so he added, "Ahem. For a month. Just for a month, that is."

Ah. So that’s what this is.

My smirk turned sarcastic. I stood up, taking one last drag from my cigarette before tossing it and crushing it underfoot. As I stood face-to-face with him, I blew smoke straight into his face. I laughed silently when he glared at me in disgust.

He wants to date me, but can’t even stand me? This is why I hate straight men. Just like Richard - useless.

To be fair, my fairly large frame could hold its own next to his height. I’m not the kind of gay guy who looks ultra-feminine. It’s just that my face carries a touch of Spanish heritage from my father’s side.

"Sir, I’m a performer here. A pole dancer. But being an escort is not part of my contract."

I heard his tongue click after recovering from the smoke. His eyes turned sharper, so much so that my smirk turned into a grin. That gaze gave me chills.

"How much is your contract? I’ll buy it." He was really desperate.

No different from the fat guy. Handsome, but still trash. Again, this is why I hate straight men. They treat us gays like some experiment. When they don’t get 100% satisfaction from women, we’re their next stop.

Disgusting.

"Why are you so desperate for someone like me?" I looked him up and down. "With your looks, I’m sure women line up for you, Sir. If you're just curious and want to ‘try’ a gay guy for a change, then I’m not your guy. Sorry, but I’m not the easy type."

I tapped his chest twice - he seemed taken aback by what I said. I stared at him with clear contempt before turning around. Too much of you, pretty boy.

No one can dominate Warren Yoriel Esmeralda. Not even a high-caliber man.

Translator's Notes

Extra services here is a euphemism for prostitution. It's often associated with massage parlors.

Tagalog pronouns don't have genders. When a character is explictly said to be gay, we chose to use they whenever possible to mirror the Tagalog pronoun siya (that person).

In the original, Warren said "Yosi muna ako mga bakla" (Gotta snoke, gays.) But we felt that using the word gay doesn't sound natural, so we replaced it with folks as they were talking to their fellow bakla in the first place.

[ginhawatranslations]

Where The Tides Reside - Chapter 1

The following chapter contains scenes that depict homophobia. Reader discretion is advised.

Toy cars. Fake guns. Robots.

I never really understood why my playmates loved those kinds of toys. They said it was fun, but why couldn’t I feel the same? To me, those were boring.

If you ask me what fun is, well...

I looked at girls my age carrying those all-pink, beautiful, princess dolls. My eyes sparkled right away at their glamorous outfits. Those girls didn’t know fashion at all! If it were up to me, I’d dress the doll in a pink top, white skirt, and baby pink flat shoes. The hair would be in a ponytail with glittering pins on both sides.

“Guns are for boys while dolls are for girls,” my preschool teacher said.

One of my girl classmates cried after I took her Barbie doll. I was just trying to teach her about styling - is that bad? Why were they all looking at me like that? Is that weird? Why is it that when girls play with our toy cars, it seems fine? But when we so much as touch a doll, people stare?

Why?

When I got to elementary school, I started to understand. People make a big deal about sexuality. If you’re cool, if you dress with edge, like action and toy guns, have a lot of crushes on girls, or watch porn, you’re a man. But if you’re gentle, clean, wear pink, make girls cry, hang out with girls, and are sensitive about vulgar topics, you’ll definitely be called gay.

I couldn’t really grasp that kind of mindset. Is that really how it works?

When I got to high school, my eyes were opened - maybe they were right after all. The ones I didn’t understand before, I now began to get. The way I loved pink, how I was conscious about my body like girls were, how I enjoyed hanging out with girls and looked at boys differently...I got it.

Believe me, I hated myself when it all dawned on me. It was a sin. I drilled that into my head because that’s what they said. It's a sin to love someone of the same sex. A sin to want to be a girl even if you’re born a boy, or to be a boy even if you’re born a girl.

That’s when I started to hide my true self. I needed to wear a mask to protect myself from harm, from society’s judgment and my family’s disappointment. I was so afraid then. I was a closeted gay in high school.

But the more I hid, the heavier it became. The more I wanted to break free. What could I do? This is who I am. My heart doesn’t beat for girls or for guns. My heart beats for boys and beautiful Barbie dolls. What’s so wrong about that? What’s so wrong about accepting myself? About loving my true identity? About loving genuinely, even if it’s someone of the same sex?

Are they really right? Are we really wrong for being like this? Why? Because Adam and Eve were made for each other? Because God made man and woman and that’s what’s right? Does that mean the heart inside my chest is wrong? Aren’t we also human, made by God? So what’s really wrong? God, or people’s beliefs?

But when that thing happened to me, I couldn’t help but wonder if God really did make a mistake by giving me a heart that beats. They claim to follow God’s word, saying people like me are sinners, but they cheat on their spouses - does that count as the “righteous” they’re fighting for? Why is it just us? Why only people like me?

It was in college when I couldn’t stop myself anymore. I followed my heart, and I got burned, heartbroken, used...not only by the guy I loved, but by the whole world.

I never expected that in just one moment, everything would turn upside down. A scandal spread through our school - me and the guy I was seeing were caught kissing. I didn’t know someone saw us that day, took pictures, and shared them in group chats. I even thought...maybe I was framed.

How pathetic of me.

“R-Richard, you wanted that too, right? Y-You wanted it too, didn’t you?” I pleaded in front of the boy I kissed, the boy I loved.

We were in a room, crowded with people who just wanted drama. Even the teachers didn’t intervene - they all just looked disappointed. But before the scandal broke out, they treated me like I was someone special. Hypocrites.

Richard smirked at me, and in that moment, I knew I was alone in this fight.

“You’re the only one who wanted it, Warren. I just gave in... because you’re gay.”

Because I’m gay? Gave in? Fuck that.

I’m a fool. Of course! What do these guys even think of gays? Is there any guy out there who could truly love someone like us? If not for our wallets, then what else do they see in us? Just someone to use for their frustrations they can’t ease with women?

Idiots! It’s not like we asked to desire men too! Do they think we became like this for fun? That we just want guys to mess around with? Ha! We’re gays who just want real love too, even if it’s from another man!

“Isn’t that the mayor’s son? My God, I couldn’t believe it when my kid told me the news.”

I’ll never forget the faces of the people around me when the scandal broke out; the ridicule I endured throughout the school. I was sweating and nervous just walking home. But I carried hope that my own family would stand by me. They’re my family, right?

But I was wrong.

“I-I'm home!” I forced cheer into my voice even though I wanted to run the moment I saw them all in the living room.

“Warren Yoriel, come here,” Dad ordered with authority.

I was terrified then, but I hoped they’d take my side. I was ready to say sorry for ruining our image if they already knew. But the moment I stood in front of them and they threw judgmental stares, my heart turned cold. They were already judging me - my own family.

“What is the meaning of this?” Dad raised his phone showing the photo of me and Richard.

“D-Dad, that was...”

“Are you gay?” my older brother interrupted, his eyes piercing.

I looked down. There was no way out. I had nothing left to hide. My being was already laid bare.

“I-I am,” I confessed, swallowing hard.

I never imagined coming out to my own family would go like this. I mustered all my courage, but even if I confessed early, they still couldn’t accept me. My own family. No one would accept me, except myself. I only had me.

“Do you know how much shame this brings, Warren Yoriel?! For heaven’s sake, I have no gay child!” Dad’s voice echoed through the house.

I was shaking, tears streaming nonstop. My older sister and Mom shook their heads at me. I looked at my mother, but I never thought she would also look at me differently...my mother who used to see me as her most precious treasure.

“S-Sorry for disappointing you, b-but this is really me, Dad. I’m your son, can’t you accept-”

My eyes widened as my head snapped to the side from Dad’s hard slap. That was when everything sank in. No matter how much I explained, I was already their shame.

“Disgusting,” my sister said.

“You’re worthless! What face will I show to the people now with this scandal?” Dad yelled.

“Do you know it’s a sin to love the same sex, Warren?” my brother added.

Shocked by what he said, I stared at him like he’d grown another head. A sin? Ha! I thought he only cared about crimes defined by law. I didn’t expect my lawyer brother to be this biblical too.

“I’m your family, your son, your brother...yet you can say all this to me?” I looked at each of them until my eyes stopped at Dad. “Who among us is really worthless?”

“Get out,” Dad said, eyes bloodshot. “Get out of this house right now! I have no family or child like you!”

**********

I opened my eyes as the stage lights met my gaze. Slowly, I stepped onto the platform as the sensual music began to play. I grabbed the robe covering my body and tossed it to the now-cheering crowd. I was only wearing cycling shorts now.

I twirled around the pole, letting the music move my body. The pain of the past came rushing back, pouring through my performance. My body thrilled with emotion. With butterflies in my stomach, I breathed heavily.

I feel so free, like an angel who finally found his wings. I moved freely, expressing long-hidden emotions.

“Whoah! Wayo!”

“You’re making me horny!”

“The best!”

“Wayo! Wayo!”

That’s how my life at Vizcara started. That’s how Wayo became known. Every night on that stage, my body moved to the rhythm. Here, my identity had a place. Here, I was accepted. Not judged, not mocked, but cheered for.

Vizcara is my only home.

And in between my ecstasy, my eyes met that heated gaze that made every inch of my body melt.

Translator's Notes

The Tagalog word for gay is bakla. But unlike the Western word "gay", it doesn't really align into the traditional LGBT dichotomy. Most people assume that a bakla is either an effeminate man or a transgender woman (a.k.a. all gays "want" to be a woman). It was only recently that "straight-acting", muscular men have been imagined as bakla.

Kuya is the Tagalog word for older brother, while Ate translates to older sister.

80% of Filipinos are Catholic, which explains the deep homophobia inside Warren's family.

There is no law in the Philippines that criminalizes homosexuality, unlike in other Southeast Asian countries. However, there is no same-sex marriage. Most LGBTs are also stigmatized by heteronormative laws (e.g. adoption) or policing (e.g. transgenders being harassed or murdered).

[ginhawatranslations]

Where The Tides Reside - Chapter 0

Where The Tides Reside is a Pinoy BL novel by Yuna_Hime. It was originally published on Wattpad.

The following chapter contains scenes that depict homophobia. Reader discretion is advised.

“What a disgrace.”

“Disgusting.”

“Worthless.”

“A sinner.”

“Get out.”

Those are just a few of the words I heard straight from the mouths of my own family. Yes, my family. My own blood. My own people. Painful? Yes. Deeply painful.

I might’ve been able to take it if those words came from strangers - close-minded people who don’t even know me - but no. That’s not the case. It would've hurt less if it was only society judging me, but no. It hurts so much more when your own family disowns you, looks at you with disgust, just because you’re gay.

But I am brave. At least that’s what I try to keep telling myself.

As the son of the city mayor, I had to hide my real identity - who I truly am. I am a closeted gay. We were raised and taught never to bring shame to our family. So, I accepted it. I accepted my fate.

But the truth kept breaking through.

Being the youngest among the siblings, they say I had it easy - no pressure. But they were wrong. I was under so much pressure. Especially with what my older siblings had accomplished, the expectations for me were just as high. My sister is already a doctor. My brother, a lawyer. Dad wanted me to be a police officer, so I enrolled in Criminology. But heck, I struggled in my first year alone.

Why? Imagine being gay, surrounded by a bunch of hot, hunky guys - wouldn’t you struggle, too?

That’s when the shame started. I ruined our family. I brought disgrace to Dad’s image. I tainted our once-respected surname. I was caught kissing a guy at school, and the news spread like wildfire. Suddenly, the whole city knew: the mayor’s son is gay and “disgustingly filthy.”

Filthy? Just because I kissed someone, I’m filthy? If that’s the case, aren’t all married couples filthy too? Their mouths - those who judge me - are far dirtier. Are they my parents? Are they my family?

But I was wrong. Even my own family judged me. They now saw me as dirty too after the scandal. That’s when I realized - judgment doesn’t come from blood ties. It comes from a narrow, dirty mind. If you’re someone with a broad perspective, then you know how to understand others.

I’ll never forget Dad’s harsh slap. How I looked at Mom, silently begging for help, and she turned her back on me. The disgust in my sister’s face. The disappointment in my brother’s eyes. Ha! Can I still even call them family after that? No. Never again.

“Fine,” I said boldly. “If that’s your decision, then I’ll leave. And rest assured - there won’t be a gay son to bring shame to your precious name anymore.”

I didn’t even cry. I packed my things alone and in silence. I looked at each of them with courage before I turned away. Straight out the door, no looking back. I had no intention of returning - not even if they apologized and begged me to come back.

But I guess that’s pride. Must be in our blood.

Once I was far away - finally alone - I felt the exhaustion hit me. Even though I could finally breathe freely in this newfound freedom, the pain and heaviness in my chest stayed. When no one was looking, that’s when I cried. Only my sobs echoed through the stillness of the night.

I am brave, because I know how to cry. Who said crying makes you weak? I didn’t know where to go that night. Who could I run to? Was there even anyone? That’s when I realized - I had nothing. Everyone had left me. No one was there when I needed them.

But back then, when I hadn’t “tainted” our name, they were always around - even when I didn’t need them. Useless people.

So I ran far to a place where no one knew me, where no one recognized the surname my family held so dearly. That’s where I would start again. Now, all I have left is myself; there’s nothing left for me. Will anyone ever love me again? Someone who will accept who and what I am?

“Are you okay?”

In the middle of my delirium, I heard a voice. I was so tired. Where was I? I didn’t know. How many days had I been wandering? I didn’t know either. I just wanted to close my eyes and rest.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a room unfamiliar to me. I heard sounds I couldn’t identify. But I also heard a familiar flow. When I closed my eyes again, I was sure - it was the calm waves on the shore.

“Oh, you’re awake?”

I sat up and saw a man at the doorway. A man? A man… wearing women’s clothing?

“You look really shocked, darling. Yes, I’m a man,” he said with a friendly smile. “But I am a drag queen.”

He grinned. A drag queen. I wasn’t shocked at all. In fact, I was in awe. I looked at him, full of hope. I felt like I’d finally found someone who could accept me.

“W-wait, why are you crying? Do I look that bad to you? That kinda hurts,” he joked, but I only cried harder.

I never showed weakness to anyone - not like this. I never cried like this in front of anyone until now.

Before I realized it, I was already clinging to the hem of his red nightgown. I looked up at him, my eyes swollen with tears. I saw the surprise on his face.

“P-please… I’m begging you… let me stay in your home. I’ll do anything. I just want a home that accepts who I am.”

From surprise, his eyes softened with seriousness. He sat beside me and gently embraced me. My tears stopped. I felt a wave of comfort I hadn’t felt in so long.

“My home is always open for you. Here, you’re free to be yourself. Here, you’ll never be alone again.” He gently brushed my hair. “I’m honored to welcome you to the doors of Vizcara.”

That’s where my life in Isla Montalban began, at a gay bar located at the far edge of the island. When night fell, I was free to show my true self; the real me. No judgment; no disgust in anyone’s eyes.

At Vizcara, the name Warren Yoriel Esmeralda - better known as Wayo - thrived.

I am Vizcara’s most known night performer.

Translator’s Notes

Criminology is a college degree that deals with crimes and the justice system. It’s popular among students who aim to join the police force.