As the cold winds of Saint Moritz swept gently across the grand entrance of the hotel, emotions still ran high—warm and raw, colliding beautifully with the crisp mountain air.
The trainees slowly began introducing their loved ones to one another.
Mothers shaking hands with mentors.
Best friends exchanging awkward but heartfelt greetings.
Parents bowing politely, laughing despite language barriers, communicating through smiles, nods, and shared pride.
It was harmony in its purest form.
Laughter echoed.
Tears dried.
Love filled every corner of the space.
For once, no one was thinking about rankings, evaluations, or cameras.
They were just people—happy, healing people.
And then it happened.
Remember when it was said that blood doesn't always equal family?
Yeah.
That truth decided to make its grand, chaotic appearance.
Eli stood proudly with his arm slung around his family, chest puffed up like a peacock as he introduced them to Monarch and his parents, as well as Jordan and his mother.
"This is my beautiful mom," Eli began brightly. "My dad. And my cute baby sister."
His sister waved enthusiastically.
"I also have a younger brother, but he couldn't come. He's got finals."
He beamed.
Silence followed.
A heavy, confused, math-is-not-mathing silence.
Monarch's gaze flicked from Eli… to Eli's parents… to Eli again.
Jordan's mom blinked.
Jordan squinted.
Monarch finally spoke.
"Okay—no offense, like, at all," Monarch said quickly, holding up his hands. "But, my guy… you are very clearly Caucasian."
He gestured at Eli.
"Like… aggressively so."
Then he gestured at Eli's parents.
"But your family looks exactly like mine. And they're speaking Filipino. So either I'm having a stroke, or—"
"So the math is not mathing," Jordan concluded solemnly.
Eli frowned.
"…Didn't my last name already give it away?"
Monarch snapped.
"DUDE. THAT DOESN'T TELL US ANYTHING!"
Jordan nodded vigorously.
"Same."
Before Eli could respond—
SMACK.
Right on the back of his head.
"ARGH—Mom!" Eli yelped, clutching his head. "That hurt!"
"Explain properly, kasi!" his mom scolded, hands on her hips.
"To talaga, susmaryosep. Para kang ewan."
"…Okay," Eli sighed. "I guess I have a lot of explaining to do."
He looked around sheepishly.
"But maybe… let's go inside first?"
No one argued.
The group moved into the hotel, checking in one by one—and that's when the second wave of shock hit.
The entire hotel… was theirs.
Fully rented.
No other guests.
No disturbances.
No strangers.
Just trainees, their families, and space to breathe.
Foca had done it again.
The architecture alone was breathtaking—towering wooden beams, stone walls that whispered old royalty, warm lighting that felt like being wrapped in a hug. It was like a medieval castle and a mountain cabin had fallen in love and decided to show off.
And the amenities?
Free.
Everything.
Hot springs steaming gently under the stars.
A spa that looked like it belonged to ancient nobility.
Buffets stretching farther than the eye could see.
When the trainees entered their suites—
All hell broke loose.
Screams.
Gasps.
One trainee actually fell to his knees.
"IS THAT A MARBLE BATHTUB?!" someone screamed from down the hall.
Another trainee stared at the fireplace, whispering, "This costs more than my entire bloodline."
The heating system ran 24/7, bathing the entire place in warmth. Those who hated the cold practically wept in relief.
It was luxury they never imagined touching.
And yet—it was given freely.
So they bonded.
Families reunited.
Stories shared.
Laughter spilling late into the evening.
When dinner time rolled around, nearly everyone made their way to the buffet.
Monarch and Jordan were already chatting animatedly, their families walking just behind them when—
Jordan froze.
Monarch's jaw dropped.
Why?
Because Eli was approaching them shirtless.
No jacket.
No shirt.
Just sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips and boots like he was about to headline a Kalvin Clein campaign in the Swiss Alps.
Monarch stared.
Jordan stared harder.
They were used to Eli being shirtless back on the island. It was practically his factory setting. At some point, questioning it just became exhausting.
But this?
Switzerland.
Snow.
Mountains.
Monarch finally croaked, "Bro… are you okay?"
"The heater's on," Eli shrugged.
Before anyone could say anything else—
"ELIJAH SPENCER REYES!"
The voice boomed through the hotel.
Time froze.
Eli turned slowly.
"Oh… shit."
His mom marched toward him with the fury of a woman who had raised him and therefore knew exactly how to destroy him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" she demanded.
And then—
THE ASIAN EAR TWIST.
"AAAAAAHHHHHH!" Eli screamed. "MOM—IT HURTS!"
"It hurts?!" she snapped. "Then why are you walking around half-naked like you're in Boracay?! You think you're so sexy, ha?!"
"But I am sexy—" Eli groaned.
"Oh, so you're talking back NA?!"
She twisted harder.
The hotel erupted.
Trainees laughed until they cried.
Some clutched tables.
Others filmed discreetly.
Vindication was sweet.
"Here!" Eli's mom shoved an oversized hoodie into his chest. "Wear this!"
Eli opened his mouth.
"No buts," she pointed. "Bilis! Tom Jones na akis!"
Jordan wheezed.
"Same tita!" he laughed.
"Oh see? Even your friend is hungry na!" Eli's mom said. "Put it on!"
Defeated, Eli slowly pulled the hoodie over his head.
Applause erupted.
As they finally proceeded to dinner, Eli already knew—
This moment would never die.
Ever.
And as he groaned quietly to himself, Monarch clapped him on the back.
"Welcome to family," Monarch grinned.
Eli sighed.
"Worth it."