Yes, that Chronos. One of the founders of the Circuits, standing right there in front of her. A cane in one hand, and a black plastic bag in the other.

  “I must say I’m disappointed,” he said in a dry tone.

  “You were in prison…”

  “Let’s talk about more important things. I don’t have much time.”

  “Not much time?”

  “Yes. Because he is coming.”

  “Who?”

  “The only person my power has no effect on… Your boyfriend.”

  “…! Is Candado here?”

  “That’s right. I came to make a deal with you. I didn’t expect the script to spiral out of control. I don’t usually get involved, but it’s essential that you don’t die prematurely.”

  Chronos pulled a book from the bag.

  “Is that…?”

  “Oh yes. The gift you refused.”

  “I told you I didn’t want it.”

  “Wait. At least hear what I have to say.”

  “…Fine.”

  Chronos gave a faint smile.

  “Do you want to save her?”

  Hammya turned her face to him.

  “Can I?”

  “Of course. You just have to accept the book.”

  He held out the same volume he had shown her in prison.

  “You only have to take it.”

  Hammya hesitated. She took a step toward Chronos.

  “Will it change anything?”

  “Only if you want it to.”

  “That doesn’t precisely answer what I asked.”

  “Miss Saillim, please,” he smiled.

  Hammya closed her eyes for a moment. She wavered. Her heart longed to take it, but her reason refused… until she remembered what had happened to Dimitra. Then:

  “Yes. I accept.”

  She took the book. But nothing happened.

  “Uh… Is something else supposed to happen?”

  Chronos smiled again.

  “Give it time.”

  Then he let go of the book.

  “What…?”

  The book began to glow, and so did Hammya’s eyes. Then the pages opened on their own. One by one, the written words lifted off the paper and were absorbed into Hammya’s hands and skin. The pages burned slowly as the letters left them. In less than a minute, only ashes remained.

  Hammya dropped to her knees and closed her eyes.

  “The deal is sealed,” Chronos announced solemnly.

  He snapped his fingers.

  And time rewound a few minutes.

  Hallways

  Candado was running down a dark corridor. Around him, people who had been frozen in time began to move again.

  “What the hell is going on!?”

  Suddenly, he fell to his knees, clutching his head.

  “AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  A sharp pain tore through his mind, like something was trying to claw its way out from within.

  “Fluctuation!” he growled through gritted teeth.

  He shot to his feet.

  “Someone… someone has altered time. This is Chronos’s doing.”

  And he kept running.

  Basement

  Hammya stood up. She opened her eyes and looked at Chronos with firm resolve.

  “Thank you for keeping your word.”

  “I told you—we have the same goals.”

  She extended her left hand.

  “Thanks for the help.”

  Chronos shook it.

  “Don’t mention it,” he said seriously. “Now hurry. Time will start flowing again.”

  Hammya nodded with a smile, walked over to where Sid was, grabbed his weapon, and emptied the magazine into the guard’s foot. Then she holstered it. As for the second guard, a single punch to the groin was all it took. She then shattered his knife with a precise blow.

  Chronos watched everything with a faint smile on his face.

  “I must be going.”

  Hammya returned to the exact position she had before time was paused. Then, she raised a thumb.

  “By the way,” Chronos said with a smile, pointing to the iron door at the far end of the room, “an ally will be coming through that door—so try not to hurt him.”

  “…Fine,” Hammya replied, distrust lingering in her voice.

  Chronos smiled once more before fading from view. Then, time began to flow again.

  Sid and the guard collapsed to their knees, writhing in pain.

  “AHHHHHHHHHHHH! DAMN IT!”

  Hammya feigned difficulty as she rose to her feet. For a brief moment, her eyes shimmered with a strange light.

  “No,” she whispered to herself. “Not yet.”

  She stepped in front of Dimitra, shielding her with her body.

  Seething with rage, Sid raised his weapon and aimed it at the girl—yet no shot came. The gun was empty.

  “You damned demon…”

  Suddenly, a thunderous crash echoed behind them.

  The iron door shook violently with a second boom. Sid and the guard turned just in time to see the heavy structure crumple like paper. A man stepped through the threshold, carrying an axe and dressed in a fireproof suit.

  “More company, huh?” Sid smirked.

  It was Red.

  “That’s the ally?” Hammya whispered, still in disbelief.

  Red advanced toward Sid with calm purpose. He readied his weapon and aimed it at him.

  “Don’t move.”

  Sid froze. Hammya spotted an opening to strike—but someone else moved faster.

  From the shadows, a boy in a beret emerged. With a swift strike to the wrist, he disarmed Sid. The man barely had time to react before the boy struck him across the face with the hilt of a blade.

  “Of course not,” said the boy coldly.

  He grabbed Sid by the wrist and flung him effortlessly toward Red.

  Red caught him without hesitation and planted a boot firmly on his neck.

  “S… stop, please…”

  Red said nothing. He pressed down with all his weight and strength.

  “Stop, don’t kill him—he’s going straight to the caves,” Candado ordered.

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  Red paused, then fractured Sid’s right arm instead. The agonizing scream that followed rang through the air.

  Candado walked over to the guard who had been pretending to be dead and stared down at him with disdain.

  “Open your eyes, coward, or I’ll rip off your skin.”

  Terrified, the guard opened his eyes wide.

  “Please, don’t kill me!”

  “Me?” Candado said with a crooked smile. “Of course not. But she might.”

  From the shadows, Clementine appeared.

  “When did you find out?” she asked.

  “When I escaped from the car... He’s all yours now,” Candado said, stepping away.

  “No, please, I’m sorry,” the guard begged.

  Clementine stepped forward with deliberate strides. The guard tried to flee, but she shot both his Achilles tendons, leaving him incapacitated.

  “Target immobilized,” she announced in a mechanical voice.

  She crouched down and forced him to meet her gaze.

  “I saw how much you enjoyed tearing my sister apart...”

  “I’m sorry… please,” the guard sobbed, tears streaming down his face.

  Clementine’s right hand morphed into a spiraling array of blades.

  “I’ll take my time doing the same to you.”

  She grabbed him by the shirt and began dragging him away from the group. His screams of pleading and agony faded gradually into the distance.

  Candado looked at Hammya—ragged, bruised, but alive.

  “Perfect,” he said with relief, smiling. “I made it in time.”

  He ran to her and embraced her tightly, burying his face into her neck, holding back his tears.

  “You’re safe…”

  Hammya gave a soft smile and returned the embrace at once.

  “Thank you for coming.”

  “Always.”

  Red watched in silence. It was impossible to tell what he felt, or what expression lay behind his mask. He turned to Dr. Toledo, still kneeling, trembling, and confused. Calmly, he reloaded his weapon.

  “I see,” the doctor murmured.

  She rotated the cartridge and pointed the gun at her own forehead.

  “This is the end, isn’t it?” she said, offering no resistance.

  Red placed his finger on the trigger.

  Dimitra stepped forward and placed her head in front of the gun. She said nothing, but her eyes were defiant.

  Red didn’t hesitate. He merely moved her aside and took aim once more.

  “Step away, Dimitra.”

  “I won’t, Doctor.”

  Hammya stepped forward, ready to intervene, but Candado stopped her with a gentle hand.

  "Don't," he said. "Just watch what’s about to happen."

  At that moment, all the children began to emerge from their rooms—even those who had been behaving like zombies. Slowly, they approached and formed a protective circle around Doctor Toledo.

  Candado let out a soft sigh of frustration at the emotional scene building around an agent.

  "Doctor Toledo," he said sternly, "you are under arrest."

  Red holstered his weapon and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. The children hesitated, reluctant to move aside, but at Toledo's own urging, they finally made space. She extended her arms willingly.

  With great care, Red handcuffed her.

  Some time later, Kanghar personnel arrived to clean the facility and assist the wounded and former hostages. Meanwhile, Candado postponed both the paperwork and Bretanny’s inevitable lecture to accompany Hammya to the emergency room, where her injuries could be treated.

  He waited behind the curtain—the only thing separating them—while Abel, the doctor, tended to her wounds.

  "They’re not severe, but they’re not light either," said the doctor calmly. "Relax, they won’t leave any scars."

  "Oh? Are you sure?"

  "Yeah. Don’t worry."

  He rummaged through a nearby box and pulled out a bundle of clothes.

  "Is that...?"

  "This? It belongs to the kid waiting outside," Abel replied, nodding toward the curtain.

  Hammya glanced at the shadow of Candado, visible through the fabric.

  "My clothes..." she murmured with a smile.

  Abel exited the cubicle discreetly. Hammya began to undress and change into her familiar clothes.

  "Hammya," came Candado's voice from the other side of the curtain.

  "Yes?"

  "...I’m really glad to see you again."

  "...Yeah," she replied, smiling softly as she slid on her shoes.

  Outside, Candado rubbed his thumb against his index finger—nervous.

  "I'm ready," Hammya announced.

  Candado stepped away from the wall and slowly pulled the curtain aside.

  "..."

  "How do I look?" Hammya asked, a touch of anxiety in her voice.

  Candado reached into his pocket and pulled out a violet rose.

  "You were missing this," he said.

  He stepped closer and gently placed it in her hair himself.

  Hammya lowered her gaze, visibly moved.

  "You kept it… Thank you."

  "I always imagine it in your hair," he said warmly, with a small laugh. "Heh."

  "And now? How do I look?"

  "Now you look beautiful."

  Hammya smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

  "Your reward, my prince."

  Candado froze for a moment, caught off guard, but quickly regained his composure.

  "Right, whatever."

  Some time later, Candado emerged to the surface. He received the expected scolding from Bretanny and reunited with friends and family—well, almost. The guild members were notably absent.

  Candado’s mother burst into tears of relief as she embraced the girl, while the others erupted into cheers and cries of joy at her return.

  Candado, however, looked up and saw Nelson in the distance, carrying Clementine’s blood-smeared body in his arms—expressionless as always. The blood was clearly not hers, but that of the man she had torn apart.

  Nelson met his eyes and gave him a subtle signal not to worry. Candado understood and chose not to approach. Instead, he turned his attention to the thirteen hunters who had aided them. They were celebrating their victory over the agents.

  He walked toward them with steady steps.

  "Gentlemen."

  Immediately, everyone lined up like soldiers before their captain.

  “There were no casualties on our side, sir, but we lost four hostages… two of them were children,” ázack reported.

  “I see…”

  “We’re sorry.”

  “These things, unfortunately, happen. Thank you for your support.”

  “They’re not going to pay, are they?” Keller cut in.

  Red slapped him.

  “Ow, hey!”

  “That’s enough,” ázack declared.

  Candado smiled.

  “You will be paid, Mr. Keller. All of you.”

  “Our services are free, sir,” ázack replied firmly.

  “I know. But the money will come from my own pocket. As compensation—and as a reward for a job well done.”

  Candado extended his hand.

  “Isn’t that fair?”

  ázack smiled and shook it firmly.

  “We’ll always be at your service, Mr. Candado.”

  “Was that a pun on my name?”

  “He’s my lock, sir.”

  They both chuckled. Then Candado turned around.

  “Get some rest.”

  “Yes, sir!” they answered in unison.

  Candado left the group and walked toward his parents’ car. Curiously, it was his father who would be driving this time.

  “Need a ride?”

  “You’re hilarious, Dad.”

  Candado climbed in, joined by Hammya. Before closing the door, he looked back one last time.

  “A job well done.”

  “Did you say something?”

  “No, Mom.”

  The car glided smoothly down the road while the world outside blurred beneath the soft glow of dawn. In the back seat, Europa slept soundly, curled up like a child after a storm. All the tension that had gripped her body had faded like mist after rain. Peace, though fragile, finally embraced her.

  Hammya had also fallen asleep. Her face, usually so full of life and expression, was now serene, though the bruises and small cuts scattered across her skin were reminders that the path to peace had not been easy. She slept with her head resting on Candado’s shoulder, as if even in unconsciousness, her body sought refuge.

  Candado, however, remained awake, eyes fixed on the road, arms crossed, back straight. He blinked only when necessary. There was no rest on his face—only a rigid calm, like the surface of a lake just before it freezes.

  “You can sleep, Canda,” Arturo whispered from the driver’s seat.

  “Not yet. I’ve still got things to do.”

  “Come on, you need some rest.”

  “Dad, I’m fine.”

  It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. Arturo glanced at him from the corner of his eye, carrying the same exhaustion his son bore—but with a patience born of old wounds.

  Hammya shifted softly in her sleep, settling against Candado’s shoulder as if her body instinctively knew it was safe there. He didn’t move.

  “Just look at that,” Arturo said with a faint smile.

  Candado didn’t reply. He didn’t feel tenderness. He didn’t feel pride. Only the sense of duty fulfilled.

  “I’m glad she’s okay.”

  “We made it,” he replied without taking his eyes off the road. “But rest isn’t part of the reward.”

  “It should be.”

  “Not yet.”

  The conversation ended there. Arturo knew better than to insist. He knew his son too well: when Candado retreated into that familiar silence, neither words nor time could reach him. And Candado, in turn, understood that his father asked only out of love—but he wouldn’t change his mind. To speak more would risk waking the sleeping girls.

  “Dad, make a stop by the guilds.”

  “What for?”

  “My teammates were worried. I want to see them.”

  “Alright.”

  Ten minutes later, the car stopped in front of the guild headquarters. A dim light shone through the windows, and the muffled voices inside confirmed they were still there.

  Candado stepped out and knocked on the door.

  “It’s me. Open up.”

  He didn’t have to say it twice. The door opened immediately, as if they had been waiting for him.

  “Well…” he murmured, surprised to see them all gathered. “You’re still here.”

  “Is she with you?” Pucheta asked, his brow furrowed.

  “Yes. She’s in the car.”

  One by one, they stepped outside and approached the vehicle. When they saw Hammya—sleeping, bruised, and clearly exhausted—a heavy silence fell over the group. Some clenched their fists; others looked away.

  “It’s all over,” Pucheta said with relief.

  “Declan, easy,” Candado warned.

  The young man had unconsciously gripped the hilt of his sword.

  “Sorry, sir,” he apologized immediately.

  “I understand. It’s alright.”

  Candado opened the car door and turned to his companions.

  “Go home. We’ll continue tomorrow. You all deserve rest.”

  “So do you,” said Héctor from the doorway. His voice, as always, carried something more human. Hope, perhaps.

  “I will… once I take care of a few things.”

  He got back into the car. From the window, he looked back twice. He waved with a brief, almost mechanical gesture. Then he simply sat there, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the horizon unfolding ahead. There was nothing more to say. Arturo understood and respected his silence.

  The vehicle pulled up in front of the house. Waiting at the entrance were Hipólito and Grandma Andrea. Her gray hairs peeked through the reddish dye, as if age itself insisted on reminding her it was still there.

  Arturo got out first and carried Europa. Without a word, Candado lifted Hammya. They did so with a quiet tenderness. The house welcomed them with the warm embrace of home.

  The men carried the girls to their rooms. They removed their shoes, unfastened coats, and, as if following an unspoken code between father and son, loosened ties and ribbons with the same solemn care.

  Candado left the room a minute earlier.

  “I’ll go park the car,” he said to his father, patting him on the shoulder.

  “Alright.”

  He descended the stairs with heavy steps and approached his grandmother, who was waiting on the couch.

  “How’s it going?”

  And without another word, he collapsed into her arms.

  “Whops!” she gasped, surprised.

  “Just let me stay like this for a while… please.”

  “Of course, my boy.”

  Andrea held him in silence. She gently stroked his back, then his head—first removing his beret with tender care.

  “Everything’s fine,” he whispered.

  “I’m glad everything’s fine.”

  The next morning arrived with a shared cry. Both girls woke up at the exact same time, their eyes snapping open as if jolted from a nightmare.

  “What happened?!” they asked in unison as they burst through the door.

  “Oh, hello, Mama Barret.”

  “Hello, Hammya!” she replied, pulling her into a tight, affectionate hug.

  “Yes, I’m doing great too,” joked a voice, clearly amused at being ignored.

  “Hipólito!” Hammya beamed when she saw him.

  “Looks like the ladies are back on their feet,” he said, holding up a breakfast tray.

  “Hipólito?” Europa asked, surprised by the scene.

  “I came to bring you something to eat.”

  “Where’s Arturo?” asked Europa.

  “And Candado?” asked Hammya.

  “Don’t worry,” he said calmly. “Mr. Arturo fell asleep on the couch. And Candado… well, he hasn’t come out of the basement since last night.”

  No sooner had the words left his mouth than Hammya darted away.

  “I’ll eat later, Hipólito!”

  But seconds later, she rushed back in, grabbed a biscuit off the tray, and said:

  “I’ll take this one. Bye!”

  “Kids…” he muttered with a smile. Then he turned to Europa. “Would you like me to run you a bath?”

  Hammya floated down the stairs with featherlight steps, instantly catching the attention of Grandma Andrea and Karen, who was absentmindedly poking at her sleeping father’s face as he dozed on the couch.

  “Such energy, huh?” Andrea remarked with a smile.

  Hammya froze in place, a bit nervous.

  “I just want to see Candado,” she said, glancing away.

  “Uh-huh… He’s in the basement,” the grandmother replied, her tone conspiratorial.

  Saying nothing more, Hammya smiled, turned on her heel, and left the room.

  She made her way down the hallway to the basement door. Once there, she stopped and knocked gently, her smile never fading.

  “Candado, are you in there?”

  “No,” came the unmistakable voice from the other side.

  Hammya let out a soft giggle, as if that was exactly the answer she’d been hoping for. Then she placed her hand on the doorknob and turned it carefully.