The sun was slowly setting on the horizon, bathing the small town of Arcelia in warm golden tones. Nil's wagon remained parked in the sheriff's stable, covered with tarps and neatly arranged boxes, as if the nomadic apothecary had nothing to hide.

But something felt off. The sheriff couldn’t quite put his finger on it, yet his instinct—something Giovanni Solís always took pride in—told him otherwise. And Giovanni, ever so meticulous, decided to take advantage of Nil’s absence to investigate.

Carefully, he climbed into the wagon and began inspecting the boxes. He found medicine bottles, herbs, and tools—everything one would expect from an apothecary. Until an old leather-bound book at the bottom of one of the larger boxes caught his attention. Inside its pages were notes about herbs—those harmful to the body and those beneficial. Each page featured a different herb, warnings about its use, along with instructions for preparation and mixing. It also specified which herbs could enhance its effects and which could neutralize them.

It was, without a doubt, a meticulous and well-explained study. Some pages also contained medical content, including a neatly drawn graphite diagram of the human body. The pages were yellowed with age, but it was clear that whenever a text became hard to read, Giovanni assumed Nil had carefully traced over it to preserve the information.

The sheriff thought it was admirable in its meticulousness. However, he couldn’t help but feel that most of the medical knowledge on those pages seemed more suited for treating one’s own wounds rather than tending to someone else’s. When he tried to close the book, an old envelope slipped out from the back—worn by time, yet carefully kept.

The sheriff paused for a moment, hesitating. —What am I doing? —he thought. But his duty as the town’s protector weighed heavier. He took out the letter and opened it.

It was a yellowed piece of paper, handwritten in a shaky script. At the top, it read: "San Andrés Orphanage, Guerrero."

Giovanni frowned as he began to read.

"Sister Clara,

I write to you with great shame and a tormented soul. I turn to you because I don’t know what else to do, but I beg that what I’m about to tell you remain only between us and the eyes of God.

A few weeks ago, my husband and I caught some thieves on our land. They were stealing corn from our crop. In a fit of rage, my husband confronted them… and took their lives. I swear to you before our Lord that we didn’t know they had a child with them!

I don’t know where they were from, sister, but they weren’t like us. Among their things were papers written in the same letters we use, but we couldn’t understand what they said. One of them had hair the color of wheat, and skin white—white as milk. That’s when we saw the child… he has blue eyes, just like them.

I know the right thing would be to raise him as our own, but sister, we barely have enough for ourselves. We cannot take on another mouth to feed. That’s why I beg you to take him into the orphanage until God sends a good family to care for him.

Among the strangers’ papers, we found one that I believe is a birth certificate. Only the name is legible: Nil. The last name, we don’t know how to read it.

We don’t know if we did right or wrong, but we ask God for forgiveness. My husband and I regret what happened, and when our time comes to face judgment, we will do so with our heads bowed. In the meantime, I beg you, sister, to help us with this child.

May God bless you,

Rigoberta de Salazar"

Giovanni finished reading and felt a strange mixture of emotions wash over him. On one hand, he was surprised; he never would’ve imagined that Nil—the reserved and, at times, sarcastic apothecary—had grown up in an orphanage. But on the other, he felt a sharp pang of compassion.

Nil, the man who always seemed to keep the world at arm’s length, had carried a past that surely left deep scars.

The sound of footsteps on the ground made him turn sharply.

Nil was there.

Standing, his eyes fixed on the letter Giovanni was holding.

His expression was unreadable, his jaw clenched, but his eyes… his eyes held something dangerous—something Giovanni couldn’t tell if it was rage, disappointment, or something deeper and buried.

—Give me that. —Nil’s voice was low, but sharp as a blade.

Giovanni didn’t move.

Nil took a step forward, and though his posture remained relaxed, his gaze was a clear warning.

—Don’t tell me what to do again —Giovanni replied calmly, holding the letter firmly.

Nil frowned for a few seconds, and Giovanni could see the tension in his jaw. The apothecary was stunned by the words the sheriff had just spoken. <<How dare you?>> Nil thought, furious. The air between them grew heavy. Nil didn’t blink, his chest rising and falling in controlled breaths, as if trying not to explode.

—You had no right —he murmured, his voice dripping with venom.

—I know —Giovanni admitted plainly—. But now I know.

Nil clenched his teeth. His sharp tongue searched for a quick retort, something he could drive into Giovanni to make him drop the damn letter and leave him alone.

But nothing came.

Because in those brown eyes, there was no mockery, no superiority, no pity. Only an unshakable truth.

Giovanni knew.

And Nil couldn’t do anything to change that.

The silence broke when Giovanni extended the letter toward him.

Nil hesitated for a moment, but took it quickly—yet carefully—folding it with precision before tucking it inside his shirt.

—Forget it —he said, in a tone that tried to sound light, but failed miserably.

Giovanni didn’t reply. He just looked at him, as if expecting something more.

Without another word, Nil walked over to his wagon, as if Giovanni weren’t standing right there. He took the letter and slid it back into the final page of his book, then placed the book at the bottom of the box, closing it firmly.

Nil grabbed the vials he had originally come for, but when he saw the sheriff still standing where he’d left him, he let out a sharp exhale and shook his head.

—What now, Sheriff? You gonna tell me everything’s going to be fine? That I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of?

Giovanni tilted his head slightly.

—No. Because I know you wouldn’t believe me.

Nil narrowed his eyes, waiting for the condescension that never came.

—I’m just going to tell you one thing —Giovanni continued, his voice steady enough to chill the blood—. Whatever you’ve been through… it doesn’t define who you are now.

Nil looked at him for a long second.

Then, without another word, he turned and stepped out of the wagon carrying the supplies he needed.

But Giovanni knew those words stayed with him.

And that, somehow, was enough.

As he watched Nil walk away, Giovanni couldn’t stop thinking how much he wanted to know more about that man—not just for the sake of his investigation, but for the ghosts that haunted his past.