Rain fell steadily over Arcelia, dyeing the town in grayish tones and tamping down the dust that usually danced with the wind. The sound of water drummed against the red-tiled roofs, forming small rivulets that slid down into the cobbled streets, turning them into a maze of puddles and mud.

From the window of the guest room in María’s house, Nil watched the scene with a slight frown. Raindrops trickled down the glass, distorting the view of the town and giving it an almost unreal quality, as if everything outside belonged to a foggy dream.

The central square, usually lively with the comings and goings of the townspeople, seemed dormant under the rain. The bandstand stood at its center, its dark railings glistening with moisture, and the stone benches remained empty, small puddles forming at their feet.

The station, on the far side of the square, had its door shut, though a faint yellow light flickered behind the windows. Despite the bad weather, Giovanni and his men were likely still inside, busy with reports or simply waiting for the storm to pass.

Beyond that, the Church of San Sebastián dominated the scene with its cantera stone façade, darkened by the rain. From the second floor, Nil could see Father Esteban hurrying across the atrium, clutching his hat to keep the wind from tearing it away.

A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the empty streets, casting silvery reflections off rooftops and flooded windows. Nil followed the raindrops sliding down the glass, listening to the ceaseless drumming of the rain on the wooden roof.

He didn’t mind the rain. On the contrary, it brought memories. Of muddy roads, of cold nights beneath makeshift shelter, of footsteps muffled by damp earth…

Of escapes in the dark.

Nil narrowed his eyes and turned his gaze back inside the room. The space was small, but had everything he needed. The whitewashed adobe walls reflected the faint light coming through the window, giving the room a sober feel, free of unnecessary decoration. Against one wall, a single bed with a simple mattress lay beneath a thick wool blanket—rough, but warm, the kind of fabric that prioritized survival over comfort.

Beside the bed, a wooden chair creaked under Nil’s weight, and a small nightstand held an oil lamp and a half-drunk glass of water. The dark wood of the furniture was worn at the corners, signs of age and frequent use.

In the opposite corner, a wooden chest with rusted hinges served as makeshift storage. A folded shirt rested on top, likely left there by María, who—despite her carefree attitude—always made sure others had what they needed.

The air inside the room was filled with the scent of rain, mixed with the faint aroma of damp wood and burnt oil from the lamp. Every now and then, the wind struck the windowpane, making the glass tremble with an unsettling whisper.

Nil inhaled deeply and rested his elbow on the windowsill. The sound of the rain was hypnotic, almost soothing, but his mind couldn’t find peace. His wound was no longer an obstacle—he’d secretly been planning to leave the following week.

He couldn’t stay long in one place; he never liked to. But now, he had two damned problems. The main one: Sheriff Roberto.

Nil could recognize a threat when he saw one, and every fiber of his being told him that man was unlike any he’d faced before.

The morning after the interrogation, Roberto had left for Iguala in search of leads about the Black Specter.

But before leaving, he gave him that damned warning.

“Don’t go too far, apothecary. If you do... I’ll come looking for you.”

Nil ran a hand down his face in frustration. At first, he wouldn’t have been intimidated by a man of at least fifty years.

But the problem wasn’t Roberto.

It was the gossip.

The rumors had flared up like gunpowder catching fire.

"That he’s a suspect."

"That he’s part of the Black Specter’s gang."

"That he is the Black Specter himself!"

Nil exhaled through his nose, holding back his irritation.

What was the real problem?

If he left now, it would only confirm their suspicions.

“If you’ve done nothing wrong, you have nothing to fear, right?”

Nil hugged his knees in frustration. This is why he hated settling in towns—every single person in Arcelia had seen his face at least once. If he left now, there would be hundreds of posters all over the state with his likeness, labeled as a “person of interest.”

—Person of interest, my ass.

The Zanates had trained him since he was a child to avoid situations like this.

Was he getting soft with age?

“Confidence is your downfall,” they used to tell him.

And now, because he got overconfident, he was trapped in this damn town. Nil clenched his jaw.

If he’d killed the officers at the bank, they wouldn’t have raised the alarm.

If he hadn’t gotten injured, he wouldn’t have moved so slow.

If he’d been more alert on the road, he could’ve avoided that damn ambush.

If he’d had his revolver at hand, those three bastards wouldn’t have laid a finger on him.

And all for a couple of old, used ceramic pieces.

But no. None of that is what screwed me.

Nil closed his eyes for a moment.

It was that damned sheriff.

Poking his nose where it didn’t belong.

Rummaging through his things.

Finding that damned letter.

Nil clenched his teeth hard.

He tasted metal in his mouth.

He was angry.

Nothing had gone right in the past month.

And worst of all...

He shouldn’t be making rookie mistakes anymore.

Nil wanted to scream, wanted to smash something. But anger only leads to more mistakes.

So he took a deep breath.

Inhaled. Counted to four. Exhaled.

Over and over, until his mind cooled.

Until he could see the situation for what it was: a chess match.

He opened his eyes.
If I want to get out of here, I have to get rid of the sheriff.

But I can’t kill him.

That would just mean someone else would replace him.

And what if the next one’s worse? I could end up dead.

Nil clenched his jaw again.

I need to distract him.

But how?

If trouble started right after the apothecary showed up, the answer would be obvious.

He scratched the windowsill with his fingernail.

Stealing livestock and losing it in the mountains? No... if animals started going missing now, they’d probably put someone on me.

Nil clicked his tongue.

—Maybe I’m approaching this the wrong way.

He straightened up a bit, eyes narrowing.

—The sheriff does his job. But he’s easy to provoke.

What could I do to make him back off?

And then...

He remembered.

When he touched him. When he reacted. At first, he’d thought it was a coincidence.

But no.

The sheriff had feelings he couldn’t control.

Nil smiled slowly, exasperatingly so.

If I can’t get rid of him... I’ll make him want to get rid of me.

Yes. That man must be your typical devout Catholic. If I make him uncomfortable enough...

If I keep bothering him with lingering stares and careless touches...

Sooner or later, he’ll walk away on his own—he might even kick me out of town himself.

If the sheriff kicks me out, I won’t have left by choice, right?

Nil raised an amused eyebrow.

And getting under his skin was easier than taking candy from a child.

The smile widened.

He already had a plan. And the best part…

He was going to enjoy it.

Outside, night covered Arcelia with a cloak of restless shadows. The town slept under the dark sky, interrupted only by the flickering of oil lamps casting trembling light across the plaza. The air was thick and heavy, as if the darkness itself made it harder to breathe.

In the distance, the cry of a night zanate broke the silence, its harsh song echoing through the narrow streets. The wind blew in soft gusts, carrying the scent of wet earth and aged wood, a reminder that the entire town was wrapped in a deceptive calm.

Nil walked at a relaxed pace, his boots thudding softly against the packed dirt as he approached the sheriff’s office. From the outside, the building looked darker than usual, with only a couple of lights spilling faintly through the windows. The wooden door creaked slightly when he pushed it open, and the sound echoed inside, announcing his arrival.

Inside, the air was warmer, but no less tense. The scent of tobacco and gunpowder lingered, blending with the smell of old paper and worn leather. The ticking of the wall clock was the only constant sound, marking time with an almost mocking precision.

The shift was nearly over.

But for Nil, it was the perfect moment to make his first move. He walked in with his usual expression, relaxed, as if he wasn’t about to drop a bomb in that office.

—Apothecary. —Noé was the first to notice him, raising an eyebrow. — What are you doing here so late? —asked the officer, standing beside his chair, gathering his things to leave.

Nil shrugged and locked eyes with Giovanni, whose office door was open. The sheriff was organizing papers under the poor, flickering light of a few oil lamps.

—I’m here to file an official report. —He said it in a tone far too casual for someone talking about an assault.

Giovanni looked up, surprised.

—Now you want to cooperate?

—I’ve always cooperated, Sheriff. I just wanted to do it at the right time.

Giovanni crossed his arms, analyzing every word. But in the end, he nodded with some satisfaction.

—Fine. Sit down with Rafael. He’ll take your statement.

Nil didn’t even need to turn around to know Rafael wasn’t happy about it— it was late, he wanted to go home, and the last thing he wanted was to deal with Nil and his stories, which felt more like riddles than testimony. Still, Nil didn’t move.

—No.

Giovanni frowned.

—What do you mean, no?

Nil narrowed his eyes with a slow smile.

—I’ll give my statement. But only to you, Sheriff. In private.

The mood shifted.

Noé and Rafael exchanged glances. That wasn’t normal.

—Don’t tell me you’re shy, Apothecary. —Rafael chuckled. — It’s just telling us what happened.

—Some things aren’t meant to be said in front of just anyone. —Nil tilted his head, tone as calm as always. — If you want my testimony, it’ll be with him. In private.

Giovanni clicked his tongue with impatience. Although... he’d had cases like this before. Victims who didn’t want to speak publicly for fear of retaliation, or simply because the story was too personal.

Besides, if Nil talked... he might confirm whether he was really clean or not.

Just as Nil expected, the sheriff was weighing the situation in his head. So predictable, thought the mercenary.

—If you’ll have me, I’ll tell you... —He paused, dropping his gaze with feigned anxiety, placing a hand over his injured side as if it pained him to admit it. —I’ll tell you how I got this.

The silence stretched. Giovanni stared at him with suspicion.

For a moment, Nil thought the sheriff would reject the offer. But in the end, he took the bait.

—Alright. —Giovanni shut the file with purpose and stood up. — Rafael, Noé, you can go.

The sheriff walked into the main room where Nil was waiting as the other officers headed to the door. —Go ahead. — he said to the apothecary.

Nil gave the faintest hint of a smile.

Step one: Be alone with the sheriff.

Done.

Nil stepped through the office doorway with his usual calm, as if it were his own home. His footsteps echoed softly against the floor, blending with the faint crackle of the oil lamps—the only light standing against the night.

Giovanni followed behind him, distractedly pushing the door until it almost closed as he headed toward his desk.

But before he could reach his chair, the sharp sound of the door shutting made him stop in his tracks.

He turned.

Nil had stayed by the door, leaning casually against it, both hands behind his back holding the doorknob. His posture wasn’t threatening... but it wasn’t innocent either.

And his eyes...

His eyes were watching him like a predator watches its prey.

The shadows in the office stretched and flickered, cast by the trembling light of the candles over shelves full of documents and the old state map pinned to the wall. The air was tight, heavy, the scent of old paper and burnt wax mingling with leather and gunpowder.

Giovanni felt his body instinctively tense, but he didn’t look away.

—Do you have a reason for closing the door? —he asked in a low voice, weighing each word.

Nil gave a faint smile, pushing himself gently off the wood to take a step forward.

—Of course. —His tone was light, as if the answer were obvious—. I don’t want any interruptions.

Interruptions? Noé and Rafael had already left, the sheriff thought. But Giovanni’s only response was a slow sigh, the exhale of someone already beginning to lose his patience.

He walked over to his desk and sat down, pen in hand.

—Alright. —His voice sounded firm, though inside he felt like he was about to enter a game he didn’t quite understand—. Start from the beginning.

Nil smiled a little wider.

Because, even if Giovanni didn’t know it yet...
He was already in the game.