The Church of San Sebastián rose over the plaza like an imposing shadow. Its light stone façade contrasted against the cloudy sky, and the distant sound of prayers and murmurs floated in the air.

Giovanni ran a hand over the back of his neck before stepping inside. He hadn’t gone to confession in years.

Not because he didn’t believe in God.

But because he knew some things had no forgiveness.

The inside was cool, with a faint scent of incense and melted wax lingering in the air. The wooden pews were nearly empty, save for a couple of elderly women with rosaries between their fingers.

The priest, Father Esteban, was arranging some books near the altar when he saw him.

—Alguacil. —His voice was calm, without surprise—. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.

Giovanni removed his hat, holding it in his hands.

—I need to talk to you.

The priest nodded and guided him toward the confessional.

Giovanni let out a slow breath before entering.

The gloom of the small space wrapped around him, with only a thin ray of light filtering through the wooden lattice that separated the two men.

A heavy silence.

And then… the confession.

—Father, I have sinned.

The words burned in his throat.

—We all sin, my son —the priest replied in a calm voice—. What is it that troubles you?

Giovanni clenched his jaw.

Because he didn’t know how to say it.

Because he couldn’t say it.

Because if he did, it would make it real.

His hand tightened around his hat. He could still feel on his skin the echo of a touch he shouldn’t have felt.

He felt blue eyes watching him in the dim light.

And damn it… he felt his body react before his mind did.

—I have impure thoughts —he finally said.

The silence on the other side stretched out.

—Towards a married woman?

—No.

—Towards a single woman?

Giovanni closed his eyes in frustration.

—No.

One second.

Two.

Father Esteban understood.

—My son… —His voice dropped slightly—. What you’re feeling is a test.

Giovanni swallowed hard.

—A test of what?

—Of your faith.

Giovanni felt the weight in his chest grow heavier.

Because it wasn’t his faith that was faltering.

It was his will.

—And if I fail? —his voice was lower than he would have liked.

The priest sighed.

—Then it’s because you haven’t fought hard enough.

Giovanni said nothing.

Because he knew Nil was tempting him.

Because he knew he was resisting less each day.

And because, deep down, what scared him the most…

Was that maybe he didn’t want to keep resisting.

Father Esteban looked at him through the lattice with an expression Giovanni couldn’t see, but could feel.

Compassion.

Understanding.

And worst of all… patience.

—My son —his voice was low but firm—, desire is part of the flesh. But it is not stronger than the will of the soul.

Giovanni swallowed hard.

—And what if I don’t want it to be stronger?

The priest sighed.

—Then it’s because you’ve already begun to give in.

The words fell over Giovanni like a sentence.

Give in.

He knew it.

He knew Nil was tempting him, he knew it was getting harder to ignore him every day. And worst of all…

He knew that if Nil really wanted to make him fall, he could do it without any trouble.

—Tell me, my son… —The priest’s voice pulled him from his thoughts—. Have you acted on these thoughts?

Giovanni felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth.

Because no.

But he hadn’t done anything to stop it either.

Nil was the one who touched, who insinuated, who played at the edge of temptation.

And he… simply let him.

He clenched his teeth.

—No.

—Then you can still resist.

Giovanni let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed a hand over his face.

Resist.

It was easy to say when you didn’t have Nil looking at you like he knew exactly what to do to drive you mad.

Father Esteban stayed silent for a moment, considering his words. Then, with the calm of someone who had seen many men face their demons, he spoke:

—Your penance will be to pray a full rosary tonight. And tomorrow, you will come to the church to help distribute food to the needy.

Giovanni wasn’t surprised.

He was giving him time.

Time to think.

Time to put things in order before it was too late.

—And if I still feel it? —he asked in a low voice.

Father Esteban gave a faint smile.

—Then come back.

Giovanni closed his eyes.

Because deep down, he already knew the answer.

He knew he would come back.

Because the test wasn’t over.

And because Nil…

Nil didn’t give up easily.

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when Giovanni arrived at the church.

The plaza was quiet, with only a few vendors setting up their stalls and the first early risers strolling by at a calm pace.

When he reached the churchyard, Father Esteban was already waiting, along with a group of women and a couple of elderly men organizing baskets with bread, fruit, and other provisions.

—Alguacil, I’m glad you’ve kept your word —the priest greeted with a calm smile.

Giovanni nodded.

—Tell me what needs to be done.

The job was simple: distribute food to those who needed it most. Widows, orphaned children, elderly without family… people barely surviving on what little they could find.

Giovanni hefted a sack of bread and headed with a couple of women toward the first house.

The air was cool, and for a moment, he allowed himself to think this would help clear his mind.

For a moment, he believed he could have peace.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

—Well, well... —the slow, mocking voice crawled up his back like a shiver—. Now, this is a curious sight.

Giovanni froze.

No.

It couldn’t be.

He slowly turned his head.

And there he was.

Nil, leaning against a wooden post, arms crossed, pure amusement on his face.

—What the hell are you doing here? —Giovanni growled, out of patience.

Nil shrugged.

—Just passing by. Then suddenly, I see the great Sheriff Giovanni handing out bread with the nuns. What’s next? Praying for the souls in purgatory?

Giovanni tightened his grip on the baskets they had filled with bread from the sacks.

Nil was testing him.

Like a cat playing with its prey before delivering the final blow.

—Go do something useful —Giovanni snapped, turning his back.

But Nil, of course, wasn’t leaving that easily.

He strolled closer and, before Giovanni could react, grabbed a piece of bread from the basket and took a shameless bite.

—Do you think that if I make a donation, I’ll be redeemed of my sins?

Giovanni closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Patience.

Patience.

—Why don’t you just get lost?

Nil pretended to think.

—I don’t know... I like seeing you like this. All serious. All focused. All... —his gaze dipped for just a second, a sly smile tugging at his lips—... devoted to the cause.

The sheriff felt an irritating heat creep up the back of his neck.

—I don’t have time for your nonsense.

Nil leaned in a little closer.

—You sure? Because you keep telling me to leave, but you’re not walking away either, Sheriff.

Giovanni shot him a glare.

But before he could respond, Father Esteban walked up calmly.

—Nil. —The priest greeted with his usual tranquility—. Good to see you around.

Nil straightened up naturally and smiled.

—Father. Likewise.

The priest looked at the basket, then at Giovanni.

—Let’s see... I think you could use an extra hand.

Giovanni felt a bad premonition.

—Excuse me?

Father Esteban smiled.

—Nil, why don’t you join the sheriff on his route? Two hands are better than one.

Nil blinked.

And then... smiled.

Slow. Dangerous.

—It would be an honor.

Giovanni knew his penance had just turned into hell —he knew this was going to be a disaster.

From the very first moment Nil took one of the baskets and stood at his side with that damned smile, he knew nothing good would come of it.

The route began without incident, at least on the surface. They walked through the streets of Arcelia, stopping at each door to hand out bread, beans, and whatever the donations had allowed them to gather.

But the problem wasn’t the work.

The problem was Nil.

Because Nil wasn’t making any effort to hide his little game.

Every time Giovanni handed him something, Nil’s fingers brushed his longer than necessary. Sometimes the tips barely touched his wrist. Other times, Nil’s palm slid against his with an almost insulting slowness.

And the worst part? Nobody noticed.

Not the woman smiling in thanks.

Not the old man accepting food with trembling hands.

Nobody!

Giovanni, on the other hand, felt each touch like a damn punch to the gut.

He couldn’t pull away without looking suspicious. He couldn’t shove him without making a scene. And Nil, that damned bastard, knew it.

So he did it over and over again.

Until, finally, the route brought them to the edge of town, where the last family lived near a creek.

The sound of running water and the shade of the trees made the air cooler.

Giovanni took a deep breath.

Almost done. Just a bit more and he could get rid of Nil for the rest of the day.

But then, it happened.

When handing him the last bag of bread, Nil didn’t move away.

Instead, his fingers lazily trailed over the back of Giovanni’s hand.

Slow. Deliberate. Damn well intentional.

And Giovanni —who had endured this for hours, who had forced himself to ignore it, who had tried to act like nothing was happening— reacted.

Making sure they were far enough from the house, Giovanni, with a sudden movement, grabbed Nil’s wrist and yanked him hard.

Quick. Instinctive. Furious.

—That’s enough.

Nil blinked, surprised for the first time all afternoon. The sheriff was dragging him.

Off the road. Into the trees. Near the creek —Nil guessed so the sound of the current would mask the argument he was sure they were about to have.

Nil stumbled a little, but Giovanni didn’t let go until they were under the shade, far enough so no one could see them.

—What the hell is your problem?! —the sheriff barked in rage—. Grabbing me like that is for pigs! You hear me?!

Nil felt the pressure of the sheriff’s grip on his wrist, but instead of alarm, his expression softened into a smile.

A bastard’s smile.

—Sheriff, I’m offended. —he murmured with insulting calm, tilting his head—. If someone here is seeing things... it’s not me.

A chill of anger ran down Giovanni’s spine.

—Don’t play dumb with me! —his voice came out louder than he intended. More desperate.

But Nil only raised a brow.

—Are you telling me you felt something?

Nil could sense it —his endgame was near. He had taken his time with glances and touches, all for one purpose.

To get the sheriff to throw him out of town. If the sheriff expelled him, it would mean in the eyes of the townsfolk that NIL wasn’t running away —he was leaving because he’d been asked to. He just needed one more push. A little more, and he could go back to his life.

And Arcelia, along with the sheriff, would be just another anecdote. A place he would never set foot in again, not even by mistake.

On the other hand, Giovanni felt his blood boil under his skin.

Nil let out a low, slow laugh —so damn provoking. With his free hand, he stroked Giovanni’s grip and leaned in. Their chests brushed, and Nil’s smile was now inches from Giovanni’s breath. That... that made the sheriff see red.

And then, he shoved him.

It was a reflex —an attempt to put distance between them, to get that smile out of his face before doing something stupid.

But Nil hadn’t expected it.

He stumbled on the loose stones of the creek and lost his balance.

Instinct made him grab the first thing he could.

Giovanni.

His fingers clutched the sheriff’s shirt and, with the force of the pull, the fabric tore open, revealing Giovanni’s firm chest just as they both fell into the water.

The impact was cold.

Harsh.

Nil felt the water swallow him for a second before his back hit the creek bed. Giovanni’s weight crashed down on him, pinning him to the wet stones.

The sound of the current covered their ragged breathing.

Nil blinked, catching his breath, and looked up...

And he saw him.

The sheriff —soaked, agitated, drops of water running down his exposed skin. His shirt, wet and open, clung to his body, outlining every muscle of his abdomen.

And Giovanni, breath unsteady, looked down and saw the same.

Nil —clothes plastered to his body, the translucent fabric revealing too much, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, hair wet and sticking to his face.

Their eyes met.

And Nil smiled.

—Sheriff… —he murmured, his voice low, almost hoarse—. If you wanted me to take your clothes off, you only had to ask.

Giovanni felt his whole body tense.

He felt heat rush to his face despite the icy water.

And in that instant, he knew he was screwed. The air between them grew thick.

Dense.

Charged with something that had nothing to do with the cold water of the stream.

Giovanni felt his breathing grow heavier, the heat in his blood fighting against the chill of the water. Nil’s smile was still there. Provocative. Shameless.

And that made him lose his patience.

He growled in anger and, without thinking, pressed his body harder against the apothecary’s, pinning him down against the wet stones. His hand found Nil’s wrist and held it firmly above his head, while the other pressed against his chest, keeping him tightly trapped.

Nil let out a gasp. Not of fear. Not of pain. But of surprise.

Because Giovanni had never touched him like this before.

Strong. With anger. With intensity.

The water surrounded them, soaked fabric clinging to skin, revealing too much. Giovanni felt Nil’s breath hit his own face.

And then, he murmured in a low, dangerous tone:

—Don’t say another word…

Nil saw the threat in his eyes. Bright. Intense. Wild.

But before he could answer, before he could throw in some remark to fan the flames, Giovanni lowered his voice even more.

—Or I swear I’ll strip you right here.