It was the morning of the second day, and fatigue had already left its mark on Candado and Europa.

  They hadn’t slept at all. Candado, worried, kept glancing at Europa from the corner of his eye, all too aware that insomnia could be especially dangerous for someone in her condition: she was pregnant. And yet, Europa mirrored that same concern. He was just a child, burdened with a weight that was never meant for him—still, he stood firm, as if sleeplessness were an unspoken duty.

  They didn’t talk about it. Fatigue weighed heavier than words, and both of them pressed on, clinging to the idea that stopping simply wasn’t an option.

  The little girl had been left in Mauricio’s care. Candado had entrusted her to him, afraid that the long hibernation had left aftereffects too unpredictable to handle.

  Gutiérrez, determined to find Hammya on his own terms, had taken the day off work. Zúr, meanwhile, had returned to his world to gather reinforcements, promising to come back with help. In the meantime, Candado and Europa headed to the outskirts of the town, where—according to the information he’d received—an old farm was supposed to be located. The structure looked abandoned, surrounded by dozens of traffic lights marking the area as forbidden ground.

  “What’s going on?” Europa asked.

  “Rozkiewicz… What are you doing here?” Candado narrowed his eyes.

  “I see Alejandro sent you, huh?” Rozkiewicz replied, a shadow crossing his gaze.

  “His intel reached me before it reached you.”

  Uneasy with the tension between them, Europa stepped forward.

  “What is happening here?”

  Rozkiewicz sighed, his face darkening.

  “It’s better if you see for yourselves.”

  Without another word, they crossed the barrier of blinking traffic lights. The farmhouse, old and crumbling, seemed harmless at first glance. Nothing more than ruins and silence—except for a collapsed door that led to a staircase descending into darkness.

  Their descent was slow, weighed down by an oppressive unease. Rozkiewicz didn’t crack any of his usual jokes, no absurd remarks. Only the echo of their breathing and footsteps accompanied them down into the unknown.

  At the bottom, a narrow room—three by thirteen meters—awaited them. There, more traffic lights dimly lit a scene that froze their blood.

  Bones. Hundreds of them.

  Most were small. Far too small. Children and youths whose remains lay piled up, as though their lives had meant nothing at all.

  Europa staggered back, nausea twisting her stomach until she had to press a hand to her mouth. Candado, brows furrowed, slowly dropped to his knees, his eyes scanning the grisly sight until they stopped on a tiny skull.

  “She was the same age as Yara…” he whispered, his voice cracking.

  The cracked walls were covered in desperate scratch marks—nail marks and gouges that told a silent story of suffering. Stains of dried blood dotted the concrete, mute witnesses to unspeakable horror.

  Candado looked up. An old microphone hung from a rusted wire on the ceiling, swaying gently as if it still carried forgotten voices.

  Europa tried to compose herself, then glanced toward the microphone.

  “What was that connected to?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  “Víctor,” called Rozkiewicz.

  A teenage boy stepped forward and handed him a tape recorder.

  “It was a radio station… pretending to be a children’s show,” Rozkiewicz explained, his jaw tight. “Not far from here, we seized several recordings.”

  The play button was pressed. A burst of static broke the silence before a man’s voice emerged, warm and soft, though the tape was clearly degraded.

  “Hello, dear radio listeners… Welcome to… anyway, I hope you’re all enjoying this wonderful day… soon… been… very… without further ado, let’s do it!”

  Distorted applause filled the space.

  “I hope you’re all comfortable, because we’ve got gifts for you. And of course, we haven’t forgotten you, dear listener.”

  Laughter echoed, supposedly from an audience that didn’t exist.

  “All right, here comes our special guest: the Clown Fray!”

  “Hi kids! Are you having fun?”

  Children’s cheers and giggles responded with enthusiasm.

  “I’m so glad. Good children will get lovely gifts, and the bad ones… they’ll be punished. What a treat, right?”

  “Mr. Fray, where do the bad children go?”

  “Excellent question, narrator. Bad children go to the Punishment Corner: dark… and cold.”

  Laughter echoed through the chamber, but there was something unnatural in it—something off. Each chuckle carried a macabre undertone, as if hiding a dark secret behind its cheer.

  Europa swallowed hard.

  “The clown… Fray?” she murmured.

  “They were pretending to be a children’s radio station,” Rozkiewicz said through gritted teeth. “Disgusting.”

  With a grave expression, Candado removed the cassette and inserted another one.

  “This is what they played whenever they mentioned the ‘Punishment Corner.’”

  He pressed play again. At first, only a heavy silence filled the room. Then came the screams. High-pitched, desperate, inhuman.

  Children’s voices begged to be let out. Wails—heart-shattering and endless—blended with thuds, sobs, and an unrelenting sense of agony.

  Europa dropped to her knees and vomited, unable to endure the auditory torture. Rozkiewicz bit his lip until he almost drew blood, suppressing the fury burning in his chest. Candado remained still, face unreadable, and quietly turned off the recorder.

  The silence that followed was worse than the noise.

  “The perpetrators?” Candado asked calmly.

  “Still nothing…” Rozkiewicz replied, lowering his gaze. “But when we find them… they’re going straight to the Caves.”

  Candado nodded and turned to Europa. Despite the horror, his eyes remained firm, though they now held a note of concern.

  “Are you alright?”

  Europa took a deep breath, trying to collect herself.

  “Yes… it just took me by surprise.”

  Rozkiewicz regarded her seriously.

  “I know I’ve no right to say it, but… be careful. You’re pregnant.”

  Europa gave a bitter smile.

  “Relax. I know my body better than anyone.”

  “Mamá…” Candado’s voice cut in, full of reproach and affection.

  “Anyway,” Europa sighed, folding her arms. “What I mean is, when the time comes, I’ll leave.”

  “Swear it,” Candado said, looking her dead in the eye.

  She smiled faintly, as if remembering someone.

  “You’re just like your father… I swear.”

  “Good.”

  Candado turned his gaze to Rozkiewicz, who had remained silent.

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  “The prisoner, huh?”

  “I’ll handle it,” Rozkiewicz replied. “Now—”

  But before he could finish, Candado moved. In a single swift motion, he drew his facón and hurled it at a wall fixture. The blade didn’t just embed itself in the wood—it struck someone hidden in the shadows.

  “I knew it… It’s a trap,” Candado growled, voice trembling with restrained fury.

  Rozkiewicz immediately slammed his palm onto the traffic-light emblem on his shoulder.

  “ALL UNITS! RED! RED!”

  Almost instantly, gunfire exploded from every corner. Chaos erupted.

  “Tínbari…” Candado muttered, “Right. He won’t be any help.”

  “Then I’ll call Amabaray,” Europa responded, ducking behind cover.

  Candado closed his eyes for a brief second. His tattoos began to glow, and his irises turned a deep, burning violet.

  “Do it fast. I have to stop this.”

  With a stomp that cracked the concrete beneath him, Candado launched himself toward the upper level. He took down two agents in a single move and kept climbing, ascending the stairs until he reached the top.

  There, two dozen armed men were firing at the semaphores.

  “We’ve got the target,” a hooded figure announced. “Release the tank!”

  A man clad in heavy armor burst in like an avalanche, tearing through everything in his path. Upon reaching Candado, he attempted to ram him, but Candado slipped aside with agile precision and counterattacked. The armored agent, sensing the move, tried to veer away—but Candado, always one step ahead, anticipated it and met him with a brutal knee to the abdomen.

  Another agent appeared, wielding a pistol. Without hesitation, Candado grabbed the first enemy and used him as a shield. Two gunshots rang out: one slammed into the human shield’s shoulder blades, the other grazed dangerously close to Candado’s temple. Pulling away immediately, Candado snapped his fingers, and flames engulfed the second agent’s shoes. The man panicked, stumbling in terror.

  Taking advantage of the confusion, Candado struck the man’s wrists with a quick blow, fracturing them instantly, then seized his head between his hands.

  “Oyik,” he whispered.

  Without another word, he delivered a crushing headbutt that dropped the man cold.

  From the far end of the hallway, the armored figure called out to him.

  “Candado!”

  Candado gave him only a glance, the energy coursing through his body dimming.

  “You’re kidding me,” the man growled, frustration thick in his voice.

  Candado didn’t respond. He simply held his gaze, unflinching.

  As the armored man readied another charge, he suddenly collapsed to his knees, as if all strength had been sucked from his body.

  “What the hell!?” he cried out, bewildered.

  A hand covered Candado’s eyes from behind.

  “Sorry I’m late,” came a familiar voice.

  “You…”

  Before the man could say more, a blade sliced clean through his throat. Clementine stood behind him, calm and composed.

  “Elimination complete,” she announced.

  “You can let go now, Nelson,” said Candado, still unmoving.

  “Nope, not yet,” Nelson replied, keeping him covered.

  Meanwhile, Nelson’s team was finishing off the remaining agents in the area.

  “Oh, I see you brought your little entourage,” Candado muttered.

  “Of course I did, son. Of course I did.”

  After a few minutes, Nelson finally removed his hand from Candado’s eyes.

  “Hello, Nelson.”

  “How’s it going?”

  Candado turned and looked at the new arrivals.

  “Miguel, Bruno, Simón, Elsa, Aldana, and Rosa… Hello, everyone.”

  “Hi, Candado!” they all chimed in unison.

  “Looks like you showed up just in time,” Candado said with a smirk.

  “Heh, no more trouble for you now, huh?” laughed Bruno. “So, what’s the next move?”

  Candado nodded, pulling an object from his pocket.

  “I’ve got what she asked for. Once she tells me the location, I’ll call you all.”

  “Seems like we’re finally working together, huh?” Nelson commented with a half-smile.

  “Don’t get used to it,” Candado replied dryly.

  At that moment, Europa burst into the room, panting.

  “Candado!”

  Candado approached Nelson discreetly.

  “Hey, I need to ask you a favor.”

  “Tell me.”

  “She’s pregnant. And she’s starting to put herself in danger.”

  “I’ll handle it,” Nelson nodded seriously.

  “Thanks,” Candado said. Then he looked at his mother. “Mom, I have work to do! I’ll see you later!”

  “Wait! I’ll go with you!”

  Before she could follow him, Nelson wrapped his arm around Europa’s back, while Elsa took her hand.

  “Has she felt any pain in her neck or ovaries?” Elsa asked, her tone turning medical.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “I thought that might be it. Come with me, please.”

  “No, I... but Candado...!”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, disappearing from her sight.

  Candado reappeared outside the house. He walked toward an old tree, surveying the land, alert in case anyone else needed help. Fortunately, Rozkiewicz was already taking charge of the situation.

  Without wasting any more time, Candado contacted Mauricio. He asked him to take him straight to Kanghar.

  The moment had come. His suspicions were confirmed.

  Candado arrived at Kanghar, more specifically at the doors of the interrogation room where the suspect was being held. He was about to knock when the door opened, and a woman stepped out.

  “Candado, did you get it?” Jaqueline asked eagerly.

  “Yes,” he replied, then slightly turned his head. “There.”

  “I don’t see anything…”

  At that moment, Mauricio appeared out of nowhere, carrying an unconscious girl in his arms.

  “Whoa!” Jaqueline exclaimed, surprised.

  Candado took the girl from Mauricio’s arms, then made a small gesture for him to leave. Mauricio tipped his hat in farewell and disappeared.

  “Now,” Candado said, turning to her. “Take me inside.”

  When he crossed the door, he immediately knew how things were going to unfold.

  The room was silent until the door opened again. Candado entered, carrying the child—Samanta’s daughter.

  “Inés...” Samanta murmured, her voice breaking.

  Jaqueline, who had been observing, placed a firm hand on Samanta’s shoulder to prevent her from getting up.

  “Two days,” Candado whispered.

  Candado sat Inés in a chair in front of them, then looked at Jaqueline, signaling her to let go.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, hesitant.

  “I’ll handle it now,” he replied firmly.

  Jaqueline nodded and stepped aside.

  Candado pulled a small vial from his pocket—identical to the one he used to carry—and brought it close to the girl’s nose. Within seconds, Inés began to stir and slowly opened her eyes.

  “Horrible…” she murmured, making a face of disgust.

  Samanta barely held back her tears.

  “Where am I? Mom?”

  Samanta couldn’t hold it any longer. She leapt from her seat and ran to hug her, crying uncontrollably.

  “Inés…” she whispered through sobs, grateful.

  “Can you leave us alone?” Candado asked in a low voice.

  Jaqueline nodded and gave the order for everyone to leave the room, though she lingered for a few seconds, staring at Candado.

  “Alright,” he said. “I have everything under control.”

  Jaqueline sighed, ready to leave.

  “Stay,” Candado added. “I need you.”

  “Fine,” she accepted, surprised. “Thank you.”

  For several minutes, there was nothing but silence. Samanta cried, murmuring prayers of relief as she hugged her daughter. Inés, still confused, could barely comprehend what was happening.

  Candado, on the other hand, remained still, his gaze fixed on the room's clock without ever looking away. He didn’t speak, didn’t move. He simply watched.

  Jaqueline, unable to understand his behavior, walked back and forth, casting nervous glances at the mother and daughter, who talked about trivial things as if the horrors of the previous days never happened.

  The clock struck 3:00 PM.

  Then, abruptly, Candado grabbed Inés by the shoulder, yanking her out of her mother’s embrace. Both of them flinched. Immediately, he handed the girl over to Jaqueline.

  “Take her out of here.”

  “Y-yes…” Jaqueline stammered, still confused.

  “Mom! What’s happening?”

  “Inés…”

  Candado slammed his left palm against the table, cracking it with the impact.

  “Focus,” he ordered, his voice calm but firm.

  It was in that moment that Samanta understood her time had come.

  “But…”

  “I gave you three hours. I kept my word. Now, it’s time for you to keep yours,” Candado declared, without hesitation.

  Without arguing, Samanta grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil from the table, writing down some coordinates with trembling hands.

  “There they are… What you’re looking for might be there.”

  Candado took the note, reading it silently.

  “Ha... So, it was in Corrientes.”

  “Yes, that’s where it is. I’m sorry for everything that happened,” Samanta murmured, lowering her head.

  “I forgive you.”

  Samanta slowly sat up.

  “Sit down,” Candado ordered, without raising his voice.

  “I’ve already told you everything you needed,” she protested, a hint of defiance in her tone.

  “I said sit.”

  An invisible force made her remain glued to the chair. Samanta’s eyes widened in shock: through the mirrors, Tínbari made his presence known, watching her closely.

  “I accept your apology, Samanta Ferrero,” Candado continued, unfazed. “But I’m not letting you go. Not yet.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, nervous.

  Candado pulled out a file he had kept hidden under his arm during the entire wait.

  “Turns out you weren’t as innocent as you seemed. Do you know what this is?”

  “No…”

  “I thought so.” He dropped the file onto the cracked table. “It’s a list of the missing children from the past few years. Funny… five of those cases have your signature.”

  Samanta paled.

  “The agents treat people like us as if we were cattle. Two of those children were tortured to death. Want to know what else? Your signature is there, too. The agents are very good at documenting their ‘sick accomplishments.’”

  The room was filled with an icy silence. Candado had discovered that two of the children from that "grotesque" radio were victims of her.

  And now, the trial had barely just begun. Samanta lowered her gaze to the floor, unable to bear the pressure.

  "No... That's not true," she whispered.

  "You're lying," Tínbari said, a dark smile forming on his lips.

  "I already knew," Candado added, his voice barely audible.

  His words were a sentence.

  "What you did today was nothing more than an act of desperation." Candado took a step toward her, the shadow of his figure completely covering hers. "You wanted redemption. I knew it the moment I looked into your eyes. Deep down, you knew I would never get your daughter back. But you were surprised when I did... so much so that you decided to change your goal."

  The accusation hung in the air like a death sentence.

  "You knew perfectly well they would kidnap Hammya..." he continued, his voice growing softer, more lethal. "And you also knew you would be the one to torture her. You didn't want to go down that path. That's why you let yourself be caught in that pathetic attack. You knew that grotesque radio would be erased today. Right?"

  Samanta didn’t answer.

  "Not saying anything is a choice too, but well."

  Candado’s seriousness became monstrous. He no longer saw a human being before him—just a broken object.

  "It's a shame you asked for my help," he continued, with a touch of bitter irony. "Had it been anyone else, maybe you could have gone home with your daughter..."

  But with me, that won’t be possible.

  Samanta let out a bitter laugh, resigning herself to her fate.

  "Yes... I knew," she admitted, her voice trembling.

  "Great," Candado replied flatly.

  "And yes... I kidnapped five of them," she continued, as if it were a forced confession. "I killed two... with my own hands."

  She didn’t want to relive that. Not again...

  Candado watched her with a chilling coldness.

  "You destroyed five families, Samanta Ferrero," he said, his tone grave. "I wonder what went through your mind as you slowly took the lives of those innocent children."

  He moved closer, so close that Samanta held her breath.

  Candado placed a hand on her head. It wasn’t a gesture of comfort, but of judgment.

  "You have no idea..." he whispered, then smiled in a grim way. "How much I want to kill you. But I am a man of my word."

  Samanta looked at him, defeated.

  "What will you do to me?" she asked, barely a whisper.

  Candado shrugged.

  "I... nothing. I’ll just sit... and watch."

  Without saying another word, Candado turned and left the room, leaving behind a silence that weighed like a tombstone.

  "Where is the line I shouldn't cross? I suppose I don't need to worry about that. Today, there will be a cleansing."