Chapter 2 The Strangers' House

The house was quieter than it appeared from the outside. It wasn't cold. Not yet. But it was so tidy, so exacting, that Elias felt any misplaced step could make it crumble.

He had been greeted with measured politeness. A woman dressed in gray-neither young nor old-led him down a wide, carpeted corridor, saying nothing more than necessary. Not a glance, not a smile. Just "this way" and "wait here."

Renato had disappeared as soon as they crossed the front door. Hurried words, a curt "thank you" and a promise to "talk again." Nothing more. Not even his name again.

The bedroom door closed behind him with a soft click, as if someone were sealing something.

Elias scanned the room. Polished wood, an oversized bed, a floor lamp that emitted a warm light. Everything had that sheen of things left untouched. There was an oval mirror opposite the bed. He didn't approach.

He sat on the edge, without undressing. His fingers ran over the blanket. Clean. Soft. Different.

His hands were shaking.

A memory:

You can't hear the ocean, but there's the sound.

Someone walks barefoot on the metal floor.

A flashing light.

"You have to learn not to look into the eyes."

A man. Hoarse voice. Dark glasses, even in the darkness.

"If you look at them... they'll take your name away."

Elías stood up abruptly. He opened the window. He breathed in the warm night air as if it were the only truth he had left.

He didn't know if it was the moon or the garden lamp, but a glimmer made him look down. Someone was down there. A woman. Not far from the back gate. She walked purposefully, as if she didn't want to be seen, but she wasn't completely hiding either. She was dressed in dark clothing, her hair tied back. He stopped, took a cigarette out of his jacket, and lit it.

Elías stood still, watching her. Not out of curiosity. Out of something older. Recognition. As if he'd already dreamed of that silhouette, that way of holding solitude.

The woman looked up. Just for a second. She didn't seem to see him. Or she didn't want to. Then she turned around and disappeared into the garden trees.

The next morning, Elías woke up certain he hadn't slept. He went downstairs, not knowing if he should.

In the kitchen, the woman in the gray uniform was waiting for him, a cup in her hand.

"Mr. Altamirano will see you in your office," she said, without emphasis, without judgment.

She handed him a clean shirt. White.

"Shower first. There's mud in your thoughts."

She didn't smile. But she wasn't cruel either. As if she understood... only too well.

Renato's Office – Half an Hour Later

The walls were high, the desk immense. An abstract painting hung in the back, and a large window let in just enough light.

Renato was standing, looking at his cell phone. He looked up when Elías walked in, dressed in the clothes they'd left him.

"I'm glad to see you standing," he said.

Elías nodded, his hands in his pockets.

"I offered you an opportunity. But I don't want charity. I don't give it or ask for it," Renato continued. "If you stay here, you'll work. From the bottom up."

"Okay," Elías said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I have a company, Elías. There are warehouses, filing cabinets, thankless tasks. You'll move through all the areas. I'm not one to give away positions."

"I don't want anything for free."

Renato studied him more closely this time. Something in his tone. A formless rebellion. He wasn't a street kid. Nor just any worker. He had learned to keep quiet, yes. But behind the silence... there was history.

"How old are you?"

Elías hesitated.

"I don't know."

A second of emptiness. Renato concealed it with a slight movement.

"Good. Starting tomorrow at six. They'll drive you to the logistics center."

Elías nodded and turned around.

"One more thing," Renato added. "If anyone asks... say an old family friend recommended you. It's not a complete lie."

Elías walks through the garden at dusk, as if memorizing the terrain. From a distant gallery, someone watches him through the curtains: attentive eyes, motionless body. Victoria.

She doesn't say anything. She just looks at him.

And he, without knowing why, looks up just before she hides.

A heartbeat. Something has already begun.