The supernatural world existed only in novels and science-fiction books.Or at least, that's what I believed.
To me, those things were nothing more than the stories my grandmother used to tell me before I fell asleep—ancient tales filled with gods, spirits, and impossible creatures. I liked them. They calmed me. They were a way to escape before closing my eyes.
I never imagined that one day I would end up living inside one of them.
"What a lovely little kitty…" commented a man with black hair and a faint greenish glow. "Though it certainly knows how to bare its fangs."
His skin was so pale it looked sickly, almost unreal, and his jade-green eyes observed everything with an unsettling calm, as if nothing happening before him could disturb him.
The creature growled as it transformed into a man.
"Don't you dare lay a hand on her, anomaly," snapped another man, pulling the girl against his chest and wrapping an arm around her possessively. "Damned monster from ancient times."
He was slightly dark-skinned, with short, wild hair and a ferocious presence impossible to ignore. He wore simple, almost trivial clothing, but his yellow eyes—identical to those of a feline—shone with a clear warning.
"Monster?" the first man replied, curling one corner of his lips into a crooked smile. "Such a human word."
He took a step forward, as if nothing could stop him.
"Come here, little winged cat," he said, snapping his fingers.
The air vibrated.
In a cloud of dark green smoke, the girl vanished and reappeared at his side without him ever touching her.
The jaguar growled in fury.
"You…" His fangs showed. "Don't look at her like that."
"Like what?" asked the man in black, tilting his head. "I'm just observing."
Gently—almost carefully—he lifted the young woman's face and forced her to look at him. He didn't squeeze. He didn't hurt her. And yet, she felt as though the world tilted toward him, as if everything else ceased to exist.
"Don't be afraid," he murmured. "If I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't be here."
Then he delicately turned her face toward a nearby table covered in documents.
"Do you want money?" he asked. "I can give it to you."
She swallowed.
"Do you want to take care of your grandparents' health?" he continued. "I can help with that too."
His words weren't a threat.They were a promise.
The girl looked up at him. He didn't seem older than twenty-seven, but there was something ancient in his gaze—something that didn't belong to time. His lips curved into an elegant, dangerous smile, as if he already knew the answer before asking.
"Or do you want something else?" he whispered, gently brushing his thumb across her lips. "Everything… can be negotiated."
"Stay away from her!" the other man roared.
In the blink of an eye, his human form shattered. Where he once stood now rose a black jaguar with golden markings, wings spread wide and claws ready to strike.
He lunged.
The man in black dodged effortlessly, moving with an insulting calm, as if this were nothing more than a game meant to amuse him.
"You're still impulsive," he commented. "You always have been."
"You have no right," growled the jaguar. "She doesn't belong to you."
"Nor to you," he replied softly.
The girl watched, frozen, her heart pounding.
"But that doesn't mean," the man in black added, looking at her again, "that we can't reach an agreement."
His fingers slowly withdrew.
"You and I share a common goal," he said. "I want to survive… and you want to protect her."
The jaguar let out a low, warning growl.
"Don't trust him."
"I'm not asking for trust," the man replied. "Only your attention."
He looked at her one last time, as if the time she had yet to live already belonged to him.
"So, what do you decide, Izel?"
The world dissolved as the scenery changed.
The contract remained on the table.And with it, something inside her had already settled.
It all began a week ago.
The café was full, as always at that hour. The constant clinking of cups, the coffee machine hissing steam, and overlapping conversations formed background noise that, over time, I had learned to ignore. My feet moved on their own, from table to table, as if my body worked purely on inertia.
"Excuse me, another cup of coffee and a sandwich, please," a man said, raising his hand without looking at me.
"Of course, right away," I replied, memorizing the order while setting down drinks at another table.
"I want an order of donuts!" a girl shouted from the back, laughing with her friends.
"Coming right up!" I called back, raising my voice slightly. "Linsi, can you take table four?"
"Yes!" she answered from the other side of the café. "I'm with table eight."
I watched her force a sweet smile as she took another order. Linsi always smiled like that when she was tired, as if she were afraid that if she stopped, everything would collapse on her.
That was normal.
It was Monday, and the café filled with exhausted workers, students with unfinished projects, and people who lacked the energy or motivation to cook at home. Some came to work, others to escape the silence of their apartments for a while. The hours passed one after another until the clock finally struck eleven at night.
"Ugh… we're finally done," Linsi sighed as we locked the door. "I'm dead."
"Me too," I said, removing my apron. "I just want to get home, shower, and sleep."
"What if we go to a bar?" she suddenly suggested, pulling out her phone. "It's payday."
I rolled my eyes.
"Not again. You know I don't drink, and I have to take care of my grandmother. Plus, you have classes tomorrow. It's Monday."
"Boring," she complained, puffing out her cheeks.
"How about we have dinner and watch a movie at my place?" I offered, trying to negotiate.
"But I want to dance…" She looked at me curiously. "How are you not exhausted?"
"Who said I'm not?" I stepped closer and gently pinched her cheeks. "I just don't have a choice."
"Ow! That hurts!" she laughed. "You should have more fun… and meet more guys."
"Who exactly do you want me to meet?" I replied, letting her go. "My social life is you and my grandmother."
"Oh, come on," she said, pointing at a table we had just cleaned. "Do you think I didn't notice the guy who left you a fifteen percent tip? He always leaves you notes… you even exchanged numbers."
Heat rushed to my face.
"What are you talking about?" I snapped. "We're just friends."
"Friends, friends…" she smirked. "The kind of friends who do things at night."
"LINSI!" I yelled—but she was already running toward the exit, laughing.
I walked home completely exhausted. Having two part-time jobs was too much, even for someone used to living like this.
At seventeen, I had been preparing to study journalism. I had plans, dreams, and a folder full of clippings and notes I never finished. But first my grandfather's illness, and then my grandmother's, changed everything.
My mother died when I was born. My father left me with my grandparents and disappeared from my life, showing up only two or three times a year like a stranger pretending to know us. To me, my grandparents had always been my family.
"I'm home!" I called as I opened the door.
"Come in, sweetheart. I've already made dinner," my grandmother replied from the kitchen.
The house was large and old, with long hallways and rooms no one used anymore. Among them was a carved door covered in strange symbols. Every time I passed it, I couldn't help but look. Something about those engravings unsettled me… though I knew I should never open it.
"How's Grandpa?" I asked as I set my things down.
"He's fine. Help him come downstairs."
Before that, I went up to my room to change into something more comfortable.
I slipped out of my café uniform and let it fall onto the chair. Out of habit, I stepped in front of the mirror, studying the reflection fatigue returned to me every night.
I was of average height and slim build, though my body still carried soft, well-proportioned curves. Despite the exhaustion, I couldn't deny my firm bust and defined hips—the result of years of walking, working, and carrying more weight than I should.
My skin was fair, with a light sun-kissed tone time had left behind. My hair, long and wavy, fell in coffee-colored strands with golden highlights, like honey when the light touched them. My hazel eyes looked dull that night, surrounded by dark circles that betrayed accumulated exhaustion.
I sighed.
Then I went downstairs for dinner.
We ate chilaquiles and drank cinnamon coffee, laughing and making light comments… until, inevitably, the conversation turned serious.
"You should quit one of your jobs and study," my grandfather said suddenly. "I can take out a loan."
"No, Grandpa. It's not necessary," I replied immediately.
"That's enough!" he slammed his hand on the table. "You can't keep living like this."
"I CAN'T!" I shouted back. "We've already talked about this."
Silence fell heavily.
I stood up and went to my room, slamming the door behind me. I collapsed onto the bed and cried silently, biting the pillow so no one would hear.
I took out my penguin-shaped piggy bank and opened it. Inside were twenty thousand pesos. Two years of saving. It wasn't enough.
Soft knocks sounded at the door.
"May I come in?" my grandmother asked.
I nodded.
She sat beside me and handed me a stack of bills.
"I've done some extra work."
"Grandma… that's illegal."
Two years earlier, after a major religious scandal, the government had banned all spiritual activity for profit. My grandmother, a shaman, had been left with nothing.
"I can take care of myself," she said proudly. "Don't be like your grandfather."
I hugged her tightly.
"Thank you."
After she left, I pulled a flyer out from under the bed.
Radio Station: Frequencies of the UnderworldLooking for a nighttime hostSchedule: 11:00 p.m. – 4:00 a.m.Salary: XXXXX
Something stirred inside me.
Maybe…just maybe…that job could change my life.
I didn't know that by accepting it, I wouldn't just be speaking into a microphone…
…but that something, from the other side, was already listening.