He had his legs crossed calmly, watching me in silence, waiting for an explanation I didn't quite know how to give. His gaze wasn't aggressive, but it was firm—the kind that doesn't look away until it gets an answer.
The truth was… there wasn't a clear reason why I hadn't told him.
I simply didn't feel the need to.
And yet, for the first time, I wondered if that alone was already a reason.
Maybe the idea of those two worlds—my normal life and everything the underworld implied—touching each other made me more uncomfortable than I wanted to admit. Just thinking about it tightened my chest a little. As if, deep down, I never wanted those lives to mix at all.
"I didn't think about it that much," I said at last, forcing indifference, trying to downplay it."This is this… and that is that."
Iztli frowned slightly.
"Then why did I have to hear it from him?" he asked, gesturing toward Mictlantecuhtli's office.
I sighed.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think it was relevant," I replied. "Next time I'll tell you where I'm going."
I smiled, but inside I felt irritated. I appreciated that he cared about me, yes… but I'd only known him for four days. I didn't feel like we had the kind of relationship where I had to report my every move.
"You'll take me with you next time," he said with complete certainty. "There's no negotiation."
"No," I replied immediately. "I also need my space."
I uncrossed and crossed my legs again, deliberately marking distance.
"Yes, you will."
"No, I won't."
"Yes, you will," he insisted, settling back into his seat. His human pupils narrowed, turning feline.
"Or what?" I raised my voice without meaning to, lifting myself slightly from the seat."Are you going to force me?"
Silence fell instantly.
The tension became uncomfortable—thick, almost tangible. Even so, I wasn't about to back down. I didn't want my lives to mix. Not yet.
Seeing that I wasn't going to give in, Iztli sighed. His form shifted—first into a jaguar, then a brief flash of light… and finally, only the keychain remained on the table where he had been.
My chest ached.
I hadn't wanted it to come to that.
Just as I was about to apologize, the three makeup artists walked in. They were the same ones from before, but this time they were accompanied by a short woman with a hard expression, holding a tablet.
"Izel, right?" she asked without even looking at me, pointing with a pencil.
"Yes."
"Perfect. I'll give you the information on your interviewee."
She read without emotion:
Name: ErnestoAge at death: 38Status: Transition
Description:Ernesto died at 38 from a stray bullet during a confrontation between drug traffickers and residents of his hometown.
Personality:Nervous, exhausted, indecisive. Strong attachment to his family, especially his mother.
That was all.
I read the information again and again, not fully understanding why he had been chosen. I didn't know if I was supposed to talk about the shooting, his life… or what exactly.
"That's it?" I asked. "Any more details?"
The woman looked up for the first time. She scanned me from head to toe, as if evaluating something that didn't exist on the file.
"No," she said. "That's all."
And she left, as dryly as she had arrived.
I stayed silent for a few seconds before turning to the girls getting me ready.
"Do you know who she is?"
"Yes," one replied while straightening my hair. "That's Cihuacóatl. General manager of all departments when the big boss isn't around. She handles almost everything."
"Don't mind her," another said while applying makeup. "She's always in a bad mood."
"It's not that," the third added while checking my clothes. "She has a hard character. I respect her. Besides… it wouldn't be nice if competition showed up."
"Competition?" I opened my eyes, surprised.
"You know," she continued. "Mictlantecuhtli has been paying you a lot of attention lately. There was a vacancy, and now a stranger shows up taking space."
"A vacancy?" I tried to stand, but the girl doing my hair stopped me."Did Mictlantecuhtli have a partner?"
"It's a long story," the makeup artist said, closing the topic. "But it has nothing to do with you. You're ready."
I was wearing soft white pants that draped naturally over my hips, highlighting just enough without being provocative. The dark green blouse contrasted with my skin and emphasized my figure more than I'd noticed at first.
My straightened hair fell over my shoulders, giving me a more adult, more confident air—different from the girl who used to run from shift to shift at a café.
The clothes were loose, yes, but they hid nothing. On the contrary, they suggested.My waist shifted when I moved, my chest rose with every deep breath, and my legs—solid, real—held me up as if, for the first time, my body also understood that I wasn't just surviving anymore.
I felt aware of myself.
Not uncomfortable.Present.
"You look really beautiful," one of the girls said with a sincere smile.
And for the first time in a long while… I believed it.
I entered the interview room again.
The set was similar to the previous one, but modified. It no longer looked like an interrogation room. Now there were two armchairs, a low table… like those American late-night shows.
In one of the armchairs sat him.
A slightly stocky man, wearing a plaid shirt and khaki pants. He wasn't particularly attractive, but his shirt was riddled with bullet holes, now turned into dark stains. His body was more translucent than the workers'.
And his gaze… was tired.
"We start in five…" shouted the same deep voice from the previous programs.
I greeted him with an automatic smile and took my seat, trying to review the guest's information while searching for something interesting to say. Then the on-air beep sounded.
"Good evening to everyone.Welcome once again to Frequencies of the Underworld.A big round of applause!"
A background of applause filled the studio, as if there were a live audience.
"Izel," the voice said, "who have you brought us today?"
I took a deep breath and prepared to begin.
"Today I brought a great guest who met a tragic end while trying to protect his home. But instead of me speaking for him… why don't we let him introduce himself?"
The man in front of me raised his hand.
"Hi everyone, my name's Ernesto… or, if you want to call me by a nickname, El Queso."
He smiled slightly. He looked tired.
"El Queso?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"Because I'm full of holes," he said. "Hahaha."
He laughed at his own joke.
It was bad.Awkward.But the comments were loving it.
"HAHA the holey one""They can call him the strainer too""I thought he'd be boring, but he's funny""How do you think he died? We want details""x2"
"Very funny, Ernesto…"
"El Queso," he corrected.
"Okay… El Queso," I continued, a bit uncomfortable, trying not to sound disrespectful."Would you like to tell us a little about your life?"
Ernesto sighed.
"My life… honestly, there's not much to tell.Hardware store. From my twenties until I died.I worked and took care of my mother. Never married, never had kids.My life was crap. I didn't really accomplish anything important."
He shrugged.
"So I'd rather talk about my death. Or well… the day I died."
"That's fine," I said. "Tell me about your death."
"To start with, it was the best moment of my life."
I blinked.
"The best?"
"Yes. That day I had a revelation."
"A revelation?"
"Have you heard the story of Sisyphus?"
"The one who pushes a rock to the top only to watch it fall again and again."
"Exactly. That was my life."
His voice grew calmer.
"My father abandoned my mother and me when I was eight. Since then, I felt like I had to help. I didn't want to be a burden.I always thought everything was my fault, that taking care of me was expensive, that I was in the way."
He looked down.
"So I lived without deciding anything. Every time I tried something, I pushed the rock… and when it was time to choose, I let it fall again."
He laughed without humor.
"I let go of a woman who loved me for almost three years.I ended up working at my uncle's hardware store, even though I didn't like construction.I lived with my parents almost until I was forty.I was afraid of being selfish."
"Then… why was the day of your death so important?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"I don't know," he replied. "Maybe because I was tired.Maybe because that day my uncle wanted me to work on my day off… and for the first time, I said no."
"That was what was special?" I asked, confused.
"I didn't know either. He just looked at me weird… and left."
He raised his hands.
"And you know what happened?"
"Nothing," I answered confidently.
"Exactly. Nothing.He didn't get angry. There were no fights. Nothing happened."
He smiled.
"I always thought that if I said no, everything would fall apart. But nothing happened.And that day was incredible."
"Incredible?"
"Yes. I bought myself a coffee, breakfast… then I changed my mind and got something else.The waitress overcharged me. And do you know what happened?"
"Nothing," I said slowly.
"Exactly. Absolutely nothing."
The studio fell silent.
"Walking on glass makes you believe everything will hurt," he continued,"but many times, nothing happens.And nothing happening… is a blessing."
I shifted slightly in my chair.
"But not all decisions end in 'nothing.' Sometimes there are consequences."
"You're right, Izel," he nodded. "May I call you Izel?"
I nodded.
"We think everything will be dramatic, that the world will collapse… but it's almost never as bad as we imagine."
He sighed.
"That same day, I called the woman I let go. I hadn't spoken to her in years. I was so nervous my heart stopped every time the phone rang."
A long silence followed.
"And what happened?" I asked.
"She answered.Said she'd been thinking about me lately.We talked for a while… and agreed to meet for coffee."
I smiled.
"So you had another chance with her?"
"No," he answered quickly. "She's already engaged."
"Oh… I'm sorry."
"It's okay," he said. "It hurt at the time, but just knowing I could call was enough.I don't even know if I was in love with her… or with what we used to be."
He laughed.
"That thing they say on TV—that you fall in love with the memory, not the person."
"So… what's the point of all this?" I asked.
Ernesto looked at me directly.
"That nothing happened.And still… I lived."
I took a deep breath.
"If you could do whatever you wanted without thinking about the consequences… what would you do?"
At that moment, I felt something move in my chest.
I thought about the morning.About school.About magic.About Iztli.About the fear of deciding.
Maybe…
Maybe nothing would happen.