Sara was reclining in her garden, enveloped by the faint scent of flowers and the warm steam of her cup of chamomile tea. The afternoon was descending slowly, bathing the lawn in golden hues. In front of her, seated with impeccable posture, was a guest with a familiar face: Kruger Barreto.

  "I suppose you came to an agreement," Sara said, observing him with weary serenity.

  "We went there, just as you told me," replied Kruger. "And we found this."

  He took a small, carefully knotted handkerchief from his bag, which wrapped something with obvious delicacy. He placed it on the table.

  Sara took it with soft, but tense, hands. As she unwrapped the cloth, a light-green crystal, brilliant as water under the sun, appeared before her. She closed her eyes. Her chest fell in a long, almost trembling sigh, and a smile dawned on her face. Opening her eyes, she touched the crystal with her fingertips. With that simple touch, she recognized it.

  "You found it," she murmured with sincere relief. "I can't thank you enough."

  "What exactly is it?" asked Kruger, unable to look away from the object.

  "Something that is not of this world. You wouldn't entirely understand it, but it does have a name," Sara took the crystal between her hands, like someone holding a flame. "This is the Crystal Mind, a very powerful artifact."

  "I suppose that's what you were looking for."

  "I believe it was your brother who asked for my help," Sara added.

  "That's right. He told me you contacted him, so I came to deliver it to you in person."

  "I'll have to notify him that I've gotten it."

  "Don't bother, Sara. I already did."

  "Oh… thank you."

  "You're welcome. Well, I must go. My brother is acting strangely, and I need to look into it."

  "Then I won't keep you any longer. I hope it's nothing serious."

  "Let's hope not," Kruger replied with a crooked smile. He gave her a wink and departed, leaving her alone in the warm silence of the garden.

  Sara lowered her gaze to the crystal. This time, her sigh was not of relief, but of exhaustion.

  "I suppose with this, I can negotiate the terms," she murmured.

  Her eyes shone for an instant, as if an internal spark had been activated.

  "I know you're there, Tínbari."

  A figure materialized in front of her, surging from black smoke that writhed in the air.

  "It's boring when they do that," Tínbari grumbled, crossing his arms.

  "Journalistic duty?" Sara commented with irony.

  "Exactly," he said, raising both thumbs with exaggerated enthusiasm.

  Sara shook her head, smiling wearily.

  "Since you're here, I need you to send a message to Candado. I'd like to see him."

  Tínbari tilted his head.

  "I suppose… what message?"

  Sara held the crystal tighter.

  "Tell him it's time to come back."

  Tínbari blinked, surprised.

  "I thought that would take months."

  "It was just a pretext," she replied, looking at the stone. "I didn't imagine this would appear so quickly. Or that Kruger would be so efficient."

  "I see…" Tínbari said, his voice now serious. "But I remind you that Candado is under my care. Though it may not look like it, I care about him. And I'm not thrilled about the idea of him going to another world with you."

  "I know," Sara admitted. "But I want to be selfish, at least this one time. I can't do it alone… and thousands of lives depend on me, and on this agreement."

  Tínbari sighed. His silhouette began to fade.

  "I'll deliver the message," he finally said, before disappearing completely.

  Once again, the garden fell silent. Sara let her shoulders drop, but just as she was about to relax, someone knocked on the door. She rolled her eyes upward.

  "Gods… who is it now?"

  With reluctance, she turned the wheels of her chair and moved toward the main door. Her parents were not home that day; the house was all hers. She looked at the security cameras and recognized, with surprise and a touch of resignation, two familiar figures: Hammya and Clementina, who waved at the camera with childish enthusiasm.

  Sara managed a small smile and opened the door.

  "Good morning, Miss Sara," Clementina greeted sweetly.

  "Greetings," added Hammya, with her usual imposing presence.

  "Come in, come in. Thank you for coming," Sara said courteously.

  Clementina entered first and, without asking permission, positioned herself behind the chair to push it gently.

  "Oh, thank you, Clem," Sara said thankfully.

  "I live to serve," Clementina replied with a touch of playful sarcasm.

  "What are you two doing here?" Sara asked, genuinely confused.

  "We're waiting for Candado," Hammya replied.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Miss Hammya said Candado would be coming here," Clementina explained, "and she convinced me to come along. We hope we're not causing a bother."

  "No, of course not… but you're not entirely wrong. I called Candado a few minutes ago, although I don't know if he'll come. Or if he knows you're here."

  "Oh, he'll definitely come," Hammya assured, with a certainty so intense it was almost unsettling.

  "I suppose so…" Sara smiled, conciliatory. "How about I offer you something?"

  "Are we talking alfajores?" Clementina asked, her eyes shining.

  "The best alfajores in all of Córdoba province," Sara announced with pride.

  "Delicious," Clementina replied.

  "Can I get you something, Hammya?" Sara asked.

  "Just a soda, thank you."

  "We have that," Sara said, then looked at Clementina. "Could you help me in the kitchen?"

  "Of course," the android replied. "It's one of my favorite chores."

  Hammya smiled and walked alongside them. However, she stopped for an instant and checked the time on the house clock, as if she were waiting for something. She closed her eyes for a moment, sighed, and smiled again. Then she took out her cell phone and checked a message, one she herself had sent to Héctor and Walsh: "Go to the airport in..." And also to Nelson: "Bring the machine and the pill."

  "Everything will be fine," she whispered.

  She put the phone away and continued behind the girls.

  Meanwhile.

  At the airport of Semáforos de Chaco, a plane from Kanghar had just landed. Two well-known people, accompanied by other passengers, descended from it: German and Pucheta. Both walked down calmly; Pucheta was yawning widely, while German maintained his characteristic smile. Upon setting foot on the tarmac, they saw two familiar faces waiting for them: Héctor and Walsh.

  As soon as Pucheta recognized them, she completely forgot her yawn and raised her hands with a gesture full of energy.

  "Hi!" she shouted, waving enthusiastically.

  German followed the direction of the voice and simply raised a hand, acknowledging the presence of his companions.

  Pucheta started running toward them.

  "Here she comes," Walsh murmured.

  Héctor smiled.

  "Of course, here she comes."

  Pucheta reached them and exclaimed:

  "The Squeeze-Hugs!"

  Without waiting for a reply, she wrapped them both in a hug that was as strong as it was affectionate.

  "Ana, please… we're not indestructible. We're fragile," Walsh pleaded, his voice somewhat compressed.

  "I'm happy to see you too, Ana," Héctor said, clearly in pain.

  She finally released them and gave them both a kiss on the cheek.

  "Ana María Pucheta, reporting for duty," she announced joyfully.

  But as the hug broke, Walsh felt a slight pinch in his head, like a fleeting discomfort that appeared upon losing contact.

  "Are you okay?" Pucheta asked, worried as she saw him touch his forehead.

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  "Yes, yes. It's nothing," he replied, massaging his temples.

  Walsh had felt something strange from the beginning, a tingling at the base of his skull that he couldn't identify. Still, he didn't give it importance. Until it happened.

  German approached with his hands in his pockets, walking with his confident rhythm, one that seemed to be set by an imaginary drum that only he heard. He wore his characteristic smile: wide, carefree… too carefree.

  "I'm not planning on giving you a hug," he announced mockingly, extending his hand.

  Héctor chuckled and accepted it first. A firm handshake, a normal gesture.

  But when Walsh shook German's hand, he felt as if a red-hot iron had pierced his head. The pain was so sudden and fierce that his knees buckled and he fell to the ground.

  "Walsh?!" Héctor and Pucheta exclaimed at the same time, moving toward him.

  German did not lose his smile. His serenity contrasted with the chaos that was forming.

  "I didn't hurt you," he said. "I didn't even squeeze your hand."

  Walsh recoiled as if German were a living bonfire. He ended up sitting, breathing violently. He looked up at Pucheta, forced himself to stand, and as soon as he touched her with his fingertips… the same agonizing pain returned, forcing him to let go immediately.

  Pucheta stood motionless. Then she looked at her hands with terror, as if she had discovered invisible blood upon them. Her face began to twist with guilt.

  Until German gave her a gentle tap on the head with his knuckles.

  "Relax, Ana. Let Walsh recover and speak."

  Walsh put a hand on the ground and, panting, announced:

  "They're poisoned."

  Pucheta took a step back, petrified. German was still smiling… but there was something about that smile. A rigidity, a dangerous glint in his eye. It was his way of showing annoyance without breaking the expression.

  "And who was the brave soul?" he asked with false cheer.

  Héctor supported Walsh, positioning himself next to him to prevent him from falling.

  "Relax, Darío. I'm here."

  "You flatter me, Héctor," Walsh murmured sarcastically, trying to maintain his composure.

  German tilted his head.

  "What's wrong? Explain," he requested with his usual, slightly softer smile.

  Walsh swallowed.

  "I felt… something harmful in their bodies. Something that affects my segalma. Just touching them damages me."

  Héctor moved his hands toward German and then Pucheta, touching them without hesitation.

  "I don't feel anything. Not that I distrust you, Walsh."

  "Don't worry," Walsh replied. "My segalma is very sensitive to abrupt changes. It detects any anomaly."

  "So are we going to die?" Pucheta asked, her voice cracking.

  "No," he denied immediately. "Whatever they have isn't dangerous… for now. It seems harmless. But the source is alarming."

  German narrowed his eyes. He thought fast. He reviewed the last few days, the things he consumed, the places he'd been. The answer dropped onto him like a stone.

  "Bingo," he said quietly. "That dinky little shop... in Kanghar."

  "We'll investigate that later," Héctor interrupted. "First, you two."

  Without wasting any more time, they hailed a cab. The agency would cover the costs, so they didn't argue with the driver. They climbed in quickly. During the ride, the silence remained, barely interrupted by the city's noise against the windows.

  German, surprisingly calm, was the first to speak.

  "How did you know we'd be there?"

  "Hammya notified us by message," Héctor replied.

  German let out a low laugh.

  "Curious. I didn't tell anyone I was leaving. Not even Candado."

  "Even if you didn't notify him," Walsh sighed, "Candado always knows where you are. He knows everything."

  Walsh glanced at him sideways.

  "Why was Pucheta with you?"

  German scoffed.

  "Oh, oh, I know why. I saw him sneaking off and followed him. Before I knew it, I was on the plane."

  Pucheta smiled, guilty. She had just shared something like a private secret.

  "I told her no," German continued, "but she insisted. And I got tired."

  She lowered her gaze, though the smile was still there.

  German leaned his head against the car door, looking outside.

  "How did Hammya know?" he asked in a tone so low it hardly sounded like his own. His smile turned grim.

  "We'll know later," Héctor said. "First, the urgent matter."

  Upon arriving at the guild, they were surprised to see Nelson and Lucas setting up a huge machine in the middle of the room. Cables, tools, metal pieces, and the smell of oil permeated everything.

  "Oh, friends, welcome!" exclaimed Lucas, covered in soot and oil up to his eyebrows.

  "Greetings," said Nelson, much more presentable.

  "It's an emergency," Walsh announced. "They're poisoned."

  Both men were startled and ran to examine them.

  Lucas approached German.

  "Please, don't touch me," German pleaded, extending his hand as if Lucas were a biological threat.

  "Health comes first."

  Lucas grabbed him anyway, leaving more stains on his clothes.

  German growled, still smiling.

  "Grrrr… make it quick."

  Nelson, on the other hand, examined Pucheta very carefully, using any improvised tool at his disposal. After several minutes, both inventors concurred:

  "Visually, there's nothing," Lucas said.

  "Nor does there seem to be physical discomfort," Nelson added.

  Walsh stepped forward.

  "My segalma detected anomalies in their bodies."

  Nelson looked at the machine they were still installing. His eyes lit up.

  "Lucas, what if we try the apparatus on them?"

  Lucas jumped.

  "Ooh-ho-ho-ho! Great idea, Mr. Nelson!"

  Héctor frowned.

  "And what is that?"

  "A machine that analyzes segalmas and human bodies," Lucas explained proudly.

  German, while desperately trying to wipe the oil stains from his suit, said:

  "And why is this here?"

  "I don't know," Nelson said. "I was setting it up because this morning Hammya sent me messages… very specific ones about body and segalma analysis."

  Héctor and Walsh exchanged a look.

  "That's strange," Héctor whispered.

  "Very strange," Walsh replied.

  German intensified his smile, and a chill ran through the room.

  "Fascinating."

  Then he rubbed his suit again, this time more furiously.

  Héctor observed the machine with genuine curiosity, approaching it like someone examining an unknown animal, in this case, a peculiar "appliance."

  "With this, can we find out what they have?" he asked.

  "In theory, yes," Nelson replied.

  "And how does it work?" German asked, resigned to the fact that his suit would never return to its original state.

  Nelson smiled.

  "It's simple: they take off their clothes, and that ray over there will scan them. It produces a complete image of their body and their segalma."

  Pucheta hesitated. She swallowed. With trembling hands, she began to unbutton her shirt. She had barely reached the second button when German grabbed her wrist without even looking directly at her, like an automatic gesture of protection.

  "I understand your profession, Doctor," he said with contained formality, "but I would be very pleased if this machine were in a more private location."

  "Exactly," Nelson nodded. Then he looked at Lucas. "Come on, Luquita, help me with this."

  "At your command, Captain!" the inventor exclaimed enthusiastically.

  After a few minutes of metallic noises and struggling, they moved the machine to an empty room that formerly served as the guild's makeshift dormitory. The walls were bare, the lighting dim, and the atmosphere intimate enough for Pucheta to breathe a little easier.

  Nelson invited her to enter. Lucas, purely out of courtesy, and because German was watching him with a tense smile that meant "I'll kill you if you look," left immediately.

  She stopped before crossing the door and looked at German, seeking some reassurance.

  "Go," he told her, softer this time. "Nothing will happen."

  Pucheta inhaled deeply, lifted her chin, and regained some of the optimism that usually characterized her. She said goodbye to German with a shy smile and entered with a determined step.

  Thirty minutes later, the door opened. Pucheta emerged, buttoning her shirt quickly, somewhat flushed. Nelson followed her out and called Lucas to enter.

  She flinched, but Nelson raised his hands to reassure her.

  "They're not that kind of images, daughter. It's just the interior."

  Lucas went in to check the scan results. Another twenty minutes passed, charged with tension.

  Until both men came out.

  Lucas held a tablet projecting a three-dimensional graph of Pucheta's body, filled with bright spots like red stars.

  He swallowed before announcing it.

  "Nanobots."

  The word dropped like a knife in the room. The silence was total, almost physical.

  German was the only one who spoke.

  "Well… that helps with something."

  "I have parasites inside my body…" Pucheta murmured, feeling small.

  "And how do we get them out?" Héctor asked.

  Lucas, without losing a second, pulled a taser from his tools and, before anyone could stop him, discharged an electrical blast against German's chest.

  The man's body arched and he fell to the floor with a grunt.

  "You piece of sh—…" German tried to insult him between spasms.

  Nelson sighed deeply after taking the taser away.

  "Not like that."

  Lucas looked at him, confused.

  "Oh… no?"

  "No," Nelson repeated, putting a hand to his forehead. "We're going to use a pill."

  Nelson remembered the text message from the girl: "Bring the pill for anomalies, specifically for robotic mechanisms. And let me know when everything is alright."

  Nelson approached the table, picked up a small glass vial, and placed it in front of everyone. Inside was a single spherical pill, the size of a lentil, silver with bluish veins that seemed to move like tiny electrical impulses.

  Everyone watched it in silence.

  "This pill," Nelson explained with the calmness of a veteran professor, "contains a micro-inhibitor field. When it dissolves in the stomach, it releases a biochemical substance that acts as a 'false code.'"

  "'False code'?" Héctor repeated.

  "Exactly. The nanobots operate on an internal protocol to identify which cells to affect and which not to. This pill sends them a false signal that they interpret as a direct command from their creator: hibernate."

  Walsh arched his eyebrows.

  "Hibernate?"

  "Yes," Nelson continued, pointing to a holographic graph. "Upon entering that state, they stop moving, replicating, and interacting with the human body. They become completely immobilized."

  German, still trembling from the taser, got up, leaning on Héctor.

  "And then what?" he growled, still annoyed but maintaining his smile.

  Nelson smiled calmly.

  "Then they exit—you excrete them, urinate them, or sweat them out. Slowly. As if they were unabsorbed minerals."

  "That sounds… unpleasant," Pucheta commented, turning pale.

  "Much less unpleasant than having mechanical parasites fulfilling their mysterious mission via active nanobots," Lucas replied with total sincerity.

  "Lucas," Nelson warned.

  "Sorry."

  German approached the metal table where the pills rested. He picked one up between his fingers, feeling its smooth, almost oily surface.

  "Anything to exterminate these parasites," he gru?ó, bringing it to his mouth.

  "But we haven't run tests on you yet," Lucas said, not raising his voice too much, though worry tightened his shoulders.

  German turned his head toward him. His smile was tranquil… but there was something dark in that tranquility, a strange glint in his eyes that made Lucas stand still.

  "I trust my best Negroid friend in science clothes," he declared with the mocking solemnity that only he could execute.

  Lucas put a hand to his face.

  "How embarrassing…"

  Nelson, leaning against the wall, let out a long sigh that almost sounded like a prayer.

  Without further delay, German put the pill in his mouth and swallowed it in a dry gulp. Pucheta, seeing him, pressed her lips together; if German did it without hesitation, she could too. She took a pill, placed it on her tongue, and washed it down with a glass of water. The hollow sound of the glass being set on the table was like a sign of decision.

  Héctor looked at Walsh. Walsh understood without words: he approached Pucheta and German and touched them gently on the shoulders, as if confirming they were still present, still alive.

  And… nothing happened.

  "The pain is still there," Walsh reported, moving his fingers as if testing the weight of his own body, "but it's weak. It's not bothering me." He looked at Héctor, then Nelson and Lucas. "Whatever that pill is, it's working."

  A collective relief washed through the room. It was noticeable in the shoulders that dropped, in the sighs that were finally allowed, in the tension that dissolved like vapor.

  Everyone, except German.

  He remained still for a second, with that shadow of doubt that grew thicker in his head. How could Hammya know everything? His trip… the exact location… the problem and the solution. It was impossible, even for her.

  Without saying a word, he took out his old Rubik's cube. He spun it between his hands, the tiles changing color as if something inside him needed to move so as not to explode. He smiled faintly.

  Pucheta, curious, playful, and warm as always, approached and hugged him from behind, pressing her cheek against German's.

  "What are you doing?" she whispered.

  "Nothing. For now," he replied, without stopping the manipulation of the cube.

  Nelson watched them over his cell phone, with a mixture of weariness and tenderness. Then he typed a message quickly. Short. Direct. For the only one who needed to know:

  “Everything is alright.”

  And he sent it.

  Meanwhile…

  Hammya, Clementina, and Sara were comfortably sprawled on the couch, nestled among cushions and a blanket they didn't know who had brought. The TV murmured a program of no importance, something bright and loud. The three of them seemed to be enjoying the warmth of the moment, that quiet respite that only comes after a difficult problem.

  Hammya's cell phone vibrated.

  She took it unhurriedly, looked at it, and smiled. Just three words.

  “Everything is alright.”

  "One problem is over. Now for another," she murmured, more to herself than to them.

  She looked at the time. 5:30 PM.

  Her eyes dimmed for an instant, as if she were preparing for something inevitable, something she already knew was coming. She closed her eyes… and waited.

  When the clock struck 5:31 PM exactly, someone knocked on the door.

  "Who could it be?" Clementina asked, blinking.

  "It must be Candado," Hammya replied, with a calm that left no room for doubt.

  Before Sara could add anything, Clementina was already on her feet, walking toward the door with soft but determined steps. She opened it… and there he was.

  "Young Patron, what a surprise," she greeted with her usual sweetness.

  Candado did not respond to the title. His face was set to his former self, serious, almost impassive.

  "Excuse me," he simply said, advancing without stopping.

  He crossed the room and planted himself in front of Sara and Hammya. Sara turned to look at him. Hammya did not: she continued sipping her tea, as if she had been waiting for exactly this second.

  "Speak now, Holy Truth," he said, without preamble. "What is this about 'coming back'?"

  Hammya silently mocked Candado, repeating every sentence he had just spoken.

  She also silently repeated Sara's response, with her slight movements.

  "What you heard," she replied, setting her cup on the table. "I have to return… to Eurania."

  Hammya finished her last sip and put the cup back in its place.

  "Let's begin," she whispered.