Crazy Awakening: My luck can copy Talents.

Nikolás didn’t speak.

He started trembling even harder.

"I heard your plea. I heard what you asked for. I heard what you offered."

"..."

"I didn’t come here to hurt you. I didn’t come to take your soul. I came to help you, if you’ll let me."

Nikolás slowly lowered his hands from his mouth.

He stared at him.

With his new senses, Adrián could see exactly how the man’s pulse hammered through the artery in his neck—far too fast, almost arrhythmic—and how his breathing tightened inside his chest.

"...You’re a demon."

"Yes."

"...You’re real."

"I’m real."

"..."

Nikolás leaned forward.

He covered his face with both hands.

And for the second time that night, someone in that room cried.

This time with sound.

With spasms.

With the full weight of three years, two months, and eleven days pouring out all at once.

Adrián didn’t move.

He had no idea what to do.

Nobody had taught him what to do when a human started crying in front of a magic circle.

After a long while—maybe a minute, maybe three; Adrián lost track—Nikolás managed to pull himself together.

He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

Adjusted his glasses.

Took several breaths.

"Sorry," he said, his voice rough. "I’m sorry. I didn’t expect... I really didn’t expect... I thought it was an act of faith. A desperate ritual. I didn’t think it was actually real."

"It’s okay."

"...What should I call you?"

Adrián thought about it for two seconds.

"Adrián is fine."

"...Adrián."

"Yeah."

"Are you a... good demon?"

Adrián almost laughed.

He stopped himself.

"I don’t know what I am yet. But I know I didn’t come here to hurt you. And I know that if you accepted the deal, the House that sent me respects the terms you offered."

He leaned forward slightly.

"We’ll talk about payment later. First, tell me about Marina."

Nikolás nodded.

He got up from the floor with some difficulty—his knees cracked loudly—and walked over to an old armchair against the wall.

He sat down.

Then gestured for Adrián to take the chair across from him.

Adrián sat.

Between the two armchairs was a low coffee table.

Three open shoeboxes sat on top of it.

Photographs.

A lot of photographs.

Papers.

A black notebook filled with a young woman’s handwriting.

A keychain with a butterfly charm.

"Marina," Nikolás said, looking at the boxes. "Marina Ríos. Twenty-four years old."

He swallowed.

"That’s the first thing I want to say. Not was. Is. I don’t know if she still is. I still use both tenses. Sorry if that gets confusing."

"It’s fine."

"She was studying graphic design. She worked part-time at a coffee shop to pay for her supplies. She still lived here with me because she wanted to save money before moving out. Her mother and I separated years ago, but we still got along while Marina was around."

His eyes lowered.

"Everything started falling apart afterward."

"..."

"On the night of January nineteenth, 2023, Marina left the coffee shop at ten-thirty. Her shift ended at ten. She stayed about twenty minutes talking to a coworker. That detail is in the police report."

Nikolás leaned forward.

"She left alone at ten-forty. She was going to walk to the bus stop on the avenue. She never reached the bus."

Adrián’s expression hardened.

"No one saw her leave the block. The cameras at the bar next door were broken—conveniently broken, according to the private investigator I hired later. The city cameras at the intersection were broken too."

"An area with broken cameras."

"An area with broken cameras."

Nikolás nodded.

"Systematically. After Marina disappeared, I found out that a lot of other cameras in the neighborhood mysteriously stop working every now and then too. Nobody ever fully fixes them. The police say it’s a budget issue."

"..."

"I found this among her things after she disappeared."

Nikolás picked up the black notebook.

He opened it to a marked page.

Then handed it to Adrián.

Adrián took it.

Read.

It was a young woman’s handwriting.

Neat.

Careful.

The entry was dated January fourteenth.

Five days before the disappearance.

«"That feeling again. Last night, walking home from work, someone was following me. When I turned around, nobody was there. It’s the third time this month. I don’t know if I’m being paranoid or if it’s real. I’m going to tell Dad, but I don’t want him to worry. I’ll try to change my shift so I don’t get out so late. Mercier Street is deserted at that hour. I hate this neighborhood."»

Adrián looked up.

"Mercier."

"Mercier. Marina didn’t live on Mercier. She worked three blocks away from it. But she used Mercier as a shortcut to reach the bus."

Nikolás paused.

"Just like so many others."

"Just like...?"

Nikolás hesitated.

"I investigated the other cases."

Adrián went still.

"After the police closed Marina’s case, I started reading everything I could find. I found four more cases in the same area."

Four.

"Four other women."

Adrián said nothing.

"Four other broken cameras. Four other police conclusions calling them ’voluntary disappearances.’ Four other desperate parents I spoke to over the phone. One father lives on the coast. Another mother lives up north."

Nikolás looked directly at him.

"All five cases are connected. I know they are. The police don’t believe me. Nobody believes me."

"I believe you."

Nikolás became completely still.

"...You believe me?"

"I believe you."

Adrián took a breath.

"And I’m going to tell you something I technically shouldn’t."

Nikolás stared at him.

"But I’m telling you because I think you deserve to know."

A pause.

"One of those five cases is my own sister."

Silence.

"Elena Vega. May third, 2022."

Adrián’s jaw tightened.

"Mercier Street."

Nikolás brought a hand to his mouth again.

His eyes filled with tears.

"...You too."

"Me too."

"But you... you’re a..."

"A demon?"

Nikolás didn’t answer.

Adrián leaned back slightly.

"Apparently, looking for her took me places the police were never going to reach."

Nikolás slowly nodded.

Again.

And again.

As if he were trying to force the information into a shape his mind could understand.

"Adrián."

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to find her?"

Adrián thought about Marina Ríos.

He thought about Elena.

He thought about the other three women whose names he didn’t even know yet, but who were now part of the same investigation.

He thought about Sariel, who knew more than he had said.

He thought about Uriel Corvax.

The blonde woman from the flashback.

He thought about the new-moon pattern.

He thought about Mercier Street and its conveniently broken cameras.

He thought about the pool of blood he had been lying in less than twenty-four hours ago.

He thought about the resources he had now.

Resources Nikolás Ríos couldn’t even begin to imagine.

"I’m going to do everything I can," he said.

Nikolás watched him.

"I can’t promise you I’ll find her."

A pause.

"I can’t promise you she’s alive."

Nikolás’s face tightened.

"But I can promise you that I’ll find out what happened."

Adrián held his gaze.

"I’ll find out where she is."

His voice hardened.

"I’ll find out who took her."

Another pause.

"And when I know..."

He leaned forward.

"You’ll know too."

Nikolás didn’t move.

"That, I promise you."

Nikolás nodded.

"It’s more than anyone has offered me in three years."

"Yeah."

"Adrián."

"Yeah?"

"The payment."

Adrián looked at him.

"What do you want as payment?"

Adrián thought.

He thought about what Ishtar had told him about negotiation.

He thought about what Rhea had told him about the contracts she burned.

He thought about the broken man sitting in front of him, offering what little he had left.

"Nikolás."

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