Chapter 136 - 134 What We Choose in Silence

Chapter 136: Chapter 134 What We Choose in Silence

Calista remained seated beside Octavia’s bed. The clock in the room read five twelve. There were still several hours left before the deadline ended, but she did not want to get up or distract herself. She needed to decide what she would accept for herself and what she could allow regarding her sister.

The room had no windows. Calista could only notice the passing of the afternoon through the movement of the hands, the medical staff’s checkups, and the changes in light in the corridor. Inside, the monitor continued recording Octavia’s pulse with regular sounds. Her breathing remained stable and the IV bag was slowly emptying.

Calista continued holding her sister’s hand.

—I can’t decide for you —she said quietly.

She did not know whether Octavia could hear her. The doctors could not guarantee it, and she had not shown a conscious reaction since arriving at the clinic. Even so, Calista continued speaking to her. The silence felt worse than the possibility of not being heard.

—But I can’t keep waiting without doing anything either.

Helena’s proposal included two different decisions. Calista could accept the reconstruction of her arm and her eye, undergo the training, and work as a bodyguard. All of that affected her own body and her future.

On the other hand, she could not authorize brain surgery for Octavia or accept a permanent connection on her behalf. The only thing she could allow was the external and reversible evaluation Helena had explained. If that test found a conscious response, Octavia would decide the rest for herself.

Understanding the difference did not make the choice easy.

At five thirty, a nurse came in. She changed one of Octavia’s IV bags, checked her vital signs, and then examined the bandage on Calista’s right arm. She asked how much pain she was feeling and recorded the answer on a tablet.

—They’ll bring you food in half an hour —she informed her—. You should try to eat.

Calista nodded. The nurse left without asking her about the conversation with Helena.

When she was alone with Octavia again, Calista looked at the empty space where her arm had once been. At times, she could still feel her right hand, even though she knew it no longer existed. The bandage covering the wound of her right eye reduced her vision and forced her to calculate distances again.

She could learn to live that way. Helena had never said otherwise. The proposal was not her only possibility for continuing to live.

However, accepting could give her back part of what she had lost.

The procedure would be long and could fail. Afterward would come months of rehabilitation and training intended to turn her into Helena’s protector and that of another person she still did not know. It would not be a peaceful life. Calista would have to approach violence again, this time by her own decision and in exchange for a salary.

That difference was important.

In the House of Chains, food, shelter, and protection always ended up becoming a debt. Those who controlled the place used that debt to dispose of the people who lived there.

Helena, on the other hand, had established the conditions before asking for an answer. The treatment would continue even if Calista rejected the offer. If she accepted, she would receive payment, have a residence where she could live with Octavia, keep the technology incorporated into her body, and be able to leave the job.

Calista distrusted promises, but Helena had not asked her for trust.

She had offered her conditions that could be put in writing.

The food arrived shortly after six. Calista held the fork with her left hand and ate slowly. She still found it difficult to perform simple movements without stopping to think about them. She finished a little more than half before pushing the tray aside.

While an aide removed the containers, Calista saw that the staff in the corridor had changed. The voices were different and the lighting had been reduced.

The clock read six twenty-three.

She moved a little closer to Octavia.

—If I accept, we’ll be able to leave here when the treatment is over —she told her—. They’ll give us a place to live and I’ll work to maintain it. I don’t know how long it will take me to learn or whether everything will work the way they said.

Octavia did not react. Calista watched her bandaged face before continuing.

—I’ll also allow them to do the first test on you. Only the external test. If they manage to get you to respond, they’ll explain the rest to you and you’ll decide. I’m not going to authorize any operation for you.

Saying those words allowed her to organize what she had been considering for hours.

Accepting for herself did not mean accepting for both of them. She could begin a different life without taking possession of Octavia’s will. She could also look for a way to communicate with her without allowing them to use her as part of the agreement.

Calista reviewed once more the risks Helena had mentioned. She found no safe option. Refusing would avoid the operations and the work, but it would not repair her body or offer a new way to communicate with Octavia.

Accepting could cause her more pain and put her in danger in the future, although it would also give her tools, income, and the freedom to leave the agreement if it stopped being convenient for her.

At six forty-seven, she made the decision.

She did not immediately press the call button. First, she had to resolve why she wanted the Crimson Emperor to be present.

She did not need his authorization. Nor would she accept out of gratitude or because she believed her life belonged to him after the rescue. That was precisely why she wanted to see him.

The Crimson Emperor had taken them out of the House of Chains, had ensured that they received care, and then had stepped aside. He had not demanded obedience, money, or service in return. Calista wanted him to hear which path she had chosen with the opportunity he had left them.

The clock read eight minutes to seven.

Calista released Octavia’s hand, reached with her left hand for the control attached to the bed, and pressed the button.

A nurse from the night shift came in shortly afterward.

—Are you in any pain, Miss Mercer?

—No. I need you to notify Mrs. Helena Caelis.

The nurse checked Octavia’s indicators before looking back at her.

—Mrs. Caelis said she would return tonight.

—Tell her that I already have an answer, but I want to give it in front of the Crimson Emperor. I need you to call him as well.

The woman did not ask for an explanation.

—I’ll pass on the message.

When she left, Calista took Octavia’s hand again. She no longer needed to go over the proposal. She waited, watching the clock and listening to the sounds of the monitor.

Helena arrived at seven nine. She wore the same dark clothes from the afternoon and carried a thin tablet under her arm. She entered alone, closed the door, and first reviewed the data visible on Octavia’s equipment.

—I was informed that you have already made a decision —she said—. Also that you requested the presence of the Crimson Emperor.

—Yes.

—Does your answer depend on what he thinks?

—No. My answer has already been decided.

Helena remained standing in front of her.

—Then explain to me why you want him to come.

—Because he rescued us and did not try to decide what we should do afterward. I want him to hear my answer. I don’t need him to intervene.

Helena observed her for a few seconds. She showed neither approval nor annoyance.

—His presence will not change the conditions of the proposal.

—I know.

—Nor will it allow him to decide for Octavia.

Calista carefully tightened her grip on her sister’s hand.

—I won’t ask him to do that either.

—Do you need another medical explanation before answering?

—No.

—Do you have any questions about the contract, the residence, the payment, or your right to withdraw?

—None.

Helena unlocked the tablet and sent a brief message.

—Then we’ll wait.

She sat in the chair positioned in front of Calista and reviewed several documents. She did not try to learn the answer before the Crimson Emperor arrived, nor did she start a conversation to fill the silence.

Calista appreciated that professional distance.

Twenty-seven minutes passed. During that time, an aide checked Octavia’s blood pressure and left without interrupting them. Afterward, only the regular sound of the monitor and the movement of the clock hands remained.

—Does he know why he’s coming? —Calista asked.

—He only knows that you asked to speak with him —Helena replied.

—All right.

—You can still reject the proposal or remain silent. In either case, no one will make a different decision for you.

Calista looked at Octavia.

—I won’t change my mind.

Shortly afterward, footsteps were heard in the corridor. They stopped in front of the room and the lock opened.

Helena turned off the tablet and stood up.

Sebastián entered without asking why he had been called. He looked first at Octavia, then at Calista, and finally at Helena.

—Miss Mercer requested that you be present —Helena explained.

Sebastián turned his attention back to Calista.

—I was told you wished to speak with me.

Calista continued holding Octavia’s hand and raised her face to look Sebastián directly in the eyes.

When Calista finished speaking, Helena locked the tablet and stood up. She added no questions to an answer that was already complete.

She opened the door and left. Sebastián followed her in silence; he had come to listen to Calista and did not need to intervene after learning her decision.

The door closed behind them and reduced the sounds of Octavia’s monitor to a distant pulse. Under the dim lighting of the night shift, Helena moved down the corridor without changing her pace.

—The first assignment begins tonight —Helena said.

Sebastián kept his gaze forward.

—We had agreed that you would notify me in advance.

—The meeting had not been confirmed —Helena replied—. The regional director agreed to receive us less than an hour ago. That’s why I couldn’t inform you earlier.

—When do we leave? —Sebastián asked.

—Once you know the conditions —Helena replied.

The waiting room was located at the end of the same corridor. Helena entered first and stopped beside the door.

Selena occupied one of the armchairs, with several documents spread across a low table and a tablet in her hands. The sheets were separated by colors and arranged according to the moment when they would be needed.

Instead of the executive skirt she usually wore, she had on formally cut black pants and low-heeled shoes, suitable for walking for hours. The white shirt fit closely enough to leave no loose fabric beneath the jacket and naturally outlined her bust and waist.

Nothing in the outfit had been chosen for display: it was designed for comfort, mobility, and efficiency. However, Selena’s beauty remained visible even within that sobriety. Her black hair was still tied back in a high, impeccable ponytail.

Selena raised her gray eyes and closed the file she was reviewing.

—The bullet train to another city leaves at eight twenty —she explained—. We’ll arrive shortly after ten and travel directly to the regional headquarters. Helena will meet with the director at eleven. The review should be finished before two in the morning, and the return is planned for before dawn on Sunday.

—What are you going to review? —Sebastián asked.

Selena turned the tablet toward him. Three groups of records appeared on the screen.

—Administrative decisions, personnel movements, and changes in the teams responsible for Helena’s security. They were recorded as isolated events in different divisions; when compared, they form the pattern of the internal network we already confirmed. This headquarters appears in several of those movements, but we still don’t know whether it caused them or merely allowed them to pass.

With a precise movement, Selena enlarged the floor plan of the regional building.

—The meeting will appear to be an extraordinary audit. Helena will demand the original files from the director and the presence of those responsible for each area. I will compare their answers with the copies we already have. We must do it there because requesting the records remotely could alert anyone who is involved.

Sebastián directed a single question to Helena:

—Is the director one of them?

—We don’t know yet —Helena answered—. He may be collaborating with the network, he may be being used, or he may have allowed the irregularities through incompetence. No possibility will be discarded before seeing how he responds.

Selena kept one finger on the floor plan.

—Until we identify those responsible, no one must understand the true purpose of the visit. If they discover how much we know, they will destroy the records and sever the links between the divisions. I will direct the review. Helena will retain authority over the director and the staff. You will be responsible only for protecting her and deciding how we enter and leave.

Sebastián observed the marked entrances.

—Who knows the exact arrival time?

—Only the three of us —Selena replied—. The driver will receive the time shortly before picking us up. The director knows a forty-minute window, not the exact arrival.

—I need the service accesses, the available communications, and the names of everyone who will be inside —Sebastián said—. The withdrawal route will not be the same one we use to enter.

Selena separated a black folder from the rest and placed it in front of him.

—The itinerary is at the beginning. After that you’ll find the complete floor plans, authorized personnel, vehicles, and communication codes. I marked two alternative exits and an extraction point outside the building. I did not establish a definitive route because that decision is yours after inspecting the place.

Sebastián opened the folder and read only what was necessary to verify that the information was complete.

Selena did not repeat what he could verify for himself. Helena did not intervene either. Both allowed him to assume the function for which they had hired him without turning the work into a test of obedience.

—The main entrance is ruled out for the withdrawal —Sebastián determined—. I’ll decide the rest when we arrive.

Selena held his gaze for an instant, accepted the decision with a slight nod, and closed the tablet. Then she took the jacket from the backrest, gathered the remaining documents, and handed them to him.

—We’re leaving now.

Selena stood up and Helena opened the door. Sebastián walked out behind both of them.

They moved silently through the security corridor. The gates verified their identities one after another and left them in front of the elevator connecting the underground levels with the surface.

Its hum faded when they reached the top. The final door returned them to the muted noise of the city.

Night had settled over the neighborhood.

Beyond the panels concealing the access, the block was still being rebuilt: scaffolding over the facades, a motionless crane among new beams, and construction lamps over the torn-up pavement. New plates sealed the opening that months earlier had exposed the facility, although the change in material still outlined its shape.

On the street where the battle had chained collapses together, there were now temporary walkways and strips of uneven asphalt.

Life had returned without completely erasing the traces of the battle.

Selena did not linger at the site. At the edge of the fenced-off area was a graphite-gray sedan, common among city vehicles. It had no emblems or flashy finishes; only the thickness of the windows and the weight of the doors betrayed the reinforcement hidden beneath its ordinary appearance.

Helena took the back seat. Sebastián sat in front, beside Selena, and she started the vehicle.

They left the block through one of the temporary lanes and merged into the nighttime traffic.

The administrative buildings fell behind; afterward came wider avenues, shops closing, and residential towers lit at different heights.

Selena drove without unnecessary movements, both hands on the steering wheel and her attention alternating between the road and the mirrors. Helena reviewed the documentation in the back seat. Sebastián observed the route without seeking conversation.

When they reached the station district, the night already dominated the windows. Selena left the sedan in a public parking lot monitored twenty-four hours a day, near the pedestrian entrance, and checked that it was locked before walking away.

She replaced the short jacket with a dark high-collared overcoat and took a pair of tinted glasses. The coat preserved the sobriety of the white shirt, black formal pants, and low heels she had worn since the facility.

She readjusted her high ponytail until it was impeccable and concealed her eyes behind the glasses.

Helena put on an unmarked cap and wrapped the lower part of her face with a dark scarf that matched her coat. None of the garments looked like a disguise; they merely reduced the features that a camera or a distant glance might retain.

Sebastián walked with them to the station.

The building combined opaque glass and light-colored metal. The lights, integrated into columns and ceilings, preserved the uniformity of the lobby. Luminous lines changed color across the floor to guide passengers, while suspended screens displayed schedules and platforms without cluttering the space.

Its elegance came from precision: clean surfaces, silent controls, and routes understandable at a single glance.

At a side terminal, Selena placed her identification and the reservation code on the reader. The system verified the mission authorization, enabled the route, and released three physical passes.

She counted them before handing them out.

Instead of heading to the platform, they went down a corridor to the locker area. Selena took out a short key with an engraved metal tag.

—Locker fifty-two —she said, handing it to Sebastián—. Your clothes are inside. Change. Helena and I will pick up the assigned equipment.

Sebastián took the key.

—Understood.

The two women continued toward the equipment corridor. He found the locker at the end of the second row. Inside was a rectangular sports bag, completely blue and without markings.

He carried it to an individual changing room and opened the zipper.

The uniform had been arranged in the order in which he was supposed to put it on. Sebastián set his clothes aside and, for a moment, the scars were once again exposed across his brown skin.

There were too many for a fifteen-year-old life: irregular cuts across his torso and limbs, deeper wounds on his abdomen and back, the trace of a burn on his right shoulder, and a long line descending along his left leg. His hands and feet retained calluses formed by years of effort.

Among all those marks, over his pectoral, Convirca’s spiritual mark traced the Inverted Thunder like a lightning bolt that had chosen to fall in the wrong direction.

His body did not possess the bulk built for display. Every muscle was defined with extreme precision, dense and functional, as though it had been carved solely to endure, strike, or continue moving.

The uniform did not attempt to conceal that condition or turn it into an ornament. The security jacket, made of a super-matte black that barely reflected light, fit his proportions without clinging. Beneath it were a white shirt and a narrow black tie, secured so that it could not shift.

A small communicator wrapped around his ear and left the microphone beside his jaw. Sebastián stored the documents in an inner compartment of the jacket.

The boots looked formal until he pressed one between his fingers. The exterior offered resistance close to that of a protective piece; the sole, however, yielded enough to follow the foot’s support without taking away its firmness.

He put them on and adjusted the hidden fastenings.

The last item was a full black mask with a blue tint barely visible along the edges. Its design matched the protective equipment of a corporate agent and would not draw attention by itself.

When it covered his face, two dark lenses aligned over his eyes and completely concealed the red spirals of his irises.

Sebastián placed the clothes he had arrived in inside the blue suitcase, returned to locker fifty-two, and left it in the same place.

When he left the changing area, Selena and Helena were already waiting for him beside the access corridor. Each carried a compact rolling suitcase. The luggage, ordinary and carefully chosen, completed the appearance of two travelers accompanied by their security.

Helena ran her gaze briefly over Sebastián’s uniform. She paused on the mask before looking directly at him.

—It suits you.

Sebastián did not respond.

Selena checked the time and started walking. The other two accompanied her.

They passed through the reserved checkpoint and descended to the platform. Behind a transparent barrier, the train waited, long and low, with a continuous metallic surface over which the lights slid.

A few minutes before eight twenty, its doors aligned with the openings in the barrier and allowed them to board.

The VIP car maintained the sobriety of the building: spacious seats, low panels that offered privacy, dim lighting, integrated connections, and closed compartments.

Selena and Helena stored the suitcases there. Sebastián settled by the window; Selena took the seat across from him and Helena sat beside her.

At exactly eight twenty, the doors closed.

There was no jolt to announce the departure. The platform began to recede, first slowly and then with a speed that turned its columns into a continuous sequence.

The city lights stretched across the glass. Within a few minutes, the buildings could no longer be distinguished one by one and instead formed a luminous expanse that sank behind the train.

Helena took out a tablet and resumed reading the documents.

Selena remained across from Sebastián. For a while, she watched in the glass the dark reflection of his mask, superimposed over the last neighborhoods of the city.

—Is this your first time traveling on one of these? —Selena asked.

—Yes.

—What do you think?

Sebastián looked at the speed indicator before answering.

—Efficient.

The word contained no irony. Selena tilted her head slightly, as if she had received exactly the kind of answer she expected.

Outside, the residential areas gave way to warehouses, freight lines, and industrial stretches. When the route straightened, the number on the panel continued rising until it stabilized near seven hundred kilometers per hour.

At that speed, the isolated lights no longer looked like points, but brief streaks that appeared and vanished before the eye could follow them.

Silence returned without making either of them uncomfortable.

Selena had spoken with Sebastián about decisions, risks, people who could die, and obligations that allowed no delay. She knew how he responded to a threat and the kind of limit he would not accept crossing for convenience.

However, almost everything she knew about him had begun when someone needed something. The question she still held served neither the mission nor the correction of a flaw.

That was precisely why she took so long to ask it.

—When your days aren’t organized around a specific task like this one, what do you normally do? —she asked.

Sebastián shifted his attention away from the window.

—I train. I attend the Institute. I spend time with Valentina, Virka, and Narka. Now I also work at the club.

—That sounds like another list of responsibilities.

—Not all of them are.

Selena rested one hand on the table, without moving it closer to him.

—Which ones aren’t?

—Being with them.

The answer came without emphasis. It needed nothing more to separate duty from what he had chosen to preserve.

The train entered a wide curve. The indicator gradually dropped until it approached three hundred kilometers per hour, and the lateral pressure was barely noticeable beneath the stabilization mechanisms.

On the other side of the glass, the last outskirts disappeared. The open darkness of the countryside took their place, interrupted by minor roads and distant homes.

—And when you’re alone? —Selena asked after several minutes.

—I walk.

—Toward somewhere?

—Not always.

Selena turned her face back toward the window.

The answer was simple, but it revealed something no report would have considered useful: Sebastián could also move without pursuing an objective. He did not turn every step into a mission, even though the way he spoke made it seem as if the entire world had to be reduced to concrete decisions.

—Does it help you think? —she asked.

—Sometimes. Other times I don’t think about anything.

Selena’s mouth relaxed slightly. It did not become a full smile.

—I wouldn’t have assumed you could leave your mind silent.

—I couldn’t before.

The train regained a straight line and accelerated again. It crossed an elevated bridge over a basin that the night rendered invisible; afterward, it entered a tunnel and the glass stopped showing the landscape.

For an instant, all three were reflected clearly: Helena reading in silence, Selena across from Sebastián, and his black figure motionless beside the window.

—Why do you want to know? —Sebastián asked.

Selena did not seek refuge behind the glasses. She removed them and folded them precisely before placing them on the table.

—Because I know how you act when someone is in danger, how you fight, and what you’re willing to endure. I know very little about what you choose when no one demands an answer from you.

Sebastián kept his gaze on her.

—Now you know more.

—A little.

There was no reproach in her voice. Selena understood that he would not ask her to justify her interest or try to name it for her.

For too long, she had arranged people according to the function they fulfilled around her. Sebastián resisted remaining within a category, and that night she had decided to observe the difference without immediately turning it into a problem to solve.

Darkness returned to the glass when they left the tunnel. Selena picked up the glasses without putting them back on and looked at him directly.

—You haven’t asked what I do.

—No.

—Aren’t you interested?

—If you want to say it, you’ll say it.

Selena held his gaze for a few seconds.

—I might not.

—Then I don’t need to force an answer out of you.

Helena slid a page on the tablet. She did not raise her eyes or alter her posture, although the pause before the movement made it clear that she had heard.

—I like driving at night —Selena said—. When the streets are almost empty and I don’t have to arrive at a specific time.

Sebastián waited.

—There’s less noise —she continued—. The route exists, but for a while no one expects me to do anything with it except travel it.

—That’s why you drove to the station.

—Not only that. It was the safest option.

—Then you turned it back into a responsibility.

Selena observed him. This time, the brief smile did form.

—It seems I do that often.

—Yes.

The direct answer did not hurt her or force her to defend herself. It remained between them with the naturalness of something that could be acknowledged without becoming an accusation.

Afterward, they spoke at intervals, allowing the landscape to occupy the space between one question and the next.

—Do you prefer silence or are you simply used to it? —Selena asked.

—Not every silence is the same. Some conceal a threat. Others allow you to remain beside someone without demanding anything from them.

—And this one?

Sebastián observed her before answering.

—This one demands nothing.

Selena looked at the darkness beyond the glass. She still did not know how to name what was changing between them, but that silence no longer felt uncomfortable to her.

Sebastián turned his attention back to the window.

Neither of them needed to add anything.

The landscape transformed as the conversation opened small spaces between pauses that grew less rigid each time. The dark fields gave way to mountains; the mountains, to successive tunnels and bridges from which they could make out riverbeds silvered by the night light.

Farther ahead, roads appeared, clusters of homes, and finally the scattered glow of another city spreading across the horizon.

Helena turned off the tablet when the system announced that they were approaching their destination. She stored the device in her bag and checked that the two suitcases remained secured. Selena put her glasses back on.

In the glass, the lights stopped being lines and gradually regained their shapes as the train slowed down.

Shortly after ten, they entered the station.

Sebastián stood up when the doors aligned with the platform. Helena removed the luggage from the compartment and Selena once again took the position from which she was supposed to lead them.

The personal gave way to the operation without disappearing beneath it.

The doors opened.

The three of them stepped out together, and the conversation remained suspended between them without having ended.

________________________________________

END OF Chapter 134 The path continues...

New Chapters are revealed every

Sunday, and also between Wednesday or Thursday,

when the will of the tale so decides.

Each one leaves another scar on Sebastián’s journey.

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Thank you for walking by my side.

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