On the Path of Eternal Strength.-Chapter 68 - 66 The Calm that Precedes the Price

A little time passed. Not much. Enough for the murmur of the place to regain its balance, as if Óscar’s absence had left a small but perceptible hollow that the air itself took care of filling with normality. The table was no longer a center, but just another island among many.

Sebastián was at the register. He didn’t speak. He simply waited while the attendant carried out the charge, her movements precise, quick, without the need for words. There was something in her face that indicated she had already seen them before, or at least understood that no courtesy was necessary.

Virka was at his side. Standing, with her arms crossed, her gaze fixed on no point in particular. Her posture was straight, calm, but her presence still weighed. No one looked at her directly. Valentina, farther back, watched the wall behind the counter: a panel of light wood where nameless cards hung, only codes. She didn’t touch anything. She didn’t ask. But her eyes were awake. Curious.

The payment was completed with a scan and a silent confirmation. Nothing more.

As they left the restaurant, the change in atmosphere was almost imperceptible. There was no difference in temperature, nor in light. But there was in energy. The interior had been a temporary refuge. Outside, the world reactivated.

The upper floor of the building remained the same: spacious, clean, with display cases along the sides showing items without the need to shout. Tall plants marked the boundaries between sections, and a soft musical thread slid through the slits in the ceiling without imposing itself.

Sebastián stopped just outside the doorframe. He looked to both sides, then forward. There were no signs of the vehicle that would come for them.

—They haven’t arrived yet —he said, unhurried—. How about we take a walk in the meantime?

He didn’t put it forward as a plan. Just as a possibility. Like a pause before the next move.

Valentina raised her head immediately. Her face lit up effortlessly.

—Really?

—Of course —he replied, simply.

Virka didn’t say anything, but nodded, taking a step to position herself next to Sebastián, on the other side of Valentina. She was a figure of shadow and firmness, but not distant. Just constant.

They began to walk. The pace was slow, unhurried. None of the three spoke. And yet, the silence wasn’t dense. It was simply shared.

The shops on the floor were varied. Some sold luxury objects: watches with no visible brand, pieces of metal worked with precision, cases lined in leather that did not announce their contents. Others offered packaged foods with clean labels, in refrigerated display cases that shone with dim light. There were also design places, with household items, chairs that did not seem comfortable but cost a fortune, lamps that imitated forgotten constellations.

Valentina kept looking without stopping. She didn’t point. She just took it in. Sometimes she lingered on a display case a second longer than the others. But she didn’t interrupt the rhythm.

They went around the central corridor and turned toward a more discreet section of the floor. It wasn’t a hidden hallway, but it was one that lay behind the restaurant where they had eaten. As if the building itself offered a counterpart, less traveled.

That was where the shop appeared.

It had no glowing sign nor screens. Just a frameless glass façade, with mannequins displayed as if they were floating. The interior lights were warm, directed with intention. And the clothes... they were not common.

Dresses that fell like water over invisible bodies. Shirts with fabrics that seemed to have a texture of their own. Dark tones, pale ones, deep grays, ancient whites. Nothing screamed. Everything suggested.

Valentina stopped.

Not abruptly. Not like a child who sees something shiny. She stopped like someone who hears something she didn’t expect to hear.

She stepped forward a little, until she was just centimeters from the glass. Her hands didn’t touch it, but they rose slightly, as if she could feel the fabric just by looking.

—Can we go in?

Her voice didn’t break the moment. It just shifted it a little.

—There’s pretty clothes... for the three of us.

Sebastián stopped beside her. He looked inside without apparent emotion. But his eyes carefully scanned the displayed items. Virka, on the other side, observed a dark coat with metallic fasteners that looked designed to withstand climate and time. It wasn’t decorative. It was... functional. And beautiful.

None of them spoke at first.

Then Sebastián nodded.

—Let’s go.

Valentina turned on herself and pushed the door with both hands, as if that were the entrance to another kind of world.

The shop received them with a different kind of silence.

And they went in together.

The interior of the shop was neither noisy nor cold. The lights hung from an asymmetrical false ceiling, projecting soft beams that fell like selective rain over shelves, racks, and display structures. Everything had an implicit order. There were no crowds, no excess of pieces. It was a shop built for one to walk through calmly... but also with intention.

Clothing of different styles surrounded them. Sober, dark pieces with firm cuts; others more fluid, in faint tones, with fabrics that seemed like compressed air. There was leather, dense cotton, translucent fabrics, metal incorporated with elegance. It was not a common shop. Nothing hanging there seemed designed for the masses.

Valentina was the first to separate slightly from the group. She didn’t go far. Just a few steps. She looked at an outfit that seemed light, almost floating, but with strength in the stitching. She touched the fabric with the tips of her fingers, as if she could read something in it that the others couldn’t see. Sebastián walked slowly, his hands behind his back, not touching anything, but his eyes moved carefully. Virka stayed close, her gaze lowered, focused. She wasn’t evaluating fashion, but functionality.

That was when he appeared.

He made no noise as he approached. He didn’t need to. He was a tall, slender man, in a fitted dark gray suit, without a tie, with the collar of his shirt slightly unbuttoned. His hair was black, combed back with precision, without stiffness. His expression was clean, serene. Charismatic without exaggeration. He stopped exactly where he should. And he spoke with the cadence of someone who has already read his client before hearing their voice.

—Have you already decided what you wish to take?

The question was not invasive. It didn’t press. It simply placed itself as a possibility before the group.

Sebastián shook his head, without words.

Virka did as well.

Valentina was the last to answer. She lifted her gaze with an almost guilty but gentle expression.

—Not yet...

Her voice was low. A little childlike. Not from immaturity, but from that kind of innocence that doesn’t need to be explained.

The man nodded, as if that were the answer he expected.

—Then, if you allow me, I can guide you. Sometimes clothes also need time to find us. I just shorten the process.

Sebastián looked at him for a second. Then he nodded.

—Alright.

Virka didn’t object. Valentina smiled.

The walk began without haste. The employee walked ahead, not far. He didn’t talk much. He pointed to some pieces, asked specific questions: colors they preferred, materials that bothered them, styles they rejected. The answers were minimal. Sebastián had no declared preferences. Virka only required that she could move, breathe. Valentina observed everything, touched things, evaluated with the kind of criterion that doesn’t yet have a name, but does have intention.

Minutes passed. Or more. Time didn’t hurt, but it was beginning to stretch.

The variety of clothing was so great that what at first seemed like choice became a trap. Every outfit seemed suitable... but not definitive. Every color felt right... but not complete.

Valentina was the one who said what they had all already perceived.

—It’s that I want you to match...

She didn’t say it as an order. Nor as a whim. She said it as a wish.

—I want the three of you to look good... together.

That complicated everything. It wasn’t enough for each of them to choose something that fit. There had to be an invisible thread that united them.

Virka looked at Sebastián. He didn’t say anything. He just nodded, again. It was a concession. But not a defeat.

They continued the walk, but it wasn’t the same anymore. The options seemed to multiply endlessly. And nothing closed.

The shop employee stopped.

He observed them with a brief gesture, without drama.

—If you’ll allow me... I have another proposal.

Sebastián looked at him.

—Go ahead.

—I will choose. You tell me exactly what you want to convey. What you’re looking for. What you expect. And I’ll dress you. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

The silence lasted barely a blink.

It was Valentina who spoke.

She took a moment to breathe. As if each word cost her a little. But not from embarrassment. Rather because she gave them weight.

—I want clothes for the three of us... like a family.

She paused.

—And that they look nice. All of us.

She explained no more. She didn’t use synonyms. She didn’t embellish.

The man looked at her attentively. He didn’t smile. But his eyes said enough.

—Understood.

He turned on his heels. He made a gesture for them to follow him.

—Come with me, please.

He led them toward the back. Where the fitting rooms were.

It was a narrow corridor, with softer light. The doors were black, with rounded edges. There were no visible mirrors. Only faint lines on the floor, guiding toward individual spaces.

—Wait for me here. A moment.

The man left them in front of three adjoining fitting rooms. Then he walked away, unhurried, but with the certainty of someone who has already made a final decision.

Valentina looked at Sebastián. He didn’t look at her, but he knew she was doing so. Virka breathed slowly. No one spoke.

The moment stayed there, suspended.

As if what came next... were something more than clothes.

The silence between the fitting rooms was not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that settles between people who have already said everything essential without the need for words. The light was dim, filtered from hidden lamps. The black walls absorbed reflections, as if even shapes had to keep discretion there.

Virka took two steps toward Valentina. and the weight beneath her chest moved slightly. It wasn’t a shadow. It was a breath. A presence that only she fully recognized.

Valentina lifted her gaze as she felt her close. Her voice came out low, small, like a thread of innocence that did not fear, but did expect.

—What’s wrong, mom?

She didn’t say it with doubt. Nor with fear. She said it like someone who trusts. Like someone who knows that asking is also a way of caring.

Virka didn’t change her expression. She didn’t smile. She didn’t lower her guard. But her gaze became just a little softer.

—I want to leave Narka with you —she said—. He’s still with me... and I think it’s time for him to rest somewhere else.

Valentina blinked. The brightness in her eyes grew, not from surprise, but from joy. Her whole body seemed to lighten. She opened her backpack with both hands, almost as if she were opening a box of secrets.

Virka lowered her head slightly. She slipped her hand inside her clothing, carefully. From among the layers of fabric, a small, dark, solid figure emerged slowly. Narka, in his reduced form, opened his golden eyes just for an instant before moving. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. He walked along Virka’s forearm until he was in front of the open backpack.

Valentina didn’t say anything. She simply kept the space available. When Narka entered the backpack, she closed the zipper a little, without tightening it.

—Hello, Uncle Narka —she whispered—. You’re with me again.

From inside, a deep, almost muffled voice answered:

—I always was.

The scene lasted only seconds. But it was enough.

Then, soft footsteps approached from the back of the hallway. The employee was returning. In his hands he carried three long bags, of sober design. Matte black, without logos, without labels. Only a very thin silver line ran along the edges, like a barely visible detail.

He stopped in front of the three of them. He handed each bag over with precise movements. First to Sebastián, then to Virka, finally to Valentina. He didn’t explain. He didn’t embellish. He simply observed them with the same calm with which he had read them from the very first moment.

—You may go change whenever you like. Fitting rooms available.

His voice didn’t alter the atmosphere. It was part of it.

Sebastián nodded. Without words, he walked to one of the cubicles. The door closed behind him without a sound.

Virka touched Valentina’s head gently, as a signal, and then they walked together toward another of the fitting rooms. They went in without hurry. The door closed as well.

Time folded in on itself for a few minutes. It didn’t stop. It just drew back.

And then, the doors opened again.

Sebastián was the first to come out.

He was wearing a black tactical beanie made of matte fabric, without insignias, without shine. The black thermal shirt fit his torso like a second skin, marking the defined lines of his body. Over it, a short urban tactical jacket down to the hips, dark olive green. High collar. Reinforced zipper. Two pockets on the chest. Two more, hidden, on the sides. The fabric was flexible, but resistant. Designed to move. To fight.

On his hands, fingerless combat gloves. On his legs, black slim cargo pants, with reinforced knees, flat pockets, and elastic fabric. The kind of garment that doesn’t get in the way, nor betray you. The boots were urban tactical, black, with thick but silent soles. They closed the figure with purpose. With precision. At his waist, a technical belt with a dark metal buckle.

Behind him, Virka and Valentina came out together.

Virka had let her hair down, jet black, straight, falling like a shadow over her back. Her black spaghetti-strap dress fit like a living layer. Simple neckline. Slightly open back. The fabric did not shine. It only suggested depth. Over the dress, a long coat down to her calves, black, open in front, with a dark red lining visible when she moved. Heavy, silent fabric. Like a walking shadow. Long, thin black gloves up to mid-arm. Translucent stockings. Tall black boots fitted to her calves, with low heels. Around her neck, a thin, dark necklace. Silent as well.

Valentina wore her hair loose, with brown strands visible among the white. A small light-blue ribbon adorned one side. Her dress was simple, cream-colored, down to the knees. Over it, a light brown padded coat, which gave her volume and warmth without making her clumsy. White stockings. Light brown flat shoes. And around her neck, a light knitted scarf, framing her face with a warmth that seemed to come from another world.

The three of them held in their hands the bags with their old uniforms, folded. Valentina, in addition, still carried her loaded backpack. Narka did not move inside. But he was there.

In front of them, the employee was waiting. He didn’t speak right away. He only looked at them. Then, with a voice that had the exact balance between pride and professionalism, he asked:

—What do you think?

Sebastián didn’t hesitate.

—Good.

One word. Enough.

Virka took half a second longer. She nodded.

—Functional. Elegant.

Valentina turned a little on herself. Her coat moved slightly. She smiled.

—I love it.

The man nodded. He didn’t smile. But his eyes did.

Sebastián took a step forward.

—How much?

—Five hundred thousand units —the employee replied, without blinking.

Sebastián slipped his hand into his jacket. He pulled out a small device. He activated it. He confirmed.

—I’ll pay.

The man nodded. He made a gesture. He guided them down the hallway, back toward the register. They didn’t speak anymore.

Sebastián paid without delay. The transaction was completed without words. The garments were marked as purchased. Nothing more.

And then, they left the shop.

The world of the upper floor received them with the same air as before. Nothing had changed... except them.

Unhurried, they walked again toward the restaurant where they had had breakfast. Not to eat. Just to wait.

Outside, they still hadn’t come for them.

But the wait... already had another weight.

Time did not break; it slid. At the table that still kept the faint smell of coffee and the warm memory of the already removed plates, Sebastián, Virka, and Valentina remained without sitting, as if their bodies had learned not to settle when something else was about to happen. Outside, behind the glass of the upper floor, the light had changed just a little: it was no longer the uncertain brightness of midday nor the full shadow of night, but that intermediate point in which the world seems to breathe before demanding itself again. Valentina held the backpack against her chest, and inside, Narka remained still, a mineral heartbeat that only she could feel; Virka, upright, let the fall of her coat draw a silhouette that asked for no space and yet occupied it; Sebastián, with his hands at his sides, watched the flow of people passing without seeing them, as if the skyscraper had learned to ignore what it could not classify.

Then, the announcement crossed the air. It was not a voice that sought attention; it was a sonic presence, clear, elegant, designed not to intrude and yet be impossible to ignore. It marked the beginning of the afternoon with an exactness that did not need to be repeated. In that sound, brief and contained, there was something of a clock and something of a bell: a border that cannot be seen, but that is felt when it is crossed. Valentina lifted her head as if she had heard her name; Virka tilted her chin slightly, a minimal reaction; Sebastián let the announcement pass through him as a shadow passes over the ground, without stopping, but without forgetting.

It was at that very moment that the presence that was looking for them began to take shape. It did not arrive from the front, nor from the bright corridors where traffic was constant, but from a more discreet side, a passage that did not pretend to be a main one. The warehouse administrator advanced with a step that did not need to assert itself; her wide-fabric pants moved freely, the frayed wool jacket seemed to have been chosen for utility rather than appearance, and the wooden necklaces softly struck against her chest as she walked, marking a rhythm that did not belong to the building. Her long hair fell down her back with a naturalness that was not disciplined, and the earrings, also of wood, caught the light without giving it back. There was about her an air of a hipster lost in a world too clean, but that lostness was not clumsiness: it was a choice, a way of not seeming from where she came.

When she stood in front of them, she stopped without abruptness. Her eyes moved first over Sebastián, then over Virka, and lastly over Valentina. It was not an inspection: it was a recognition.

—Good afternoon, boss —she said, with a brief inclination that was neither reverence nor challenge, but the exact distance one keeps before someone one must answer to—. Beast queen.

The title directed at Virka had no irony. It was a statement that asked no permission. Virka did not reply with words; she didn’t need them. Her gaze held the administrator’s for just a second, enough for the greeting to be sealed.

The administrator then lowered her gaze to Valentina. The girl did not hide; nor did she step forward. She remained where she was, with the backpack pressed against her new coat, and inside, Narka’s ancient silence waiting.

—And... who is the young lady? —the administrator asked, without changing her tone, without removing the respect from a voice that addressed a child.

Sebastián answered without fully turning, as if the statement were so obvious it needed no gesture.

—Our daughter.

—Daughter —Virka repeated, not as an echo, but as a root.

The administrator nodded. She allowed herself a second of stillness, then inclined her torso slightly toward Valentina, just enough not to impose.

—Pleased to meet you, miss.

Valentina tightened her grip on the backpack a little, feeling Narka’s weight like a warm stone. Her lips curved into a small, intact smile.

—Hello —she said, with a voice that did not know how to lie.

The administrator held that gaze with a calm that was not condescending. Then she straightened and looked at Sebastián.

—If you’ll come with me, please. The transport is already ready. The auction does not wait.

There was no explanation of routes or promises of safety. It was not necessary. Sebastián nodded once, and that gesture was enough to set the world in motion. Virka took the first step; Valentina, with a slight impulse, settled at her side; Sebastián closed the formation without looking back. They walked together, not like an escort nor like a parade, but like a unit that no longer needed to agree on its form.

The route took them through corridors where the floor reflected the light with a sheen that was not a mirror, through areas where the hanging plants seemed to listen, through spaces where the architecture became more sober, more functional. As they advanced, the skyscraper left behind its public face and revealed a more intimate one, one made for those who knew where they were going. Valentina watched everything with attention, but not with amazement; she had learned that places do not promise what they seem, and even so, every detail was a world.

The administrator walked one step ahead, guiding without pointing, as if the building recognized her. Her wooden necklaces barely made a sound now, muffled by the change of environment. Virka advanced with the calm of someone who could break anything and, for that very reason, does not need to. Sebastián kept pace without effort, his new clothes moving with the discretion of something designed not to betray the body that wears it.

At one point, Valentina whispered toward the backpack:

—We’re on our way.

Inside, Narka replied with a murmur that only she heard, an ancient vibration that needed no words. That calmed her, and she kept walking without looking back.

The final corridor opened into a space where the sound was different, more hollow, as if the air were preparing to carry something more than voices. There, the administrator stopped and turned slightly.

—From here, I’ll take you —she said—. After that, everything will have its own price.

She did not explain what she meant by that. There was no need. Sebastián looked at the threshold as one looks at an edge that cannot be seen, but is known. Virka held Valentina with a minimal gesture, protective without being possessive. The girl took a deep breath and stepped forward.

And so, without music or ceremony, they crossed.

_______________________________________________

END OF Chapter 65

The path continues...

New Chapters are revealed every

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