Saturday, August 3, 2013. Nafula, the capital of Kanghar, is a city that seems forgotten by time. With over half a million inhabitants, it still lacks roads or a single car. Its means of transport are horse-drawn carriages and trains. On its streets, large houses made of wood and concrete rise, standing as witnesses to an era that refuses to disappear.

  Nafula owes its name to Harambee's sister, Nafula M?kami. There isn’t much of a story behind it; simply, when the city was near completion, they decided to name it after her because Harambee’s family was present. Or rather, because Chizuru suggested it on a whim.

  The names of the city's most important places also revolve around Harambee’s family. The train station, Naramat, honors his adoptive mother, while the Wanjir? hospital carries the name of his biological mother. And in Harambee Plaza, right in front of the Congress, a golden statue of her mounted on her lion stands, an imposing image at the heart of the city.

  I could dedicate entire pages to describing Nafula, but no word could do justice to its beauty. It is a city to be seen with the eyes, not with mere descriptions.

  The carriage hit a bump, shaking violently. Héctor awoke with a start, inwardly cursing the discomfort of the journey.

  "Candado..." he murmured groggily.

  "No, Candado’s not here," a voice replied from ahead.

  Héctor rubbed his eyes and looked at the person sitting in front of him.

  "Who are you?"

  "You’re an idiot, Ramírez."

  Héctor blinked, still disoriented.

  "Sorry, Leandro. I’m not used to seeing you without your... you know."

  "My mask?" he chuckled dryly. "I only wear it when I leave Kanghar… or my house."

  Héctor shifted his gaze to the window.

  "How much further?"

  The carriage stopped abruptly.

  "Nothing."

  The driver got out and opened the door.

  "Neptune Port, sir."

  "Thanks, Erick."

  Héctor got out of the carriage, grabbed his suitcase, and turned to Leandro.

  "Are you getting off?"

  "This isn’t my stop," Leandro replied, closing the door.

  Héctor sighed and looked at the driver.

  "Say hello to your grandson for me."

  "Yes, sir."

  Adjusting his white hat, Héctor walked toward the port, where a sailboat awaited him.

  Some time later, the sailboat anchored at a small island, surrounded by a massive wall. The only thing standing out in the landscape was a gigantic metal door, the size of a sequoia. In front of it, a woman waited with a stoic expression.

  "Ramírez Héctor," she said formally.

  "Director Helga."

  "Once again, it’s a pleasure to welcome you."

  Without another word, the woman placed a hand on his back and indicated that he should move forward. Inside, a vast garden unfolded before them, with lush trees, vibrant flowers, and plants of all kinds.

  "Is he available?" Héctor asked with some discomfort.

  "Yes, he is."

  Accompanied by two guards, they walked down a long corridor with glass walls. At the end of the hall, an airtight door with a fingerprint recognition system blocked access.

  "Miss Helga..."

  "Yes?"

  "From here, will I be escorted by your security?"

  The woman nodded.

  "Sorry, Héctor. I know this is your fourth visit, but while you're here, you will be escorted by guards. You have to understand that this is a prison, not a recreation or contemplation center."

  Héctor sighed resignedly and handed over his suitcase.

  "I understand... but at least let it be just one guard."

  "Two," she replied, accepting his suitcase with both hands.

  "Alright."

  Helga pressed a button, and the door opened with a mechanical hiss.

  "Good luck."

  "Thanks."

  Héctor crossed the threshold, followed by two guards. The room they entered was five by five meters, and more than a cell, it resembled a living room. Bookshelves, a television, a sofa, tables, a comfortable bed, chairs... and even a chess table with two chairs in the center of the room.

  In one of them, sitting with the black pieces in front of him, his "resident" waited.

  "Hello!" he greeted enthusiastically.

  "Good morning, Chronos."

  "A cordial greeting to you, Mr. Héctor."

  Chronos had the appearance of a young man between sixteen and eighteen years old. He was thirteen centimeters taller than Héctor and had blond hair styled in the fashion of the 1910s. His deep blue eyes were intense. He wore a white shirt with a ribbon around his neck, at the center of which shone a ruby-colored crescent moon. His brown trousers with suspenders matched his shoes, giving him an air of another era.

  Powers: Clairvoyance. He can see the future, the past, possible realities and alternate futures, as well as worlds and multiverses.

  Ability: Patience.

  "Did you know I was coming? Though that’s a silly question, isn’t it?"

  Chronos chuckled softly.

  "No, the lady told me."

  Héctor felt a bit foolish. After all, this was a prison for criminals like Chronos. It was only logical that someone had informed him of his arrival.

  "Sit down. I don’t like talking to people who are standing."

  Héctor obeyed and glanced at the director, who, in turn, observed the two guards, ensuring they remained with him. Only when she was satisfied did Helga leave the room, taking her own security team with her and leaving Héctor, Chronos, and the two guards alone.

  "How have you been?"

  "Mmm, you know, good, quite good. Just another day for me, but a special one for you."

  "What?"

  "I know what you’re looking for, Héctor, but I don’t know exactly what you’re going to ask me."

  Héctor smiled.

  "Try to guess."

  Chronos leaned back in his chair and moved a pawn forward one square.

  "That’s tough... Anything from a cooking recipe to matters of state."

  "A cooking recipe?"

  "Yes, you want to learn how to bake apple pie."

  "And why would I ask you, when the internet exists?"

  "I don’t know, you tell me."

  Héctor cleared his throat.

  "It’s none of that. It’s about the Circuit."

  Héctor moved his knight. At those words, Chronos froze, his hand hovering over the last pawn.

  "I thought that was clear… in the history books."

  "‘Chronos the Clockmaker surrendered one hour after Thanatos fell in Tibet. For his heinous crimes against humanity, he was found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment. However, the prisoner of war and sole captured leader agreed to assist Kanghar, warning them of great adversities—storms, wars, plagues, etc.—under the condition that he would never reveal anything about the Circuit for the rest of his life.’ Quite the story for someone like you. Humanity has great mysteries: the cure for cancer, why we were born if nature doesn’t need us… Or smaller things, like why Urquiza surrendered at the Battle of Pavón when he was winning, or why Yrigoyen never accepted the governorship of Buenos Aires. Just like this one… Why did the great leader Chronos surrender when Thanatos was sealed? Why did a man who once declared that the guilds should be exterminated give himself up when he could have escaped? Or better yet, why, in all these years you’ve been here, have you never tried to escape? Quite the curiosity."

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  Héctor moved his bishop, capturing a pawn.

  "I simply saw something and wanted to test it."

  The bishop fell prey to the queen.

  "All your jailers and Kanghar’s leaders died with that doubt."

  "That’s right."

  "Or at least, that should be the case."

  Chronos looked Héctor in the eye.

  "When Lock’s grandfather used to tell us stories about that war, I always felt something strange."

  "What?"

  "They never mentioned the story of Chronos the Clockmaker after he surrendered." He then moved his rook to protect his king. "I thought he had forgotten or that it truly didn’t matter, but I later learned that the person you spent the most time with was Jack. And I’m certain that he was the only one in the world to whom you revealed that ‘Why did you surrender?’ That’s my suspicion."

  "And you? Are you curious?"

  Héctor moved his knight to the enemy’s front lines.

  "I couldn’t care less about those things. I’m not interested in knowing the ‘why’ of someone like you. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. What really interests me is something else."

  "What is it?"

  "Thanatos."

  "How curious… How long has it been since I last heard that name?"

  "This is serious…"

  "Whatever it is you want to know, Mr. Ramírez, it will be impossible. You can’t squeeze water from a dry sponge, can you?"

  "A few months ago, a group calling themselves ‘The Witnesses’ raided a Semaphores facility, leaving casualties in their wake. Not to mention, they stole an important treasure…"

  "The Harambee Manuscript, wasn’t it?"

  Héctor smiled.

  "Look, I thought you'd be surprised."

  "I'm standing before Chronos the Clockmaker, the one who can see the future. Knowing you, I'm sure you saw it with your magic eyes."

  "No, I saw it in the newspaper."

  "Huh?"

  "Why use my powers when information from the outside world comes to me?" He leaned to the right and pulled out a newspaper. "See?"

  "I see the outside world’s information reaches you, huh?"

  "They’ve been very kind to me, giving me this since I got here. It’s just as you said, Héctor—I can see thousands of futures, but I don’t know which one will actually happen, so I need information from the outside."

  "I get it, I get it... That’s a lie, isn’t it?"

  "50/50."

  "Back to the point... Do you know what this means?"

  "Seriously? You flew thousands of kilometers from home just to ask me a question that obviously has an answer?"

  "Answer me."

  "It’s true. What you’re thinking is true, Ramírez."

  "No... It can’t be true."

  "More precisely, it’s not a truth—it’s a possibility."

  "Will Thanatos return?"

  Chronos fell silent. He moved his queen to the rook, overwhelming it and forcing check.

  "Sometimes, when a disease is eradicated, its cure is forgotten, only for it to resurface and strike again. It’s the same when you bring together a wicked mind and a puppeteer. Now, kneel your king."

  "What?"

  "I believe I’ve won, Mr. Ramírez. You’re not very good at this."

  "No, maybe that’s how it is in your world, but the truth is…"

  Héctor sacrificed his knight to save his king. Chronos, maintaining the check, moved his bishop, destroying the knight. Héctor seized the opportunity and, with a precise move, captured the bishop with his pawn. Chronos panicked and, in a clumsy move, shifted his rook to force check. Héctor, seeing the opening, moved his bishop into position, delivering checkmate—surrounded by the rook, two pawns, and the bishop.

  Chronos let out a resigned chuckle.

  "...The truth is, neither you nor Lock have ever beaten me in chess."

  "That makes me want to cry, Mr. Ramírez. I couldn't beat Lock either. Am I really that bad?"

  "If, out of the one hundred forty-seven players you've faced, you only lost to the two of us, then no, you're not bad."

  "It’s just that I really want to beat you two."

  Héctor laughed.

  "Well then, I’ll answer your questions," said Chronos as he put away the pieces.

  "So, about my previous question..."

  "He will. My brother will return."

  The guards turned their gaze to Chronos. Héctor was completely stunned by the words that had just left his mouth.

  The worst mass murderer in human history.

  "That... that can't be true."

  "You wanted an answer? Well, there you have it, Mr. Ramírez. He... my brother, will return."

  "When?"

  Chronos smiled ironically before answering.

  "Once, a man said: 'Man’s tragedy is not knowing the future, but knowing it and being unable to change it.'"

  "Tell me when."

  "I don’t know. His return isn’t precise to me—it could be very soon or very late. How would I know? I don’t."

  "In a year? A month? Days? Hours? Seconds?"

  "I don’t know."

  Héctor scoffed in frustration.

  "But... Who will do it? The Circuit or the Witnesses?"

  "The Circuit? Wrong. They have no intention of doing so. The Witnesses? While that is their goal, they will fail."

  "Then who?"

  "You will."

  A chill ran down Héctor’s spine.

  "What?"

  "You heard me. You will."

  Héctor's heart pounded in his chest. His mind refused to accept the answer.

  "Who?"

  "I already told you... you."

  Suddenly, in a burst of fury, Héctor swept the chessboard off the table with his arm. The pieces crashed to the floor, scattering across the room with a dry, violent clatter.

  "WHO?!" he shouted, enraged.

  Chronos remained unfazed. He simply observed the fallen board, the scattered pieces around him.

  "What a mess. If you want to live to be 114, you should learn to control your temper."

  Héctor took a step forward, ready to lunge at him, but one of the guards placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Héctor looked at him, and the guard shook his head.

  "You know," Chronos continued in a calm tone, "life here is peaceful. A government of children for children, a utopia for humanity. A shame it only exists on this island."

  "What?" Héctor growled, clenching his teeth.

  "You all have proven that life can be lived without money. That an elite of young people can govern with the highest and purest moral codes, striving for the common good. That Harambeism works better than capitalism and communism."

  Chronos closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring his own words. Then he opened them and locked his gaze onto Héctor’s, which burned with rage.

  "It’s a shame that Harambeism upholds an idea that makes both my brother and me sick."

  "Which one?"

  "Respect for the sovereignty of nations."

  Héctor felt a knot form in his stomach.

  "You would be perfect," Chronos continued, "if only you didn’t have that ridiculously stupid idea in mind."

  "Answer my question, Chro—"

  "Your leaders will do it."

  Héctor felt as if the world had come to a standstill.

  "What?"

  Chronos smiled.

  "Yes. The Locks will do it."

  "Impossible."

  "I don’t see it as impossible."

  Héctor felt the urge to scream, but instead, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room with firm steps. The two guards followed.

  "Ramírez."

  Héctor stopped but didn’t turn back.

  "When my brother wakes up and takes his revenge, I promise I won’t forget the kindness you’ve shown me."

  Héctor didn’t reply. He just kept walking, slamming the door behind him with a force that echoed through the cell.

  Chronos rose from his chair and stretched his arms leisurely.

  "Alright. Carlos, take me to the garden, would you mind?"

  Héctor walked down the hallway, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.

  "Damn it…" he muttered, stopping for a moment. "Calm down. Calm down. Remember the Greek myths... Cronus devoured his children because he feared Uranus’ prophecy…"

  "Uranus?"

  Héctor flinched.

  "Director Helga? What are you doing here?"

  She pointed behind him. Héctor turned his head and saw the two guards still trailing him.

  "S-Sorry…" he stammered, embarrassed.

  "They called me when you stormed out of the cell," Helga said, massaging the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "Did something happen?"

  "The prisoner said Thanatos will be freed."

  Helga sighed, weary.

  "That story again…"

  "What do you mean 'again'? Has he said this before?"

  "For the past six months."

  A shiver ran down Héctor’s spine.

  "And you didn’t report it?"

  "I didn’t see the need. But tell me, what exactly did he say? Let me guess… he mentioned the Lock, didn’t he?"

  "Yes."

  "He told Raúl the same thing."

  Héctor’s eyes widened in surprise.

  "Raúl? Lock Raúl or the jailer?"

  "Lock Raúl."

  "You don’t mean…"

  "Héctor, you shouldn’t get worked up over what he says. Nothing will happen."

  "Chronos has never lied. It’s best to take precautions."

  Helga sighed.

  "So, what will you do?"

  "I’ll request an audience with the Locks."

  "Alright…"

  "Which means I must leave now," Héctor said, picking up his suitcase with a polite gesture.

  "Now?"

  "I’ll go to the Government House to request the audience. I’ll find a hotel and stay there for the night."

  "Do you need help?"

  "No." He extended his hand. "Thank you for everything, Helga."

  She shook his hand in return.

  "You're welcome."

  Héctor left the prison and made his way to Nafula. It was 10:30 in the morning, and the capital was bustling with people speaking various languages. Along the streets he walked, the signs displayed countless different tongues, though Spanish and Swahili were the most prominent in the area.

  Right there, on the corner, stood the Morfeo Hotel.

  Héctor stepped inside, removed his hat, and bowed politely to the receptionist.

  "Good morning."

  Jazmín Walla, a 25-year-old woman from the Ivory Coast, looked up. Her eyes reflected the strength of someone who had left her homeland behind because of war and had found a new home in Kanghar.

  "A room?" she asked with a slight smile.

  "Please."

  Jazmín took a key from the shelf. Number five. She placed it in his hand.

  "Enjoy your stay, Héctor."

  "Thank you very much, Jazz."

  Héctor took the key and headed to his room. The day had just begun, but inside him, everything was in turmoil.

  He put his hat back on and took six steps to the right, entering a hallway that led straight to his room. The door marked with the number five. The door to his room. Yes, the door that had his name engraved in large letters from the many times he had stayed there.

  As soon as he crossed the threshold, he let himself fall face-down onto the bed.

  "What a shitty day…" he mumbled.

  His phone started ringing.

  "I don’t remember setting an alarm… Viki?" He answered. "Hello, is something wrong?"

  "Hi, Hecterín! Did you arrive safely?"

  "Aren’t you calling a bit early?"

  "You know how Lock is."

  "Right… So, how did Belén do?"

  "Oh, she… she did great. At first, she was nervous, but then… 'little things' happened that led to the success of the play."

  "Oh? What little things?"

  "You know, little things. Little things that only Lock could come up with."

  "I’ll take your word for it."

  "Anyway, are you okay? Did you arrive without any trouble?"

  "Yeah, everything’s fine." Then, his voice lowered. "Actually, I have bad news."

  "What happened?"

  "It’s about Chronos. It’s hard to explain over the phone. When I’m done here, I’ll come see you all."

  "Alright… it’s just that… AH! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!"

  "W-What’s wrong?"

  "I miss you so much. Just hearing your voice made me happy, but when you sounded sad, I had this huge urge to see you and hug you."

  Héctor smiled faintly.

  "Oh, I see…"

  Isla del Cerrito

  "That’s why I’m planning to go see you now—"

  "Don’t even think about it, Viki. You have work."

  "Declan, they said they didn’t need me."

  "Stop complaining. The Brotherhood finally has work after a month."

  "Declan, don’t be mean."

  "If I have to cut off your legs and drag you back, I’ll gladly do it. After all, you’re a vampire."

  "Hey, that sounded really racist."

  Kanghar

  "Ahem… Viki?"

  "Hold on, Héctor’s talking to me. Yes, what is it?"

  "I love you."

  "Huh? Héc—?"

  Héctor hung up the phone and stared at the ceiling with a smile.

  "There’s still time…"

  Just then, a knock came at the door.

  "Who could it be?"

  He got up and opened it.

  "Oh, it’s you, Miss Jazmín."

  "Good morning, Héctor. Sorry to bother you, but there’s someone asking for you. They’re in my office."

  "I see. Thanks for letting me know."

  Héctor left his room and followed Jazmín to the elevator, which took them to the top floor where her office was located.

  "Alright, I’ll leave you here. I have work to do."

  "Got it, thanks."

  As the elevator doors closed, Héctor walked toward the office door, tidied his hair a bit, and stepped inside.

  "I’m Héctor. I heard someone was looking for me, but… what…?"

  "Greetings, Mr. Héctor. I’m glad to meet you, but there’s something I need from you."

  (Lock, I need your help…)

  "I am Pak Sun-hwa." He gave a military salute. "I came to Kanghar to speak with you."

  Héctor felt uneasy.