A few days had passed.Today was the day of my interview.
I needed to look good. I dressed in a new outfit I bought with the money my grandmother gave me: a burgundy blazer that contrasted with my skin, and a simple blouse underneath. I had taken two days off from my jobs to recover some of the sleep I'd lost over the past weeks. Even so, the exhaustion still lingered in my eyes.
I allowed myself that small indulgence.I needed it.
This was my chance to change the course of my life, go back to studying journalism, and help my grandparents.I couldn't fail.
Soft knocks sounded at my door.
"Come in," I said.
It was my grandmother.
"What do you think? It looks nice, right?" I asked, turning slightly. "It doesn't make me look fat, does it?"
"You look beautiful. Don't worry about that," she replied with a warm smile.
Then she took something from her hands.
A small alebrije, beautifully carved from wood—a black leopard with silver markings and wings.
"Here," she said. "For good luck… and to protect you."
"Thank you, Grandma," I said, attaching it to my backpack as a keychain.
I had watched her carve it from the moment I told her I would apply for the job. I didn't fully understand its meaning, but I knew enough—my grandmother had been a shaman for years, and those pieces were always meant for protection.
They were never this detailed. Seeing how much effort she had put into it made me smile.
Her work had always been beautiful—clean, carefully painted. It used to sell well. She also performed spiritual cleansings and crafted protective charms. I never fully believed in it… but I loved her stories.
Everything changed with the new law.
After the ban, life became difficult for small shamans, priests, and unregulated spiritual practices.
I couldn't entirely blame them. It all started with that scandal.
The so-called "New Order religion" had scammed thousands of people, including major economic and social groups. It ended in an international scandal. Millions vanished… along with temples, leaders, and followers. No one ever truly knew what happened.
After that, tarot readers, fortune tellers, shamans, and small temples disappeared one by one.
"It's a very special design," my grandmother said. "They are protectors that have watched over our family for years. Everyone has one… and now this one is yours. Take good care of it. It will always protect you."
"Thank you, Grandma. I should go or I'll be late."
"Be careful, and look both ways when you cross the street," she said… before whispering something I couldn't quite hear."I hope you never have to use it."
"Yes, Grandma."
Leaving the house at five in the afternoon felt strange.
People walking calmly, laughter, young adults heading to bars, couples strolling together. A normal life.A life I wanted too.
That only strengthened my determination.
Getting this job meant nice clothes, going out, reclaiming part of my life…and who knows, maybe even having a boyfriend someday.
The interview location was two hours away, slightly outside the city. Old houses and low buildings surrounded the area, mostly inhabited by elderly people.
In the middle of it all, a large dark building stood imposingly.
It clashed with its surroundings… yet somehow, it felt like it had always been there.
Inside, a woman with black hair and skin so pale it looked sickly handed me a ticket to wait my turn. I couldn't help staring at her a little longer than normal.
At times… she almost looked transparent.
I told myself I was just tired.
Well-dressed men and women sat on sofas, some drinking coffee.
The atmosphere, though professional, felt cold. Uncomfortable.
"You know, the cookies here are huge," someone commented.
No one laughed.
Everyone seemed tense.
Then a girl came out of the interview.
She was pale. Too pale.
She barely managed a few steps before leaning against the wall. Her legs trembled. Then she bent over a planter… and vomited.
Several people rushed toward her.
"Did they do something to you?""What happened?""Are you okay?"
A man who seemed to know her spoke urgently.
"No… nothing bad happened," she said between breaths. "It was a normal interview… routine questions… some strange things… but nothing else…"
She bent over again.
"It's the pressure… and his eyes…""It feels like they rip your soul out."
Silence fell heavily.
A knot formed in my chest.
For a moment, I thought everyone would leave. But the salary… was enough to keep them seated.
One by one, they went in… and one by one, they came out just as pale.
Even the blonde girl who had mocked me earlier ended up leaving in tears.
By nine at night, I was the only one left.
"Last ticket," the secretary announced.
I stood up, nervous and exhausted.
We walked down a long, antique-style hallway filled with paintings from different eras and cultures. Some were beautiful… others unsettling.
We passed a recording studio. Professional equipment, people working, live music. Everything looked flawless. I was surprised they were hiring someone with so few requirements.
At the end of the hallway stood a large door.
The secretary opened it.
Inside, the office was elegant—fine furniture, leather armchairs, a mahogany desk. Papers, awards, recognitions.
And by the window… there he was.
Tall.Black hair with greenish highlights.Pale, almost ghostly skin.Eyes as green as jade.
When he saw me, he sat down and motioned for me to do the same.
"You're the last one," he said. "I'm not a fan of interviews, and I've been here for hours. I'll get straight to the point."
"Have you worked as a radio host?"
"No, sir."
"Journalism? Interviews? Customer service?"
"I wanted to study journalism, but I had to quit. I've worked in cafés… I'm used to dealing with all kinds of people."
He nodded.
"Last question… and the most important one."
He paused.
"Have you ever worked as a guardian, shaman, or caretaker of a religious place?"
"Yes… my grandmother is a shaman. I helped her with cleansings, seals, and designs. I know legends and stories…"
Something moved inside my backpack.
It trembled.
The man smiled.
"Perfect," he said. "Would you like to start today?"
Before I could answer…
A black shadow burst out of my backpack.
I fell backward along with the chair.
A deep growl echoed through the room.
"Don't you dare touch her."
I opened my eyes.
A black jaguar with golden markings stood in front of me.
It looked… exactly like my keychain.
I searched my bag.
It was gone.
And that was how everything began.
Now…
The memory dissolved before my eyes.
The contract still lay on the table.
To my right, the dark-haired man watched me patiently, as if he had always known what my answer would be.
To my left, the winged jaguar remained still, vigilant.
Two gazes.One decision.
And this time…
there was no escape.
Even if I didn't understand what was happening… something inside me told me I didn't have much time left before I had to choose.