The crowd had grown too large.The wide corridors filled until they became oppressive, as if the flow had stalled and the air itself had to push forward to move.
And then—
Quick, light footsteps sounded.
Lía swallowed something bitter. It felt like glass sliding down her throat; pain rose from her stomach and turned to bile. Her eyes, too wide, caught sight of a figure stepping in front of Joan.
Neither Cinthia nor anyone else escaped the shock of that sudden appearance.
The figure spread her arms and legs as if trying to cover the entire hallway, though only her fingers slipped out from the sleeves. She left Rudy behind her. An unexpected shield, born from somewhere imprecise, amid too many bodies.
Her pupils were completely black, the same shade as her hair. Thick strands cascaded down her back, covering her shoulders. Her face was barely visible beneath the locks, as if the hair itself were determined to hide it.
She said nothing. She simply stood there.
—What are you doing?… Move aside —Joan said, trembling.
There was no way to reach Rudy without passing through her first. What little patience he had left was beginning to crack.
—Didn't you hear me? Move!
But she didn't answer. She didn't move. She didn't lift her gaze. The floor held all her attention, as if she were waiting for the blow to come at any second.
Lía lowered the hand that had been covering Cinthia's mouth. It fell uselessly, like dead weight.
Then Cinthia noticed something new. Fear without explanation. She had never seen Lía's eyes like that before—so wide, so tight, hovering too close to something irreversible. She stepped aside to let her pass.
Lía moved forward slowly.
Her mere presence imposed a kind of cold radiance. Elegant height, restrained posture, a walk that didn't seek to intimidate and yet did. It was impossible not to follow her with one's eyes. She fixed her gaze on the small girl.
The girl felt that weight. She lifted her face, as if something inevitable compelled her to.
They recognized each other across that short distance. Lía didn't tilt her head. She only lowered her pupils, from a place that seemed higher than her own body. The girl had no choice but to look up.
They held each other's gaze. To everyone else, it was silence. But it felt like a duel.
—Lía… —Joan said, recognizing her back, as if expecting her to turn. She didn't.
The girl trembled. Her eyes, her lips. Something in her face cracked as Lía's stare pierced her with inexplicable hatred.
Rudy noticed it—he had turned his head slightly, and even he seemed surprised by that tension.
It was as if they were speaking without words. As if Lía were waiting for a sign. The pause lasted a second too long.
The girl, resigned, as if offering an answer, lowered her gaze and squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for something unseen.
And that something came.
Lía understood, and her expression tightened into silent fury. What followed happened so fast the hallway seemed to breathe as one. Hands flew to mouths; a sharp intake of breath rippled through the crowd.
Lía struck her—hard, direct, without restraint. The girl fell to the floor clutching her cheek. Her hair spilled across the tiles. Her eyes disappeared behind it.
Lía was breathing violently, as if the blow had emptied her lungs.
And the girl—silent. Her sobs were minimal, barely a contained tremor that didn't seek release. Only Rudy could hear them, still kneeling, trapped in a paralysis that wasn't only physical.
The rest of the noise swallowed everything: agitated murmurs, uneven breathing. Cinthia saw Lía move toward the girl, who remained seated, scrambling backward.
Joan was overwhelmed.
—Hey, Lía…
But the blonde kicked.
This time the girl managed to raise an arm, but the impact still sent her down. She tried to rise immediately—a desperate, useless reflex.
Lía didn't stop. She had the girl on the floor. Pinning her chest. Pressing harder with every whispered word.
—What are you doing here. What are you doing here. What are you doing here. Tell me —she repeated, trapped in a trance with no exit.
Cinthia was shaking. She didn't move. She didn't understand what she was seeing. Her body wouldn't respond.
—Lía, stop! —she screamed.
There was no reaction.
No one knew what to do. It was something that didn't exist, a forbidden act. They had never seen violence like this, and it showed—in frozen faces, in hollow stares.
—Lía! —Joan shouted.
—Lía, what are you doing?! —Cinthia insisted.
When she got no answer, something inside her snapped. Nothing made sense. She ran and wrapped her arms around Lía from behind, clumsy and desperate.
She pulled. Immediately felt how useless it was.
—Lía!
Annoyed by the interruption, Lía turned and shoved violently. It was blind, automatic. Only afterward did she recognize Cinthia on the floor. Her expression changed instantly. It went dark.
What a mistake, turning your back on the one you accuse of being dangerous.
Everything happened without transition: a hand on Lía's shoulder, a sharp pull, the face that appeared when she looked back. Eyes wide open. Empty. Unsettling.
There was no escape. Rudy held her. Behind him, a clenched fist came for her.
She closed her eyes.
She felt only a rush of air. Then, the dry sound of palms colliding.
—That's enough… my friend…
William had stopped the blow. Rudy was still pushing, tense.
—Q-quite strong you are… —William said, slightly breathless, without losing that strange smile—. No wonder they care about you so much...
Roy arrived with him.
Gary, despite the strands of hair hiding his eyes, cast a threatening glance at Joan's group, forcing them to back away.
The surprise was total. William had stolen everyone's attention, captivating them and leaving them incredulous all at once.