Chapter: Routines That Shouldn't Exist
The following days were surprisingly calm.So calm that, little by little, I started getting used to this new routine that had become my life.
A life that, if I described it out loud, sounded absurd… but no longer felt strange to me.
In the mornings, I had breakfast with Iztli, his mother Buganvilla, and my grandparents. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee blended with casual conversations, small arguments, and comfortable silences, as if all of it had always been normal.
After that, Buganvilla trained me.
My magical training.
Water, earth, fire, light, darkness, death, and life.The essence of everything that existed on Earth—at least, that's what she said.
At first, it sounded fascinating. Even epic.But the reality was… more boring than I had expected.
We didn't cast spectacular spells or make objects levitate. Instead, Buganvilla explained etymological roots, scientific principles, and philosophical concepts behind each element—and taught me how to feel them.
Fire wasn't just flames. It was combustion, transformation, energy in motion.But it was also myth: Prometheus stealing it from the gods, Tlacuache snatching it from the giants, fire as punishment and as purification.
Magic didn't come from nothing.
It needed a physical anchor.
I couldn't use fire magic if there was no fire nearby, or at least some element from which to extract it. Wanting it wasn't enough—I had to understand it. Its nature, its behavior, its limits: how much I could modify it, change it, or reinterpret it. Like turning a flame into a bird based on the legend of the phoenix.
Of course, that was far beyond what I could do.
The union of elements was what created magic.
The spark needed physical composition, but its form could change depending on interpretation, intention… or the legend sustaining it.
It was like studying pure theory with small windows into the impossible.
After hours of study, in the afternoons I sat with my grandmother to knit.
And that's where I failed spectacularly.
Knitting wasn't my strength. I tried to make a small beanie, but it ended up looking more like a poorly made plate cover. My grandmother didn't laugh, though I saw her struggling to suppress a smile.
In the late afternoon and evening, I went to the radio station.
I greeted the boss, conducted interviews, listened to spirits talk about their lives, their mistakes, or their small meaningful moments. Most of them came from the underworld, so they weren't dangerous.
My routine repeated like that for two weeks.
Two weeks.
And it was surprising how quickly a person could get used to the abnormal.
The building still made me uncomfortable, yes, but it no longer terrified me. I walked from reception to my floor and back without exploring other levels. I didn't want to get more involved than necessary.
At night, I talked with Mike.
Normal conversations. About daily life. About simple things.
I never told him I worked at an underworld radio station. I just said I worked at a radio station… and that a friend had temporarily moved in with my grandmother's friend.
Everything was… calm.
The thoughts that used to ambush me—the decision, the fear, the "what if," and what El Queso had opened inside me—started to lose weight. They didn't disappear completely, but they stopped hurting as much.
And yet… I did it.
I enrolled.
In the city's journalism school.
That day, I was there to submit my paperwork.
I just didn't expect not to be alone.
—Full name —said a man in a simple suit and glasses, without looking away from the computer.
—Iztli Guzmán Pérez —a voice beside me answered.
I slowly turned my head.
—Age —the man continued.
—Twenty-seven years old, sir.
—Program you wish to enroll in.
—Journalism.
The man stopped typing for a moment. He looked at both of us, then nodded with a small smile.
—Don't worry, I'll assign you to the same classroom.
—Thank you —Iztli replied politely.
When he handed us the papers for the next step, I glared at him with contained fury and elbowed him.
—Iztli… what are you doing here?
I didn't know when he had followed my enrollment process or when he had signed up for the same school. When he said he'd accompany me, I thought he meant transportation—not… this.
—It was very boring staying home all day —he replied with a sarcastic smile—. So I thought I'd study something new.
—How did you do it? —I asked, frustrated—. Do you have documents? And how did you pay for it?
—First —he said—, who said magical beings don't go to school? This will be my "official career."Second… do you really think I don't make money?
—YOU WORK?! —I nearly shouted.
—I'm a software developer.
—You?! But I've never seen you work!
—First, I don't need sleep —he replied—, so I have plenty of free time.Second, of course I work. I work while I'm in the keychain.
I fell silent.
—Have you seen Pokémon?
I nodded slowly.
—The keychain is like a Poké Ball. It has an internal space where I store things… and where I can also rest. It's small, but practical.
—You have an apartment inside?! —I asked, fascinated—. I want one too.
—First, ask your grandmother. She made it.Second, you can't use one yet. You need magical knowledge to sustain it. Otherwise, it'd just be a piece of wood.
I froze.
—Why didn't anyone tell me that?
Iztli sighed, as if he had anticipated my thought.
—It's not easy to sell. It consumes energy constantly. When it runs out, it ejects you.It also requires special materials. And only magical beings or those with elemental knowledge can use it. Who would you sell it to? The neighbor?And even inside, you need a physical body outside. You can't stay there forever.
I understood… even though I still wanted one.
But that wasn't the point.
—Then why did you enroll?
—I'm your guardian —he replied with a mischievous smile—. I have to be by your side. If I spend all day in the keychain, absorbing my energy, and you need protection… it'd be empty.
—But why the same classes?
—How am I supposed to watch over you if I'm not with you? —he replied seriously—. A school can be dangerous too.
I couldn't answer because it was time to pay.
When we walked out, I was ready to keep interrogating him… but someone suddenly threw herself at me in a tight hug.
—Izel!
—Iris…
It was her. My café friend. Two years younger than me, bright smile, overflowing energy. She had worked with me since I started at the café. She was kind, but never stayed in a degree for more than six months—this would be her fourth. She decided to enroll when I told her I would be studying at her school too.
—You're here! —she said excitedly, hugging me tightly—. I enrolled because you would. I didn't want to be alone, and honestly, the administration didn't convince me.
—We'll study together —I replied with a smile, even though my heart felt complicated. She came from a wealthy family, but as punishment for being a mess, they made her work while studying to "calm her down." Of course, it didn't work.
—At least I'll focus more with you by my side —she added.
—Don't worry —I said, stroking her hair—. I'll help you if you have doubts with your studies.
Iris had always been there for me when almost all my friends left.
We were different… but she never left me alone.
—By the way —she said, looking at Iztli—, who's this guy?
—I'm Izel's best friend —he answered confidently.
—Excuse me? —Iris frowned—. I'm her best friend.
—No —Iztli said, annoyed—. I am.
—No, I am.
—Questions about Izel —Iris interrupted.—Favorite color.
—Red —Iztli answered.
—Favorite animal —Iztli asked.
—Alpaca. But if it's domestic… a ferret.
—What are you afraid of? —Iris asked.
—The dark —Iztli answered confidently.
Iris opened her mouth in surprise and laughed mockingly.
—Ding ding ding! Wrong!
—Well —I intervened—, as a kid yes, but now insects freak me out more.
Iris puffed out her chest proudly.Iztli clicked his tongue, annoyed.
I had questions about why Iztli knew so much about me… but in that moment, I understood.
My peaceful school life…
I wasn't going to have it.