Chapter 138: The Man Called Navali Evans (Part Two) (An Eight-Thousand-Word Epic)

The next morning, Estrella was awakened.

She did not stir naturally from the depths of a heavy slumber; nor did she wake to the cramped, airless space between wine barrels in a cellar, surrounded by the scent of dregs, mud, and dust.

Instead, she felt the hard, cold touch of something pressed against her forehead—a hollow circle of steel.

It was a pistol.

In the instant of "awakening"—both from sleep and into the terrifying realization of her situation—Estrella’s body went rigid. Her mouth fell open as she stared, wide-eyed and paralyzed, at the figure crouching before her in the dim cellar. Her breath caught in her chest, squeezed tight by sheer terror.

"Hey, kid."

The figure spoke in a deep, gravelly voice, chiding her:

"What are you doing hiding in here... what did you steal?"

"I, no, sir... I was just so tired, I just... I snuck in to sleep..."

Estrella stammered, her brain still sluggish from sleep, lacking the sharpness she had possessed the night before.

The man crouching before her hesitated. He had heard the tone of this mud-caked "kid"; though the voice was young, he could discern it was that of a girl. He tilted the handle of the gun to the side, signaling to her:

"You. Come out."

Estrella crawled trembling from behind the barrel rack, standing before him with her limbs pulled in, shrinking away. Since the man was blocking the only set of stairs leading to the surface, she abandoned all thoughts of escape. She could only await the judgment of fate, silently praying to both God and Tezcatlipoca—though she believed in neither.

Under the soft, filtered light of the cellar, Estrella saw the man clearly. His eyes were deeply sunken, yet his nose was sharp and prominent, his face lean as if carved by a blade. His pitch-black eyes, combined with his features, gave him a dangerous, razor-sharp edge. He seemed to be in his thirties or forties, but he was more robust than most men his age.

The man’s right hand never left the pistol, his surveillance of her unyielding. He scrutinized Estrella with the eyes of a predator, though his tone softened slightly:

"Hey, little girl. Why are you in this place?"

Estrella dared not hide anything. With a sidelong glance at his pistol, she recounted the reasons for her arrival from the very beginning.

At first, she was stuttering and incoherent. But as the man remained silent, listening without interruption, her story grew more fluid and clear. She recounted everything: what happened from last night until now, the year and a half she had spent at her aunt’s house, the thick ledger, the thousand pesos she had saved, the small village of Catemaco, her mother’s rituals, and the lingering Aztec legends...

For a moment, Estrella forgot where she was, lost in the act of telling, pouring out every experience of her past. Only when she finished did she realize the reality of her situation, and she shivered in sudden fright.

The man stared at her in silence, his eyes thoughtful.

He could tell that everything the girl said was the truth; there were no hidden secrets about her. Yet, even so, he could have shot her dead right then and there and tossed her body off a cliff or into the sea.

In Acapulco at this moment, the life of a homeless girl was worth little more than that of a rat.

But—the man noticed that even in the dim light of the cellar, the shivering Estrella, though covered in dust, revealed beautiful contours. If she were washed clean of the mud and dressed properly, she would undoubtedly show the potential of a true beauty.

Thinking this, the man changed his mind.

"Hey... your name is Estrella, right? You have nowhere else to go, do you?"

Estrella nodded fearfully and slowly.

The man patted her head.

"In that case... do you want to work here—in my tavern? Five hundred pesos a month, and your salary can increase along with the business's performance."

Seeing Estrella’s eyes widen in disbelief and her head bobbing up and down, the man smiled with satisfaction.

"Good... My name is Patricio, and this tavern is called 'Zaparos.' From today on, this is where you will work and live."

...

Thus, from the day she met Patricio, Estrella’s life entered a new phase.

"Zaparos" was a three-story tavern. The first and second floors were for customers, while the third was Patricio’s living quarters. Deep in the basement, however, was a cellar filled with the fine wines Patricio had collected.

The tavern was located at the intersection of Ancha Cross Street, one of the most prosperous areas in Acapulco. For Patricio to own a three-story tavern here meant he was no ordinary man. During her time working at the tavern, Estrella gradually pieced together his background from the idle chatter of customers and local rumors.

Patricio had once been a man of significant influence and reputation in the dark underbelly of Acapulco. But with the rise of a new generation of power and the influx of outsiders, he had chosen to retire, opening a small tavern to get by. Yet, due to his past connections and depth of experience, Patricio remained a figure of note in Acapulco even now. "Zaparos" functioned not just as a tavern, but as a "reconciliation ground" where complex factions could come to settle disputes after their battles. In all of Acapulco, only Patricio, who navigated between various organizations with distant but calculated interests, could manage such a feat.

Once she understood these things, Estrella felt more than just gratitude toward the man who had taken her in; she felt a profound respect and fear. However, it was not until five years after she had entered "Zaparos" that she truly understood the power dynamics and status divisions of the adult world.

As for her early days at "Zaparos," she was like any green, hardworking novice. The mistakes she made were not exactly countless, but they occurred from time to time.

"Zaparos," as mentioned, was not a casual hangout. Important figures from Acapulco’s underworld frequented the place, and for them, a tavern waitress was not someone they treated with patience.

When Estrella broke a glass, missed an order, or tripped up due to the pranks of other staff, these men—even if they didn't fly into a rage—would often make Estrella feel deeply humiliated.

Yet, whenever this happened, Patricio would intervene.

He wouldn't defend her aggressively, but he would offer a tactful remark that allowed Estrella to escape unscathed while ensuring she learned her lesson.

Over time, Estrella became more and more adept at her job. Others began to sense Patricio’s unique attitude toward her, and they started treating her with increasing kindness, making her work feel even more effortless.

...

In the years that followed, time passed year by year, and Estrella grew alongside it.

She became exactly as Patricio had imagined—more beautiful, with a slender figure and olive skin, like a runway model. As time went on, the reputation of the "Waitress Girl of Zaparos" grew widespread. People even came to the tavern specifically for her, slipping a two-hundred-peso tip into her palm when she brought their drinks.

Estrella was certainly not naive to this.

However, ever grateful to Patricio, she firmly rejected the advances of others. Even when she accepted large tips, she never crossed any lines, often reporting them to Patricio. Patricio would usually just laugh it off, telling her not to worry and to keep them. Nevertheless, Patricio gave her multiple raises every year, and her monthly salary had surpassed five thousand pesos—more than that of a mid-level manager in a company.

Still, Estrella lived and ate at the tavern, spending very little, and only occasionally went out to stroll the streets of Acapulco during her breaks. Over the years, she had saved a sum exceeding thirty thousand pesos.

During these years, while working at "Zaparos," Estrella was not entirely ignorant of the outside world.

She learned about her aunt’s family—their dream of sending their child to the United States had completely collapsed. The study-abroad agent her aunt found was a fraud. Never mind getting her cousin into a top-fifty university, he couldn't even get into a community college, and all the money her aunt had spent had gone down the drain.

Estrella also sent thousands of pesos and a letter to her mother in Catemaco, strongly urging her to move to Acapulco to live with her. With her current income, she could afford to buy a small house in Acapulco and provide a home for her mother.

But her mother did not come. Instead, she sent back a letter of her own.

On the first half of the letter, her mother prattled on about life in the village. The plague had passed, and the land by the lake had returned to its former prosperity. Even if Estrella were to return, there would be plenty of food and a safe place to live. But since Estrella had her own life now, she would not force her to return. However, she herself would not come to Acapulco; she had long ago decided to stay in the village for the rest of her life. It was her world, her only true home.

On the second half of the page, her mother showed that familiar side of hers. She began preaching her superstitions again: "For every gain, there is a loss," "There is no reward without a price, no unconditional wealth," "The Aztec Empire traded human sacrifices for the protection of Tezcatlipoca, and you, too, must try to discard things to maintain such a beautiful life"... especially—"You must be prepared to give something up."

Looking at these stale, superstitious ramblings, Estrella felt a touch of disgust added to her indifference toward Aztec mythology. She shook her head, tucked the letter into her drawer, and decided to correspond with her mother less frequently from then on.

...

In the year Estrella turned eighteen, six and a half years after she had entered "Zaparos," she married Patricio as a matter of course.

Although Patricio was a man over forty-six, his appearance showed no signs of aging; his muscles were full, and his skin remained firm.

That year was the height of the Mexican financial crisis. A massive amount of US dollars flowed back to the States, and the peso devalued repeatedly with no end in sight. The tourists in Acapulco suddenly vanished, and the blood and marrow were completely drained from the once-prosperous seaside city.

Even so, Estrella did not feel the shadow of fate looming over her. In the wedding photos taken at the tavern—the very same "Zaparos"—the girl wore a sweet, radiant smile from forehead to chin.

However, Patricio, who looked at Estrella with the same smile, had a hint of confusion hidden within his expression.

In the same year they married, Estrella became pregnant with Patricio’s child.

During the ten months of her pregnancy, the atmosphere in Acapulco grew increasingly tense. Many drug gangs fought openly in the streets. Fresh corpses were left on the roadside every day, attracting clouds of feasting flies.

For her own safety and that of the child, Estrella stopped going out. She stayed on the third floor of "Zaparos" all day, lying on the bed in boredom. The tavern stopped operations during this period, and the other waiters were given severance pay and dismissed. In the entire tavern, other than Estrella and Patricio, there was only one old servant left to care for her.

Patricio loved her, but he left early and returned late, often staying away for days, not knowing what he was busy with. Even when he came home, he remained silent, brow furrowed. Estrella didn't dare ask, and the atmosphere in the house grew increasingly suffocating.

The only person she could talk to was the old servant. He was missing a tooth and always looked cheerful. Even when Estrella threw tantrums due to prenatal depression, he responded with a smile, caring for her just like a father.

Such days lasted for several months, and Estrella finally endured them.

But on a rainy night, Estrella, who had grown used to Patricio being away, was suddenly woken up in the middle of the night. She saw Patricio standing by her bed, looking disheveled, his suit wrinkled.

"My dear, get up—come downstairs with me."

Patricio’s serious tone told Estrella immediately that this was no joke. She dressed and rose, following him downstairs. A small car was parked in the rain, and a man with facial muscles as hard as granite sat in the driver’s seat.

"Estrella, I remember you saying your hometown—it’s that small village in Catemaco, right? This is Gafonso. He is the man I trust most. He will take you back."

Saying this, Patricio shoved a small box into Estrella’s hands.

"The peso is about to become worthless. This is one hundred thousand dollars; it will ensure you and the child have a future."

Estrella took the box numbly, but instinctively grabbed Patricio’s hand, looking into his eyes in panic.

"...Pai, what about you?"

Patricio didn't look away, quietly meeting her gaze. After a long time, a faint smile melted across his face.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine... I will come to see you and the child."

He slowly pulled his hand away and pressed a kiss, heavy with the scent of tobacco, onto her lips. Then, he opened the car door and pushed her inside. In the chaotic, misty rain, he left Estrella with nothing but a lonely silhouette and his final words:

"Estrella, my love... please believe me, I will come back."

...

Estrella was driven all the way back to the small village in Catemaco by the man named Gafonso.

Though she asked him many times along the way, he remained silent, offering no answer. He was like a stone, faithfully performing his duty.

When she was delivered to the small house where her mother lived, Gafonso turned, got back into the car, and drove away.

Seeing Estrella return home with a bulging belly and a box in her hand, there was no surprise on her mother’s face. She still carried the strong scent of copal incense, just as she had when Estrella first left home, though there were a few more wrinkles on her brow.

"Estrella, you’ve returned."

Seeing her mother’s face, for some reason, Estrella’s heart, which had been as turbulent as a sea before a storm, became much calmer. She fought back her sobs and nodded at her mother.

...

In the following months, Estrella was cared for by her mother.

In a place like a small village, a shaman often serves as a doctor, midwife, and nurse, so her mother was quite capable in her care.

Perhaps it was because the environment she had known since childhood eased her taut nerves, or perhaps the landscape near Catemaco was suitable for recovery. During this time, despite having left the modern city, Estrella felt more comfortable than she had during those days spent trapped on the third floor of "Zaparos."

Yet, one thing weighed on her heart: Patricio.

The way he had sent her away that rainy night was clearly a farewell. Where was he now? Would he be able to fulfill his promise to "come see her and the child"?

Every night, Estrella was haunted by such thoughts, often waking up from dreams in a cold sweat. Although her mother used sleep-inducing methods from the Aztec era—mixing incense, pine resin, and charcoal with burning plants to help her sleep more soundly—the hidden anxiety in Estrella’s heart could never be erased.

—Until one day, after she had entered labor, that anxiety finally became reality.

It was the news on the radio.

It was a radio they had bought. Although her mother had no interest in modern technology, Estrella had bought one after returning home to pass the time during her pregnancy and relieve the boredom of being unable to move around much.

That day, the "Voice of Acapulco" station, which she followed closely, mentioned a familiar name.

"Patricio." As soon as the name entered her ears, Estrella, who had been leaning against the window listlessly watching the sky, went rigid.

She turned around and quickly moved to the radio.

Though she worried at first that it might just be a mistake, the news that followed proved it was no illusion—yet Estrella wished it were. She had never heard anything like this before.

"...Earlier today, police found the body of tavern owner Patricio at the 'Zaparos' tavern at the intersection of Ancha Cross Street. Also found nearby were the bodies of an elderly man and a young man... The three bodies had been dismembered into dozens of pieces, making identification extremely difficult. Furthermore, the skin of the victims' faces had been peeled away... Ultimately, it was only through associates of Patricio that the tavern owner was identified by an old scar on his arm...

"...According to investigations, Patricio was a well-known 'mediator' in Acapulco’s underworld, navigating between various factions, and his reputation reached even the major crime lords several states away... However, since the economic crisis, Patricio’s overseas investments had gone bankrupt, and he was unable to repay the debts he had signed for. Perhaps this is what offended certain factions, leading to such cruel retaliation... Additionally, it has been discovered that Patricio had a newlywed wife, whose whereabouts have been unknown since shortly before his death..."

Hearing the news on the radio, Estrella slumped.

The psychological blow turned into physical nausea, and she began to vomit. She curled up on the floor, her stomach churning as if she were trying to expel everything inside her.

But just then, a sharp, violent pain erupted in her belly. Her womb felt like a sponge absorbing water, suddenly wrinkling and contracting. The world before her eyes blurred, as if the television signal were being interfered with by sunspots.

Estrella gasped and screamed instinctively:

"Oh! Oh!!"

Rapid footsteps sounded outside the house, and a pair of strong arms wrapped around her. Her mother’s gentle voice came:

"Estrella... do you still have the strength?"

"I... I can't get up anymore..."

A heavy, crushing pain radiated from within, accompanied by a sharp stinging sensation, as if something were trying to tear its way out. Estrella shook her head.

Her mother forced her up and onto the bed, cutting her dress with scissors. Seeing the large amount of blood flowing out, she held her breath:

"Estrella... the baby is coming."

The intense physical pain and the crushing psychological blow made Estrella scream in despair:

"...I don't want to give birth! Let this child die! Let me die with him, and we will go meet his father! We will be reunited in hell!"

Facing the desperate Estrella, her mother remained unmoved. She set the scissors down, gripped Estrella’s hands, and said coldly:

"We are descendants of the Aztecs; we cannot go to the Christian hell—our destination after death is Mictlan."

Perhaps it was her mother’s calm demeanor, transmitted through the skin-to-skin contact of their tightly clasped hands, that reached Estrella’s heart. For a moment, Estrella stopped speaking. She closed her eyes, breathing hard, her teeth clenched together, as her mother’s calm voice continued in her ear:

"Estrella, arch your legs, push hard... breathe in—breathe out... breathe in—breathe out... That’s right, just like that... Imagine, imagine the child crawling out from within... Chalchiuhtlicue will protect you... River water... rainwater... lake water... the water of all things... everything converges here..."

The intense pain greatly diluted Estrella’s spirit, and the words coming from her mother were the only foundation she had to hold on to.

In her haze, she felt like a piece of soaked earth, constantly stirred and crushed by the rain, and like someone in the infinite void of space, enduring the silent ringing in her ears and a vast emptiness. Because the intense noise from within had exceeded the limit, the violent convergence inside her had shattered the threshold.

A long time passed.

Just as Estrella felt the pain had surpassed the threshold and she was about to go into shock, her body suddenly tightened—then relaxed. A sensation of unprecedented lightness washed over her, causing her body to arch back heavily, her curled legs falling limply.

*Click.*

She heard the sound of her mother using obsidian scissors to cut the umbilical cord, followed by the shrill cry of the newborn.

Hearing that cry, Estrella forced her dimming eyes open and reached out to her mother.

"I want to see him."

Her mother placed the blood-stained child into her arms. As expected, it was a boy.

The newborn’s skin was wrinkled, his face looked miserable, and he was covered in blood and filth, appearing dirty and ugly. But the moment she held him in her arms and saw his face, a current of emotion like an electric shock surged through Estrella’s heart, as if a certain innate area deep in her brain had been activated. It was the drive of oxytocin, physically forcing Estrella to feel maternal instinct.

However, due to the impact of Patricio’s death, this maternal instinct was laced with so much pain and hesitation that Estrella could not fully immerse herself in this love.

Looking at the child, the suppressed pain in Estrella’s heart seemed to ease somewhat. She gave the child a faint smile, and the newborn, as if drawn by that smile, opened his mouth.

The next moment, Estrella noticed something in the child’s mouth, and the smile on her face froze in shock.

"That is..."

"...He was born with teeth."

Her mother’s voice sounded beside her. She stood by the window, looking thoughtfully at the child, an strange light in her eyes.

"Estrella, do you remember the story of 'Toxcatl' I told you? In the Aztec era, the kingdom would select a youth each year to be the 'Toxcatl.' Through his death and sacrifice, Tezcatlipoca would be welcomed back to the heavens. And Tezcatlipoca is the Wind of the Night, the god of the Smoking Mirror who masters both life and death. Life and death, converging... This child, born on the day you received the news of your father’s death—it is like an 'Inverse Toxcatl' ritual, born from death, continuing from the mirror as the opposite of the ritual. And his teeth—a baby with teeth is a symbol of the underworld... Ah, he is destined to become the incarnation of Tezcatlipoca on earth! He is destined to bring the mist of death to this world!"

Although her mother tried to suppress her emotions, Estrella could hear the tremor in her voice, and the宣示 (proclamation) that sounded like a prophecy.

This made Estrella’s heart constrict.

She looked at the infant who had been born not long ago and had fallen asleep, yet still kept his mouth slightly open, revealing the milky white teeth. She felt dizzy. The thin maternal love that had just been sparked by oxytocin in her heart had vanished entirely. His sleeping face, which she had found cute just a moment ago, now transformed into something she found repulsive.

At the same time, the psychological shadow cast by Patricio’s death made Estrella’s mood plummet. Recalling the pain she had endured to give birth to this child, Estrella threw the infant onto the bedding. Fortunately, it was soft enough not to wake the sleeping child.

"The mist of death? Pai’s death... could it be because of this child?"

She muttered to herself, casting a cold gaze at her child, ignoring the equally cold gaze her mother was casting in her direction.

...

Half a month later, having recovered just a little, Estrella left the newborn child in the village of Catemaco and departed with the small box.

Her destination was the city of Tijuana in northern Mexico. In her eight-plus years of life in Acapulco, she had learned quite a bit about other things. She planned to use an intermediary there to go to the United States—Estrella, who had had enough of a life of fear in Mexico, believed that America was the "life" furthest from death.

Although she left without saying goodbye, her mother—or rather, the woman who had now become a grandmother—seemed to know everything. She stood at the window after Estrella had quietly stepped out the door, watching her silhouette fade into the night.

"Nahual."

She held the child, using the name she had just chosen, and whispered to him as he slept in his swaddling clothes:

"Everything is destined; gains and losses always walk hand in hand."

(End of chapter)