Belascoarгўn Pi ●

"The traffic was a nightmare," Hector replied, leaning against a crate. "And I had to stop for a smoke."

He spent the next three days walking the streets, a ghost among ghosts. He talked to the shoe-shiners in the Zócalo, the taco vendors in Tepito, and the tired clerks in the city archives. He didn't ask for the man’s name; he asked for his habits. He learned the Gray Ghost liked his coffee black at Café La Habana and that he always carried a briefcase that looked heavier than it should. BelascoarГЎn PI

"He doesn't exist on paper, Hector," his sister Elisa said, leaning against the doorframe. She was the one who kept him grounded when the city’s chaos threatened to swallow him whole. "No birth certificate, no tax ID, not even a parking ticket." "The traffic was a nightmare," Hector replied, leaning