RIO DE JANEIRO, ONE YEAR AFTER THE FIRE
Tiago did not remain in Brazil for long after the funeral.
Or rather—
there was nothing left to bury.
His home had burned to the ground along with nearly everything in the alley where he had grown up. All that remained were ashes, police tape, and the scent of charred wood that seemed permanently lodged in his lungs.
He left without saying goodbye to anyone.
No friends.
No family.
No reason to stay.
And, like the curse that had haunted him his entire life, Tiago became a shadow once again.
UNITED STATES
Las Vegas was exactly as he remembered it.
Neon lights.
Cigarette smoke.
Cheap music.
And people who came to forget their own lives.
The city never cared who you used to be. A murderer, an addict, an ex-convict, or a broken failure—it didn't matter. As long as you could afford a drink, everyone sat at the same table.
Tiago liked that.
There was no pity.
No sympathetic glances.
He found work at a small bar called Blue Mirage, tucked away between aging casinos and rundown roadside motels.
Years ago, the place had hosted illegal gambling fights. Tiago himself had fought there several times during his days in the underground circuit.
Now he stood on the other side.
Behind the bartender's counter.
The hands that had once shattered jaws now spent their nights holding whiskey bottles and polishing glasses.
The owner, an elderly Italian man named Marco, had been reluctant to hire him.
"You look like trouble," Marco had said.
Tiago had simply shrugged.
"Good. Then customers won't cause any."
Oddly enough...
it worked.
Tiago rarely spoke.
But his mere presence was enough to stop most fights before they ever began.
Sometimes drunken customers shoved one another.
Sometimes cheating gamblers drew knives.
But the moment Tiago stepped out from behind the counter...
the entire bar usually fell silent.
Not because he was the biggest man in the room.
Nor because he looked particularly frightening.
It was because his eyes were empty.
Empty like someone who had already lost everything...
and no longer feared losing anything else.
Life at Blue Mirage moved slowly.
Tiago gradually grew accustomed to the rhythm.
Pouring drinks.
Cleaning tables.
Escorting drunks outside.
Then sitting alone behind the building after closing time, smoking quietly beneath the night sky.
Sometimes he thought about Lúcia.
About his mother.
About how different their lives might have been if he had chosen to kill the cartel messengers in Las Vegas that night.
But regret never changed anything.
And Tiago was simply too tired to keep hating the world.
...
The cloth stopped moving across the glass when the tiny bell above the entrance chimed softly.
Tiago instinctively looked up.
Not with a bartender's welcoming smile, but with a weary, indifferent gaze. Even so, he gave a small nod, silently inviting the customer inside.
Then—
"Hello, my friend! Tiago Moreira!"
The cheerful voice echoed through the dimly lit bar.
Its owner was a man with messy blond hair, sleepy eyes, and dark circles beneath them, as though he hadn't slept in days.
The corner of Tiago's mouth lifted slightly.
Then he resumed polishing the glass, pretending not to care.
"Though I guess it's without the 'Ghost' title these days, huh?" the man chuckled.
He approached the counter, and the smell of alcohol reached Tiago long before the man himself did.
The stool creaked softly as he settled into it.
"You seem happy today, Lukas," Tiago remarked flatly.
"Ah, of course."
Lukas raised one finger with an absurdly serious expression.
"Because today... I'm ordering something different."
Tiago raised an eyebrow.
"Different?"
Lukas grinned broadly.
"Yep. Not that cheap whiskey anymore."
He tapped two fingers against the counter.
"I want the expensive stuff."
Tiago studied him suspiciously for several seconds.
"You won big?"
"No."
Lukas proudly shook his head.
"This time it isn't about gambling."
Tiago let out an uneasy chuckle.
"That's usually worse."
Lukas burst into laughter until he nearly choked.
"Ah, you're impossible, Amigo."
He leaned back comfortably.
"I'm meeting someone tonight."
His hand waved vaguely through the air.
"Like... a business associate."
Tiago quietly began pouring a drink.
"What kind of business?"
"Something like that."
Lukas shrugged.
"Honestly, I don't fully understand either. But they said they need an insider for product distribution."
Tiago poured the amber liquid into a crystal glass with practiced calm.
Privately, he hoped Lukas would at least be sober when meeting whoever these people were.
"So..."
Lukas grinned again, eager to change the subject.
"Since I'm going to be rich tonight..."
He dramatically pointed at Tiago.
"I'm buying you a drink."
Tiago snorted.
"You haven't even paid for your own drink yet, idiot."
"I'll pay later."
Finally, Tiago placed a glass before him.
The liquor inside was noticeably clearer than the usual bottles.
Lukas' eyes sparkled.
It had been a long time since he'd seen that bottle opened.
He took a sip.
His face immediately twisted as the expensive liquor burned from his tongue all the way down his throat.
"Ahhh... now that's living."
He sighed loudly while lightly pounding the bar.
Tiago simply shook his head before returning to another glass.
The bar was unusually quiet that night.
Soft jazz drifted through the room, blending with the squeak of an old ceiling fan.
"Oh, by the way..."
Tiago glanced over.
"Ever think about fighting again?"
Tiago chuckled.
"O Fantasma do Brasil retired two years ago."
His answer was brief.
Too brief.
Lukas slowly nodded while taking another drink.
His eyes had begun turning red.
His focus was no longer steady.
"You used to be incredible," he mumbled.
"I still get chills remembering how you broke that guy's bones like snapping a broomstick."
Tiago merely smiled faintly.
"Let the past stay in the past."
Lukas muttered something under his breath.
Then suddenly—
"Oh, right..."
He raised one finger as if remembering something important.
"I met one of your fans."
Tiago snorted.
"A fan? Or an undercover policewoman trying to arrest you?"
Lukas exploded into laughter and nearly choked.
"N-no! I'm serious, you bastard!"
He waved both hands frantically while catching his breath.
"You should meet her."
Resting an elbow on the bar, he added,
"She's an amazing woman."
Tiago stared blankly.
Seeing his expression, Lukas hurriedly clarified,
"No, no! Not amazing in that way!"
"Fine."
"I'm listening."
Lukas clicked his tongue.
"Hey, I can appreciate women normally too."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice as though sharing a state secret.
"I'm serious. This woman is different."
"Different... in customer service?"
"No, listen."
Half serious, half drunk, Lukas pointed at him again.
"I think you've played around long enough."
He slowly swirled the whiskey in his glass.
"Maybe... it's time to think about having a family."
Still polishing a glass, Tiago chuckled softly.
"A family? Heh..."
Lukas narrowed his eyes.
"What's so funny?"
Tiago shrugged.
"Who would want to live with a thug like me?"
"Hey!"
Lukas protested immediately.
"You've changed, haven't you?"
"Changed?"
Tiago smiled bitterly.
"I just stopped running."
Before Lukas could answer, Tiago continued.
"Someone like me..."
He looked at his reflection in the clear glass.
"...has a past that's far too long to carry into someone else's home."
He let out a quiet sigh.
"Even if I ever had a family..."
His voice became almost a whisper.
"I'd only be afraid they'd suffer the same fate."
Lukas fell silent.
He knew Tiago wasn't joking.
The scars on the Brazilian's face had healed long ago.
The ones buried much deeper...
never had.
The bar became quiet again.
Only soft jazz and the clinking of ice against crystal filled the room.
Lukas slowly raised his glass once more.
"Even someone like me..."
he murmured,
"...still dares to hope."
Tiago offered a faint smile before returning to the empty glasses.
Suddenly, the manager's office door swung open, spilling warm yellow light into the dim bar.
Both men instinctively turned.
A heavyset man with curly hair yawned as he stepped out.
Without bothering the remaining customers, he casually flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED before heading back toward his office.
Just before entering, he stopped.
"When you're done, turn off the lights and lock up like usual," Marco said.
Tiago simply nodded.
Then—
BOOOOM!!
A deafening explosion shattered the night.
The windows of a car outside burst into countless fragments, followed by terrified screams as people fled across the sidewalk.
The tables near the windows rattled violently.
Tiago and Lukas turned at once.
"Another street fight?" Tiago muttered.
Lukas slowly shook his head.
"I don't know... but that wasn't an ordinary crash."
Both men stood almost simultaneously.
"What's happening?"
Marco hurried to the entrance and cautiously peeked outside.
Beyond the window, people were running in blind panic without daring to look back.
Someone stumbled into the street, scrambled to their feet with a deathly pale face, then continued running.
No one appeared to be chasing them.
At least...
that's what they thought.
Whatever Marco saw outside, it made him slam the door shut and lock it with trembling hands.
Tiago stepped away from the counter.
But he froze.
A small shadow darted past the window.
Green.
Short.
Pointed ears.
Far too agile to be human.
Lukas went pale.
"D-do you think I'm too drunk?" he whispered.
"Because I swear I just saw..."
"No."
Tiago answered quietly, never taking his eyes off the window.
"I saw it too."
Silence.
Then—
CRAAASH!!
A sedan flipped over from the far end of the street as though struck by something vastly larger than itself.
Its alarm wailed endlessly.
Through the drifting smoke...
the green figure appeared again.
It landed atop the crushed hood of the car, denting the metal beneath its weight.
Its head jerked left and right with unnaturally stiff movements.
Then it laughed.
A high-pitched, shrill laugh.
It sounded less like a human voice...
and more like a child being forced to laugh against its will.
"A-are people wearing costumes now?!" Lukas shouted as he dove behind the bartender's counter.
Glasses crashed to the floor because of his frantic movement.
Beside him, every hair on Tiago's body slowly stood on end.
In his lifetime, he had seen cartels.
Assassins.
Mercenaries.
Psychopaths who murdered without blinking.
But a creature like that...
Never.
Slowly, he set the glass in his hand back onto the counter.
"This..." he murmured.
"...isn't a street fight anymore."