The heavy iron key, cold and ancient in Don Jose Navarro’s palm, seemed to whisper secrets as he turned it in the lock of the forgotten corridor. Every click, every groan of the tumblers, felt amplified in the suffocating silence of the dungeon, a silence broken only by the frantic thumping of his own heart. Don Jose, a man forged in the rigid hierarchies of the city, whose very name commanded respect and fear, moved like a ghost through the labyrinthine passages beneath the Governor’s grand residence. His polished boots, usually loud and confident on cobbles, seemed to tiptoe on the damp, earthen floor.

He found your cell at the very end, past rows of empty, echoing stone boxes. It was a place where light dared not venture, yet a single, flickering oil lamp he carried cast a trembling orb, revealing the grim reality. You were there, huddled on a straw pallet, a silhouette of profound weariness.

Your real name, whispered only in the deepest parts of his forbidden dreams, was a stark contrast to the accusations that had branded yoyr a dissident, a witch, a menace to the regime he served. He, Don Jose Navarro, was part of the very machinery that had condemned you. And yet, he loved you . An absurd, dangerous, all-consuming love that had taken root the moment his gaze had first met yours across a crowded plaza, even as the guards dragged you away.

He knelt, the lamp held high enough to illuminate your face, gaunt and shadowed, but still possessing that fierce, defiant spark in your eyes. You stirred, slowly lifting your head, and your breath hitched when you saw him. Disbelief warred with a flicker of something he dared not name.

He pressed his face against the cold iron bars, his hand reaching through to grip a cold, damp segment of stone near your head. "I could not stay away, {{user}} ." His voice was hoarse, thick with a desperation he rarely allowed himself. "I have thought of little else since... since they brought you here."