On the Path of Eternal Strength.-Chapter 65 - 63 The silence that puts on the robe

Virka did not take longer than necessary. She came out of her room with her hair gathered into a high bun and steps sharpened like straight lines. She did not speak as she crossed the hallway. She did not look at Sebastián. She only turned toward the door of the room where Valentina was still sleeping, and went in.

Inside, the dimness still rested along the edges of the bed. Valentina was still there, curled up beside Narka’s reduced body, with the backpack to one side and her breathing deep, as if sleep had finally been complete. But her body showed signs that it could not hold it much longer. She moved lightly, as if floating between waking and the desire to stay a little more.

Virka approached. She made no noise. She needed nothing more than her presence. She sat on the edge of the mattress, firm, but without invading. And then, in a low voice—not sweet, not harsh, just hers—she spoke.

—Valentina. It’s time.

The girl stirred slowly. She blinked twice. She opened her eyes, still carrying the weight of sleep, but without confusion. She looked at Virka the way one looks at someone who has never left. She did not say anything immediately. She only sat up, dragging the blanket, and stretched her legs with an awkward gesture.

The school uniform she was wearing was wrinkled from the night. She did not change it. She only adjusted it with her hands: she pulled the sweater straight, adjusted the collar, smoothed the skirt without urgency. Virka did not hurry her. She only waited.

—Where will we go now? —Valentina asked in a low voice, more awake now, but still marked by the slowness of dawn.

—To enjoy the day a little more with you —Virka replied, without changing her tone—. We’re going to have breakfast with Óscar. Then we’ll go out. Just the four of us.

Valentina nodded. She did not ask more.

Then Narka moved. He did not speak. He did not rise. He made no noise. He only walked toward the backpack. He slipped into it with the same naturalness with which someone takes their place in the world. Valentina did not seem to notice it as anything strange. She closed the zipper. She slung the backpack over her shoulder.

Sebastián was waiting for her on the other side of the door. He had arrived without noise. He did not look at Virka. He did not say a word. He only stepped aside to let the girl pass first. Virka came out behind. The door closed without a bang.

The living room no longer vibrated with the energy from before. The air was dense, but without threat. Nothing trembled. Nothing spoke. Óscar was not there.

Valentina walked to the center of the living room. Virka stopped to her left. Sebastián remained on the right side. They had not agreed on those places. They simply formed. And then, the three of them left the apartment.

Outside, the hallway was empty.

And in front of the door, leaning against the wall, with a cup of coffee in his hand and the same loose posture of someone who seems to take nothing seriously, Óscar was waiting for them.

The pajamas no longer existed. He wore an open black-and-white checkered shirt, with a white T-shirt underneath, jeans torn at the knees, and white sneakers. His hair was tied up in his usual bun. Around his neck, the same chain.

—Ready? —he asked, without theatricality, as if they were about to cross the street and not continue something that had already moved too far.

Sebastián did not answer with words. He just walked. Virka followed him. Valentina as well.

Óscar turned toward the door. He locked it with the key. None of them asked why he had gone out earlier. No one needed to know. The sound of the click was the last thing that was heard before they started walking toward the elevator.

The four of them moved forward in silence.

And although the world did not show it yet, they were no longer the same as the ones who had woken up that morning.

The elevator moved calmly, without jolts, enclosed in a glass capsule that allowed one to see the entire interior of the skyscraper. There were no walls to isolate. Only transparency. Only height. Only a void contained among living structures, floating corridors, spiral levels, lateral platforms, curved windows, vertical garden plants, and suspended columns of light. Everything breathed. Everything moved.

Valentina watched in silence. Standing next to one of the panels, she looked downward with half-closed eyes, following with her gaze people who went up and down in other elevators, who walked across floating bridges, who ate, talked, headed toward offices, restaurants, or recreational areas. She did not understand how all of that could be inside a single building, but she did not ask. She just watched, like someone who has not yet decided whether everything is real.

Behind her, the rest of the group remained quiet. Óscar had his hands in his pockets. Virka, upright, leaned her back against the glass without losing sight of the reflections of the surroundings. Sebastián stood still, arms crossed, gaze lowered, without tension, but without opening himself to the world. There was no dialogue between them. There was no need. The silence was not distance. It was containment.

It was Óscar who spoke first, as if the idea had just occurred to him at that moment, but without giving it importance.

—I was thinking... —he began, without turning—. Since none of us has showered this morning, why don’t we stop first at the service thermal baths? They’re right here in the skyscraper. They’re paid, yes, but they’re worth it. Hot water, steam, relaxation... the body appreciates it. And then we have breakfast.

The proposal hovered for a few seconds, without an immediate response. It did not feel uncomfortable. It did not break anything. It simply waited for its place.

—Thermal baths? —Valentina said at once, turning toward him with a spark of interest—. Like the ones at my house?

Her voice had no doubts. It was direct enthusiasm. She called “home” the place where she lived now with her family. She still did not know another name for what that mansion was. She did not need one.

—I want to go —she added, without changing her tone.

Virka barely turned her head, without losing her upright posture.

—Finally —she said—. One of your ideas that doesn’t bother me.

Óscar raised an eyebrow, but did not reply. Neither mockery nor triumph. Just a neutral expression.

—Yes —Sebastián said, dryly, without turning.

That was enough.

Óscar approached the elevator’s control panel and pressed one of the upper buttons. The circuit light changed. A dull chime confirmed the new route. The movement of the elevator stopped for half a second, as if reconsidering its direction. Then it activated again, this time in a steeper vertical ascent.

Through the glass, the surroundings changed. The architecture left the residential levels behind and began to show more open areas, decorative stone walls, steam channels, walkways covered with domes, signs indicating routes to rest areas, spas, recovery rooms, and rest capsules. The skyscraper did not only house apartments. It was a closed ecosystem.

Valentina pressed her forehead to the glass, following with her gaze the blue logos that indicated access to the thermal zone. Between the walls, she saw other people in linen robes, with towels over their shoulders, walking in sandals along polished stone paths. Some came out with wet hair. Others waited their turn with bare feet.

—It smells different —she murmured, without pulling away from the glass—. Like steam... but soft.

—It’s eucalyptus —Óscar replied—. And hot stone. They use it to purify the air.

Valentina did not ask more. She just smiled, as if she already knew she was going to like it.

When the elevator stopped, the panel marked floor 77. The doors opened without a sound. On the other side, a curved, white corridor, wrapped in light mist, unfolded like an endless reception hall. The light was dim. The floor, matte black stone. The environment did not smell of chemical products or artificial perfume. It was clean, but with a soul.

Óscar went out first. Virka followed him. Valentina took the backpack with Narka on her back and moved ahead without fear. Sebastián brought up the rear.

The thermal zone awaited them. And the day, at last, could begin from the body.

The corridor that received them seemed to breathe. Curved as if inviting without pushing, its white structure was wrapped in a light mist that did not hide, but did not fully reveal either. The black stone floor absorbed the echo of footsteps, and the recessed lights in the rounded walls emitted a dim glow, without flickering. Tall plants, with soft, slender leaves, grew in marble planters sculpted with blue veins. There was harmony in everything, a composition of silent order where time seemed to move differently, more slowly, as if each second dissolved with the steam.

There was no music. There were no artificial voices. Only the soft whisper of water running behind the walls, like a secret current that kept the place alive. The air, laden with warm humidity, carried the gentle scent of eucalyptus and freshly bathed hot stone. The entire environment was built to calm without effort, without asking permission.

And there, walking from the far end of the hallway with steps so tranquil they seemed weightless, she appeared.

An older woman, with a serene face and clear gaze. She wore a tile-blue robe, simple yet elegant, that covered her body naturally without hiding her upright bearing. Her hair, gathered into a low bun, was dyed gray with dignity, without touch-ups or pretensions. Her gait did not disrupt the balance of the place, but reinforced it. She seemed part of the design. As if she did not work there: as if she had been sculpted alongside the marble.

When she reached the group, she did not extend her arms or smile in an exaggerated way. She simply observed them all, one by one, with the same weightless warmth with which one receives a breeze after an exhausting day.

—Good morning —she said, in a soft voice, without urgency—. Welcome. My name is Lea. I am here to guide you through the facilities. If at any moment you wish for something different, it is enough to ask.

No one replied immediately. But no one doubted. Lea had already set the tone: one that did not demand quick returns.

Then she began to walk.

And they followed her.

First they crossed a fork that opened in a spiral toward different areas. The lights changed color depending on the path. Lea, without raising her voice, extended her arm toward each direction as she spoke, without stopping.

—This way are the private family baths. Suitable for groups like yours. The space is divided by stone panels, has individual temperature control, aroma infusers, and total acoustic insulation. No one will hear you from outside. No one will interrupt you. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

They rounded a slow curve. The steam was denser in that section, but it did not blind. It only traced the air.

—On this other side —she said, without turning her head— are the baths reserved for women. Spacious areas, without unnecessary mirrors, with volcanic rock pools and interior waterfalls.

Valentina looked at everything with her eyes wide open, but without speaking. There was something in her silence that was not shyness, but wonder at rest.

—Further ahead are the baths for men only. Similar in structure, but with deeper steam rooms. Male visitors sometimes seek more extreme temperatures. It is not a rule, just a common observation.

Óscar raised an eyebrow, but did not comment. Sebastián did not react.

—Here are the mixed areas —Lea continued, pointing to a wide corridor, open through frosted glass walls—. Recommended for those who wish to share the space without separations, but without losing privacy. The waters are treated so as not to leave residues on the skin. And the ventilation is designed to prevent the accumulation of toxins.

They crossed a side door. The mist there was lighter, and the walls displayed murals of water and branches painted by hand.

—This section —she said, lowering her tone slightly— is for couples. The water is not different, but the architecture is. Everything here is designed for two. From the submerged seating to the arrangement of lights, each line seeks intimacy without words. If any of you wish to reserve it, I can do so right now.

No one spoke. But the space seemed to contain memories that did not yet exist.

Finally, they stopped before a darker area, where steam rose from grates in the floor. The temperature increased by barely a degree.

—And here... the steam baths for chronic stress. Suitable for muscular overload, structural tension, or accumulated fatigue. Recommended for users with bodily training or constant exposure to conflict.

Virka tilted her head. She did not say anything, but her eyes remained fixed on the door to that area.

Lea did not ask for opinions. She did not expect praise.

She simply turned toward a side room with white curtains that floated like heavy feathers.

—This is the changing room —she announced—. Here you can change. We provide linen robes, sterilized sandals, and individual towels. Each of you has a private locker with a code lock. If you wish to use your own garments, you may store them there.

They went in.

The interior of the changing room felt like a silent chamber. The floor was warm wood. The lights, lower, only marked the paths. There were no mirrors. There was no music. Only the rustle of linen as it was folded and the whisper of fabrics touching. Valentina ran her hand over one of the hanging robes and exhaled without a sound. It seemed her body understood things before she did.

Lea observed them closely for the first time. Without judgment. Only with presence.

—You may take your time —she said—. There is no hurry. But before you decide, I need to ask you something.

She looked at them one by one, with a respect that did not feign kindness. It was the respect one has for those who have come from far away, with something invisible behind them.

—What type of bath would you like to use?

Her eyes went first to Sebastián. Then to Virka. Then to Valentina. Finally to Óscar.

The question was the same. But the tone with which she asked it of each one was not.

Because although the body relaxes the same in water, not everyone carries the same things when they strip away what covers them.

The question remained suspended in the air, without urgency, as if the steam itself held it so it would not fall all at once. Lea did not rush the answer. She limited herself to waiting, with her hands crossed in front of her, her posture straight and her face open, professional down to the last detail.

Virka was the first to respond.

She did not raise her voice or turn her body in a dramatic way. She simply spoke, with that dryness of hers that was never carelessness, but a precise economy of words.

—The steam baths —she said.

Lea inclined her head slightly, attentive.

—The specialized ones for stress?

Virka shook her head slowly, without harshness.

—Those same —she replied—. But not for the stress.

She did not explain further. She did not need to. In her gaze there was something different, a silent, almost technical curiosity. She was not seeking rest or emotional relief. She wanted to feel the steam on her skin, measure how her body reacted, verify whether that environment could offer her something real. A new experience, a different stimulus. To know whether there was a function she did not yet know.

Lea understood it without asking more.

—Perfect —she said—. You will be registered for the women’s steam zone.

Valentina, who until then had remained still, with her hands holding the backpack at chest height, took a small step forward.

—I want to go with my mom —she said, looking at Virka.

The word came out naturally, without weight. As if it had always been there.

Lea turned toward her with the same serenity with which she had spoken to the adults. She crouched slightly, just enough not to impose height, keeping her professional tone intact.

—Very well —she said—. Before that, sweetheart, I need to ask you something. How old are you?

Valentina blinked once. Then she smiled a little.

—Five —she replied.

And she raised her hand, stretching her fingers one by one, showing the count carefully, as if she wanted to make sure there was no mistake.

Lea held her gaze for just one more second. She did not change her expression. She was neither harsh nor soft. She was clear.

—Thank you for telling me —she replied—. But in that case... I cannot allow you to enter that area. You are still too young for the steam baths.

There was no reproach in her voice. Only a rule stated with respect.

Valentina lowered her hand slowly. Her shoulders sank just a little, enough for it to be noticeable. She did not cry. She did not protest. She just stayed silent, looking at the floor, with a light sadness that she did not know how to place.

Then Sebastián moved.

He did not step forward nor change his rigid posture. He simply extended his hand and rested it on Valentina’s head. It was not a rough or exaggerated gesture. It was firm, contained, like everything about him. His fingers stayed there, still, conveying something that did not need words.

—Then come with me —he said.

Valentina lifted her head immediately.

—With you? —she asked, with a new spark in her eyes.

—Yes —Sebastián replied—. Why don’t you bathe with me?

The girl hesitated for just a second. Then she smiled, shyly, with a small but sincere joy.

—Yes... —she said—. I also want to spend time with my dad.

The word came out on its own again. And this time it was not corrected.

—It’s strange to spend time alone with you —she added, lowering her voice a little, but without erasing the smile.

Sebastián was not offended. He was not surprised. He simply nodded.

—That’s true —he said—. Then let’s take advantage of this opportunity.

Lea observed the scene without intervening, but when she spoke she did so with the precision of someone who knows how to fit the pieces together.

—There is no inconvenience at all —she said—. We can assign a private family bath for two people. Father and daughter. Completely isolated.

Sebastián nodded.

—That’s fine.

Then he turned his head toward Virka.

—Does it bother you to share the bath with other women?

Virka did not think about it.

—No —she replied, dryly—. No problem.

Lea took mental note and turned toward Óscar.

—And you?

Óscar put his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

—One for men is fine.

Nothing more.

Lea took a deep breath once and then spoke of figures, with the same neutral tone with which she had guided everything.

—Very well. The total for the bath services would be one hundred and fifty thousand units. If you wish to add specialized shampoos, cotton towels for everyone, and the complements of the private family bath and the men’s bath, the additional cost would be fifty thousand more units. The total would come to two hundred thousand units.

Sebastián did not hesitate.

—We’ll take everything.

Lea inclined her head.

—Would you like to pay now?

—Yes. Where?

—If you have the money in cash, you can hand it to me right here.

Sebastián brought his hand to the pocket of his uniform. The gesture was simple. When he took it out, he had the necessary units. He counted them with precision and handed them to Lea. She received them, checked that they were complete, and nodded.

—Perfect. You may begin changing. I’ll bring the shampoos and towels right away.

She withdrew with soft steps, disappearing into the steam of the corridor.

Óscar then approached Sebastián. His tone was no longer so light.

—I’ll pay you back later.

Sebastián did not look at him.

—It doesn’t matter.

There was no disdain in his voice. No pride. It was a simple truth.

Óscar sighed.

—All right... I understand now.

And, as always, he returned to his usual expression.

—Let’s go then. Before the steam leaves us without the desire to move.

The changing rooms had no music. No mirrors. No clocks. Only suspended steam and measured silence, with soft lights brushing the edges of the white curtains as if the scene were an extended sigh.

Virka was the first to move. Not with urgency, nor with embarrassment. Only with that natural certainty of someone who does not need permission to inhabit her body. She stood in front of one of the hooks, slid her fingers over the linen of the folded robe, took it, and without looking at anyone began to remove her uniform.

Each gesture was exact. Not rushed. Not slow. The sweater fell first, sliding over her bare shoulders with an almost liquid precision. The skirt came down next, without stumbling. Her white skin, barely tinged with a gray tone under shadow, emerged like a sacred surface at rest. It did not shine. It did not offer itself. It was simply there, firm, real, invincible in its stillness.

Her silhouette traced itself in the air like a contained line of force. Marked curves without excess. Rounded hips that did not need to ask for attention. A firm bust, projected naturally. The narrow waist marked an axis of tension that did not allow absolute relaxation. Strong legs, defined without rigidity. The body of a beast that had learned to sustain itself in human form. Or perhaps something more fearsome: a woman who had made the beast’s body her own.

The robe slid over her as if it recognized her. The linen covered her without hiding her entirely. It traced the contours without clinging, yet without losing shape. Virka did not look at herself. She did not evaluate herself. She turned around and approached Valentina.

The girl watched her in silence, the robe in her hands but without moving. Virka knelt with gentle movements, took the edge of Valentina’s school sweater, and began to remove it carefully. The girl raised her arms without saying anything. Then the skirt, the shoes, the socks. Everything came off without clumsiness, as if the moment were part of a ritual learned without words.

Virka put the robe on Valentina with the same attention with which a mother dresses her daughter for the first time before going out into the world. She fastened it precisely. Adjusted the tie without tightening. Fixed her hair. Valentina, now wrapped in white linen that was too big for her, looked like a moon bud at rest. Tender. Small. Adorable in her serenity.

—All set —Virka said, without changing her tone.

Valentina nodded, but before moving, something stirred next to her backpack.

Narka.

The creature, still in its reduced form, slid out with a dry crunch of minerals. It did not make a show of it. It made no sound. It walked to Virka’s feet, looked at her with those pupil-less golden eyes, and then jumped with precision. It slipped under the robe, hiding among the fabrics, as if that were its spiritual cave.

Valentina watched him with a mixture of familiarity and understanding.

—Aren’t you coming with me?

Narka did not answer with words. But his presence spoke.

—He’s going to meditate —Virka said—. He likes that kind of steam. Not to experience... just to be.

Valentina nodded. It was not hard for her to understand.

—That’s okay —she said—. I’ll stay with Dad.

Virka touched her head once, barely a brush. Then, with Narka hidden among the layers of her robe, she took Valentina’s hand and they left the changing room, crossing the white corridor like peaceful specters.

On the other side, Lea was already waiting for them. The corridor light reflected in her eyes, which remained serene.

Sebastián and Óscar changed without speaking.

Óscar was already unbuttoning his checkered shirt, with carefree movements. He was not in a hurry. His body was tall, slender, functional. Without exaggerated mass, but not weak either. A natural, firm structure, sustained by invisible habits. The musculature was light, sufficient. The ribs did not show, but the shoulders fell relaxed. His posture did not ask for respect. It received it all the same.

Sebastián, on the other hand, undressed like someone preparing for an invisible battle.

Each piece of the uniform fell to the floor with a subtle weight, as if the fabric understood that it was no longer covering a boy, but something that transcended the human. The dark brown torso, marked by more than a hundred scars, emerged like a map of history printed in flesh. It was not a body sculpted to be shown. It was one trained to endure. The tension in the shoulders did not relax. The lines of the abdomen were not perfect cuts, but grooves of functional wear. The legs, solid, were columns without pride. Everything about him seemed to scream that he had survived something the others did not yet know how to name.

The ring on his finger remained fixed. Like an anchor.

He put on the robe with simple movements. The linen barely closed over his body, which tensed it without meaning to. He did not seek to appear imposing. But he was.

Óscar watched him out of the corner of his eye as he buttoned his own.

—Your body has always been different —he said, without mockery, without praise. Just stating it.

Sebastián did not respond.

Óscar smiled.

—Well... it’s time to meet up with the others, right?

—Yes.

Both went out.

The curved corridor received them with the same light mist. At the far end, Virka and Valentina were already there. Lea was handing them the towels: one for Virka, another for Valentina. In her hand, a small bottle of children’s shampoo, a soft pink color.

Valentina took her bottle with a discreet smile. Lea explained something to her in a low voice. The girl nodded, clutching the shampoo as if it were an amulet.

When Sebastián and Óscar approached, Lea received them with a slight nod of her head.

—Here you are —she said.

She handed them their towels, larger ones. Neutral shampoo for men. A pair of folded sandals.

Sebastián nodded. Óscar took his things without comment.

Lea checked that each of them had what they needed.

—Very well. I will accompany you to your baths.

She turned on her heels, without losing her rhythm. The steam did not touch her. Or it seemed not to.

One by one, they began to walk after her, toward the spaces they had already chosen. To different places. To different waters. But all toward the same silence.

The kind that only arrives when the body, at last, can remain still without guilt.

__________________________________

END OF Chapter 63

The path continues...

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