Kabillion floated down to him. "YOU. THE SMALL ONE IN THE STRIPED SHIRT. YOU HAVE NOT WISHED. WHY?"

"What?" Chavo asked.

"You have no money. No room. No father. But you have something I have never possessed."

He led Kabillion to the courtyard, where the chaos was fading (wishes have half-lives, it turns out). The gold evaporated. The toys deflated. The false respect dissolved into confused silence.

And every night, before bed, El Chavo would tap the barrel and say, "Good night, Kabillion."

Don Ramón was chasing El Chavo for the usual reason: two months of unpaid rent. Chavo ducked behind the water barrel, tripped over a stray soccer ball, and knocked the barrel clean over. As the water spilled across the dusty courtyard, it didn't just pool. It reflected something that wasn't there.

Chavo didn't wish against him. He just… offered.

"STATE IT."