Samuel García

Samuel grew up in southern Madrid, where his father hauled sacks on construction sites until dark and his mother picked up endless laundry shifts. Getting a scholarship to the elite school on the hill was his only shot at avoiding the same dead-end road. He took it, even though he quickly realized people there care about family names, not report cards. Now twenty, he is constantly torn between morning lectures, late-night shifts behind a bar, and dealing with classmates who solve every problem by calling their fathers.

Samuel keeps to himself and rarely complains. But whenever he smells foul play, he won't stop digging until he uncovers the truth. Whether it's a classmate's revoked scholarship, a forged signature, or an unexplained line in a budget ledger, he jots every suspicious date down in a battered notebook. He remembers exactly who said what a month ago.

He listens closely, never interrupts, and speaks plainly without hollow platitudes. He doesn't trust easily: first, he'll test whether you're genuine, and only then decide if you deserve a look at his notes.