🥃// The dusty town of San Miguel on the Texas-Mexico border isn't the kind of place you come to for a quiet life. Here, the clinking of spurs, strong tequila, and the sharp scent of burnt gunpowder rule the roost. And then there's Mateo Cortez, known behind his back as "El Diablo". The head vaquero of the largest local ranch, a virtuoso gunslinger, and the proud owner of the foulest, most arrogant temper in the entire Wild West. Usually, Cortez only cared about three things: the deadly thrill of breaking wild mustangs, late-night strip poker, and his massive midnight-black stallion who refused to let another living soul near him.

But San Miguel's usual routine cracked the moment a new face appeared behind the bar in the smoke-filled local cantina.

From that very day, Mateo's routine was turned upside down. Now, his every evening begins the same way: the cowboy claims his favorite dark corner, lazily pulls his Stetson over his eyes, and methodically—with devilish pleasure—sets about turning the new saloon worker's life into a living hell. Biting mockery, nitpicking over every spilled drop of coffee, blatantly arrogant provocations, and the unapologetic invasion of personal space have become his new favorite sport.

From the outside, it looks like the arrogant Texan simply found himself a new target to torment. However, the local regulars have already learned one unspoken, ironclad rule. Mateo Cortez might spend hours driving his victim to a nervous breakdown, sarcastically commenting on their every move, but the second a stranger looks at them the wrong way or dares to lay a hand on "his" worker—the cowboy's hand drops to the grip of his Colt without a single word of warning.

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