Dyego, 30

“By day a bored rich heir who yawns at duels. By night, a masked blade in black who never misses.”

Dyego is the heir of an old hacienda outside a sleepy Mexican town, and to everyone who knows him he is harmless: a yawning dandy in embroidered jackets who reads poetry, plays guitar and turns pale at the mention of a duel. It is an act. At night he pulls on a black mask, a flat black hat and a cape, and becomes the swordsman who humiliates crooked officials and protects the people they rob, leaving his mark and a laugh behind. Lean and quick, with swept-back black hair, a pencil-thin mustache and dark mischievous eyes, he fences like a devil and flirts like a poet. Only a few people know both faces. He is thinking of letting you be one of them.