"I don't like tossing words like 'revenge,' 'grudge,' or 'hatred' around," Harvey began, his voice cold and detached. "Cowards hide behind flowery language to mask their impotence, to rationalize their anger. But I'm a necromancer stranded in a foreign realm—no past, no future. Corpses are not just my tools; they're my destiny."
His tone turned sharper. "I don't care about long-term gains. My mood is the only compass I follow."
"Obviously," Igula remarked dryly, raising an eyebrow, "judging by your addiction to moon-shaped candies, you've committed to a very short life. Are you saying you want to get back at Anan?"
"Maybe." Harvey bit into a knuckle absentmindedly. "Depends on how I feel at the time. If I run out of candy, even a flicker of resentment could ignite my cold, burning fury. Besides..." He smirked slightly. "On the night I left Fractured Lake Prison, I made a vow: anyone who dares to become my boss will eventually become my subservient little puppet."
He leaned back, exuding an eerie calm. "I'm not sharing this to invite you into some grand revenge scheme. I'm only asking that when the time comes, you don't get in my way. I don't want to fight you. You're not just troublesome—you're… well, I don't want to, that's all."
Ash blinked in surprise. "Honestly, I'm a little touched. Especially considering our first meeting involved you critiquing how my corpse could decompose into more aesthetically pleasing patterns."
That seemed to perk Harvey up. "Oh, if you'd let me prep you properly, I guarantee your body could bloom with a gorgeous array of black roses, no matter when you die."
"Rest assured, necromancer," Igula interrupted coldly. "I won't stand in your way, but I'm not joining your foolish quest for revenge, either. Sure, I'm still pissed at Anan, but if she manages to compensate me adequately in the coming days, I might let this 'little spat' go."
He shrugged nonchalantly. "After all, feelings are fickle. Even someone you once swore to hate with every fiber of your being can—" He stopped mid-sentence, abruptly changing the topic. "Speaking of which, Harvey, aren't you worried this room might be bugged? Your little revenge speech could already be playing in Anan's ear."
"Oh, crap, you're right." Harvey slapped his forehead. "Guess I've been eating too much candy again."
"And you, Ash?" Igula turned toward him. "Do you plan on getting back at Anan?"
"Are you seriously baiting me into badmouthing our boss in a possibly bugged room?" Ash retorted, rolling his eyes. After a moment of thought, though, he continued, "Honestly? Revenge isn't really on my mind. I'm more… curious."
"Curious?"
"Yeah. Curious about how she plans to use us," Ash said thoughtfully. "Sure, being the one moving the chess pieces is ideal. But if I'm stuck as a piece, why not enjoy the view and learn a thing or two from the chess master?"
"But she sold you to the Four Pillars Cult," Igula pointed out. "And then forced you into a slave contract. Doesn't that spark even a little resentment?"
"Sure, I was mad," Ash admitted. "But then her butler got me boxer briefs, and, well, it's hard to stay angry when someone's buying you underwear." He sighed. "Honestly, I'm a simple guy. Easy to bribe with small tokens of goodwill. My biggest worry now is that Anan might try to seduce me with a honey trap."
Igula snorted with laughter. "If Fenansia could hear you calling yourself a 'simple guy,' she'd crawl out of the Sixth Hell just to slap you."
"So, you're not planning any revenge?" Harvey pressed.
"If I do, it won't be over the slights from Day One," Ash replied, gazing at the neon-lit city outside. "It'll be for any disappointments that pile up over the next 101 days."
He turned back to them, a faint smile playing on his lips. "As for the contract, I'm not too worried. Do you really think a mere piece of paper can bind me?"
There was an unmistakable confidence in his tone that left Igula momentarily speechless. He instinctively wanted to ridicule Ash for his arrogance, but something in the other man's expression—the subtle interplay of light and shadow across his face—stopped him.
Was it Ash's track record of survival against all odds?
Was it the unshakable presence he exuded, a force impossible to ignore?
Or was it the unsettling realization that this man, Ash Heath, was the most dangerous among them?
Beneath the surface of his casual demeanor lay an unpredictable, malevolent energy, poised to wreak havoc with the inevitability of a storm.
"I'm a certified national retreat artist," Ash declared, breaking the tension. "A professional slacker, a bathroom break champion, and an Olympic-level moocher. I might suck at working, but I'm the undisputed gold medalist at slacking off. If Anan thinks a contract can make me productive, she's sorely mistaken."
"..." Igula silently slapped himself.
"But Ash," Harvey chimed in with a mischievous grin, "don't forget you've also got that lifelong contract with the little girl. Are you ready to be a dad?"
Ash's face darkened instantly. He had pieced together by now that Lis had targeted him because of his soft-hearted nature. Her audacious demands had slipped past his defenses, and before he realized it, he was locked into the most lopsided contract he'd ever seen.
Anan, too, must have recognized this dynamic. By allowing Ash to handle Lis, she avoided taking on any additional burdens herself. Though she could've kept Lis in check, she clearly preferred to minimize unnecessary complications.
"Do you even know what it means to be a 'dad'?" Igula asked Harvey, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course," Harvey replied with a shrug. "But it's way more fun to tease Ash about it."
As the necromancer grinned, Igula coughed lightly, feigning nonchalance. "By the way, their contract system here is a bit different from Blood Moon's. Anan wouldn't have used anything too elaborate—maybe something binding enough for Tier Two sorcerers. If I had more time to study it, I might be able to—"
Knock, knock.
The butler, Banquet, entered with his usual impeccable manners. "Miss Anan has requested your presence in the main hall. However, if you wish to rest first, she's willing to postpone until tomorrow."
"I doubt I'd get any sleep not knowing whether I'll be selling my body or soul," Igula replied flatly. "Lead the way."
As they followed Banquet out, Ash's mind wasn't on their impending meeting.
Ash had come to terms with their situation far too quickly. Sure, part of it was his innate adaptability—"What's done is done," as the saying went. But there was another, stranger reason behind his composure.
Somewhere along the way, he had acquired a peculiar title:
"Profession: Eternal Walker / Freelance Layabout"
Traits:
Increased luck in normal situations: +5
Drastically decreased luck in critical moments: -50
Higher likelihood of triggering mysterious events
More prone to complications and attention from "fate"
Reduced spirit energy consumption for summons: -50%
This, Ash realized, was only the beginning of his journey.