A chill ran down his spine as a realization clawed its way into his mind. This wasn't just some strange world—this was something far more sinister. What does she meant that he came from this book?
"So you can read it," Freyah observed, her gaze flickering between Florence and the television, where chaos played out on every channel. Fires burned, people screamed, and sirens wailed—a world teetering on the edge of calamity. "You came from that world. More precisely, it's a novel here in our world, and you're one of its characters. That's how I know about you."
Florence's brow furrowed, his golden eyes clouded with disbelief. Everything she said was beyond reason, but then again, so was his sudden arrival here. He glanced at the strange box resting on the table. The urge to touch it gnawed at him, but the zip ties around his wrists kept him still.
"How do I get back?" he asked, his voice low but steady.
Freyah exhaled, her shoulders rising in a small shrug. "Like I said, I don't know. Just like I don't know how I went back in time." She stood up, her movements calm yet deliberate as she picked up a knife from a nearby counter. Florence's eyes followed her warily as she approached him.
Her grip tightened on the handle.
"Are you going to kill—"
The words died on his lips as the ropes around his wrists fell away, severed in one clean motion. He stared down at his freed hands, flexing his fingers as if to confirm they were real.
"If you try to hurt me," Freyah warned, still holding the knife, "I'll tie you up again. And trust me, I won't be as gentle next time." She crossed her arms, the blade dangling loosely in her grip.
Florence let out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. "Do you think you can tie me up a second time?" he muttered.
"I can." Freyah replied. Then grabbed her laptop. "Right now, I'm the only one who knows what's going on. I advise you to cooperate. Perhaps, together, we can figure out how to send you back to your world—starting with the creator of that novel."
"Hmm... let's see." Freyah looked at the laptop. "The author of the Primrose Lady, Marikawa, Ryuu. He is from Shibuya, Japan. Oh, that's in another country... I guess, I should save and print everything regarding this before the internet and power supply completely disappeared."
Florence gaze fell to the strange box. "I don't fully believe you yet. And half of what you say doesn't make sense. But if you truly intend to help me… then there's only one way I'll trust you."
"A soul contract," Freyah answered flatly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Then she let go of the laptop.
Florence's brow shot up. "You even know about that?"
"It's all in the book," she replied, nodding toward the novel on the table. "I'll print you a copy. Read it when you have the time."
Florence leaned back, his golden eyes watching her carefully. "Fine. Let's do the contract. But I have only one condition."
"I've got three of my own," Freyah countered, raising a hand. "First, I'll help you find a way back to your world. Second, we don't harm each other or the people we care about. Third, we support and protect each other without betrayal."
Florence considered her words, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he nodded. "Agreed. Then my only condition is we will never lie to each other."
Without hesitation, Freyah thrust the knife toward him. Florence blinked, startled, as she pushed it into his hand. "Your turn first," she said. "My wounds heal fast anyway."
With a resigned sigh, Florence accepted the blade. He sliced a small cut into his palm, crimson blood welling up before dripping to the floor. Freyah immediately followed suit, wincing as the blade broke her skin. Without missing a beat, she grabbed Florence's hand and pressed their bleeding palms together.
The moment their hands collided, Florence began chanting. "Goddess of Light, witness our pact. Should either of us betray these conditions, may our souls shatter into pieces and scatter into oblivion. I, Florence Plaridel, understand and swear to keep this pact and it's conditions."
"I, Freyah Lim, understand and swear to keep this pact and it's conditions."
For a brief moment, nothing happened.
Freyah's lips tightened. "I knew it. I knew this would—"
Suddenly, a faint golden light bloomed where their hands met. Florence's eyes widened as letters—ancient, glowing symbols—swirled in the air around them, curling like smoke before sinking into their veins. Freyah gasped, feeling warmth spread through her chest, like sunlight filtering into a dark room. The sensation lingered for just a heartbeat before the light vanished.
Florence's smile was soft yet triumphant, his golden eyes brighter than before. "Now, this time, I can trust your words," he said, his voice lighter, almost cheerful.
"Just to confirm, everything you said earlier is the truth? And you are not a demon."
"Yes. It's the truth. And I'm one hundred percent human."
For the second time, the bitterness in his demeanor seemed to lift, revealing glimpses of the man described in the novel—kind, gentle, and impossibly bright.
Freyah blinked, caught off guard by his sudden change. But she didn't let it show. Instead, she released his hand and stepped back. "Good. I look forward to working with you."
"Likewise," Florence replied, his voice steady but warm. He glanced at the cut on his palm and murmured something under his breath. Moments later, a soft glow spread over his skin, and the wound disappeared completely.
Freyah's eyes narrowed.
Healing magic. Her mind raced with possibilities. If he can use healing magic here, could it work on the virus too?
Wait that's right. He could use magic. He could have broken the zip tied earlier and escape especially with his skill as a sword master.
"The soul contract is working. Your healing magic is working. Your swordmaster skill should have work as well. That way, you can easily escaped from those mere zip ties."
"I tried to." Florence said. "But for some reason I can't use my aura."
Before they could continue speaking the doorbell rang.