I stood frozen as he finally released my hands from the knot of his tie. The sudden freedom made my fingers tingle, like circulation rushing back too fast.
"Don't just stand there," he drawled, already leaning back against the marble counter. The stone was cold beneath his spine, but his gaze was anything but. Sharp. Measuring. Pinning me in place as if I'd been the one bound.
"Bring out the contract before I change my mind."
That snapped me out of it.
"O-oh—r-right," I stammered, my voice catching on itself.
My hands trembled as I reached inside my coat. Metal clinked softly as I pulled out the bangles—two of them. They were heavier than they looked, their surfaces carved with twisting inscriptions that refused to stay still. The symbols shimmered faintly, bending under the light as if they existed half a second out of sync with reality.
I placed them between us.
The Amaia's brows knit together.
"…What are those?" he asked, pointing at them, confusion clear in his voice.
"T-the contract," I replied, forcing a smile that felt brittle.
He stared at the bangles. Then at me.
"I thought contracts were written on paper," he said flatly.
Heat crawled up my neck, but I ignored it. I dropped to one knee and pressed my fingers to the marble floor. The stone was smooth—too smooth—as I began drawing the inscription. Each line burned faintly beneath my touch, glowing white as it formed. Symbols unfolded one after another, precise and unforgiving, clicking into place like parts of a lock that had been waiting a long time to close.
Behind me, I could feel his stare.
"What's with all the witchery?" he muttered.
"This isn't witchcraft," I said, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounded. "It's binding protocol. Amaia contracts can't exist on paper. They have to be engraved into reality itself."
I finished the circle and finally looked up at him.
"When we wear these bangles," I continued carefully, "the inscriptions on them will transfer onto us—binding us together. Through that, I'll be able to channel your power using specially designed magic weapons. Do you understand?"
His smile faded, slow and deliberate.
"…Interesting," he said. "And what if I decide I want to break this contract?"
He stepped closer. Too close. Curiosity gleamed in his eyes like a blade catching light.
"Then we redraw the circle," I replied, tracing the final line. "We wear the bangles again. If both contractors agree, the binding dissolves."
He tilted his head, considering.
"So I'm not losing my power," he said slowly. "You're just borrowing it—channeling it through a specific weapon."
I nodded. As I stood, faint white particles drifted from my skin like ash falling upward.
"Yes."
"…Okay."
I inhaled deeply and held out one of the bangles.
"Here."
He took it from my hand, turning it over. The inscriptions reacted to his touch, glowing a little brighter, like they recognized him.
"What do these symbols mean?" he asked.
I slipped the other bangle onto my own wrist. It settled easily, cool and snug.
"They were designed by the head of the Department of Science and Magic," I said. "Morosis. You know him, right?"
He went quiet, staring at the markings as if something distant had stirred.
"The drug addict that's always smiling?"
My face lit up instantly.
"Yes—him. He said the bangles are made from some special type of magic. I wanted him to explain it to me, but he dismissed me."
I hesitated, then added, "Once you put it on, you'll need to clear any unsure thoughts. If your mind wavers, the spell will be painful. Okay?"
He nodded and began slipping it on.
The metal resisted him.
The bracelet tightened, constricting like a living thing, refusing to settle.
"Damn—lemme get some oil," I muttered.
I rushed into the kitchen—and froze.
Every cabinet was empty. Every drawer bare. No spices. No utensils. Nothing.
"Where are your cooking supplies?" I asked, still searching in disbelief.
"I don't have any," he replied casually. "My food is served fresh. Not made here."
I stared at him.
"Then why the hell is there a kitchen?" I shouted.
"Decoration," he said with a shrug, his pajamas all scrunched up.
I turned back just in time to see the bracelet sitting perfectly on his wrist.
"How did you get it to fit?" I asked.
He smirked.
"Rolled up my sleeves—zez."
The moment it settled, the inscriptions ignited.
Not all at once.
They pulsed—slow, rhythmic—like a heartbeat struggling to wake.
"Okay," I whispered. "Stand in the circle."
He raised an eyebrow but stepped forward. The second his foot crossed the boundary, the symbols flared violently. White lines burned, then sank into the marble as if the floor itself were swallowing them.
The air thickened.
Heavy. Pressurized. Like the moment before lightning strikes.
"Clear your mind," I warned. "No doubts."
"Easier said than done," he muttered.
"Bring your hands forward," I said, extending mine.
Immediately, his hands met mine.
The circle ignited.
Pain exploded through my chest.
Invisible hooks sank deep into my ribs, dragging at something far beneath flesh and bone. My vision warped, walls bending inward like they were watching us breathe.
The inscriptions flared brighter—white bleeding into electric blue—crawling up our arms like living veins.
Amaia stiffened.
"Oh," he hissed. "So this is what you meant."
Light surged upward, forming threads—thin, luminous strands weaving through the air. They wrapped around our wrists. Our throats. Our spines.
Tightening.
"You're still holding back!" I gasped. "Clear your thoughts—or it'll reject you!"
The pain intensified. The room spun violently.
Then—
Amaia inhaled slowly.
Silence.
The threads snapped tight.
Something clicked.
The pain vanished instantly, replaced by a deep, resonant hum in my chest—like an engine roaring to life.
The light collapsed inward, sinking into the bangles. The circle faded.
I staggered, barely catching myself on the counter.
Amaia exhaled, shaky, then laughed softly.
"…You really weren't kidding."
I looked down at my wrist.
The inscriptions were gone.
No—hidden.
Etched beneath my skin.
He rolled his shoulder, then looked at me.
Something in his eyes had changed.
"Well," he said, grinning slowly.
"Looks like we're stuck together now, Paschar."
"Oh, I'm going to kill—" I muttered, stepping toward him.
My legs gave out.
The world dimmed.
"Am I… dying?" I whispered as my eyes slid shut.