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Chapter 9 — Don’t Move.
The captain had been sitting at the table flipping through documents when he suddenly paused, turning toward her with a faintly startled look.
Sasha blinked, then—without any sign of anger—burst out laughing.
“Looks like you’ve got firsthand experience, darling—”
The silver-haired man lazily dragged a finger across his cheek, then fixed her with a meaningful gaze.
The gesture instantly reminded Su Cheng of how she’d accidentally ended up touching someone’s chest earlier.
She froze.
The captain probably wouldn’t actually be angry… but she still felt a little awkward.
She turned her head on instinct—and met a pair of golden eyes filled with quiet surprise.
“……”
So embarrassing.
“Sorry—” she blurted quickly, not even daring to look at Kai’s reaction, immediately whipping her head back around to glare at the vampire.
“Next time, if we’re discussing a curse, I don’t want to hear anything unrelated until the discussion is finished,” Su Cheng said, forcing down her irritation. “Otherwise, I don’t think there’s any need for you to be involved. How does that sound?”
At the same time, she felt a heat spread across her palm.
On her curled fingers, a pitch-black mark slowly surfaced—the sigil of the Blessed One.
The room fell silent again.
Three men looked at her with different expressions.
The girl standing by the table lifted her head. In her clear amber eyes, faint vertical lines and triangular light patterns seemed to flicker into existence—like a pair of balanced scales.
“Oh?”
Sasha raised a brow. Interest flared instantly in his eyes.
If everything before had been mere amusement—
Then at this moment, it was as if a starving beast had caught the scent of blood.
A strange excitement twisted across his face. His crimson eyes locked onto her.
“Is this a contract?”
He deliberately emphasized the word, almost as if savoring it on his tongue. His lips curled.
“I can agree to that… but you’ll need to agree to a few conditions of mine as well.”
Su Cheng said nothing.
The warmth in her palm kept rising.
The moment he mentioned a contract, she felt a restrained force begin to spread.
If she nodded, a binding agreement would truly be formed between them.
And as a Blessed One of the God of Contracts, any agreement she made—written or spoken—carried terrifying binding force.
If either side broke it, the punishment would be severe beyond imagination.
No one had explicitly told her this. But from what she had read, and from an instinct that had begun to form since awakening her power, she knew it was true.
“…Forget it,” Su Cheng said irritably. “I was only stating what I thought were basic conversational manners.”
The heat in her palm vanished the moment she refused.
That strange oppressive sensation also faded away.
Sasha smiled at her, eyes still bright with interest.
“Noted. I’ll be more careful next time. My apologies.”
Yeah, right, Su Cheng thought.
But on the surface, she only returned a fake smile before turning to the silent blond mage beside her.
Gamil had been watching her for a few seconds. Now he looked back down at the scroll in his hands, as if thinking.
“You said you don’t know the identity of the caster,” he asked in a low voice. “How complete is that ignorance?”
“Completely clueless,” Su Cheng replied, spreading her hands. “I can’t think of anyone suspicious. It probably happened before I even had memories.”
Gamil gave a slight nod.
“If it was cast during infancy, it wouldn’t be strange for it to manifest around adulthood.”
His gaze briefly swept over her exposed nape.
“This is a composite blood curse.”
A blood curse required the target’s blood to cast—and often lingered within the blood itself. In rare cases, it could even be inherited.
Which made it extremely difficult to remove.
“…But it doesn’t seem to be inheritable. Composite curses are layered combinations. Sometimes even self-created. This one has a prototype, but it looks modified.”
He paused in thought.
“Now answer me this—how have you been suppressing it until now?”
Su Cheng had initially considered lying, maybe saying she’d gone to find relief through some shady means—but under those cold blue eyes, she hesitated.
“…Succubus blood.”
“Mm,” Gamil didn’t look surprised. “Effective. Do you still have any?”
“Some,” she said slowly. “But it gets used up quickly. I want to stock up more. I heard there’s an underground market in Gold Pearl City that sells illegal materials… I was thinking of trying my luck there.”
Gamil didn’t commit either way.
“Hard to say. The Church has been cracking down heavily lately.”
At the mention of the Church, Sasha let out a soft, mocking snort.
Still smiling lazily, he said, “Why not just go take a look? If it doesn’t work out, we can always catch one directly.”
Su Cheng: “……”
He made it sound like catching rats on the street.
Those were high-tier demons.
Even an ordinary adult succubus could probably take on a hundred holy knights.
In past wars, they had to be handled by lower deities of the Light faction.
The one she’d drained earlier had even been wearing a restraining collar—and still moved like a ghost.
“First of all,” Su Cheng narrowed her eyes, “do you even know where to catch a succubus?”
“Maybe,” Sasha said with amusement. “And if I tell you… what do I get in return?”
“You really like making deals with me, don’t you?” she said.
He blinked slowly.
“Aren’t you the one who came here to make a deal with us, darling? I quite enjoy working with people like you.”
“People like me?”
“What kind?”
Instead of answering, Sasha asked:
“Have you ever heard a song?”
Then, without warning, he began to sing in a light, almost playful tone.
“A promise forged in refined gold,
An oath carved deep into stone—
Yet within the contract’s inked words, traps are laid,
And truth and trust bloom into poisoned fruit…”
His voice rose, bright and clear.
“Look at your faithful believers—
You call them keepers of vows,
But I only see—”
His tone suddenly sharpened.
“—sophists and frauds offering gifts before your throne.”
The final note faded downward. The cheerful rhythm twisted into something cold, then cut off abruptly.
Su Cheng stared at him.
“…Huh?”
What the hell was that?
Was this some kind of opera world?
Why was he suddenly singing?!
“Not strange,” Sasha said lazily, as if humming the remains of the melody. “You’re just a human child.”
Then he turned away.
“I need to eat something.”
And just like that, he left.
The door closed.
Silence returned to the room.
Su Cheng replayed the lyrics in her mind, unease slowly rising.
Kai and Gamil both seemed unfazed, as if used to Sasha’s habit of bursting into song whenever he pleased.
Gamil was still studying her back.
Kai continued reading the scroll, occasionally jotting down notes.
“Excuse me,” Su Cheng raised her hand. “What was that song?”
Kai didn’t even look up.
Only the captain answered seriously.
“‘The Funeral Bell of Tethia.’”
Su Cheng gave him a look of profound understanding.
“It’s an ancient ballad,” Kai continued thoughtfully. “A bard’s work. It tells of an ancient city-state called Tethia. It is said to have once been under the protection of the God of Contracts, and its citizens were mostly faithful merchants and Blessed Ones.”
“Then a stranger arrived.”
“He taught them to hide clauses with illusion magic in contracts, to deceive signatures, to manipulate wording in verbal agreements, to twist misunderstandings for profit.”
“At first, the Blessed Ones gained greater and greater advantages through it… even harvesting souls.”
Su Cheng frowned.
“And then?”
“Then the city was destroyed,” Kai said calmly. “Two powerful Blessed Ones deceived each other into violating their own vows, bringing divine punishment upon themselves. Tethia was reduced to ruins in thunder.”
Su Cheng blinked.
“…So the ‘you’ in the lyrics—was that the God of Contracts?”
Kai nodded lightly.
She went quiet for a moment.
“Then the outsider… was it the God of Contracts himself?”
Gamil glanced at her.
Kai answered evenly.
“…From the lyrics, that is the implication.”
“So,” Su Cheng let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, “it’s just a song? Not real?”
Kai didn’t respond immediately.
After a moment, he said, “Perhaps. For things no one has witnessed firsthand… who can say what is truly real?”
For a brief instant, Su Cheng felt her divine mark grow heavy.
Not physically hot—but like pressure settling deep in her mind.
She knew very well that gods in this world were rarely benevolent.
Or rather, by human standards, they all contained some form of “evil.”
Being chosen as a Blessed One was both protection—and a potential source of ruin.
The room fell into silence again.
Su Cheng drifted into thought. The others resumed their own tasks.
A few minutes later, Gamil slowly removed his right glove.
His dark blue eyes fixed on her.
“I can’t guarantee a full removal of the curse,” he said. “But I can try.”
“Alright,” she nodded.
She was also worried about possible incompatibility with her body.
“I’ll need to run some tests to determine the correct material ratios,” Gamil said calmly. “If you don’t trust me, we can sign a formal contract.”
“That works,” Su Cheng replied. “I’ll draft an indemnity agreement. Payment will be separate. This isn’t part of the mercenary commission.”
Gamil didn’t object.
“If that makes you cooperate fully, go ahead.”
Su Cheng: “……”
He wasn’t doing this out of goodwill—he was treating her like a test subject. She knew that much.
They were strangers. Trust wasn’t expected.
In fact, if she weren’t a Blessed One, the contract would be little more than paperwork.
Still—if he killed her, none of it would matter anyway.
She bent over the table and began writing furiously.
Gamil reviewed the draft briefly, said nothing, and signed immediately.
The binding took effect.
It was subtle—almost imperceptible—but she could feel it.
The nature of a divine contract.
The last time she had signed one, she had just awakened her powers and immediately gone on to witness something far more absurd.
This time, she could feel it clearly.
“Then it’s settled,” Su Cheng said, emotions tangled.
As long as none of them could resist divine-level constraints, things should be safe enough.
She hadn’t added any tricks—just safeguards for her own survival.
For example: if during treatment he harbored harmful intent—whether to hurt, control, or use her as an experimental subject—even the intention alone would trigger consequences.
Gamil handed her the contract back.
“Anything else?”
He tapped the table once.
“Turn around.”
Su Cheng turned.
“It won’t hurt too much, right?”
The mage didn’t answer.
Instead, he lifted the thin strap against her shoulder blade, exposing her pale back completely.
“Hair,” he said briefly.
She tilted her head, sweeping her hair aside.
His fingertips landed on her skin.
Ice and fire pierced at the same time.
The pain wasn’t overwhelming at first—just a sharp contrast in temperature—but it grew increasingly distinct.
She trembled.
Cold and heat twisted together, tracing along her back. She could almost map the curse’s structure in her mind.
She tried to focus on that, to distract herself.
But the pain kept intensifying, as if her skin itself were being burned and frozen apart.
She clenched her teeth, breathing heavily, trying to stay still—but her body instinctively tried to move away.
Gamil’s other hand locked around her waist.
“Stay still,” he said in a low voice. “I need to feel its integration with your body. Endure it.”
He began chanting unfamiliar incantations.
Su Cheng couldn’t understand them.
It wasn’t standard elemental magic.
“I’m not refusing to cooperate—I—” she gasped.
“I know,” Gamil said. “Don’t move.”
Sweat poured down her face.
“I really am trying… damn it, I can’t—maybe we should do this tomorrow!”
Silence.
Then suddenly, Gamil stepped forward.
His body pressed against hers.
His solid chest pinned her trembling back.
His knee locked between her unsteady legs, preventing her from shifting away.
The chant slowed.
Her broken sounds grew sharper.
Su Cheng’s mind was collapsing.
—This hurts too much!
It felt like her spine was being split open. Pain hammered through her skull.
Her vision flashed white.
Her fingers clawed at the table, knocking scrolls and papers into the air.
Gamil grabbed her wrist.
“Don’t—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
His gaze dropped.
The curve of her arched back rose and fell like waves.
With every surge of magic, her body trembled, the faint impact of her tailbone against metal accents on her belt echoing softly.
Her weakened arms pressed against the table. Tears and sweat dripped onto the wood.
“……”
The two of them abruptly separated.
Su Cheng collapsed onto the table like a puppet with its strings cut.
Her mind was chaos—curses, gods, fragments of thoughts spinning wildly.
But the pain faded quickly.
She fumbled out a mirror, glancing behind her.
The curse sigil had… lightened.
“…Huh? Miracle doctor!”
Gamil leaned against the table, slightly out of breath.
“No,” he said. “Just delayed the next activation.”
His usually pale face carried a faint flush now, sweat clinging to a few strands of his blond hair.
“Let’s start with potion work. I’ll list the materials.”
He grabbed blank scrolls and paper, immediately writing again.
After a while, he placed a sheet on the table.
“Go buy these first.”
The captain stood.
He strapped his heavy sword onto his back, golden eyes steady.
“I’ll take you to the underground district. We can gather materials—and check for succubus blood while we’re at it.”
Su Cheng nodded immediately.
“Alright.”
She picked up her coat.
“…Thank you. And thank you too, Gamil.”
Gamil looked up belatedly.
She leaned in slightly toward him and deliberately said loudly near his ear, “I said thank you!”
He blinked, briefly glancing at her damp collar and the faintly translucent fabric clinging to her front.
Then he turned away, expression cool.
“No need.”
He adjusted his coat, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes again—completely ignoring her.
