"What's this?"
"Contracts," Grey answered calmly. "Witch contracts."
After adding the last word, he looked at his brother and the two sisters with clear interest, carefully studying their faces as he waited for a reaction.
Sunny frowned, but didn't throw the papers away.
"But witches are evil. You're mixed up with them? I knew you were a devil. Are they going to hang all of us now?" His voice sounded cautious and uncertain, as if he feared Grey's reaction. But after remembering there were no better options left, he still asked, "Why do you need this?"
Grey shrugged.
"Evil is just something people agree on over wine and roasted meat every day. Power is only power. Witches, demons, elves, vampires, werewolves, and even humans can be either good or bad. It all depends on perspective. Consider this your first lesson. As long as you're strong and know how to keep your mouth shut, you decide what's evil and what isn't."
He spoke casually, without pressure, even a little absentmindedly, still mixing powder in the mortar. Yet his words touched the deepest strings of Sunny's soul.
Aileen and Irene stared at their brother in confusion. The wind fluttered their thin shirts. Against their backdrop, Grey no longer looked like a boy, but a shadow. Motionless, cold, calm.
"Uh... What's written in them?" Sunny asked, carefully rereading the contents as if he feared the paper might burn him at any second. "I can read, but... I can't understand a damn thing here. Why are there so many words?"
Although his mother had taught him the alphabet because she came from a noble family, Sunny rarely read anything longer than shop signs. The contract the brat had handed him was long and overly complicated. At his reading speed, it would be a miracle if he finished it before morning.
"It's all simple," Grey replied. "Until you break the shackles of mortality, you'll be my subordinates. Not the establishment's, not the mistress's. Mine. I pay you, and you obey. I teach and protect you, and you keep my secrets. That's all."
"The threshold of mortals?" Sunny repeated uncertainly.
Grey explained calmly:
"All beings in this world can evolve. Doesn't matter how. You can be a mage, a specialist, a Roman legionary, a devil practitioner, or a witch. Anyone can become stronger. The stronger you become, the further you step away from the concept of being mortal. All you need to understand is that you won't be able to break the contract conditions anytime soon."
"And what if we don't want to follow your orders?" Irene finally spoke up. She sounded more curious than worried.
"You lost the chance to turn back the moment I showed you the contracts. I'll allow additional conditions, and I'll add them if they're reasonable. I'm not trying to force you. Yesterday, I offered you a choice, and you took a step toward me."
Sunny lowered his gaze and stared at the scrolls.
The wording seemed complicated, but the meaning itself was clear enough. If shortened to a few sentences, it basically said that Grey would teach, feed, and protect them.
He would also pay them three bronze coins a week. With every breakthrough, their payment would increase tenfold.
In exchange, they were forbidden from sharing any information they received without permission and were expected to follow his instructions. They had the right to refuse a mission if their reasons were justified. What exactly counted as "justified" was not specified.
After a brief discussion and the addition of a few minor conditions, Sunny gave an uncertain nod.
"How do we sign it?" he asked in confusion, unable to find any pen nearby.
Only then did Grey set the mortar aside. He pulled a neatly wrapped dagger from inside his robe and handed it to Sunny after unfolding a cloth.
"With blood. You need to press your fingertip onto the line on the left."
Sunny froze. What else could he have expected from witchcraft? But there was no way back now. He glanced at his sisters one last time. They were clutching the edge of his shirt, visibly frightened. Still, they nodded in sync, showing their resolve.
Sunny had already raised the dagger toward his wrist when Grey stopped his hand.
"Are you stupid? Just cut your finger."
The teenager let out a few awkward laughs, but still obeyed with relief. He carefully made a cut on his fingertip, and once he was sure there was enough blood, pressed his finger onto the paper. Grey did the same.
The moment their fingerprints were placed, the contract dissolved into tiny particles. Sunny and Grey both felt their hearts skip a beat. Then everything returned to its normal rhythm. That was how the contract was sealed. If it was violated, the offender's heart would be torn apart by mana.
The girls followed their brother.
Six fingerprints. Three contracts. And a strange silence.
Finally, a small smile appeared on the blue-eyed boy's lips.
"Welcome. Now we're almost family. I'll take care of you," Grey declared solemnly. He wasn't saying it for Sunny and the sisters, but for himself. Those words were not just a polite gesture, but a vow.
After a bit more talking and instructing his subordinates, Grey and the others headed toward the place where they would live and work.
The evening streets of the city had never felt so wide. The setting sun reflected in the puddles like melted gold. чужие voices and laughter drifted from behind tightly packed windows. Even the stench seemed to part before his steps.
He had finally found the first subordinates he could fully trust.
"Venus' Embrace" already burned with lights like a guiding beacon, luring in customers.
Lydia met them right at the entrance. Lips twisted, heel tapping impatiently, arms planted firmly on her waist.
"Where have you been, brat?" she snapped as soon as she spotted his silhouette. "The madam demands your presence. Immediately. Do you understand what that means?"
Grey froze for a second, as if struck by lightning. His lips twitched slightly. All the good mood, all the momentum from his success, vanished in an instant.
He gave a meek nod, almost mechanically, and hurriedly ran to his room to grab the documents.
"Aunt Lydia, take care of them. Let them wait," he called out while turning the corner. "I'll handle everything, just listen to Auntie. Don't cause trouble."
The stairs to the third floor were narrow, but the carved patterns on the handrails were surprisingly pleasant. The higher he went, the more clearly he could hear the irregular rhythm of his heartbeat. Even his footsteps sounded unnaturally loud.
Stopping in front of the door, Grey took a deep breath and finally knocked.
After waiting for the sound of "Come in," he obeyed and opened the door.
The room greeted him with a cool air and a soft floral scent. White roses, anemones, and myrtle blended subtly in the air — a strange combination, yet surprisingly harmonious.
Half-light. Marble beneath his feet. A faint haze, like mist. Velvet curtains, silk cushions, a full-length gilded mirror…
The room occupied the entire third floor and clearly surpassed the local standards of luxury. The place was not called "Venus' Embrace" for nothing. Smooth columns, elegant bas-reliefs, soft arches — everything here looked excessively refined. Even their villa in Lutetia seemed modest compared to this room.
And in the depths of it — a woman. As beautiful as a dream.
Lady Veronika.
She lounged on a velvet chaise as if tired of the entire world.
Her face looked like a perfect sketch drawn by an artist. Black hair flowed down in streams, shining with a deep, wet luster. And skin as white as snow, as tender as a newborn's.
And yet this was not the cold kind of beauty that frightened people. On the contrary. It attracted, wrapped around, promised warmth, attention, affection…
A terrifying, dangerous promise.
But what drew Grey most were her eyes…
They sparkled with a pearlescent pink light, as if they lived their own life. Those eyes were the very embodiment of the word "love." The eyes of a woman who could make anyone believe he was the most important person in the world.
The dress on her, if it could even be called a dress, was closer to pure temptation than clothing. Lace, silk, a deep neckline. Every inch of fabric seemed calculated to perfection, as if created for a single purpose — to strip people of their sanity.
"Gulp."
The younger Grey clearly heard the Older Grey swallow deep within his subconscious, but he didn't even intend to judge him. The woman's beauty was too sinful, too otherworldly, so much that even he felt his reason was about to slip away.
His lips grew slightly dry. His breathing turned sharp and heavy.
He realized it. One more moment and he would stop thinking altogether. So Grey turned his head away and bit his tongue, hoping the sharp pain would clear his mind.
"Brat," Veronika drawled lazily, playing with a wine glass without even raising her eyes. "Have you mistaken my establishment for a children's shelter?"
A chill ran down Grey's spine from her voice. She wasn't even threatening him, but he understood immediately — she knew everything. Possibly far more than he had expected, and his conscience wasn't clean.
He took a deep breath. And didn't dare lift his head.
"Forgive my presumption, Madam. I should not have made decisions without your approval," he admitted honestly. "But this wasn't an impulse. I calculated everything. Our establishment is beyond competition, so it can dictate its own rules. We…"
Madam finally lifted her gaze. The corner of her lips twitched slightly — whether in amusement or irritation, it was hard to tell.
"Enough…" she cut him off sharply. "A ragged boy decided he understands what my noble guests want? One month. You've been here only one month. And what have you managed to do? Started selling alcohol? Brought children into a brothel? Rewritten the establishment's policy? Do you take me for an idiot? I don't remember giving you such authority. Who do you think you are?!"
Grey listened to the Madam's scolding in silence. He didn't dare interrupt her. He knew it was better to endure it obediently for now. While she vented her irritation, he mentally went through everything he had ever heard about Veronika.
Veronika…
Countless stories circulated about her — and all of them contradicted each other.
Aunt Monica insisted that the Madam had appeared in the city about fifteen years ago, almost with nothing in her hands, but with eyes the color of blooming sakura. Calm, confident, unshakable.
Aunt Lydia told a completely different version:
"She isn't human, kid. She is a mood. Today a queen, tomorrow a street artist. She despises power, and money means nothing to her. Only rumors interest her, only stories. That's how she cures her endless boredom. Want her approval? Be interesting. Be someone worth talking about."
And now, under her burning gaze, Grey felt something strange: she wasn't truly angry. No threats, no rage — only boredom disguised as irritation. She was looking for a reason to be entertained.
He remembered the Blind Trickster's advice:
"If you want something from a person, find what they desire. And then show them you can give it."
The Older Grey shared the same view.
So Grey straightened his back and remained calm. He didn't want to look like an obedient boy.
She wanted stories? Wanted to relieve her boredom? Wasn't his own life already chaos on the edge of madness? Whose life in this entire world could be more insane and full of mysteries?
Let her be entertained as much as she wanted. He would do what he had to do.
After waiting for her to finish the angry tirade, Grey spoke boldly:
"The ragged boy will bring you more silver in a month than you used to earn in an entire season. Sex is not the only pleasure that can bring profit," he said confidently, as if it were a fact.
"Do you really want to keep turning your girls into a dumping ground for semen? I've heard you are very caring. I'd bet the changes I proposed will pay off within a few months and make them happier. These aren't just words — it's cold calculation. So why are you refusing?"
Veronika's brow lifted slightly at the boy's deliberate boldness. A spark flickered in her gaze — approval, quiet amusement, and a faint trace of mockery.
She had not been wrong — he was genuinely interesting. Bold, sharp-witted, restrained enough. And, it had to be admitted, extremely handsome. She really liked him.
Casually tousled black hair, blue eyes hiding something mysterious, sharp facial features — he was pleasant to look at. A little charm, evoking curiosity, like a toy one would want to play with and test its limits.
Yielding to a sudden impulse, she leaned forward, as if by accident, to place her glass on the elegant table.
The silk of her dress slid aside, revealing the graceful line of her collarbone. The movement looked casual, almost accidental, but it concealed a hidden trap — not for the body, but for the will.
She was testing his resistance.
"Do you really believe that?" her voice turned softer, as if she were speaking not to an equal, but to a misbehaving child. "Or are you just repeating pretty words, like a bard in a rundown tavern?"
She leaned back, exposing her neck, and added with a faint smile, "Alex… ooo… Alex, I don't like empty bravado…"
Grey flinched.
He already knew she would play with him. He had mentally prepared for it. But the moment he heard his nickname spoken in such a sultry tone, he immediately felt heat rush to his cheeks.
Her little game didn't go unnoticed — his body reacted traitorously to every gesture.
He was a normal teenager, with his own fantasies. Young and hungry for new things. The Older Grey had long since taught him the secrets of "stamens and pistils." But no amount of explanation could prepare him for the living fire now rising in his veins.
Grey remembered the purpose of his visit and clenched his teeth, forcing the raging hormones back into the cage of self-control. For that, he probably deserved a few points of praise — not every teenager could hold himself together like this.
"I am certain," he said, meeting her gaze again, where determination struggled with youthful inexperience. "If I fail to live up to my words — my fate will be in your hands. Any punishment will be justified."
His boldness and defiance clearly struck Veronika. A light smile appeared on her lips.
It had been a long time since she had met someone so young and yet so resolute. There was something… refreshing about this boy. Neither submissiveness nor rudeness — only a thin challenge, carefully wrapped in politeness.
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Author's Note:
Guys, we're getting incredibly close to one hundred chapters! You can't even imagine the emotions I'm feeling right now. A huge sense of accomplishment and pure euphoria from all the work I've put into this.
Even though this book is just a hobby and not my main job, I've poured so much time and energy into it that I honestly don't even understand how I managed to do it.
I truly hope we can reach one hundred active readers before the hundredth chapter is released, and I'm asking for your help with that.
Please leave a review if you haven't done so yet. Share your honest opinion about the book. I would be extremely grateful.