The dirt road stretched out like a pale scar between uneven fields of withered grass, dotted with twisted bushes that looked designed to appear more menacing than they really were.
The sun climbed in the sky with a harsh, cold brightness, lacking the comforting warmth of a Korean summer—there was something artificial in that overly saturated blue, something that betrayed the world as the rendered system he knew it was.
He pulled his torn hood further forward.
Safe zone behind. Contested zone ahead.
An icon in his peripheral vision had vanished twenty steps back. The translucent shield marking the "safe area" had disappeared without ceremony, replaced by a subtle red tint on the bottom edge of his interface.
Visual confirmation. No protection. PvP enabled.
He paused for a moment, feeling the breeze shift—colder, carrying more moisture. The wind here wasn't the harmless village breeze. It was sharper, laced with the organic scent of damp moss, rotting wood, and something more metallic.
Blood.
He lowered his gaze to the ground. Multiple footprints, some still fresh. Some looked human. Others less defined—claws, hooves, parallel scratches.
Hostility registered. Wild life present. Active adventurers. Probable ambushes.
The slime kept following behind him, making a wet suction noise with every movement.
schlop... schlop...
Eren didn't turn around.
Bringing it here is a risk. But leaving it is waste.
He continued forward, measured steps, the ground creaking with snapping twigs.
The light filtered through the clouds became diffused, turning the world into paler tones. The sky was no longer clear blue: dark gray clouds gathered on the horizon, promising rain—or maybe just a poorly calibrated atmospheric effect.
Min-Jae tested a mental command.
"[Map]."
The interface appeared but was incomplete. Blank in some sections, with blurred areas.
Limited cartography. Dangerous zone deliberately under-mapped.
He sighed.
Ideal would be to go back. But this contract is worth data. Knowledge.
He paused for a moment on a small rise.
From there he could see farther: the winding path he'd left behind, the low village wall appearing as a thin line in the distance.
People moved back and forth at the gate—tiny indistinct dots.
Guards. No reach out here.
Ahead, the terrain sloped down gently. Twisted trees emerged slowly—trunks covered in lichen, branches warped like thin arms in agony.
The wind hissed between them. Eren frowned.
Hostile environment. But controlled. Low-level monster spawn. Viable.
He descended the embankment carefully, keeping his knees bent.
The slime followed awkwardly, spreading out for a moment to mold itself to the slope before coming back together with a cold plop.
Adaptable. A future resource.
He kept walking, alert to every sound.
Branches cracked underfoot. The air smelled more strongly of rotting vegetation, as if the ground was one giant disguised swamp. In some places, there were old signs of combat: slashes on trunks, dried bloodstains, even broken arrowheads.
PvP happened here. Evidence of regular conflict.
He crouched once to examine an arrow carefully. Local wood. Dyed feather. Fabric for stabilization.
Handmade. Low cost. Low precision. Low threat level.
He dropped the arrow, stood up.
Still not ideal for combat.
The path began to narrow.
A sound of running water emerged ahead. A narrow stream with a rocky bed cut across the trail like a living scar. Eren approached, kneeling down. The water was murky, but drinkable. He took a sip just to test—cold, metallic.
Not contaminated. Enough for minimal sustenance.
He stood, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. The slime dipped part of its body into the water, absorbing the liquid. For a moment, it grew larger, more translucent.
Self-hydration. Interesting.
He kept walking. The forest grew denser. Intertwined branches blocked part of the sky, creating a sinister twilight. Amid the dimness, Eren saw something. A structure. Cabin.
It looked half-sunken into the damp ground. The boards creaked in the wind, covered in moss and lichen. Broken windows, a door half-hanging.
Contract location. No sign, no reception. Implicit test.
The ground around it was churned up. Multiple footprints converged on the entrance.
Movement. Others came before. Maybe dead. Maybe quit.
The slime hesitated behind him, trembling. Eren turned.
"Come on."
The creature obeyed reluctantly, sliding after him. He climbed the two crooked steps that groaned under his weight. Pushed the door, which squealed in a sharp, almost hysterical tone. Darkness swallowed the space. The smell of mold was suffocating, almost solid.
Inside was cramped. An old fireplace, long cold, with soot streaked black. Crooked shelves with damp books, pages swollen and warped.
There was a large chair in the back. And in it, a man. Old.
His skin looked like wrinkled paper, as if it had dried in the sun for decades. His beard was a thick, yellowish mass, poorly trimmed. His eyes shone with a milky hue, yet they never lost focus.
He didn't look like he was asleep. He looked like he was waiting. Long, crooked fingers tapped lightly on the arm of the chair, producing a rhythmic, unsettling sound. The slime stopped beside Eren, trembling slightly, emitting a wet, fearful noise. The old man lifted his chin.
"...Ah. Visitor." His cracked lips pulled into a partial smile, showing teeth yellow like old bones. The voice came out hoarse, wet, dragging: "You came for the contract, didn't you?"
Eren didn't answer immediately.
Contact established. Critical variable.
He inhaled.
Data collection first.
The old man cleared his throat, a wet, cavernous sound.
"Sit down. You'll want to know how it works."
Eren frowned slightly.
Hostile environment. But controlled. Minimal threat of combat here.
He didn't move. Just observed. The old man's smile widened, those milky eyes locking onto him like hooks cast into the dark.
"Then let's talk."
The silence in the cabin seemed to have its own weight.
Outside, the wind howled through poorly sealed gaps, making the flickering flame of a lamp sputter in protest. The smell of mold and rotting wood was almost solid—it clung to the throat like ancient dust.
The old man hacked roughly, spitting to the side into a bucket that looked like it had seen better centuries.
He leaned forward, bony elbows resting on his knees.
"You know... it's not every day someone shows up here. Most can't even make it to me. The beasts out there... or the bandits... or their own stupidity."
Eren didn't respond. He kept his arms relaxed at his sides, breathing slowly, eyes fixed on the old man like he was trying to dismantle him piece by piece.
The slime huddled behind his leg, trembling slightly. The old man let out a low laugh, sounding like breaking twigs.
"Ah, you're the quiet type, huh? I like that. Good sign. People who talk too much don't listen at all."
Eren didn't move a muscle. The old man seemed to take that as encouragement.
"So you came for the contract. Consensual contract, they call it. Ah, the names change over time, boy. Used to be 'Blood Pact,' or 'Mirrored Alliance.' I've heard it all."
He snapped his bony fingers.
"But the essence is the same. You and another creature"—he gestured lazily at the slime—"or person, both register names in a pact. No tricks. No forcing anyone. It has to be…" He licked his cracked lips, smiling. "Consensual."
Eren raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly.
The old man chuckled.
"I see you get the problem. It's not enough to capture. Not enough to tame by force. They have to want it. They have to agree." He settled back in the chair, creaking. "And it's not just signing paper. No. The system, ah, this world loves rules, it demands a symbolic act. A gesture. A ritual." He spread his arms. "It can be shared blood. A blade cut that mingles. It can be tearing off a piece of flesh, if you're brave. Hell, even spitting in your hand and sealing it, if both sides are strong enough."
Confirmation. Consensual act. Variable ritual but necessary.
The old man cleared his throat again.
"Anyway. The important thing is there's no tricking. The other side has to know what's happening. Has to agree." He pointed a thin, trembling finger at Eren. "No deceiving. No enslaving. No doing it without the creature understanding." The finger dropped in the air, limp. "Because the contract needs true consent."
Eren took a slow breath.
Fundamental limitation. Reduces number of viable targets. Need to build trust or buy submission.
The old man rubbed his hands together.
"But ah... the benefits…" He practically drooled. "You get fifty percent of the other's total status. Everything. Strength, magic, intelligence, beauty if that's your thing." He showed a smile full of broken teeth. "But it's not fixed. You get to choose."
Eren frowned.
Critical detail.
The old man laughed.
"You didn't know? Ah, it's beautiful. Let's say your target has 300 points total: strength, magic, charisma, whatever. You can take 150, because it's half, but you don't have to split it evenly." He gestured like a cheap actor. "Want magic? Take 100 in magic, 25 in strength, 25 in beauty. Want strength? 100 in strength, 25 in the rest. You mold it like clay."
Eren blinked, his brain already running calculations.
Total flexibility. Optimized build construction. Perfect for exploits.
The old man cackled as if he could read his thoughts.
"Yes, boy. It's powerful. And the best part?" He raised a finger. "The other loses nothing." The finger trembled in the air, sustained only by raw enthusiasm. "It's duplication, not transfer. You copy, but don't steal. They stay whole."
The slime made a wet noise, as if trying to swallow the silence.
Eren breathed slowly, eyes fixed on the rotten floorboards.
Means there's no real cost for the partner. Strong sales pitch.
The old man went on.
"Some people make a living off this. Sell their stats for money. A strong mage sells magic. A warrior sells strength. Prostitutes sell beauty. It's a business." He spat to the side. "Dirty, but it works."
The air inside the cabin felt heavier. The lamp smoke curled slowly along the low ceiling. The old man cracked his neck.
"Ah, but nothing's perfect. The contract isn't eternal."
Eren didn't move.
Expected drawback.
The old man spread his hands theatrically.
"It expires. Fixed period. Variable, but predictable. And when it expires, you lose the bonuses." He slapped the arm of the chair hard enough to make the slime jump. "And to renew? You need the other side. Again. Consent. Ritual. Agreement." The bony hand opened like a sickly flower. "You need them to accept. To convince them. To pay, flatter, seduce."
The air fell quieter.
Eren analyzed.
Dependency model. Requires constant maintenance. Forced social relationship.
The old man snorted.
"Some hate it. Say it's like having a collar on your neck. But others love it. It's power. Done right? You become monstrous. Stack contracts with many, balance the points. Become a demon of stats."
The slime made a wet sound, poking Eren's foot like it was asking for explanation.
Eren ignored it.
Conclusion: potential for attribute multiplication. But high social cost. Risk of blackmail, betrayal. Need to control the partner.
The old man lifted his hand again with a theatrical sigh.
"In short, boy. Consensual contract is a double-edged sword. It gives power. More than most understand. But you only keep it if you know how to handle the other. Convince. Seduce. Pay. Command. Some use blood. Some use words. Some use their bodies. It all depends on you."
Eren took a deep breath.
Summarize. Formalize.
"Conditions?" he asked, voice dry.
The old man clicked his tongue.
"Consent. Symbolic ritual. Name registration. Renewal periodicity."
Eren closed his eyes for a moment.
Replicable contract model. Requires building a network or emotional subjugation. Demands planning.
He opened his eyes.
"Limit on simultaneous contracts?"
The old man laughed.
"Theoretically? None. The problem is keeping them all agreeing to renew."
The wind outside moaned, pushing the crooked door to creak loudly.
The old man leaned back, breathing like a broken bellows.
"So? You want to try?"
Eren didn't answer immediately.
He breathed slowly, cold, his mind running models and variables.
- Ideal target: high strength or magic. Preference for intelligent, bribable creature. -
- Need to create loyalty or dependency. -
- Symbolic act: plan for minimal cost and controllable discomfort. -
- Risks: betrayal, future refusal. -
- Potential return: exponential power. -
He finally lifted his chin, looking at the old man.
"The terms were clear."
The old man smiled, as if savoring the moment.
"Ah, good. I've always been good at explaining. So?"
Eren didn't respond. His eyes narrowed slightly, nothing more.
When he finally opened his mouth, his voice was as dry as winter wind.
"What's the price?"
The old man blinked.
"Hm?"
Eren drew a deep breath, as if forcing himself to speak.
"What. Is. The. Price?"
The old man tried to laugh, but it came out as a raspy, broken sound.
"Ah! Ah, price... ahahah, well, you see… Compared to what you'll get, it's nothing much. Think! Half of their status! Absolute choice! It's an investment, not a cost."
Eren didn't change expression.
Deflection. Persuasion attempt. Failed.
He lifted his chin just enough for the cabin's shadow to cover his eyes.
"Answer me."
The tone was almost a command. The old man cleared his throat.
"You're an impatient young man, huh? People should learn to appreciate things…"
Eren didn't wait for him to finish.
"Stop stalling. Talk."
The old man bared his yellow teeth for a second.
"How rude. Look... the first time costs nothing. The consensual contract... it's free the first time. Always has been. You just need consent. And a symbolic gesture—blood, piece of skin, spit in the hand, whatever. As long as both know and agree."
Eren breathed.
Important detail. But that's not everything.
"And after that? What's the cost after?"
The old man cleared his throat, coughing dryly.
"Listen. The truth... is the price goes up. The first time is easy. Free, even. Because you're creating the bond. But it doesn't last forever. The contract has validity. When it ends, you lose the extra stats. Everything fades."
Eren stayed cold.
"So it needs renewal."
The old man clicked his tongue.
"That's where the devil is. To renew... you have to pay. Literally. A fee in coin. And it's not symbolic. It starts low. But it grows. And it doesn't stop."
Eren didn't respond, but his eyes gleamed.
Progressive escalation.
The old man spoke faster now, unsettled.
"The second time costs. The third costs more. The fourth... well, you get it. No one can keep it forever."
The slime shrank back further, sensing the tension. Eren slowly raised a finger.
"Linear growth?"
The old man hesitated.
"I'd call it exponential."
The word dropped like a stone in the silence.
Explosive cost model. Incentive for temporary use.
Eren took a deep breath.
Control. This world can't handle infinite adventurers. If it were cheap, everyone would become gods.
The old man sniffed.
"Most adventurers use it once. Level up. Fill their pockets. And never come back. Because renewing is financial suicide."
Eren didn't react immediately.
"What's the difference between this contract and a marriage?"
The old man cackled.
"Ah! Ahahah!" The laugh turned into a dry cough. "Boy, you get it. That's it exactly. It's a temporary marriage! But with one advantage. In a marriage, you give half your status to the other. Division. Here? You both keep everything. It's addition, not division."
Min-Jae reflected, calculating in silence.
The clear advantage is duplication. The real cost is long-term. It's a marriage with more bureaucracy.
"And what's the price for contract renewal?"
The old man sighed as if dropping a heavy burden.
"There's no table. Varies by region, by guild, by the quality of the pact. But it always grows. Always. If you paid a hundred coins the first time, it might be five hundred the second. Ten thousand the third."
Min-Jae calculated coldly.
Initial usage margin. Useful for breaking level barriers. Unviable as a permanent solution.
The old man watched him, eyes narrowing.
"Got it, kid? That's why this shit turned to dust. No one wants it. Only the desperate use it. But you seem like the type who knows how to add. Knows the value of a push. A contract like this can give you the strength to climb out of the hole. But it chains you."
Conclusion: ideal for one-time use. Future negotiation required. Planning essential.
Lee Min-Jae, inside, remembered every line of the tutorials and menus he had obsessively explored in his life — contracts were a basic, almost banal feature in the game system, configurable by any user from the first access.
It was not something that required elaborate bureaucracy or trips to a notary's office for simple uses.
For formal and expensive registrations, yes — but for free and temporary contracts, it was enough to activate the function, agree to the terms and seal it symbolically.
He thought about how he would do this here, inside the game, without a screen interface — just with his mind.
Maybe a mental command, a clear intention, would perhaps be enough to trigger the underlying logic of the system that now surrounds him as a living reality.
"I have more questions." Said Eren.
The old man arched his eyebrows.
"More?!"
────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────
Outside the forest, afternoon crawled on in lazy silence, pushing a pale, yellow sun that barely managed to pierce the twisted canopy overhead. The filtered light cast long, strange shadows, scribbling the damp ground with marks like bony fingers.
In that gloomy scene, three figures slithered between thick trunks, trying to maintain some level of stealth—though they failed spectacularly.
The big man with broad arms and a sword with no sheath led the way. With every step, he shoved low branches aside with needless force, breaking them with loud cracks that sounded far too loud in the oppressive silence. His shoulders seemed even wider as he forced his way through the undergrowth, leaving a trail of broken leaves.
"Fuck," he growled, spitting to the side. "These goddamn trees move just to fuck with me."
Behind him, the half-elf sighed in mental exhaustion, rolling his eyes while tugging his ragged cloak to avoid tearing it on thorns. He walked almost crouched, movements careful, brow furrowed in pure irritation.
"Shhh. Keep your voice down. You want him to hear us from here?"
The big guy didn't reply, just clicked his tongue. The bald man with poorly done tattoos brought up the rear, scratching his dandruffy scalp, eyes wandering lazily without real focus.
"From where?" he asked, slow on the uptake, missing the sarcasm entirely.
The elf stopped, took a deep breath to restrain his anger.
"Fuck it. Shut up."
They moved a few more meters until they pressed against a large rock covered in thick lichen, breathing heavily. Ahead, the ground sank slightly, creating a waterlogged depression where a half-submerged cabin rose from the mud like a corpse of wood. The boards creaked in irregular rhythm under the cold wind blowing from the east, carrying the sharp smell of wet earth.
The big guy lifted his chin, pointing with the dull blade.
"He in there?"
The elf didn't answer immediately. He squinted, muttered something guttural as his iris glowed with a spectral green, expanding his vision like the world was a long tunnel. The active skill revealed the cabin's dim interior: inside, Eren was standing still as always, facing a silhouette slumped in a miserable-looking chair.
The elf bit his lower lip, saliva running in a thin line.
"Yeah. He's in there. Talking to someone."
The bald man couldn't stand the silence. He slapped the rock, kicking up dust.
"This fucking Tamer gonna stay in there forever? I'm hungry."
"Shut up." The elf ground his teeth so hard his knuckles turned white. "Wait."
The big guy spun the unsheathed sword in his hand with juvenile impatience, as if its weight was a toy.
"Why don't we just go in? Kick the door down and smack him in the face."
The elf huffed loudly, glaring at the idiot.
"And the guards, pig?"
The big guy made a mocking noise.
"Guards? We're in the middle of the woods!"
The big guy didn't know, but PvP inside NPC buildings near a safe zone often caused problems.
The elf rolled his eyes like he was trying to teach a dumb kid that two plus two was four.
"And you think there's no patrol? Remember that fucking druid who kicked us out of the guild? He wanders around here too."
The bald man cleared his throat, scratching the crooked tattoo that flickered weakly.
"Fucking druid."
The elf sighed like he carried the weight of the world.
"I don't want to fight a guy who can turn into a bear, thanks."
The wind picked up, rustling dry leaves, kicking up small eddies of damp dust. A crow croaked in the distance, the drawn-out sound dissolving into heavy silence.
The big guy drew a deep breath, grinding his teeth.
"So what's the plan, oh genius?"
The elf squinted, still using the skill, mapping the cabin like a predator sniffing for prey.
"Wait. He'll come out. He has to come out."
The bald man rubbed his forearm, the misaligned lines of cheap magic pulsing weakly.
"Then we jump him."
The elf nodded with a crooked smile, showing yellowed teeth.
"Yeah. When he comes out. No witnesses."
The big guy bit the inside of his cheek, nervous.
"And if he runs?"
The elf didn't hesitate.
"We'll surround him."
They settled behind the rock, shifting positions, trying not to stay too exposed. But they weren't good at it. Every move rustled dry leaves, made low snapping sounds that shook the bushes. A white rabbit darted out in fright, vanishing into the undergrowth.
"Stay fucking quiet," the elf hissed, spitting to the side.
The bald man showed his teeth in a goofy, almost childlike smile.
"Hehe. Sorry."
The big guy licked his cracked lips, fixing his gaze on the rotting cabin like he was watching prey tied up.
"Can't wait to split that Tamer in half."
The elf licked his own lips more slowly, a glint of anticipation in his eyes.
"He'll come out. Trust me."
And then they fell silent again, tension thickening in the air like the smell of an oncoming storm. Only the wind dared speak, hissing through old branches as three men breathed heavily, waiting for the right moment to strike.
────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────
Inside the cabin, the air seemed to grow heavier.
The lamp's flame wavered, casting grotesque shadows on the filthy walls.
The old man shifted in his chair, creaking.
"So? You want it?"
Eren didn't respond immediately.
He inhaled, looking at the ceiling where spiderwebs quivered in the wind.
Contract model unsustainable long-term. First use viable. Exponential costs make continuation unfeasible. Dependency on consent. Design flaw for constant powergaming.
He lowered his gaze, cold.
But when he spoke, his tone wasn't icy or harsh—just firm.
"No."
The old man blinked, confused.
"No?"
Eren breathed slowly.
"Not worth it."
The old man frowned, his yellow beard trembling.
"Boy, did you hear what I said? Half the stats! Customizable! It's a once-in-a-lifetime chance!"
Eren raised a hand, cutting off the words.
"Short-term good. Long-term bad."
The old man snorted.
"You didn't understand anything!"
Eren shook his head.
"I understood. The problem is that long-term it's bad. Like negative compound interest."
The old man turned red with anger.
"Ah! What kind of bullshit answer is that?"
Eren stared at him, unflinching.
"A contract like this, though easy to make, doesn't seem advantageous in the long run."
The old man slapped his thin hand on the arm of the chair.
"Stupid kid! You'll die out there!"
Eren shrugged.
"It's a possibility."
The old man growled.
"Get out of here, ungrateful brat!"
Eren didn't reply. He just pushed the door, which shrieked in protest.
Cold wind rushed in at once, snuffing out the lamp. The slime slithered after him, trembling slightly, making a low, almost anxious sound. Outside, the air felt even sharper.
The sky had darkened further, heavy clouds promising rain. Eren stepped carefully down the rotting stairs, observing every detail around him.
Churned ground. Footprints. Fresh tracks. Uneven trail. Group movement. Multiple targets.
The slime vibrated, almost trying to hide behind him.
Instinctive reaction. Something's scaring it.
He kept walking, each step heavy in the wet mud. The sound of snapping branches came before the voices.
"Hey, hey! Look who finally crawled out!"
Eren stopped.
Ahead of him, emerging from behind twisted trees, appeared three familiar silhouettes. The big guy smiled like a drunken shark, sword with no sheath in hand. The elf adjusted his hood, eyes glowing with that predatory green light. The bald man licked his lips, crooked tattoos writhing on his arms.
"Well, well," the elf drawled. "Didn't think we'd forget, did you?"
The big guy roared with laughter.
"Thought you'd stay in there forever, shitting yourself."
Eren didn't answer. He watched them like he was studying insects in a jar.
The wind shook the trees, the rustle of leaves sounding like ancient sighs. The slime trembled beside him, making a wet, almost pleading noise.
The elf's smile widened even further.