"Alright, Your Highness, I'll sign now."
Nilou wrote her name at the bottom of the contract, still slightly dazed, unaware that she had fallen into a trap meticulously prepared by Leon—a trap from which there would be no escape for the rest of her life.
After signing, she continued staring at the parchment with vacant eyes, as though everything felt too unreal to truly accept.
In the lower left corner was the contractor's name (Leon). On the right, the contracted party (Nilou).
The red-haired dancer showed a faintly ironic smile.
From the signatures alone, the difference between them was obvious. A stark contrast. A true abyss.
"Your Highness's handwriting is so beautiful… Compared to yours, mine looks like a child's."
"Really? I think it's quite cute."
Leon replied with a soft chuckle.
Differences were only natural.
His signature had been designed by a professional artist: fluid, elegant, deliberately careless yet refined… though most people couldn't even decipher what it said.
Nilou's name, on the other hand, had been written carefully, stroke by stroke. The lettering was slightly rounded and delicate, with a youthful touch that suited her perfectly.
"Um… is it just me? I always feel like the conditions of this contract are a little… strange. As if there's something subtly wrong with it."
The contract had been duplicated.
Lumine held one copy and frowned.
She felt it wasn't as simple as it appeared, but she couldn't pinpoint the issue.
Paimon, on the other hand, saw nothing wrong. If anything, she was simply envious that Nilou had "risen so high."
"What's strange about it? Aren't these amazing conditions? Wow! 50,000 mora per month, plus a mansion to live in! And you only have to perform three times a month… oh, and dance for His Highness ten times! That's super easy!"
"I also think the conditions are wonderful. As for dancing ten times a month… actually, whenever Your Highness wishes to watch, you may summon me at any time. Ten, twenty, even thirty times would be no problem."
Nilou smiled gently.
To her, dancing was not a burden—it was her mission, her instinct, her joy. Sometimes she would dance all day without even noticing the time pass.
As for the clauses regarding breach of contract and post-termination compensation, she found them perfectly reasonable.
If she were receiving such favorable conditions and still chose to withdraw on her own, that would be irrational and unfair to His Highness.
Therefore, the compensation requirement seemed only logical.
Leon thought to himself:
[Heh… making someone feel guilty while deceiving them is truly cruel. But in this dangerous world, those who are deceived do not survive. And… as long as you behave well and do not disappoint me, I won't need to resort to extraordinary measures.]
If this contract existed in the modern world, anyone would recognize at a glance that it was a trap. All they would need to do was read the final clause: "The final right of interpretation belongs to Leon."
The true snare, however, lay in Article 3:
[The base validity period of this contract is 20 years. However, it may be extended proportionally for every 100,000 mora invested by the contractor.]
On the surface, Nilou would dance for twenty years.
In reality, every 100,000 mora Leon invested would add one more year to the contract.
If he invested 10 million mora, Nilou would be bound to him for life.
And should she wish to terminate the contract, she would have to pay at least 15 million mora—an amount that could not be covered by her performance earnings. An astronomical, utterly unattainable sum.
This was how the Prince of Palettia, Leon Fol Palettia, operated.
He would also decide where Nilou performed—whether upon a magnificent stage… or in a filthy dump.
[Of course… everything has its price. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't do this.]
Leon stored the parchment in his storage space.
If someone could peer into that dimension, they would see hundreds of similar contracts floating there—all signed by renowned talents.
It was indeed a trap contract.
Yet even if the trap were publicly announced, countless people would still rush to sign.
Because the treatment offered was excellent.
As long as they did not betray Leon, they could enjoy conditions found nowhere else. Under his patronage, their dreams could flourish.
"If you want to gain something, you must give something in return. I offer money and opportunity. They give me their freedom and loyalty. Isn't that fair?"
Leon felt no guilt.
Even if hidden traps existed, the rewards were real.
Without his support, most of the names on those contracts would have vanished from the world. Over 90% lacked even stable food and shelter.
Speak of pursuing ideals? Many could barely survive on their own.
Even if the trap were exposed, 99% would accept willingly—and still swear loyalty to him.
"Alright, you two, stop fooling around and return the contract to Nilou. How is the plan progressing?"
"Your Highness, it's proceeding very smoothly. Cyno led a group of thirty and has already escorted a large contingent of the Eremites into prison. They can begin the uprising at any time."
"Excellent. Then start causing trouble tomorrow. Don't worry—even if you fail, I'll be there."
"Your Highness… you trust me that much?"
"Of course I trust you… now come here."
Leon raised his hand and gently patted Lumine's head.
Although he did not have complete faith in the plan, with Night Raid on standby, any failure could be corrected afterward.
For him, toppling the Akademiya was almost like a game.
But not a simple one.
He wanted the Grand Sage to feel pain, despair, and witness his own complete ruin.
"That requires technique as well. That bastard must be crushed slowly. He doesn't deserve an easy death."
In Leon's eyes, the man was less than an insect—and yet he had dared to betray his own king.
Traitors were unforgivable, especially those who betrayed their sovereign.
In truth, Leon despised that kind of scum above all else.
And it wasn't just the Grand Sage. Most of the other sages were no better.
Leon had already prepared the guillotine.
And he was ready to make the Akademiya bleed.
(End of Chapter)