Demonic Po*nstar System

Chapter 922: Falling Value

”You make it sound like getting an SS or SSS is a matter of money. Only a few exist!” Yuna countered.

”In America, dear... But globally? Eh...”

Another page turned on his desk, leisurely, a man in no hurry at all.

”Here’s the part nobody will say to your face, so I will, because unlike your new friends, I’ve never lied to you about the business. If Crimson Dominion wants raw potential, they will no longer shop domestic. The agencies are salivating at the mere thought of pulling SS-tier prospects out of the African famine belts as we speak. Some illiterate shit-eater from a village with no plumbing, ten thousand years of evolution spent sprinting from lions in a loincloth, and then the mana rolls the dice and decides he, of all creatures, is the future of combat.”

A dry chuckle followed, pleased with itself. ”He’ll sign a lifetime contract for a hot meal and a tin roof. He won’t ask about the clauses. He can’t. He can’t read. He’ll thank the nice man for holding the pen for him. Cheap, grateful, and housebroken eventually. That is the product now. So tell me, who pays nine digits for Miss I-Know-My-Rights when the alternative eats whatever it’s given and says thank you?”

Yuna sat very still. Twenty seconds ago, that same voice had inventoried her as ’slim build, oriental eyes,’ and she understood, with a cold drop in her stomach, that somewhere behind those drawn blinds there existed a version of this speech about her.

She opened her mouth, and nothing came out of it.

”There’s no bidding war for you, Yuna. There’s a ledger, a contract, and a guild leader who is still, even after tonight, willing to take good care of you. I’ll chalk it up to you being a young woman. Perhaps it was that time of the month, y’know...” The smile returned to his voice, soft as a hand settling on a shoulder. ”Sleep on it. My door is always open for my people. We’ll talk when you’re feeling reasonable again, Yumi.”

The call ended before she could correct him.

”It’s Yuna,” she said anyway, to the dead line, and it came out very small. ”You piece of shit.”

The bus rolled on. Her reflection kept pace in the dark window, a girl in a mask with a bruise on her throat. For the first time since the training hall, she looked at that girl and ran Mercer’s math on her.

Level thirty. Four seconds against a bored Luna suddenly read like charity. Closest out of five hundred still meant caught, one-handed, by a man who hadn’t even needed to look. Maybe the hall had been a fluke. Maybe the reading had been one too, three years stale and printed by a machine the whole world had stopped trusting.

And underneath the doubt sat the part that made her hate herself in a way she’d never quite managed before. Mercer’s grateful village kid, the one who’d sign anything for a meal and never ask about the clauses. She knew that kid personally. That kid had been eighteen, sitting in Skyline’s lobby in her best blouse, so dizzy at being wanted that she’d initialed every page they slid across the table and thanked them twice on the way out.

She’d sold five years of herself for a smile and a promise. The man who’d collected was going to spend the remaining two of them behind drawn blinds, valuing her.

She hated the girl in the blouse. She hated the man with the ledger more, but the girl was the one she had to ride home with.

Two more years of quarterly reviews and those after-hours blinds waited for her, and her eyes stung as she blinked hard at the window, because crying on a public bus was one indignity more than this evening had earned the right to collect.

Her phone rang.

She flinched hard enough to nearly drop it, then stared at the screen. ’Eclipse Guild - Recruitment Office.’

”H-hello?”

”Miss Park! Doug, Eclipse Human Resources. My apologies for the late hour, do you have a minute?”

”Yes! Yes. I have... several.”

”Wonderful. We’d like to schedule your one-on-one for tomorrow at ten, if that suits you. Nothing to prepare, and I have been authorized to confirm there will be no combat this time. You have my word.”

”I’ll be there.”

”Excellent. One more item. You marked an existing contract with Skyline Guild, so please bring a copy of it with you.”

Her heart, which had already survived one choking and one Mercer this evening, chose that moment to attempt a full stop.

”I can’t.” It came out strangled. ”It’s confidential. I’m not allowed to show the terms to anyone. Not family, not...” And least of all the one guild in the world she’d burn it all down for. She’d initialed every page back then, which meant she’d initialed that one too, and the whole escape suddenly had the texture of wet paper. ’Is this how it falls apart...?’

A sigh crossed the line, the weary sigh of a professional greeting an old acquaintance.

”Confidentiality clauses. Predatory little things, written so that nobody qualified ever gets to read the contract they’re buried in.” Papers did not shuffle on Doug’s end; Doug had no need of props. ”Not to worry, Miss Park. Should you agree to join us, Eclipse becomes your legal representation for the buyout, and then you may show your representatives anything you like.”

A pause, and a chuckle slipped through, quiet and conspiratorial. ”Although I really shouldn’t say this... My employers aren’t exactly known for being stopped by a clause. If they want you, it won’t be a problem.”

He cleared his throat, businesslike again. ”Until then, should Skyline contact you directly, you’re under no legal obligation to entertain it. Retention calls can get creative.”

Yuna looked out the window for a moment.

”...He already called.”

A brief pause, and the click of a pen. ”On a scale of one to ten, how creative?”

”Reminder of debt if I leave, two years of inventory duty if I stay.” Her free hand curled into a fist in her lap. ”Racism, sexism, berating my market value... Oh and an invitation to discuss it privately sprinkled on top. In his office, of course. After hours, of course.”

The pen clicked once more, slower.

”Noted.” Doug’s tone didn’t change, and the temperature of it dropped anyway. ”Thank you for telling me, Miss Park. I advise you don’t pick his call up without legal counsel ever again, but if you do, record every moment of it.”

”...I will. Thank you for the advice.”

”You’re welcome. Should tomorrow end in a handshake, matters like that one become ours to handle, retroactively and with lots of enthusiasm.”

”Just like that?”

”Miss Park,” Doug chided gently. ”Our Guild Leader is the Anomaly, Kaiden Grey. Our Guild Regent is the SSS-tier Shadow Monarch. Skyline’s ledger does not frighten us. Ten o’clock tomorrow?”

”...Ten o’clock.”

”We look forward to it. Good night, Miss Park!”

The call ended, and Yuna lowered the phone into her lap and let out a breath that fogged the inside of her mask.

Somewhere between one phone call and the next, a two-year sentence possibly just turned into somebody else’s paperwork, and the relief was so big and so physical she felt it in her knees.

Tomorrow at ten, then. She spent the rest of the ride home on the only problem left that mattered, because twelve hours was nowhere near enough time to pick an outfit.