Chapter 128: 128: Contract Market VI
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Sekht’s gaze remained on the contract ledger counter, where clerks sorted stacks of docunts with the sa indifference as butchers arranging at cuts. This place did not pretend to be kind. It pretended to be fair, which in Null was often more terrifying.
He did not like rushing. He did not like buying lives like objects.
But he also did not like pretending the world was better than it was.
He finally spoke, voice low enough that only the clerk and Auri could hear clearly.
"I want to talk to the candidates," he said.
The clerk’s expression brightened instantly. Business. Clear business. Not a vague observation.
"Which candidates, sir," the clerk asked, hands already itching to turn thoughts into fees.
Sekht kept his face neutral.
"Mira," he said first. "And the twins. Vera and Vela."
Auri’s gaze sharpened slightly at the twins’ nas. She did not react beyond that, but Sekht could feel her attention pivot. Auri had learned quickly. Candidates were not just people. Candidates were variables. Each one carried consequences.
The clerk blinked. There was a flicker of surprise there, the kind that ca when a buyer glanced at a gemstone and then asked to see the mountain it ca from.
"Mira is a bonded retainer listing," the clerk said carefully. "The twins are a concubine posting under a special debt clause. Those categories do not usually mix in one negotiation."
Sekht looked at him calmly.
"I am not negotiating," he replied. "I am deciding."
The clerk swallowed, then nodded.
"Yes, sir," he said quickly. "A private eting can be arranged."
Auri’s voice was quiet. "Contract Market allows private etings between candidates and applicants," she said, more a statent than a question. She had observed enough to know the structure.
"They do," the clerk agreed. "But not for free."
Sekht’s eyes did not change. "How much."
The clerk inhaled, then said it with the practiced smoothness of a man quoting weather.
"Ten thousand chaos stones," he replied. "Private eting fee. Thirty minutes of protected ti. Two guards posted outside. Rune-silence applied. No eavesdropping from other buyers. Candidates may speak freely within contract limits. All discussed terms remain confidential unless formally registered."
Ten thousand.
A number large enough to be insulting to most people.
A number small enough to be a joke to those who lived above the city’s hunger.
Sekht did not hesitate.
"No problem," he said.
Auri did not react, but her eyes flicked briefly across the clerk’s face, watching for greed, watching for deception.
The clerk’s mouth opened, then closed again. He had expected bargaining. Most buyers always bargained. Even rich ones. Even violent ones. Even noble ones. Bargaining was not about saving money. It was about dominance.
Sekht did not bargain.
He simply accepted the price like it was an inevitable tax on breathing.
The clerk recovered quickly and nodded with enthusiasm.
"Excellent," he said. "Paynt up front, then arrangents. I will need your seal na for the ledger."
Sekht did not want his na shouted in this hall. Even in a place that claid confidentiality, the walls had eyes. The clerks had mouths. The guards had friends. And rumors were a currency that traveled faster than chaos stones.
He reached into his coat calmly and produced a small coin pouch. He did not dump it onto the counter. He placed it gently, as if setting down a promise.
The clerk opened it, weighed, then quickly closed it again and slid it away.
"Confird," the clerk said. His tone grew more respectful, because money always made people respectful even when they hated you inside.
He pulled out a smaller ledger with a rune-marked cover.
"Seal na," he repeated.
Sekht did not use a fake na. Fake nas created paper trails that eventually tangled into suspicion.
He spoke the simplest truth.
"Sekht Dawn," he said quietly.
The clerk’s pen paused.
The air between them shifted slightly.
It was not a gasp.
It was a subtle tightening, like the room’s attention had leaned closer without openly admitting it.
The clerk’s eyes lifted.
He looked Sekht up and down again, as if suddenly noticing the quiet authority behind his posture, the controlled coldness behind his calm.
Then the clerk nodded slowly, pen moving again.
"Understood," he said, and did not say anything else.
Auri’s gaze moved across the hall. She noticed it too. A few heads turned. A few whispers sparked. Nas mattered. Especially nas attached to old houses, old money, and fresh rumors.
Sekht did not care about the whispers.
He cared about what the whispers could beco.
The clerk closed the ledger and tucked it away.
"I will arrange the eting room," he said. "It will take so ti. Candidates must be escorted. Retainer candidates are kept in a different wing than concubine postings. Cross-wing etings require additional clearance."
Sekht nodded once.
"How long."
"Thirty minutes," the clerk said. "Perhaps less if the corridor is not busy."
He hesitated, then added, voice turning coaxing again.
"While you wait, sir, I can show you additional listings. Many candidates with talent. So debt contracts. So political alliances. So family-surrender contracts. So... special auctions."
Sekht’s eyes did not soften.
"I am not here for entertainnt," he replied.
The clerk laughed nervously, then nodded quickly, but still tried to keep his professional tone.
"Of course," he said. "But observation helps make decisions. You might find a better fit."
Sekht did not answer imdiately. He looked around the hall again.
This place was full of people who pretended they were buying workers or wives or protection, but what they were truly buying was control. Every contract was a leash. Sotis golden. Sotis iron. Sotis invisible.
He had no desire to collect leashes like trophies.
"I will look by myself," He said.
Sekht exhaled slowly. He needed to talk to them. He needed to see their eyes in the sa room. He needed to hear their voices without clerks selling them.
And he needed to decide what kind of monster he was willing to beco.
Because vampire creation was not a contract. It was a permanent claim.
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