The Next Tower Master with the Contract

In front of me sat the next tower master with the contract. Edwin Lauren. The designated successor of the Empire's Central Magic Tower. A genius who had rewritten the theory of magic circuits. The future of magic engineering devices. The newspapers had called him that. But not anymore.

A wrinkled coat. Sleeves stained with ink. Fingers marked by burn scars. Dark circles under his eyes. He looked less like a genius and more like a research assistant who had spent three straight nights in the lab.

"My wife is Lillian Persy."

The office fell silent.

Cecilia folded the newspaper. In the paper, Lillian Persy was smiling. The woman who had advanced the empire's future. The idol of noble wives. The innovator who had brought magic tower technology into daily life. Her husband sat before me now, his face on the verge of collapse.

The spouse of a reincarnator. His condition was not good.

"Is this a divorce consultation?"

Edwin could not answer right away. He stared down at the leather file in his hands.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I don't know if I'm someone who deserves to want a divorce."

I stopped my pen. Many people don't know whether they want a divorce. But those who don't know if they are allowed to want one are different. They are people who have lost their own desires.

I glanced at Cecilia.

"You can stay or leave."

To Edwin I said, "This is Cecilia Valoa. My legal assistant and a law graduate. She keeps case secrets."

"Is it all right if she stays?"

Edwin hesitated a moment, then nodded. "It's fine."

"Good. I'll begin at the start."

I lifted my pen. "Did your wife commit adultery?"

"No. My wife only ever looked at me."

"Did she use violence?"

"No."

"Then why have you come?"

Edwin pushed the leather file toward me.

"Because of this."

I took the thick folder. This did not look good. The thicker the contract, the more it intended to kill someone.

I opened the first page.

Cecilia tilted her head. "It's more ordinary than I expected."

"That's exactly why we need to look closer. Bad contracts often wear the nicest faces."

Contract parties. Researcher. Edwin Lauren. Manager. Lillian Persy. Commercialization entity. Persy Merchant Group.

I reread the wording. Researcher. Not husband. Not mage. Not inventor. Inside a contract, a person shrinks into a function.

"When did you sign it?"

"The day after the wedding."

"And the honeymoon?"

"We went to the laboratory."

Cecilia murmured, "That's a little..."

Edwin gave a faint smile. "I liked it too. Back then."

"Why?"

"Lillian told me I only needed to focus on research. That she would handle everything else."

"Everything else?"

"Running the merchant group, managing investors, hiring artisans, filing patents, supplying the imperial family, promotion, persuading noble wives."

Edwin lowered his head. "I'm not good at those things."

"So your wife did them for you?"

"Yes."

"She told you not to worry about money and just research?"

"Yes."

"That she wanted to show your talent to the world?"

Edwin's hand froze. "Yes."

Completely false words cannot fool people for long. Half-true words can bind them for a lifetime.

"Cecilia. Read the clause aloud."

Cecilia drew her chair closer. "Article Three. Scope of Research Achievements."

She cleared her throat. "Research achievements under this agreement refer to any magic engineering outcome the researcher creates, invents, devises, improves, discovers, designs, or records during the contract period."

So far it was ordinary.

"Research achievements shall include finished products, prototypes, blueprints, experiment records, failure records, improvement techniques, magic circuit arrangements, manufacturing methods, patent-eligible rights, and all other derivative materials."

The office fell silent.

I looked at Edwin. "Did your wife explain this to you?"

"She did."

"What did she say?"

"That even failures are assets."

"She's not wrong."

Edwin met my eyes. I looked back down at the contract.

"Which makes it worse."

Cecilia continued. "Article Four. Authority over Commercialization Management."

"The manager shall ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠exclusively manage the storage, filing, promotion, sale, licensing, third-party negotiation, and external explanation of research achievements within the scope necessary for their commercialization."

"Exclusively. Within the scope necessary."

Beautiful words. Polite, expansive, and lethal.

Cecilia kept reading, her voice dropping. "The researcher shall not disclose, provide, assign, explain, or demonstrate any research achievement to a third party without the manager's prior consent. However, the manager may independently explain or disclose achievements when necessary to protect the researcher's honor and business credibility."

I tapped the contract. "Sir Edwin may not speak. Lillian Persy may."

Edwin lowered his gaze. "She said it was to prevent misunderstandings, since I don't speak well in front of others."

"It must have felt convenient at first."

Edwin was silent for a moment. "Yes. It was convenient."

At first. Prisons are convenient at first. They close the door for you. They ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠block the wind. They fight the outside world in your place. The problem comes later, when you realize you can no longer open that door yourself.

Cecilia turned the page. "Article Eight. The manager shall exclusively handle all external explanations and negotiations concerning the researcher's research results, prototypes, manufacturing processes, experiment records, financial status, health status, and family-related matters."

She paused. "The researcher shall not make direct contact with sponsors, the press, buyers, imperial officials, or competing merchant groups without the manager's prior consent."

I looked at Edwin. "Have you ever met a reporter?"

"Almost never."

"Noble buyers?"

"Lillian met them."

"Imperial supply briefings?"

"I only explained the device. Lillian handled the price and contract conditions..."

His voice trailed off. Only now did he seem to see the walls he had allowed to rise around him.

"Do you have the ledgers too?"

Edwin produced a thin bundle. "These aren't the originals. Just quarterly settlement summaries."

Quarterly settlement summaries. Nice, safe words. Settlement. Summary. Carried-over expenses. When you want to bind someone, you begin by changing the vocabulary.

I flipped through the ledger. Advance payments for research equipment. Advance payments for materials. Advance payments for prototype fabrication. Maintenance costs for failed experiments. Countless other expenses.

"Cecilia. Read the revenue entries."

Cecilia took the ledger. "Sales revenue from the Magic Washing Machine. Attributed to: Persy Merchant Group."

"The scented soap?"

"Persy Daily Workshop."

"Patent royalties as well?"

Cecilia's hand stopped. "...Yes. Also listed under Persy Merchant Group."

"And Sir Edwin's share?"

"Scheduled researcher settlement amount. None."

"Reason?"

"Unrecovered advance costs."

"Nothing for the next quarter?"

Cecilia turned the page. "No. The quarter after that is the same."

The office grew quiet.

I reopened the contract. "Article Eleven."

Cecilia read, "Any expenditures made by the manager for the researcher's continued research, maintenance of external credibility, health management, family support, livelihood stability, or business needs shall be deducted with priority from the researcher's future possible settlement revenues."

"Future possible settlement revenues."

"Yes."

"Not current revenues, but possible ones."

A very elegant word game. He had never received money. They simply deducted from money he might have received. They created present debt by mortgaging a future that had not yet arrived.

Cecilia continued. "If possible settlement revenues do not arise or prove insufficient, undeducted costs shall be carried forward to the next settlement period."

She read further. "The researcher shall not raise objections or publicly mention the settlement structure, cost calculation methods, or revenue distribution methods to any third party without the manager's prior written consent. However, the manager may explain settlement details to the extent necessary to protect the researcher's honor and market credibility."

I pressed my finger against the contract. "Sir Edwin finds it difficult to raise objections. Lillian Persy may explain."

"And that explanation comes only from her side."

"Correct."

I stared down at the contract. I had to admit it here. Lillian Persy. That woman ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was no ordinary reincarnator. The sentences were clean. The interlocking clauses were sophisticated. She never wrote that she was seizing rights. She wrote that she was managing them. She never wrote that she was silencing him. She wrote that she was unifying external channels. She never wrote debt. She wrote advance costs and carried-over settlements.

This was not a contract written by someone ignorant of the law. Even if she was not a lawyer, she operated at the level of a corporate legal team or higher. Binding someone directly would be illegal, but wrapping it in procedure, settlement, and consent turns it into a valid contract. She understood that perfectly.

"The opponent is more cunning than I expected."

"You mean Lady Persy?"

"Yes."

I tapped the contract. "She's not merely a noble lady. She knows how to bind a person with documents."

I asked Edwin, "Have you seen the detailed ledgers?"

"No. But accountants came and explained them."

"Did they explain clearly?"

"They did, but I couldn't understand it."

"The conclusion was the same, then."

I said, "Early-stage businesses always run large deficits. We are currently in the market-building phase. If the researcher claims settlement funds first, everyone suffers."

Edwin's face stiffened.

"Lillian Persy must have told you something like that."

I closed the contract. "You don't need to worry about these things."

Edwin could not reply. His silence was answer enough.

Cecilia was staring at the contract. The admiration that had been in her eyes for Lady Persy only moments ago had vanished.

"Looking at each clause individually, they might not seem strange."

"True."

"Someone has to handle commercialization. It's not odd for a researcher to avoid dealing with reporters directly. Deducting advance costs first is common in investment contracts."

"Yes."

"But when you put them all together, it becomes monstrous."

Cecilia looked back and forth between the ledger and the contract. "Sir Edwin cannot speak. He cannot see the detailed ledgers. Revenue flows to Persy-affiliated entities while costs accumulate in his settlement account."

"Until those costs are repaid there are no settlement payments, and without settlement payments he must keep researching."

"Researching creates more costs."

I nodded. Cecilia's face had gone pale.

"Then there's no end to it."

Edwin spoke softly. "I have thought it strange before."

"When?"

"At night."

What a heartbreaking answer. During the day people are easily deceived. They work. They laugh. They meet others. They simply do what must be done. At night it is harder.

"So you asked her?"

"Yes. But she cried."

Cecilia's hand stopped. "She cried?"

"She said she had risked everything to show my talent to the world. The lab staff, the artisans, the merchant group employees, the investors, the supply contracts. Everyone was aboard the same ship."

"If I stopped, it wouldn't just be me stopping. Everyone would sink."

She had not commanded. She had not threatened.

"After that, you never said you wanted to rest?"

"I didn't."

"You never asked to see the ledgers again?"

"Less and less. I started to feel like I was the one harboring needless suspicion."

He stared at his fingertips. "Lillian was always busy. Meeting noble wives, preparing imperial deliveries, holding all-night meetings with the staff. Whenever I asked about the numbers she would smile with a tired face."

"What did she say?"

"That I should focus on the circuits. That she would watch the numbers."

I turned another page of the contract. "Are the laboratory people on your side, Sir Edwin?"

Edwin could not answer immediately. "I don't know. Their wages come from the Persy Merchant Group."

"Who pays the lab rent?"

"The Persy Merchant Group."

"Material purchases?"

"Under the Persy Merchant Group's name."

"Costs of failed experiments?"

Edwin's lips tightened. "They are charged to my settlement account."

It was complete. To cage one man, iron bars were unnecessary. Laboratory rent. Assistant wages. Settlement ledger. That was enough.

Cecilia said quietly, "This is too clean to call a slave contract."

"Exactly."

I looked at the cover. Magic Engineering Research Achievement Commercialization and External Management Contract. The title was impeccably neat.

"Real slave contracts never use the word slave."

I said, "They use protection, investment, settlement, trust. Words like those."

Edwin's face crumpled.

I continued, "This is not a marital dispute. It is a structure that forges trust through marriage, silences through a management contract, piles debt through settlement sheets, and prevents rest through a sense of responsibility."

Edwin had no words.

"Will divorce be enough?" he asked.

I did not answer immediately. I turned to Article 18. Cecilia read the clause.

"This contract shall not automatically terminate by reason of any change in marital status between the parties, separation, divorce, annulment, or cancellation of marriage."

Edwin's face hardened.

I said softly, "Divorce alone is not enough."

I said nothing more. Not yet. Edwin was barely holding himself together as it was. Push any harder and he would shatter.

I gathered the documents. "That will be all for today."

"Already?"

"If we read any more you won't remember it."

I wrote on a sheet of paper. "When you return, bring three things."

"Please tell me."

"All quarterly settlement summaries for the past two years. Patent application records. Contracts related to laboratory rental and assistant employment."

Edwin wrote it down. His hands trembled, yet the handwriting remained precise. Even when a genius collapses, he still takes notes.

"And one more ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thing."

I looked at him. "Why did you come today?"

He froze.

"The contract and the settlements must have seemed strange long before today. You must have considered divorce."

"......"

"So why today?"

Edwin remained silent for a long time. Outside the office, carriage wheels rattled past. Only after a while did he speak.

"Because of my mother."

That single sentence landed heavier than the contract, colder than the ledger, and more painful than any settlement document.

I set down my pen. "Please come again tomorrow."

"To speak about my mother?"

"Yes."

He nodded slowly. "I understand."

Edwin left. The door closed.

Cecilia stared at the door for a long time. "Lady Persy..."

Her voice faded. Until a short while ago Cecilia had admired Lady Persy. Someone who did not keep what she possessed only for herself. Someone who had brought magic tower technology down into daily life. Someone who had eased the burden on servants' hands.

I placed the contract on the desk. "Don't draw conclusions yet."

"But..."

"We are lawyers. We can hate her later."

I opened the ledger. The numbers stood in neat rows. Clean. Sophisticated. Cold.

"First we read."

Cecilia sat down quietly. "What?"

I tapped the contract. "The structure of the contract."

I opened the first page again. Magic Engineering Research Achievement Commercialization and External Management Contract. The title was still impeccably neat. That was what made it so repulsive.

"Hah."

It was closer to a sigh than laughter.

"Why?"

"How nice it would be if she had simply cheated, hidden away family heirlooms, and acted greedy."

I turned the page. "Then I could simply tear it up."

The paper slid quietly.

"Truly filthy contracts do not tear."

I opened Article 18 again. "It remains in effect even after divorce."

Cecilia nodded.

I turned to the next page. "Look at this as well."

Cecilia read. "The researcher's insolvency, bankruptcy, application for rehabilitation, debt adjustment, or any equivalent property procedures shall not affect the manager's authority under this contract or the structure for settling undeducted costs."

Cecilia's pen stopped. "Even if he declares bankruptcy?"

I leaned back in my chair. "Yes. I didn't tell Sir Edwin."

"Why not?"

"Because he would collapse if I told him now."

I looked down at the contract. "That man is only now barely accepting the fact that he has been imprisoned."

"Then... he cannot file for bankruptcy either?"

"Not simply. According to this ledger, Sir Edwin is already buried in debt. Most of that debt is recorded as having been paid in advance by the Persy Merchant Group."

"If he goes bankrupt, creditors will line up."

Cecilia's face turned pale. "And Lady Persy would stand at the very front of that line."

"Precisely the Persy Merchant Group. And behind it, Lillian Persy."

I closed the ledger. "A simple bankruptcy would mean Sir Edwin kneels before his wife of his own free will."

I rested my hand on the contract. "The worse part is that this document is written to survive even after bankruptcy."

Cecilia swallowed hard. "Then Sir Edwin loses everything, including the laboratory. And everything he creates from now on still belongs to the Persy side?"

"They would certainly claim so."

"That's insane."

"It is because it makes legal sense that it is a problem."

I spoke quietly.

I took out a blank sheet of paper.

Cecilia asked quietly, "Is there no way?"

I answered honestly. "There isn't."