Binding the Partnership

"Wait, hold on a second!"

Aila raised both hands as if flustered, cutting me off. Instinctive wariness and tension flickered across her face.

"Land, massive workforce, bulk raw materials? That's way beyond my personal funds—it'd drain the entire annual budget of the Golden Fleece 3rd branch. Why the hell should I listen to you and go along with something this huge?"

"Because you need this level of investment to dominate the market."

"I'll give you that your brain's gotten sharper. And yeah, I buy that this machine could change the world."

She fixed me with her sharp emerald eyes, laying down the law.

"But Elpanso. If it weren't for the investment I gave you when you were starving on the brink of death, this fancy machine of yours never would've seen the light of day. Right? Without me, you'd still be gnawing on rats in Peluah's back alleys. Remember—I'm the investor here!"

Her voice was edged like a blade. It was a merchant's defensive instinct, refusing to lose control of the business.

She's saying she won't play the sucker that easily.

The illusion was becoming reality. But it wasn't Aila's to claim. An unattainable dream was just a delusion—or a tantalizing cake you could only look at.

I stared at her silently. She was right. It started with her money. But things were different now.

Is she worried about betrayal?

Now that this prototype's value was proven, I could walk into any other guild or bank, show them the machine, and walk out with a blank check worth dozens of times what Aila could offer. I was in a position where Aila Winchester wasn't my only option.

And I knew that fact all too well. But in that moment, a voice flashed through my mind.

Theodore Carnoble, the grand merchant master, gazing at me in his final moments amid despair and regret. It was a lesson he'd drilled into me countless times as a child.

That was why the Carnoble family had reached the pinnacle of Peluah. Not petty calculations, but overwhelming credit and rewards for their own people.

Sure, Aila had grumbled while tossing me scraps of food, but in this vast world, when no one else believed in me, she was the only one who'd handed over gold.

Forget that grace and chase a bigger investor? I'd be no better than the trash Elpanso I'd been before—no step forward at all.

"Aila."

I opened my mouth in a calm voice.

"You're right. Without your investment, this machine would've ended up as a madman's scribbles."

I pulled a pre-drafted document from my pocket and handed it to her.

"So I'm giving my investor the respect she deserves. Before the factory, workforce, or full business— isn't the most important thing ultimately a 'contract'?"

In this world, contracts were sacred. Not just in words—truly sacred, overseen by the god of contracts himself.

Aila took the document with suspicious eyes. Wondering what trick I'd pulled, if I'd demanded massive shares under the guise of tech fees. Her gaze ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠flew down the parchment.

And soon, her pupils shook like there was an earthquake.

"You... are you insane?"

"Why? Don't like it?"

"Like it? This is beyond that! You keep ownership of the factory, but you hand me—not the Golden Fleece 3rd branch—exclusive distribution ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and sales rights for every textile produced here?"

"Yeah, you—not the guild. You know what that means."

The guild wasn't entirely hers. This gave her power beyond mere performance metrics. If someone else from Golden Fleece showed up tomorrow claiming to handle things?

She'd lose everything she'd built.

I was promising to shield her from that. Plus...

One more thing.

Her voice cracked with bewilderment as she read it.

"And until the initial 500 gold investment and factory construction costs are fully recouped, profits split 7-3? With me getting 7 and you getting 3?!"

This was revolutionary tech that would upend the continent's clothing market. Common sense dictated investors didn't deduct costs from profits—they recouped via a share of earnings.

Premium terms like this were for desperate situations only. And here I was, volunteering for it? Handing over 70% of profits? Plus exclusive sales rights?

It was an utterly lopsided, unfair contract—stacked against me.

"I won't even touch my 30% for a while. It'll all go back into developing the next machine and expanding the factory."

Aila panted, eyes darting between the document and my face.

"W-Why? Take this elsewhere, auction it off, and you could live off gold for life. So why play the fool for me?!"

Well, the old me would've blown through even that in a night of debauchery. But at the same time...

I trusted Aila.

"Foolish? Hardly. The second you sign, you'll be running yourself ragged across the continent, peddling the cloth from my machines. You'll fend off market pressures and back-alley power plays with your brains and the guild's muscle."

Having known her since childhood, I believed she'd never shirk her duties.

Though for merchants, responsibility crumbles before money.

Which meant—if you gave them money, they'd shoulder the responsibility.

Plenty of types took the cash and ran without accountability.

"I'll focus purely on tech and production. You're the sturdiest shield and sharpest partner to guard my back. That's the price for the massive profits I'm handing you."

Aila was a merchant I could trust.

I believe in you.

That was the contract's core.

Her lips twitched. She had plenty to say, but that could wait.

"So? Still gonna whine and skimp on the investment?"

At my teasing jab, a soft chuckle finally escaped her stunned lips.

"Ha... you mad bastard. Tying someone up so they can't even squirm."

She gripped the parchment tight, her emerald eyes gleaming.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

A merchant to her bones—she couldn't refuse such a perfect deal.

"Fine. Let's do it. Not as Carnoble's wastrel, but as my business partner."

She extended her hand first. I gripped it firmly.

*

Before the heat from our clasped hands had even faded, Aila strode to the heavy magical safe in the corner of the office.

She disabled the complex mana patterns and withdrew a special parchment glowing faintly gold.

"Verbal partnerships are for street thugs. For a game this big, you need chains to match. You know that, right?"

"Of course."

The contract merchants valued above their lives. Backed by Veritas, god of contracts and scales. A sacred oath scroll infused with divine power.

It's pricey, so not for petty deals. She's taking this seriously.

No loose words for her. Aila sliced her thumb lightly with a silver dagger, dabbing blood onto the mana-infused quill tip.

I followed suit, letting my blood soak in.

As our blood mingled, a holy blue glow emanated from the quill.

"Alright, Elpanso. Now we etch our terms clearly before the god's scales."

As Aila slid the quill over the oath scroll, golden letters burned themselves into the parchment.

I reviewed each clause arms crossed, savoring them.

In this world, terms on a Veritas Oath Scroll were absolute rules etched into the soul.

A thoroughly pragmatic clause—each focusing on their strengths. Me, the mechanical engineering genius, churning out goods with overwhelming efficiency inside the factory? Aila, the guild heavyweight, shaking the continent's distribution networks and turning it all into gold.

The perfect combo for max profits.

Aila stuck out her tongue again as the letters etched in.

"Still insane terms. You won't see a single coin in your hands for a while?"

"Doesn't matter. Feed this body, and it'll keep rolling. To accelerate capital growth, reinvesting all early profits is just common sense."

She laughed in disbelief but visibly relaxed inside. To a capitalist, nothing's cuter than a techie obsessed with development and not blowing cash frivolously.

But the real heart—the binding clause—was next.

The clauses were pragmatic. But the true core binding us was the next one.

Holy parchment absorbed blood-red letters, heavy mana pressing down on the room.

Aila's emerald eyes flashed at me.

This otherworldly, brutal guarantee. No comparison to Earth's lawsuits—instant, devastating divine punishment.

I nodded without hesitation.

"Perfect. My tech's protected, and you keep your monopoly."

"Yeah. I can't steal your tech and hog the honey alone, and you can't build the factory with my money then stab me in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the back like Muller's guild. Sturdiest shield, sharpest dagger."

Finally, our names engraved in fine script at the bottom.

Whoosh—!

In that instant, golden particles burst from the parchment, floating up before sinking into my left chest and the back of Aila's hand.

Faint scale-shaped marks glowed, then vanished seamlessly into our skin.

"Whew..."

Aila slumped into her chair, tension draining as she exhaled deeply.

Now, she and I were truly in the same boat—fates intertwined, lives shared.

"Contract's done. Investment now."

She opened a desk drawer and slid a heavy pouch of gold coins toward me.

The satisfying clink and weight of the gold. Neither in Kang Woojin's memories nor Elpanso Carnoble's life had money ever felt this thrilling.

Back then, it'd vanish in a single night's binge.

Pathetic circumstances? Hell no!

"Thanks, Aila. I'll turn it into ten—no, a hundred times over soon."

"Big talk from a guy with nothing but balls."

"Then recoup your investment right now."

"Shut up."

One thing we agreed on: the itch to spend it immediately.