“Why? Is my generosity too much for you?”
“Wow.”
“Want me to lower it? Just say the word. Even you have to admit the pay is pretty generous for what you’re doing, right?”
Cesare puffed himself up and reached for the contract as if he were about to revise it on the spot. Seohan immediately hugged it to his chest and shook his head.
“No……! It’s not too generous……! I — I’ll work hard enough to match it. So — so you won’t regret it.”
“Do it right. The amount can go up or down depending on your performance.”
“Yes, yes.”
Seohan rushed to finish signing before Cesare could change his mind. Cesare stood on the other side with his arms crossed, watching him, and slowly shook his head.
“On top of everything else, even your handwriting is a mess.”
“I never got much schooling……”
Seohan scratched his head, embarrassed. Right now, the jabs weren’t really getting through to him. He would’ve taken anything. Six hundred Krang a week — what couldn’t he put up with for that?
The average weekly wage for someone with a proper job in the Graven Federation was around 100 Krang. “Proper job” here meant a fixed workplace — somewhere like the newspaper where Eddie worked.
The cost of living in the Federation was brutal. Rent in particular was outrageously expensive. After the virus spread across the world, everyone had been fighting over what few resources remained — it was only natural things had come to this. Climate crisis, then plague, then war.
By the time the survivors gathered their will to rebuild, there wasn’t a single intact building left. District 2 and the surrounding land had a decent number of newly constructed buildings, but the outer districts were a different story.
Because of that, any space where you could lay your body down commanded whatever price the landlord felt like naming.
The one-room unit Seohan and Eddie lived in — cobbled together from layers of salvaged wreckage — cost 100 Krang a week. Fifty Krang per person to stay there. Water leaked through and mold was a constant problem, but it was on the second floor, which meant it didn’t flood, and that alone made it significantly more expensive than other places.
District 4 rents were actually cheaper than most other districts. Even sharing a single room, they still had to pay half a standard week’s wages — moving to a different district wasn’t even worth dreaming about.
Seohan in particular had been scraping by on odd jobs, earning somewhere around 60 to 70 Krang a week. After rent, there was almost nothing left, and going hungry was a regular occurrence. Without Eddie, he’d have starved long ago.
But 600 Krang. That was nearly ten times what Seohan used to make. After rent, he’d still have money left over even if he ate out. He wouldn’t have to live on expired food or things on the verge of going bad.
He was barely holding back the grin threatening to break through — and then, in the middle of all that, an important detail suddenly flashed through his mind.
“Oh, but wait.”
“Say it.”
“Can we make the contract term three months?”
He’d only properly read the contract after signing it — and the term written inside was six months. Six months was too long. By then, he would already be dead and gone.
“Three months?”
“Yes. Three months!”
Seohan held up three fingers. Short and intense — just three months of work, and then he’d spend the last chapter of his life in luxury and happiness.
He already had a plan. South of the Graven Federation, there was a tiny island with an untouched sea. He’d only ever heard of it by rumor, but just knowing that a clear ocean and a glittering golden beach awaited there was enough to fill his imagination completely.
He’d never even seen a photo of it — which, if anything, made him more curious. He was already there in his heart, and it showed in the way his eyes sparkled.
“Who signs a contract and then tries to change the terms after?”
“Oh — is that not okay?”
“Do whatever. It’s all the same to me.”
Cesare gave a light smirk and waved his chin carelessly. Three months or six — it made little difference to him. He’d put out the contract already half-expecting it to last less than a month anyway.
Cesare knew himself well. He might be moved by curiosity now, but he wasn’t the type to keep looking at some unremarkable omega for long. Breaking a contract was nothing to him — he’d written in that timeframe from the start with the intention of voiding it whenever he changed his mind.
Omegas, by nature, tended to lose all sense of their place the moment they were given even a little room. If Seohan wanted to shorten it himself, that was honestly more convenient.
“Hand it over.”
“The — the contract?”
Cesare shrugged and nodded casually, reaching out toward the contract Seohan was clutching to his chest. But Seohan held on and wouldn’t let go.
“Not letting go? I need it to make the changes.”
“Oh — right, yes.”
He handed it over when Cesare said he’d revise it, but Seohan’s round eyes wavered with anxiety. He couldn’t let his guard down until the very last moment.
Cesare passed the contract to Colin outside the door, and Seohan didn’t take his eyes off that door until Colin returned with a new one shortly after. Cesare clicked his tongue beside him and said even a puppy waiting for a treat wouldn’t look as pitiful as he did right now.
Before long, the new contract — with the term revised to three months — was placed in front of them.
“Wow……”
Seohan read through it again and again, his face faintly flushed. This was, in truth, the first contract he had ever signed in his life.
Everything Seohan had ever done for work was indefinite odd jobs. There was no employer in the Graven Federation who drew up contracts for people like that.
Because of that, back in his teens, there had been more than a few times he’d worked only to never receive his pay. When that happened, all you could do was chalk it up to bad luck and move on — that was how you survived.
Maybe that was why — the formal contract sitting in front of him, and the act of writing his own name on it, felt strange and remarkable. His three-character name, printed neatly in block letters since he had no signature of his own, made him a little self-conscious. But it also gave him a quiet pride, as if he had finally become a real adult.
“Is that thing made of gold or something?”
Cesare had been watching him in silence, and now he asked with an expression that said he truly could not understand.
The sight of this guy grinning away over a few sheets of paper was absurd. The guy didn’t seem to have a spine — even when picked on, all he did was smile back. Cesare had been about to say something more, but he let it go.
“It’s just — it’s new to me.”
Seohan, carefully reading through each line of the contract, ran his finger over the spot where both his and Cesare’s signatures were.
The contract was packed with difficult words, and even after several reads, there wasn’t much he could actually make sense of. He settled for taking in the rough outline — the term, the amount, and a few basic rules.
“Your signature is impressive, too.”
Seohan’s finger moved along Cesare’s signature as though tracing a drawing. Beside the neat printed name was a signature rendered in flowing cursive — it looked extravagant and striking.
They say handwriting reflects a person’s character, but his signature was the exact opposite of his foul personality. The strokes were bold and sweeping, precise and clean.
“Save the flattery for——”
Cesare bit off the curse mid-breath.
His gaze had drifted to Seohan’s hand moving over the contract. The guy was still tracing his signature. For no good reason, the tips of his own fingers prickled. Should have made it more elaborate. The ink trail that curled out slightly at the end — more than usual — was bothering him now.
Those slender fingers were pale and smooth. Each knuckle was flushed a deep red, which gave him the strange urge to take them in his mouth and bite down gently. Maybe because all the other fingers were curled inward with only the index extended — Seohan’s hand looked unusually small. Saliva pooled in the back of his mouth.
Cesare licked his lips, then absently looked down at his own hand. Against his own — darker-skinned and large — the guy’s hand looked even smaller. He felt like it would disappear completely into one of his palms. He was pretty sure he could hold both of Seohan’s hands in one of his.
Watching those little fingers fidget and move while his head filled with useless thoughts, his palm suddenly felt damp with sweat. Heat was rising to his face too. He already ran warm by nature, so the flush was impossible to hide.
“Um……”
Seohan had been studying the contract intently and looked up at what he sensed was labored breathing. There was Cesare, exhaling in short, heated bursts, visibly flustered.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
“What is?”
Cesare snapped at him like someone who’d been caught. Seohan, with no idea what was going on, could only blink blankly.
“Oh — no. I just thought maybe you’d caught a cold or something.”
“I don’t get things like that.”
Cesare replied curtly and turned his head away with irritation. His chest rose and fell rapidly, like someone who was furious. The hand shoved through his hair was impatient.
Did I do something wrong again. It didn’t really seem like it though.
Seohan fidgeted with his fingers and let his eyes wander. Even that stopped when Cesare’s gaze landed on his hands. His glare was blazing like someone who was furious beyond words, and Seohan had no choice but to drop both hands below the table and stand at attention.
