Luca stood outside his house and watched the lamplight flicker through the window. Mira’s shadow moved inside, small and weary, unaware of what was coming. His hand was on the latch, but he couldn’t open it. What would he say? That he’d lost the job? The wages? Everything? He turned away before the guilt could crush him, walking in the direction of the tavern instead.
The place was nearly empty this time of day. The air reeked of stale ale and smoke. Luca sat on an overturned crate, head in his hands. Every possible fix ended the same way: no money, no timber, no hope. Mira. She’d be furious–not for the debt, but for the lie. He’d told her he could keep this job. He’d told her he would stop drinking.
The sound of steps broke his thoughts.
“You look like a man who could use a friend.”
Luca glanced up. The man who spoke stood in the narrow shade between two tables. He looked wildly out of place, clean linen shirt, coat of bright fabric trimmed in silver thread, polished sandals that had never touched sawdust. His face was ordinary in a way that wasn’t, like someone had sanded all the sharp edges smooth. Despite his expensive attire, the man looked like the human embodiment of a snake. His hair was oily, as well as his rounded face. He moved with sneaky grace.
“I’ve heard about your little accident,” the man said lightly, stepping closer. “Bad luck, that. But not unfixable.”
Luca frowned. “Who told you that?” feeling foolish immediately. The whole village knew. Who wouldn’t have told him?
The stranger smiled. “I make it my business to know these things. I represent a firm that specializes in… debt resolution.” He opened a small satchel and drew out a rolled parchment, sealed with deep blood red wax–the image of a thick chain embedded in it. “Temporary contracts. Quick work, quick pay. No interference.”
“I’m not looking to sell my hands,” Luca muttered.
The man chuckled. “Not sell, merely lend. Two, maybe three weeks of labor, and your debt vanishes. You’d be free to start fresh. Your creditor gets paid. Everyone wins.”
He laid the parchment on the crate beside Luca. The seal gleamed faintly in the tavern light. Luca stared at it, suspicion rising. “And this is legal?”
“Entirely. The firm approves such arrangements every day.” The man’s voice was like oil on water, smooth, reflective, impossible to grasp.
Luca rubbed his temples. “So I’d go… where, exactly?”
“Where you’re needed. The details hardly matter. Your debt will be erased, and your record wiped clean.”
He hesitated. “And if I can’t go right away?”
The man tilted his head, a sly smile creeping along his lips. “A registered dependent may fulfill your term on your behalf. That’s common. Family, partners, anyone you claim under your license.”
But Luca wasn’t really listening anymore. His thoughts were already with Mira. Her voice the day he’d told her Basir had hired him–‘Don’t mess this one up, Luca. We need this.’ She’d said it smiling, but he’d heard the fear behind it.
He couldn’t let her find out. Not again. She surely knew of the accident already, but maybe not of Basir firing him.
He swallowed hard. “How soon can it be done?”
The agent’s smile widened. “As soon as you sign.”
“Luca, don’t!” The voice cut through the air like a blade. Basir stood in the doorway of the tavern, face shadowed and furious.
“Not now,” Luca muttered. Why had Basir followed him? Why did he care?
“You don’t even know who this man is.”
“I don’t care who he is.”
Basir came forward, voice low. “You think anyone would let men like him operate in daylight? That’s not a contract, Luca, it’s a leash.”
Luca slammed his palm against the crate, his eyes flashing with rage. “I said I’ll fix it! You want me to go to Mira, tell her I failed again? Tell her we’ll lose everything, that it’s my fault?”
Basir’s eyes softened a little. “She’d rather hear the truth than–”
“Enough.” Luca snatched up the quill from the agent’s hand. His signature bled across the parchment like from a wound, crooked and shaky, but final.
The agent’s smile never faltered. “Excellent,” he said softly, rolling the paper shut. “We’ll send collection immediately.”
Luca exhaled, dizzy with relief. “So that’s it? I’m square?”
“Entirely,” the agent said, tucking the contract into his satchel. “Miss Mira will serve her term faithfully.”
The words slid past at first, half-heard, then struck like a slap.
Luca blinked, his eyes narrowing. “Wait. What?”
The agent turned toward the road. “Your dependent. Listed here.” He tapped the parchment harshly.
“Mira of Basbor Street, sister and cohabitant. She’ll report to us at once.”
Luca’s stomach dropped violently. “No, no, I didn’t–I meant me!”
The man’s smile deepened, polite as ever. “The contract specifies substitution. You signed as her guarantor. Quite binding, I assure you.”
Luca lunged forward. “You tricked me–” But the man was already turning, cane tapping against the dirt as he vanished down the road.
Basir stood frozen, his face paralyzed in horror. “Luca… what did you do?”
Luca didn’t answer. The world tilted. Somewhere down the street, Mira’s laughter drifted from the market–bright, carefree.
Then came the screams.
He ran.
“Mira! MIRA!” He burst into the marketplace. The crowd had gathered around a barred wagon, a slave caravan. Two men were lifting Mira inside, her wrists bound. Their dark jackets bore the same seal he had seen on the contract.
She kicked, sobbing. “Luca!” she screamed. “Tell them it’s a mistake! I don’t owe anything!”
He sprinted toward her, grabbing the bars. “Stop! Please, she’s not part of this!”
One of the men, tall and scarred, pulled a parchment from his vest and unrolled it with deliberate calm.
His voice carried as he read aloud: “This Binding Agreement is made between Luca Maren of Basbor Street and V & Associates… The Debtor shall provide a suitable substitute laborer for temporary service under the Contractor. The dependent named Mira Maren shall fulfill the term of labor in place of the Debtor…”
Each word struck like a hammer.
Mira’s eyes went wide. “Luca?” she whispered.
“I didn’t mean to!” he choked. “He tricked me! It was supposed to be me!”
Her tear-streaked face twisted with fear. The wagon jolted forward, creaking down the road as she reached for him through the bars.
“Please!” he screamed, running beside it until his legs gave out. “Don’t take her!”
But the wagon rolled on, her voice fading into the distance. Luca fell to his knees in the dust, breath heaving, eyes fixed on the empty road that had carried Mira to her doom.
The pine trees along the road loomed over, their dark needles scoffing at him, whispering. Why hadn’t he read the contract?
Desperate monster.
“MIRA!” he screamed, the sound tearing through the trees like something dying.