Contract

The nurse took Fin's message request with a tight smile. "I'll make sure it gets to the Hunter Guild. Rest now."

Fin sank back into the hospital pillow that felt like a rock wrapped in cheap cotton. He didn't expect much. Probably nothing at all. What was an F-rank nobody to them anyway? Just another slum rat who couldn't cut it.

The morning dragged. Pain meds made everything blurry. Beeping machines. Squeaking shoes. Voices in the hallway. He drifted in and out of consciousness, counting ceiling tiles when he was awake enough to focus.

When the door to his room slammed open around noon, he jerked awake, wincing as pain shot through his broken body.

Mara stood in the doorway, clipboard gripped in one hand like a weapon. Her glasses reflected the lights, hiding her eyes. Her hair was pulled back in that severe bun that matched her equally severe expression.

"Pathetic," she said, voice cold as ice.

Fin tried to laugh it off, but it came out as a weak cough. "Nice to see you too."

She didn't respond to his attempt at humor. Her heels struck the floor like hammers as she approached his bed, each step sharp and precise.

"One day," she said, staring down at him. "You couldn't even last one day without becoming a liability."

"Wasn't exactly my plan to get jumped—"

"I don't care about your excuses," she cut him off. Her voice remained perfectly flat, but he could sense the anger beneath it. "I've reviewed your medical report. Three broken ribs. Fractured clavicle. Concussion. Multiple lacerations. Six weeks minimum recovery time."

"I can heal faster—"

"No. You can't." No emotion. Just cold facts. "And it wouldn't matter if you could. The Guild has made its decision."

Something heavy settled in Fin's stomach. "What decision?"

"You're done." Her eyes flicked to her clipboard. "Your medical expenses amount to forty-seven thousand, five hundred credits. The Guild will not waste resources on an F-rank who has proven himself to be both incompetent and a financial drain before completing a single assignment."

There it was. Just like that. Dream over.

He stared at the ceiling, at that stupid water stain. Another dead end. Another reminder that people like him didn't get second chances.

"Okay," he said quietly.

"That's all?" Her voice remained flat, but her fingers tightened on the clipboard. "No begging? No excuses?"

"What's the point?" His voice hardened. "You've already decided I'm worthless. Want me to cry about it? Beg you to reconsider? Not happening. I'll go back to the slums. It's fine. I get it."

Mara stood perfectly still, studying him like he was a bug under glass. Her face showed nothing—no pity, no satisfaction, no emotion whatsoever.

"You're angry," she stated. Not a question.

"Yeah, well, getting beaten half to death and fired in the same day will do that."

She didn't acknowledge his response. Instead, she checked something on her clipboard with mechanical precision.

"I have a proposition," she said suddenly, still not looking at him.

 "What?"

"The Guild has terminated your contract," she continued, voice flat. "I, however, am willing to personally cover your medical expenses."

His mouth fell open. "You? Why would you—"

"I require a Hunter," she interrupted, as if explaining something to a slow child. "Specifically, I need someone who will work directly for me, outside standard Guild operations."

His mouth fell open. "You?"

"Me," she confirmed. "Under certain conditions, of course."

"Like what?" Suspicion crept into his voice. Nothing came free in this world, especially not for slum rats.

She leaned forward slightly. "I need a Hunter who will work directly for me, following my instructions, completing tasks I assign. Not Guild missions—my missions."

"Isn't that against Guild rules or something?"

"Not exactly. There are... provisions for administrative staff to retain personal Hunters. It's rarely done anymore, but the precedent exists." She tapped one finger against her clipboard. "I would cover your medical expenses. You would recover, then work exclusively for me until your debt is repaid."

His mind raced. "What kind of tasks?"

"Various things. Some information gathering, some... clean-up work. Nothing you couldn't handle with proper training." Her lips curved into what might have been a smile. "Nothing illegal, if that concerns you."

He studied her face, trying to find the catch. "Why me? There's gotta be better Hunters out there."

"Better Hunters wouldn't be desperate enough to accept my terms," she said bluntly. "And they wouldn't be as... malleable. You're untrained, which means you don't have bad habits to unlearn. And you have an interesting ability that could be quite useful with proper development."

"My Absorption?"

She nodded. "It's rare. And potentially very powerful, if you learn to control it."

He stared at his bandaged hands. This was... well, not exactly what he'd hoped for, but it was something. A chance, at least. Better than crawling back to the slums.

"So, what? I'd be like your personal errand boy?"

"My Hunter," she corrected. "And yes, essentially. You would do as I instruct, when I instruct it. In return, your debt would be cleared, and you would remain with the Guild."

"For how long?"

"Until I decide your debt is repaid." Her tone made it clear this point wasn't negotiable. "Could be a year. Could be longer. Depends on how useful you make yourself."

He didn't have to think about it too hard. His options were limited—actually, he only had one option, unless he counted "go back to the slums and probably die" as a viable alternative.

"Okay," he said finally. "I'll do it."

"Just like that? You don't want time to consider?"

"Why? So I can lie here and pretend I have other choices?" He shook his head. "I'll be your Hunter. Just tell me what to do."

A faint smile touched her lips. "First, you heal. Then, we begin your real training."

"Training?"

"Did you think I'd send you out in your current state? You barely survived a mugging. You're of no use to me if you can't defend yourself." She stood, smoothing her skirt. "Once you're recovered, we'll address your many, many deficiencies."

"Gee, thanks," he muttered.

"Don't thank me yet." She picked up her clipboard. "This isn't charity. I expect loyalty and hard work. Fail me, and you'll find yourself back in the slums faster than you can say 'F-rank.'"

"I got it."

"I hope so." She turned to leave, then paused at the door. "Oh, and Fin?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time someone lures you into a dark alley, try using what little brain you have. It will save us both a great deal of trouble."

She left without waiting for his response, the door slamming shut behind her.

Fin stared at the closed door, anger and humiliation burning in his chest. She'd just paid off his massive hospital bill and technically saved his Hunter career, but at what cost? She'd treated him like dirt, like property she'd just purchased.

"What did I just agree to?" he muttered, looking up at the ceiling turtle for answers it couldn't give.

Six weeks trapped in this bed, then what? Becoming a servant to a woman who clearly despised him?

It wasn't the heroic Hunter story he'd imagined. It wasn't even close. But it was better than the slums. Better than admitting defeat. 

Though, he remembered something he read from the book, "hold on, couldn't she just give me a healing potion? Or am I too much of a bug for that."