A Particular Contract

Summoned to the Office

The sun was setting when Anna burst into Veronika's room.—The Master is expecting you —she announced curtly.

The young woman sat up, annoyed but curious. She wanted to believe that this summons was the first step toward regaining her former life. She followed Anna down a corridor that opened onto an inner courtyard; the orange light of dusk highlighted the austere geometry of the mansion.

—Where are we going? —she muttered.—To the back —Anna replied without turning around—. Areas you haven't seen yet.

The Red Block

They climbed a staircase and entered a gallery very different from the service wing: crystal lamps hung from the ceiling; the polished marble reflected golden light. Veronika slowed her pace, surprised.

—Well, well… So the good taste was hidden here —she said sarcastically.

The maids in the hallway wore impeccable uniforms and a red ribbon. Their movements were silent, almost choreographed. The mansion, Veronika realized, operated under invisible hierarchies.

The Master's Office

The office blended mahogany, leather, and the slanted light of twilight. The Master, in a dark suit and calm demeanor, was talking with his secretary —Lucille— who had just walked in with a folder full of documents on oil companies.

—Ah, Miss Kensington! —he exclaimed upon seeing her, without looking up from the documents—. I appreciate your punctuality. Please, have a seat.

Veronika settled into a soft armchair; the Master continued reviewing figures —$64, $65, $66 per barrel— and discount formulas while flipping through the pages with metronomic rhythm. The sound of the paper grated on her nerves. Among the pile of documents, she spotted an envelope with the VostokNeft letterhead —a name absent from the list he was reading, dominated by KaspNeftGaz and other familiar firms—. That slight inconsistency, minimal but sharp, pricked her curiosity like a splinter under the skin.

—I didn't know my future hinged on balances and decimals —she murmured dryly.

He tilted his head, still scanning the listings.—No one escapes numbers, Veronika. But you're right —you deserve full attention.

He set the folder down, slightly open, and clasped his hands.—Let's get to the point. You want to leave; I want harmonious coexistence. I can give you the first if you help with the second.

—What kind of help? —she asked.

—Discipline and discretion. In exchange: better lodging, a stipend, and a promise of release when the time is right.

He pulled out a contract.—Review it if you wish.

Veronika scoffed.—I won't waste time on legalities. My father trusts you.

She signed without reading. The Master smiled, satisfied, and took out a scarlet ribbon.—Welcome to the red block. Put this on.

She did so with distaste.—I suppose this is the badge for "good girls."

—Or the clever ones —he replied with a wink.

He was about to resume the oil offers when the door burst open. Anna poked her head in.—Sir, the emissary has arrived. He says it's urgent.

—He wasn't scheduled for today —the Master frowned.

—He insists he can't wait —Anna added.

The Master let out a brief sigh. He closed the folder and left it untouched on the desk.—Excuse me, Veronika. My visitor has no patience. Lucille, record that Miss Kensington signed without objection and file these papers. We'll talk tomorrow about her new duties.

Lucille nodded, jotting something in her notebook.

—And me? —Veronika asked, confused.

—A maid will show you to your new room. Get some rest. —The Master's voice turned purely logical—. You'll need energy.

He left with Anna down the hallway, leaving a trail of amber light as the door closed behind them.

New Lodging

A few minutes later, an employee from the red block led Veronika through the polished corridors to a spacious room with a canopy bed, full-length mirror, and a faint scent of incense.

—Your belongings will arrive shortly, miss —she said politely before leaving.

Veronika explored the room with a mix of relief and apprehension. "At least the mattress looks soft," she thought, but the red ribbon on her uniform felt like a leaden thread.

Encounter with Luna

Half an hour later, Luna appeared, pushing a cart loaded with trunks, hatboxes, and portable racks. The bandage on her arm was still visible, but her sarcastic smile remained intact.

—Hey, glad you joined the 'red block'. —She dropped a box on the floor—. I guess I won't see you so often scrubbing dishes now.

Veronika eyed her from head to toe.—Do you really think I need your help?

—Protocol says you do. —Luna shrugged—. I follow orders.

The redhead shook her head, taking the ribbon and tying it reluctantly to her uniform.—Happy now? —she asked, noticing how the ribbon gave her a strange, almost ridiculous look—. We look like schoolgirls in a cheap boarding house.

—Relax, it's just a badge. —Luna suddenly grew serious—. By the way, what did you promise the Master for him to offer you this? Not many get the red ribbon right away.

—I didn't promise anything —Veronika replied with a sly smile—. I just signed a paper. And I don't care about the rest of your questions.

Luna tilted her head, letting out a mocking sigh.

—Must be nice to have that much confidence. Or maybe ignorance, I'm not sure. —She raised her bandaged arm from the previous injury—. Clearly, your impulsiveness hasn't taught you a thing.

Veronika clicked her tongue, remembering the incident with the dish that had injured Luna's arm.—Still hurts? —she asked with no empathy.

—Barely. Don't worry, I'm in one piece. —Luna looked at Veronika with some contempt—. You're the typical spoiled girl who signs anything to get out of a mess. That's going to blow up in your face.

—You think you have the right to lecture me? Who the hell are you? —Veronika raised her chin—. Even with a pretty face, you're still just another girl here.

Luna smiled tightly and took a step closer.—Are you saying I'm nothing? —She let out a laugh—. Careful. You don't want to piss off someone who knows the ins and outs of the red block.

—Oh, please. —Veronika let out a sharp laugh—. Don't threaten me. I'm not afraid of you.

Luna stared at her closely, a spark in her gaze.—Threats? Please. I'm just giving you a heads-up. Some girls with red ribbons become… —she winked— … more than just maids. And not always by choice.

—Are you suggesting we all end up selling ourselves here? What a… telling comment.

Luna spun playfully, mocking.—I don't know. Some sell themselves. Others just give in once they run out of options. And the saddest part is they don't even realize when it started.

—Don't lump me in with your "worthless girls." I'm a Kensington, and my father is an important man. —Veronika recited it like it still held weight, though her voice no longer sounded so firm—. When I leave, all of this will be forgotten.

—That's what you say now… —Luna glanced at the door—. But this place has a funny way of sticking with you. Sometimes you don't realize what you've given up until it's too late.

—Shut your mouth already.

—What a temper. —Luna smiled. She headed to the exit, dropping a final line, almost in a whisper—. Don't worry, "princess." Whether you admit it or not, we'll be seeing each other often in these halls.

Veronika clenched her teeth, watching Luna until the door closed. Then she let out a frustrated huff and collapsed onto the new bed. She ran her fingers over the red ribbon tied to her uniform, wondering if signing that contract without reading it had really been such a good idea. But she wasn't ready to admit a possible mistake.

—How bad could it be? —she muttered, more to convince herself than out of any real conviction.

The sun sank completely beyond the horizon, painting the windows orange. Veronika, eyes fixed on the scarlet band of her ribbon, thought that maybe, just maybe, she had entangled herself in a game whose rules she didn't yet understand.