In the far distance, the neon lights of towering skyscrapers bled into the sea of stars across the artificial sky. The dense, ceaseless flow of traffic ran like the city's veins, while the ever-vigilant streetlamp knights below carved out thick domains of light against the dark.

Brilliance flourished, vibrant as rouge. Remnants of a bygone era, unwilling to fade, dressed themselves in the guise of the future. Shadows roamed freely, greedily feeding on the desires leaking from the streets. Every corner felt like a monster waiting to devour its prey, burying countless souls who had surrendered to the pull of alcohol and nicotine.

Leaning against the windowsill, Ashe and Annan faced each other. Half of them were illuminated by the room's warm glow, while the other half were stained by the city's darkness. Their eyes flickered between light and shadow, reflecting one another in an ambiguous haze.

Ashe crossed his arms in refusal. "Good thing Iger warned me. You're not planning to extend our contract through a verbal agreement, are you? If I agreed, would that 101-day slave contract automatically renew forever?"

Annan shook her head. "Of course not. I may have some authority within the Gospel, but at most, a contract can only be extended until December 31, 2100."

Ashe recoiled in alarm. "That's over five hundred years! By then, the Gospel Kingdom might not even exist anymore. Your descendants could find my grave in some post-apocalyptic wasteland and chant, 'Ashe Heath, heed the contract's summoning,' and I'd have to crawl out of hell just to keep being the Dolan family's dog for centuries!?"

Annan laughed, shaking her head again. "That's impossible. No matter how powerful a contract is, it can't summon the dead. Unless... I ask Harvey to...