“Is it not difficult?”
Lucas appeared to contemplate Jinseong’s words for a moment before his expression stiffened.
“All three?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, dear.”
He glanced at Jinseong’s nonchalant reply, his eyes moving thoughtfully. Suddenly, a realization struck him, and he exhaled a soft “Ah.”
“Dear me. I seem to have made a mistake.”
He then moved his hand towards the panel embedded in his Crystal Arm. After scanning his fingerprint, he traced a shape, initiating an internal device within the Crystal Arm.
Ziiing—
The Crystal Arm began emitting a faint mechanical sound and light began to pulse within it. Like veins illuminating with light, the glow lasted for about a second before vanishing. Then, the light started to coalesce near his palm, gathering and emanating from the prosthetic fingertips. This light traced an intricate pattern in the air, forming an image.
It was a hologram.
The hologram depicted a contract inscribed on parchment, and Lucas gestured toward it as he continued speaking.
“I didn’t specify the terms. That’s my oversight.”
He raised his index finger and began to trace lines along the prosthetic arm as though writing with an invisible pen. His finger moved quickly, and the Crystal Arm followed its movements, inscribing them on the holographic contract. Text began to fill the document from top to bottom.
“Take a look.”
Once Lucas finished writing, he altered the shape of his hand. The holographic contract gently settled on the table as though it were a real piece of paper. Not only did it stay in place, but it flipped to face Jinseong for easier viewing.
Jinseong carefully studied the holographic contract.
The document was filled with extremely specific clauses, detailing numerous precautionary points.
“Hmm.”
The first clause prohibited any damage to buildings and shops. Furthermore, the definition of “damage” was clearly outlined in painstaking detail. It was so meticulous that it resembled an insurance agreement, scrutinizing every aspect. The acceptable extent of damage Jinseong could cause was extremely limited.
The level of granularity was astonishing—everything from the exterior walls, windows, lights, and doors, to the interiors, water pipes, sewage, tiles, and more was meticulously listed. Moreover, if the damage exceeded a certain threshold, Jinseong would be obligated to make restitution using items identical or equivalent in quality to those currently installed. The contract even specified the materials and manufacturers, making it seem like this wasn’t an impromptu document but rather a well-thought-out contract.
In addition, there were clauses regarding any image-related issues, biological or chemical contamination, magical contamination and its resulting damages, clauses concerning the residual effects of spiritual beings causing supernatural phenomena, the ability to claim damages when sensors and artifacts detecting spiritual beings installed in the building detected abnormal electromagnetic fluctuations, the stipulation that equipment could be installed upon request but would incur additional costs if contract violations were confirmed, and the use of specialized items within the building and store, with any breach resulting in liability for their value.
The contract was a veritable minefield of restrictions.
These shackles would undoubtedly act as bombs, exploding on Jinseong if he violated the terms. It would crush him under the sheer weight of dollars, living up to America’s reputation as the land of lawsuits.
Of course, this would only apply if Jinseong failed to adhere to the contract. While the section on “damage” was incredibly specific, a closer inspection revealed that it was within a manageable range. Even in unforeseen situations, such as if Jinseong needed to protect himself or was forced into battle, Lucas would bear the financial burden for any resulting damage, and there were even clauses that could benefit Jinseong in certain circumstances.
There were also provisions for connecting Jinseong with a prominent American law firm for long-term collaborations, granting special privileges upon accepting a contract. Moreover, it promised the application of New York’s “Stand Your Ground” law, allowing legitimate self-defense rights within Wall Street.
‘At this point, you’re practically a mercenary…’
For self-defense to be deemed legitimate, evidence must be provided.
In the U.S., this concept is referred to as the “Duty to Retreat,” which requires proof of an attempt to avoid conflict or an appropriate attempt to evade the situation.
However, there was an exception: within spaces such as one’s home, car, or personal business premises, this duty was waived.
This principle, known as the Castle Doctrine, stems from the old English common law tradition stating “An Englishman’s home is his castle,” granting the right to protect oneself within one’s residence. This rule now serves as a common legal basis for self-defense in the U.S.
The “Stand Your Ground” law expands the scope of the Castle Doctrine, removing the “Duty to Retreat,” essentially allowing for proactive self-defense in any location.
Of course, it isn’t akin to a license to kill. Even the Castle Doctrine has strict requirements to qualify, and the removal of the “Duty to Retreat” does not automatically mean one can act recklessly.
Still… If applied skillfully, this “proactive self-defense” could prove highly advantageous—for both Jinseong and Lucas.
‘See… There it is.’
Jinseong observed the text at the bottom of the contract and nodded.
The contract’s effectiveness would only apply as long as Lucas was alive. The connection to the major American law firm was subject to Lucas’s survival, and should he die, the support would dissolve. The same applied to the compensation and privileges granted by the contract, all of which would vanish upon Lucas’s death.
In essence, accepting the contract obligated Jinseong to protect Lucas’s life.
‘This isn’t three requests but four.’
His intentions were crystal clear.
The man in front of him, with that crystal arm, was clearly using Jinseong as a bodyguard.
That said, the three previous requests were likely genuine. The signal emanating from Lucas’s body was real, as was the power in his words.
At the very least, Lucas was truthful in those areas.
In fact, there were signs that Lucas was currently under stress.
But…
‘Tch. As expected, the money handlers are full of snakes in suits. Yesterday, today, always…’
The instinct to gain maximum benefits with minimal effort was their nature.
“Hmm. Not bad, but I see many things that need revision.”
There was nothing inherently wrong with this.
Wasn’t life usually like this?
Jinseong had faced countless situations like this while working as a mercenary and when dealing with power holders.
This level of negotiation was merely part of the routine.
There were those who relied on sheer force to squeeze out every penny, those who betrayed him during missions, injected nanomachines or poison to coerce him into compliance, tried to bind his soul with dual contracts made of artifacts and divine objects, held hostages to exploit him for free labor, or even bombed the area during missions.
Compared to such instances, sneaking tricks into contracts was trivial—mere child’s play.
Moreover, given Lucas’s youthful appearance, it was understandable.
Considering Jinseong’s current young adult form and the natural perception that Easterners often appear younger than Westerners, Lucas must have seen Jinseong as an inexperienced newcomer. The contract was simply a standard case of an unfair agreement aimed at someone just starting out.
Even the holographic contract wasn’t a real contract, nor was it something that would bind Jinseong’s soul upon signature. It had none of the overpowering force of transcendent artifacts or nanomachines that could kill him for non-compliance.
It was merely an example.
All they needed was to negotiate.
“First off, let’s get rid of the clause about the obligation to save your life, and we can go from there.”
