【Interstellar Contract Magician】Ruyuanke

Chapter 288 [Empire] Termination of the Contract

"You have a rich imagination," I replied calmly, carrying the newly contracted cub into the hovercar. The cub's fur was still a mess, but its slightly shining eyes revealed a hint of unease, clearly becoming sensitive to the atmosphere inside the car.

Several of my friends boarded the car, their expressions varied. Some couldn't help but glance in my direction, clearly curious about the contract technique, but no one dared to speak. After all, the team leader, Nightingale, was approaching and taking the driver's seat.

"Are you still holding it? Can't bear to let it go?" Nightingale glanced at me in the rearview mirror, with a hint of teasing in her tone.

"What? You want me to throw it away?" I asked, glancing down at the cub in my arms. It flinched, but didn't struggle. Instead, it nestled quietly in my arms. Perhaps it was due to the contract, it had developed a certain dependence on me—but I knew it wasn't secure. A temporary contract was only temporary, after all. Once it was lifted, it might disown me, or even turn against me.

Nightingale said nothing more, only humming softly as she started the car. The hovercar rose smoothly into the air. The nightscape outside the window glided by quickly, the blurred lights like a string of elongated shooting stars. The atmosphere inside the car was somewhat oppressive, as everyone seemed to tacitly remain silent about what had just happened.

"This is a good start." Nightingale finally broke the silence, her tone understated, "But next, as a member of the team, you must be prepared to deal with more complex situations at any time."

I glanced at him and didn't respond.

"By the way," he suddenly turned to look at me, a meaningful smile on his face, "What's the name of your contract technique? Can you tell me?"

"It's called 'convenience'." I replied simply and looked out the window.

There was a brief silence in the carriage, followed by a few chuckles. Nightingale was not angry, but laughed even harder.

"Interesting," he said, his eyes flicking through the rearview mirror to the cub in my arms, "but your 'convenience' isn't as simple as you make it out to be."

"You're right." I looked away, my tone flat, "Simple things can't survive until now."

Nightingale didn't ask any more questions. The hovercraft drove steadily towards the mission submission location. The night breeze blew past the window, bringing a slight chill.

As the little cub was pushed into cage after cage made of machinery, lasers, and metal, I couldn't help but stop and watch it being trapped layer by layer. Those precisely designed defense mechanisms looked like the fangs of a giant beast.

The cub cowered, letting out a sharp cry, a mixture of fear and resignation, like a cry of resistance against fate. It felt limp and helpless, as if fate had strangled it. I knew this was probably just its instinctive reaction. It couldn't understand that nothing in this world could truly break free from the constraints of these cages.

However, the mission was over, and there was no reason for me to continue entangled with it. Before the laser barrier activated, I released the temporary contract. I felt a slight warmth in my chest, and the disappearance of the contract mark brought a slight sting.

The cub's cry suddenly became sharper for a moment, as if it had sensed something. But when it turned its head to look, a wall of light had risen, blocking out everything.

I turned and left without looking back.

Such scenes are nothing new to Contractors. In a sense, this profession has never been synonymous with "protection." We establish connections with living things simply to make them work for us.

This is also the final part of the contractor level examination: a test to see if the contractor is ruthless enough.

Only those who can decisively terminate the contract and abandon all emotional interference can be regarded as true contractors.

"Cruel." These two words echoed in my mind. But I felt that it was not that simple.

The night wind swept past, and I felt a slight chill, but I didn't stop. This is the fate of the contractor, and it is also the path I have chosen.

Nightingale leaned against the driver's seat of the hovercraft, his hands folded, looking at me with a half-smile. He didn't rush to discuss the "sharing of the spoils" after the mission was completed, nor did he urge me. Instead, he observed me with an unpredictable attitude.

The air inside the car grew quieter, with only a slight mechanical hum filling the air. I could feel his gaze, as if testing, yet also waiting.

"If you have something to say, just say it," I broke the silence and looked up at him. "Don't stare at me like that. It's awkward."

The corners of Nightingale's mouth curled up slightly, but he still didn't respond directly. He just shook his head slightly, his eyes filled with a complex emotion, not sure if it was surprise, confusion, or some kind of admiration.

"Why, is this the first time you've seen someone as capable as me?" I raised my eyebrows and tried to sound relaxed, but I was still wary of his intentions.

"It's not the first time I've met a capable person," he finally said, his voice low and calm, "but it's the first time I've met a 'newcomer' like you who is both cruel and smart."

He spoke slowly, as if to give his words more weight. But I just scoffed, trying to hide the slight pain in my heart.

"Cruel?" I repeated, deliberately using a teasing tone. "I'm just a prey. You think too highly of me."

Nightingale didn't respond to my words, but stared at me with a meaningful look. His expression was calm, even gentle, but beneath that gentleness, there seemed to be some emotion hidden that I couldn't fully grasp.

"You're more interesting than I thought." He said softly, then looked away, as if deciding not to continue this topic for the time being.

My fingers curled up slightly, and my fingertips caressed the palm of my hand inadvertently, as if the soft yet tough touch still remained.

The cub's fur, at first glance, resembled fine wire, but it was surprisingly soft and even warm to the touch. I could sense its sharpness lurking beneath the surface, ready to transform into a deadly weapon with just the slightest provocation.

My fingers tightened as if instinctively grasping something, then gently loosened. I looked down at my palms, empty, yet feeling as if I were holding something heavy.

"What a contradiction." I thought to myself. This feeling made me hard to tell whether I was comfortable or uneasy.

The cub's short screams after being locked in layers of cages still echo in my ears, reflecting its defiance and strength.

As a Contractor, I knew my connection with it had ended, a clean severance. But even so, the lingering sensations in my memory clung to my consciousness like entwined vines.

"What are you thinking about?" Nightingale's voice brought me back from my thoughts.

"Nothing." I said casually, but my fingers still moved unconsciously, as if recalling that unique texture.

He glanced at me, didn't ask any further questions, but just snorted softly, as if he was evaluating something in his mind.

I spread my hands and looked at my palms, and I seemed to still see the faint glimmer of those "hairs" reflecting the moonlight. They did not belong to me, but for a brief moment, they became part of my perception.