Chains Disguised as Protection
Leon looked at all of them.
One by one.
Then spoke.
Calm.
Firm.
"Now…"
A small pause.
"Please sign."
No one moved.
Not a shift of fabric. Not the scrape of a shoe. Even the air itself felt suspended, as if the room had decided to hold its breath.
The parchments hovered between them—softly glowing, unmoving. Patient. Waiting.
Watching.
Leon didn't look away.
His gaze moved across each of them again, slower this time. Measuring. Reading what they wouldn't say out loud. His expression didn't change, but there was something beneath it—something heavy, something already decided.
"…You've all read it," he said quietly.
No one answered.
Of course they had.
Rias stood still, her fingers curled slightly at her side, nails pressing faintly into her palm. Her eyes were locked on the parchment in front of her—but she wasn't reading it.
She didn't need to.
Every word was already burned into her mind.
Every condition.
Every consequence.
