Eyes blazing, Adam slammed the table. Glass shattered, wine spilling to coat the floor in a fragrant burgundy. Amidst the splinters flying before his grimace, his voice echoed—forceful, commanding.
"There won't be any contract! Not before you explain how you knew I'd get your map and why me out of the million lords."
Astaroth raised his palm before his companion could rise in outrage. Then, he spoke, his voice composed. "Such a waste for this delicate wine..." He sighed, his eyes narrowing. "Do you think yourself so important that the world revolves around you? No, Adam. The map is just one of the many cursed items we left in the realms thousands of years ago."
