The next morning, Silas rose early and began to meticulously groom himself.
He neatened his hair, shaved his beard clean, ironed his clothes until they were crisp, and polished his shoes until they shone.
Ada, having just finished her morning studies, emerged to find Silas already looking sharp and ready to leave.
"What a handsome young man," Ada said with a radiant smile.
"Food's on the table. Wash up and eat quickly," Silas said, pulling on his somewhat worn black leather gloves and picking up his cane.
Ada nodded, placed her hands on her forehead to trace a semicircle, and said piously, "May the Tri-Moon Goddesses bless you! Kind Silas!"
Silas returned the gesture. "Thank you for your blessing, kind nun."
The weather was fine today. Yesterday's heavy snow had swept clean the sky, which had been gloomy for days. It was as if a child, full of grievances, had, after a good cry, recovered its bright, smiling face.
At a quarter to eight in the morning, Silas arrived at the police station.
The female police clerk at the reception desk seemed to have already received her orders. She said with a smile, "Go down the left corridor, fifth door on the right. The Master is waiting for you."
Silas, upon hearing this, smiled and said, "Thank you, beautiful lady. May you always be as lovely as you are today."
The police clerk, who was about thirty-five or thirty-six years old, beamed with pleasure. "What a polite gentleman."
Following the corridor, Silas reached the door and knocked lightly twice.
"Come in!" Jeros's distinctive, hoarse, low voice came from within.
Silas removed his hat and respectfully pushed open the door, stepping inside.
It was a temporarily arranged office, not very large. The massive desk was piled high with documents and case files.
Warren sat to one side, intently reading a document, while Orson Heath and Jeros sat facing each other, discussing something.
"Master Jeros, Deputy Chief Heath," Silas said with a slight bow.
Jeros nodded. "Have you decided?"
Silas walked over, his expression serious. "Yes. I'll join."
Orson Heath stood up and clapped Silas on the shoulder. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Sotos."
With that, he walked out.
"Sit," Jeros said, gesturing to a chair.
Seeing Silas seated, Jeros picked up a case file. "Your information was crucial. Last night, we arrested a total of thirty-two core members of the Death Cult and seventy-four believers, including police officers, councilmen, wealthy merchants, and even the deputy mayor."
Hearing this, Silas was visibly shocked. "The deputy mayor!?"
This involved quite a few influential people.
Jeros seemed to have no intention of keeping it a secret and continued, "This organization's roots here run deeper than we imagined. They reacted quickly, and some cultists are still at large, including your former mentor."
Instantly, Silas's heart sank.
That man was a huge hidden danger to him.
Jeros took out what looked like a contract. "If you agree, sign this contract. And press your bloody handprint on it."
Silas took the contract and carefully examined it.
It wasn't long, only four pages in total, and the clauses weren't numerous. They mainly reiterated what Jeros had said before: confidentiality, restrictions on movement, no abuse of power for personal gain, loyalty to the people, loyalty to the Church, and so on.
It also included details about the salary.
A two-month probationary period, with 15 Crowns per month.
Upon becoming an official Spirit Medium Detective, the salary would be 25 Crowns per month.
If he performed exceptionally well and became an official clergyman, it would be 40 Crowns per month.
Seeing these figures, Silas was instantly thrilled.
This was money, the very thing he lacked most right now.
He reviewed the content in detail; there was nothing particularly unusual. Then, Silas turned his attention to the material of the contract itself.
The paper wasn't ordinary paper; it felt more like the skin of some animal. The text was bordered by intricate inscriptions and patterns, resembling some strange incantation.
Jeros explained, "This is parchment contract paper. It has been imbued with the mystical powers of Dominator-level Diviners, Lawyers, Judges, and Priests from the Church. Once you sign it with your blood, you must abide by it. If we ever discover any betrayal or abnormal behavior on your part, we can not only track you through this contract but even directly curse and bind you through it."
Hiss!
Silas sucked in a sharp breath. This kind of contract was rather terrifying.
Jeros said calmly, "Faith, kinship, love – such relationships are unreliable. Only absolute control can yield absolute sincerity."
Silas, upon hearing this, grumbled internally, "Very much your Demon Hunter style."
Although Demon Hunters were affiliated with the Church, they held no faith and felt no emotional attachment to the Church. Because they were all emotionless killing machines.
Jeros continued, "This contract is effective for five years. After five years, if you do not wish to continue, you can sign a separate confidentiality agreement and regain your freedom."
Silas clutched the contract, hesitating slightly.
"It's not too late to regret it now. Forcing someone to do something is highly inefficient. In my entire life, there's only one thing I would force someone to do. Everything else, I let take its natural course," Jeros said slowly.
"What is that?" Silas was somewhat curious.
Jeros's golden, slit pupils held an inhuman coldness. "Force them to die."
Silas quickly averted his gaze. Looking into those eerie eyes, he felt a chill run down his spine.
Lowering his head, he reviewed the contract once more. After confirming it didn't contain any clauses like those "main god contracts" where doing something forbidden resulted in instant death, Silas bit his finger and let a drop of blood fall onto the paper.
"I can only use this to buy time. In the future, once I decipher its secrets, I can break free from this contract," Silas thought.
After dripping his blood, Silas picked up a quill pen and wrote his name on it.
Once everything was done, Silas saw the inscriptions and patterns around the contract's border seem to come alive, instantly transforming into countless thorns that extended to entwine his name and blood.
In an instant, a feeling like needles pricking his back flashed past.
Putting the contract away, Jeros changed his tone, speaking reassuringly, "Rest assured, the Church has been developing for over ten thousand years. Our aim is to make humanity better, not to turn people into our slaves. As long as you are sufficiently loyal, this contract will have no negative side effects for you; it might even have some benefits."
"Benefits!?" Silas was taken aback.
What benefits could this damn malevolent contract possibly have! Silas complained internally.
Jeros said calmly, "The mystical is called mystical because it cannot be explained by science or common sense. As I said, this contract was created by Dominator-level Diviners, Lawyers, Judges, and Priests. Although it's mass-produced, it still retains subtle powers that defy common understanding and language. If you choose one of these four as your Profession, as your knowledge and vision improve, you can, through this contract, receive feedback in the form of knowledge that will be very precious to you."
"Dominator!" Silas only now noticed this term.
In his current understanding, "Dominator" represented the pinnacle of achievement in a certain field. Just as the name implied, they could dominate all known knowledge within that domain.