There were no lengthy contracts, not even a blood pact. Instead, what they faced was a tiny outstretched pinky.
The couple blinked at this until their son practically pushed them towards it. Not that it was possible, but the effort showed.
"Will this be enough?" questioned the marquis, who was trying to figure out how this would be able to hold.
But when their pinkies lit up of sorts, he figured there was something ancient about it, and suddenly he understood that these people weren't just dealing with paper contracts.
It was the same for his wife, although after seeing that flash of light, the careful mother felt better about the security. No wonder their son couldn't open his mouth.
Good.
Very good.
Because with how their son had been wiggling in his seat, they would need something stronger than duct tape to keep him from blurting anything.
