Page 47 of A House of Gold
“And you are. That’s the problem.” Croesus’s voice is almost gentle. “Pride is a beautiful sin, David. It gives you everything you want right until it destroys you. Seraph is very good at his job.”
“I can’t—” Barnes’s breath is coming faster now, panic setting in. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t. But the contract... “
“Can be broken.” Croesus gestures toward me. “This is Raven. She’s a sin eater. She can take your contract, absorb it, break it. Set you free.”
Barnes’s eyes snap to me for the first time, hope and suspicion warring on his face. “Free?”
“Completely. No more contract. No more pride. No more perfect performances. Just... you. Normal, flawed, capable of asking for help.” Croesus pauses. “There is, of course, a cost.”
And there it is. The catch. There’s always a catch.
“What cost?” Barnes’s voice is small, defeated.
“Your soul comes to me instead of Seraph. When you die naturally, in your own time, you belong to the House of Gold rather than the House of Ruin.”
I step forward before I can stop myself.
Croesus’s hand comes up, silencing me without touching me. Not aggressively. Just a gesture that says wait.
“Think about it, David,” Croesus continues, his attention still on Barnes. “Right now, you’re going to break. Soon. Maybe days, maybe weeks. And when you do, Seraph will collect your soul, and you’ll spend eternity in his house, a monument to failed perfection. Or...” He pauses. “You can choose freedom now. Live the rest of your life as a normal human. Admit weakness, ask for help, save your marriage, actually sleep for once. And yes, when you eventually die of old age, or whatever kills you, your soul comes to me. But you’ll have lived first. Really lived. Isn’t that worth the trade?”
Barnes is crying now. Silent tears stream down his face as he stares at Croesus. “You’re, you’re trading one contract for another.”
“I am,” Croesus agrees. “I’m not pretending otherwise. But my contract is better. You get your life back. You get to be human again. All I take is what comes after.”
“That’s still his soul,” I say, unable to stay quiet. “You’re still collecting him.”
“Yes.” Croesus doesn’t look at me. “But he gets to live first. That’s more than Seraph would give him.”
He’s right. Breaking the contract means Barnes goes free now, lives a normal life, and only pays the price when he dies naturally decades from now. That’s better than what he has. Better than breaking under pride’s weight and losing his soul, anyway.
It’s still predatory. Still exploitative.
But it’s also mercy.
Sort of.
Barnes looks between us, desperate and broken and so, so tired. “If I say yes, if she breaks it, I’m really free? I can ask my wife for help? I can admit I don’t know things? I can be...normal?”
“Completely normal,” Croesus confirms. “The only thing that changes is where your soul goes when you die. And that won’t be for a long time. You’re forty-two. Healthy, aside from the stress. You could have another forty years. Fifty, even.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then we leave. You keep your contract with Seraph. And in a few weeks when you collapse from exhaustion or have a breakdown in front of your biggest client, he’ll collect you just like he always planned.” Croesus tilts his head. “Your choice, David. Freedom now and payment later. Or keep drowning and pay now.”
It’s not really a choice. Not when it’s presented like that.
Barnes knows it too.
“Do it,” he whispers. “Please. Break it. I don’t care about later. I just need it to stop. Please.”
Croesus finally looks at me. Those gold eyes find me unerringly, and I see the question in them.
He will not force this. Not going to make me break the contract if I refuse.
He’s giving me the choice.
And damn him, he knew I’d make the right one.
