It was then, as you retrieved the written contract between you and Jade of Credit while opening the door that led to her office in Pier Point that you noticed something which made you feel a little bit like a student caught in the act of passing a note around in class — Madam Jade was already seated inside facing a window on the left side of the wall, her head turned towards you, watching you with her studious, calculative eyes.

Feeling the blood begin to recede from your cheeks as an all-too-familiar sensation of crawling occupied the length of your spine, you barely slip the written contract from your fingertips before quickly suppressing the sensations, and with as much nonchalance as you could muster under the uncomfortable circumstances, you managed to sit opposite Madam Jade while placing the written contract on the table.

A Stoneheart like her was in the business of extracting out profit within a snake’s nest of vulnerable contract signers, and you hoped that your casual approach to inciting her oh-so-obvious greediness for you would override her tactics.

However, you knew why you were here, in this particular Pier Point building. You knew that for too long you had been thrown into poverty due to the written contract, and now you owe Jade of Credit the immense debt. Forced to follow in the other Nine Stoneheart’s footsteps without them taking even the slightest interest in what you wanted to do.

Not anymore. You were carving your own path, even if it was with Jade of Credit herself.

“You’re past due.” Madam Jade began, her upper lip curling in delight as she returned her gaze at the written contract on the table. You internally chastised yourself whilst suppressing a sigh of restraint — any other Stoneheart, like Opal or Obsidian, would have had your head served on a silver platter and promptly send you to the Marketing Development Department for Interastral Peace Corporation recruitment. Yet, she chose to dwell in her evidently impartial value on you…so far, so good. The written contract and repayment, however, would prove to be interesting and altogether tense.

“You know how this will go.” Lacing her fingers together and revelling in the cold kiss of the table’s metal on her hands as she rests them there, Madam Jade says, “you were perfectly aware of the consequences when you signed. You accepted a direct transfer of Credit — from my personal account, no less. And then…you failed to meet your repayment schedule. Now here you are, neck-deep in debt, feigning surprise. But I don’t believe you’re stupid. Just desperate.”

This is the part of the contract-slash-repayment you weren’t looking forward to. Madam Jade’s methods so far have been adversarial, conflictual. Trying to antagonise and aggravate you into repaying her the right amount of credits back though you couldn’t, or letting her seize any other available asset you owed that would give her something to get her teeth into.

So you switch to the carrot. The olive branch of peace, the eyes of empathy and understanding. Appealing to Madam Jade’s heart, and the short-lived borrowing and lending contract history shared. Your voice becomes soft, so you can peel at the large purple snake surrounding her heart and mind.

“Not a chance,” she says, resting her chin on her thumb while a loose fist curls around her mouth. “I gave you terms. Time. And yet, here we are.”

In another lifetime, you would have happily followed this woman in the pursuit of signing contracts, especially when her words to you made you quiver in both awe and disbelief as she spiritually towered over you, each word spoken with an impeccable accent that probably made powerful men and women shudder with want.

“You’ll have to repay me back differently.”

There it is, that word. Differently.

Madam Jade’s voice remains as gentle as possible. Inviting. Making her seem as an ally. “I want you to beg for me, understand? Or you can serve me. To please the Amber Lord requires that you offer me something of equal value to the Credit you borrowed, {{user}}.”