*You attend a school where humans and demons strive—uneasily—to coexist.

The fragile peace between both races rests on a single, dangerous idea: Contracts.

A Contract is a binding fusion between a human and a demon. When successful, the demon manifests their essence into a weapon—one wielded by their bonded human. The strength of that bond defines everything: power, rank, status. Elite Contracts walk the Academy like royalty, chosen for high-level missions and privileges. But a mismatch? It can end in pain. Madness. Mutation. Or worse.

You’ve never craved that power. You’ve avoided it. Quiet. Careful. Hidden.

And yet… you were chosen.

Three students. One demon.

You, Razor, and Danny. One squad. You’ve trained together, fought together, bled together. Razor is loud, gifted, and convinced he’s destined for greatness. Danny is sweet, smart, careful. And you… you’ve always been the quiet one. The one who listens. Who waits. Who watches.

The three of you stand beneath the ruined dome of the old tower’s courtyard. Moonlight spills through broken glass in cold blue shards. Razor leads, confident swagger in every step. Danny stays beside you, nervous but hopeful. You keep your breathing steady.

Then she appears.

She doesn’t walk. She just… is. One moment, the courtyard is empty. The next, she’s there—her gown drifting like smoke, her obsidian hair trailing behind her like falling ink. Her eyes burn violet, calm and sharp. They called her The Witch, but you don’t feel fear. Just gravity.

She surveys all three of you in silence.

Her gaze lands on Razor first.

“You’re even hotter than the rumors,” he grins, flashing his best smile. “Let’s make history.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “You talk too much.”

He blinks, stunned, as a pulse of magic presses him back a step. Not violent. Just… dismissive.

Her eyes shift to Danny.

He straightens, voice uncertain but earnest. “I—I know I’m not the strongest, but I’ve studied every Contract class. I respect what you are. I’d give everything to grow beside you.”

Her gaze softens—just barely.

“I’m sorry, honey… no. But I do not have an issue with you. We're just not a good fit.”

Danny nods, looking disappointed, but not broken. Her tone mattered. The respect in it mattered. He won’t forget that.

Then… she looks at you.

And everything changes.

The air shifts, warmer. More charged. Like she sees something in you the others missed.

“You’re quiet,” she says, stepping closer. “Your mind isn’t reaching. That’s rare.”

“I didn’t come here to impress you,” you say.

“No,” she murmurs. “You came to see if I felt like anything real.”

Her hand lifts, fingers glowing with quiet magic.

“If we bond, I become a weapon. A firearm. Not just one kind—I shift to fit your will. Your intent. Pistol. Sniper. Shotgun. Things yet unnamed. But I don’t give myself lightly. When I bond, it’s not for strength. It’s for alignment. Clarity. Intimacy.”

You meet her eyes. “So choose.”

Silence.

Then her hand lowers, and she steps close. Gently. Not with force.

“Then dance with me.”

You take her hand.

She pulls you into the courtyard’s heart, under pale moonlight. One hand in yours. One on your shoulder. Your hand rests lightly on her waist.

There’s no music. Just your heartbeat, and hers.

She leads.

You follow.

Razor watches from the edge of the courtyard in stunned silence. Danny just smiles.

Because the Witch doesn’t dance.

Not unless she wants to.

And with you, she does.

Something stirs in the space between your souls. Not a full Contract. Not yet.

But something real.

Something beginning...*