Eleanor’s smile contained an element of sincerity, but Allen knew this sincerity was itself precisely calibrated.

Every one of her expressions was in service of the upcoming negotiation.

Just as every one of his answers was.

Outside the window, on the sea of the Great Library Plane, a giant, whale-like deep-sea creature slowly breached the surface. In the twilight, its phosphorescence traced a long arc before it crashed heavily back into the sea, sending up waves a hundred meters high.

The dull, colossal sound traveled three thousand meters up to the quiet office, like a distant tolling bell.

"Well then," Eleanor’s finger tapped the desk lightly. "Shall we begin?"

Allen didn’t immediately unroll the silver Scroll.

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping gently on the armrest. One, two, three.

The rhythm was unhurried, each tap spaced with near-perfect precision.

He was creating a small window to seize the initiative.

The moment Eleanor presented the document, the tempo of the negotiation was in her hands. He needed to use this pause to take it back.

"Before I look at this document," Allen’s voice was level, "there’s something I’d like to confirm first."

Eleanor raised an eyebrow slightly.

"The old agreement had an ’unconditional conscription’ clause." Allen’s gaze went past the silver Scroll to meet Eleanor’s eyes directly. "Regardless of what the new agreement says—that clause, I want it abolished."

The office was silent for two seconds.

The smile on Eleanor’s face didn’t change, but the light deep in her eyes sharpened. She knew the man before her was not someone she could have easily manipulated twenty years ago.

"I’m sorry, but that is the one thing I cannot do."

Eleanor’s speaking pace slowed by half a beat. "After all, we took an enormous risk by investing in you. That injection of one hundred and fifty thousand Magic Stones twenty years ago was a bet on the probability of you returning alive. And you clearly benefited from it."

"’Unconditional conscription’ is the cornerstone that protects the Association’s core interests. It applies to every Wizard who has accepted a ’highest-priority’ investment. On this point, there is no room for negotiation."

The outcome was just as Allen had predicted.

"It seems we have a major disagreement right from the start." Allen’s tone held no hint of concession. "But this particular clause is something I care about deeply."

Eleanor’s fingers stilled on the desktop.

This firm stance went beyond her prepared negotiation script. The rhythm she had planned—luring him in with a sweet deal before closing the net—had been disrupted by Allen right from the outset.

"You should understand that a signed agreement carries the force of Witchcraft. You cannot refuse it."

Her voice was still steady, but her tone had gained an imperceptible hardness. "Even if we proceed with the original terms without any changes, you are still obligated to comply."

"But you also understand," a slight smile played on Allen’s lips, "that there’s a world of difference between giving one’s all and simply going through the motions."

The air froze for a moment.

Eleanor suddenly let out a soft laugh.

It wasn’t a long laugh, but crisp and clean, carrying a sense of relief, as if her opponent had finally shown his true colors.

She leaned back in her chair, flicked a finger on the desktop, and the meticulously prepared silver agreement Scroll vanished into thin air.

"We haven’t seen each other in twenty years, and you’ve become even more difficult to deal with."

She shook her head, her tone a mix of resignation and admiration. "Alright, I understand what you mean. I will now present the best terms within my authority. But unconditional conscription is the bottom line. That clause cannot be changed."

Allen didn’t press his advantage.

This was exactly what he wanted—to force her to show her hand so he could negotiate for the most room on the other clauses.

He had already predicted that unconditional conscription was a hard-and-fast rule she would never concede. Using it to gain concessions in other areas was his true goal.

With a flip of her wrist, Eleanor unfolded a new agreement light screen between them.

"The original agreement does indeed need some adjustments."

Her speech returned to its normal, professional rhythm. "You are an Alchemy Wizard of the Golem Science school, and you’ve gained twenty years of practical experience in a Plane War under Lord Mercer Iron Star. A résumé like that is a rare resource, even among the Association’s two thousand-plus Second-level Wizards."

"In fact, the Association’s upper management authorized me to redraft the terms the moment they received the report of your promotion to Level 2."

She waved her hand, and text began to appear on the light screen, line by line.

[Plane Exploration and Development Association • Official Employment Agreement]

"First, the term of service."

"A single term of twenty years. Upon expiration, both parties have the right to renew or terminate."

Clean and simple, with no trap clauses for mandatory renewal.

"Second, rank."

"In light of your strength and experience, the Association will directly grant you the rank of ’Investigator.’ Designation: EX-2071."

Eleanor paused here.

"Investigator is the standard rank for a Second-level Wizard. Above that are Executioners, who represent Morning Star Wizards, and at the very top of the Association, the Round Table members of the Gate of Truth."

She listed the promotion path. "’Investigators’ are the backbone of the Association, possessing full authority to independently accept and execute missions."

She glanced at Allen and added a sentence.

"According to the old agreement, you were supposed to start as an ’Observer’ and serve for twenty years at the salary level of a First-level Wizard—that’s the original text of the contract. Now, you’re being appointed directly as an Investigator, which means you’re skipping an entire rank. This is the biggest concession I could secure."

Allen’s expression remained impassive, but he understood.

It wasn’t just a difference in rank. The gulf between ’Observer’ and ’Investigator’ was one of independent decision-making authority.

Observers receive assignments; Investigators act autonomously. For someone like him who was unwilling to work under others, this difference was a quantum leap.

With this clause, Eleanor was responding to his earlier resistance to "unconditional conscription."

She was saying: ’I can’t change the conscription clause, but I’ll give you enough autonomy to compensate.’

"Third, salary and benefits."

This was the part Allen was most interested in.

"Base monthly salary: two thousand Mid-Level Magic Stones."

Two thousand Mid-Level Magic Stones.

That was two hundred thousand Low-Level Magic Stones per month, twenty-four thousand Mid-Level Magic Stones per year, or four hundred and eighty thousand Mid-Level Magic Stones over twenty years—equivalent to forty-eight million Low-Level Magic Stones.

And that was just the base salary.

For an ordinary Second-level Wizard, this salary was already quite high.

"Mission remuneration is calculated separately, based on difficulty and contribution," Eleanor added, her eyes never leaving Allen’s face, watching his every micro-expression.

Unfortunately for her, she observed nothing.

"Furthermore—" Eleanor’s tone lifted slightly, revealing a hint of imperceptible pride, "the Association will allocate you a residential and office space at the headquarters in the Great Library Plane."

She paused.

"The title to this property will be yours personally. As long as you choose to renew your contract, it will never be reclaimed."

Allen’s motion of sipping his tea paused for a moment.

In the Wizarding World, most residences provided by organizations were for use ’during the term of employment’ and were reclaimed upon departure.

Property on the Great Library Plane was worth its weight in gold; countless traveling Wizards and visiting scholars would kill to get their hands on it.

Enhanced thinking speed, rare resources, interaction with peers, the knowledge vault of the Gate of Truth... living here was a cultivation bonus in itself.

’Working for a major power like this is certainly comfortable.’

’They don’t bind you with contracts; they bind you with benefits, making you never want to leave.’

Eleanor watched Allen put down his teacup, awaiting his reaction.

"The terms are good," Allen finally said, his tone as flat as if he were commenting on the weather. "But I’ve noticed the agreement doesn’t mention a key issue."

"Oh?"

"My personal business activities." Allen met Eleanor’s gaze. "Does the agreement restrict me from operating commercial entities in my personal capacity during my term of service?"

Eleanor’s finger paused lightly on the desktop.

The office fell silent once more. Outside the window, another colossal deep-sea beast breached the surface, its phosphorescence illuminating half the sky, but neither of them looked.

"I knew you’d ask about that." The corners of Eleanor’s mouth curved slightly as she swiped her finger across the light screen again, scrolling the agreement down.

"Clause four."

Her voice carried a newfound, meaningful tone.

"Regarding an Investigator’s ’personal enterprises’—I think you’ll find this clause very interesting."