Mitch jumped in surprise when the device buzzed.
He accidentally knocked over the cup on the table before him with the sudden movement.
This resulted in most of the cup's content to spill on himself.
But he didn't seem affected by his soaked pants in the least.
Instead, he clumsily reached for the expensive earplugs in his pockets and quickly pulled up the screen and accepted the incoming dual media message.
A virtual contract appeared.
At the same time, a polite voice spoke:
"This is Kroya Brentz speaking."
A team of bots quietly wiped the floor, table and chair clean. Some of them specifically came for his clothes.
"As discussed, changes have been made to some of the terms of the contract provided by Mr. Mitch Declan."
Since personal communication devices didn't send identity confirmation messages when used by their respective owners, the person on the other line didn't waste time on unnecessary formalities.
"Feel free to go over them with your lawyer. My employer would like to have an answer b—"
Mitch didn't give the other party the time to finish.
"I agree!"
Realizing his obvious eagerness would certainly come off as suspicious, he quickly forced himself to reign in his emotions.
"My wife and I really needed the money. Thank you so, so much. Please thank your boss for us as well. Thank you for saving our child's life. You don't know how much this means to us."
Satisfied with his acting, Mitch pretended to take a deep breath to calm himself down.
Meanwhile, the bots finished removing the stains from his pants with a special device designed for such instances.
Once they were done, they retreated back to their stations without saying a word.
"I agree to your conditions."
While they'd been busy wiping, Mitch had been busy going over the parts of the contract he was most interested in.
"I'm sorry for rushing things but...as long as I sign this, I'll get the money within 42 hours, right?"
Since most of his drink had been left untouched when it spilled, a grog waiter placed a new one before him for free.
Mitch watched as the green gnome waddled away with an empty tray on his comically short hands.
Mitch's eyes shone with ridicule.
He'd always found their species entertaining to look at; the grogs came in all colours of the rainbow, had the skin texture of toads, the height of ten-year old human children, sounded like talking ducks and moved like handicapped penguins.
He didn't know why such ugly things would even exist if not for others to laugh at.
"Be sure to vacate the premises before the deadline."
When the grog disappeared into the inner part of the restaurant, Mitch turned his attention to the fresh cup of juice.
"Don't worry, don't worry. My little Mickey's health isn't so good. Even after the surgeries..."
He sniffled.
"We want to be sure there'll always be someone by his side until his completely recovery. We decided the better option would be to move in with my wife's family, so we've been there ever since."
The secretary didn't seem interested in him at all. If he continued going on and on about his fictitious family members, he was afraid he'd end up shooting himself in the foot.
So, Mitch stayed silent a moment, pretending to be emotional.
At the same time, he took a sip from the straw.
The coldness was refreshing under the scorching sun.
Using the same emotionless voice, the secretary continued, "The contract states all furnishings, decor—"
"Yes, yes, yes. Everything will be sold with the house. Nothing will be missing."
Mitch quickly flipped through the holographic document to the signature page and scanned his hand and fingerprints.
"You can send a bot over any time to assess the house and tidy up."
Mitch was not pious, but he found himself thanking all the Gods he'd ever heard of that the big boss that decided to buy that cursed place was strange and stupid.
The idiot refused to reveal their identity and insisted on having bots review the mansion instead of living beings.
Frankly, Mitch didn't care whether the "Boss" was a criminal or an important figure. The only thing that mattered was that the amount they proposed exceeding his expectations by far.
Before they appeared, he'd been trying in vain to make amends with the fact that he would have to make do with a measly amount because of those dumb rumours.
But things were different thanks to them.
He invented himself a desperate situation to explain the hurry and resilience to sell the mansion way below its market value, and the fool jumped right into it. They even went as far as offering more than what the damned place was actually worth.
Right now Mitch still believed he had no reason to care too much about the requested assessment.
Whatever demon haunted that place only attacked people with a heartbeat. The cleaning bots he'd sent there after each runaway tenant had never been attacked and their recording features never caught anything out of the ordinary on their built-in cameras.
"I'm sending the signed contract now."
He pressed a button on the holographic screen and a virtual envelope appeared.
The contract slid in, the envelope closed on its own and flew upward.
Ting!
A notification sounded in his earplugs.
A message appeared on his screen:
Sending Successful
"It's been received."
The secretary seemed to be verifying whether everything was in order with his signature.
They now had permission to enter the house and do whatever they wished inside.
"By the way, like I said back then, the last tenants were violent people. They destroyed quite a few things during their parties and couple fights. Even their children were full of...vitality—adorable troublemakers. Because of my personal matters, I haven't been to the mansion since their eviction two years ago, I'm afraid..."
His voice slowly down died.
Awkwardness and embarrassment laced his tone.
"A team will arrive at the site within 24 hours. We hope you'll help them enter and leave its premises without delay. As for the status of my boss's purchase, the full sum will be delivered to your account only upon confirmation that everything is in order with the property."
As expected, the detached secretary didn't care.
"...I understand."
The call disconnected without so much as a goodbye.
Even though Mitch had paid off the family of the dying officer in charge of the case, with the condition that she provides a legal affirmation that nothing suspicious was taking place in that godforsaken place, Mitch took extra precautions to ensure any suckers that found interest in the house wouldn't find any faults with it.
He'd lost quite a bit from lawsuits and paying off people to close the case.
Then he lost some more to erase and bury all detailed articles about the incident of that f*cked up day, in addition to other similar occurrences related to that place's history.
He also ended up forking out a good amount to spread rumours about the falsified police reports he ensured stated most of the victims had passed away from accidents or natural causes.
Lastly, he made sure every one who newly heard of the ghost stories would think that the idea of Declan Mansion being haunted stemmed from its unmodernized style and prejudices.
After shooting so much of his inheritance and pay down the drain, it was time for him to get back what he was due.
As if the Gods were all in his favour—if Gods did exist (which he'd begun to find a little harder to doubt now that he knew invisible, murderous demons might not be in stories only)—a rich boss crossed his path just when he'd started to lose hope.
Mitch was more than eager to toss that hot potato to whomever was willingly to take it.
And although he had a few back-up buyers in line, this Boss's offer was the most attractive of the lot. So he refused to allow this golden-leaf tree to escape from him.
Mitch, on the other hand, would leave with his well deserved compensation.
Still, he couldn't be completely at ease until he had his hand on the money.
For the first time in his life, Mitch joined his hands together in prayer.
"May those demonic creatures stay quiet until the end of the home assessment, please. I promise they'll have a fresh family to feast upon soon enough."
