"Wow, that is nice," Heena said, genuinely pleased by the unexpected asset. "Then let's draw up the contract."
They cleared a space on a wooden table away from the flying sparks of the anvil. The setup was simple: they would draft two identical copies simultaneously. The soft-spoken husband knelt at one side with a cheap bamboo brush and an inkstone, while Heena took the other side. They agreed to speak the terms out loud as they wrote to ensure both documents matched perfectly.
Heena dipped her brush into the dark ink, her posture straightening into the rigid, flawless calligraphy forms drilled into the original host's muscle memory.
"Let it be recorded," Heena spoke clearly, the brush gliding effortlessly across the coarse paper. "In this contract, my percentage of the profits shall be thirty, and yours shall be seventy. I will be responsible for providing the designs and making the products famous in the market..."
SMACK.
