Clause Number Nine-Villain Song [Commission]

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A pact is never just ink and paper—it is a living creature, coiled and patient, feeding on hesitation and hidden desire. It whispers in two tongues at once: one of promise, one of peril. Every clause becomes a doorway, and every signature a slow step into a room where the light is deliberately dimmed. The weight of the agreement is not in the words themselves, but in the way they tilt the air, heavy with what will be surrendered.

Beneath the surface of negotiation lies a battlefield without swords. Each phrase is a parry, each pause a feint. The dance is quick, sharp, and dangerous, each player slipping between truth and falsehood as easily as a blade between ribs. In this realm, winning is not measured by triumph, but by how deeply you can make the other believe they’ve won.

Some alliances are born not of trust, but of necessity. They form in the heat of pursuit, where the hunter and the hunted wear each other’s faces. There is a strange intimacy in building something with the one you would most like to destroy—a proximity that blurs the lines between manipulation and temptation. Here, every choice is a double-edged gift, and every concession leaves a scar.

In the end, the paper burns, the ink smolders, and the air is filled with the scent of something both beautiful and dangerous. What remains is not the deal itself, but the unspoken tension it leaves behind—a lingering pulse in the chest, the knowledge that one victory is only the beginning of another war. The truest signature is not the one on the page, but the one etched quietly into the will of the other.

𝐋𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬:

[𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨]
"𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠—
𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 ‘𝐧𝐨’ 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲."

[𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝟏]
𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞
𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞
𝐈’𝐦 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐧
𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐬, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐧
𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞’𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡, 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐬
𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡’𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐧, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐥
𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐞

[𝐏𝐫𝐞-𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐮𝐬]
𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞, 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮—
𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐲, "𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨"

[𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐮𝐬 𝟏]
𝐖𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐩, 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬
𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬
𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 ‘𝐲𝐞𝐬’ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 ‘𝐧𝐨’ 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐬
𝐖𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞—
𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞

[𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝟐]
𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐧
𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐬
𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞’𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬
𝐖𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝—𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬
𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐤
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐦 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤

[𝐏𝐫𝐞-𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐮𝐬]
𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐞—𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞—
𝐈 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧, "𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨"

[𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐮𝐬 𝟐]
𝐖𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐞
𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞’𝐬 𝐢𝐜𝐞
𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥’𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐞
𝐖𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝—
𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞

[𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤]
[𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫, 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩 𝐢𝐧, 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐬]

[𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞]
𝐈 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧
𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐧
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐬
𝐈𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧

[𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞]
𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬
𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬
𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐈’𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞

[𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐮𝐬 𝟑]
𝐒𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐲
𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐢
𝐈𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐝
𝐖𝐞’𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝
𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫, 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐡𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐦, 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐡𝐲𝐦𝐞—
𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞

[𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐨]
[𝐋𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨, 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐬, 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡]
"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐧, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭—𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞…
𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬."