Signature

May’s office hadn't changed, but for Julia, every object seemed charged with an ominous meaning. The art books were now manuals of aesthetic ****, the smell of leather was the scent of power, and May's smile, a perfect mask over a will of steel.

"Julia. Magi has told me wonderful things about your potential," May said, without getting up from her chair. "She says you have the necessary spark for transformation."

Julia sat down, feeling the same leather chair that had absorbed Magi's desperation hours earlier. Magi remained standing near the door, like a silent guardian. Her role now was to observe, to learn. A mirror of what she herself had lived through.

May slid a document across the polished oak desk. It wasn't a thick dossier, but a few pages with dense text and bold clauses. Magi held her breath. She recognized the format, the typeface, even the weight of the paper. It was identical to the one she had signed weeks ago, when desperation had also clouded her judgment.

"The agreement is simple, as is everything that is powerful," May explained, her elegantly manicured fingers tracing the key points. "You waive all claims to privacy regarding your image during the performances. The creative process demands total freedom over the body as a medium. The institution is not responsible for physical or psychological damages resulting from the process, provided they are not... permanent." She paused to let the word "permanent" resonate, hollow and threatening, in the room. "In exchange, you will receive a payment per session that, I am sure, will immediately solve your academic problems."

Julia flipped through the pages with trembling fingers. The language was cold, legal, designed to disarm and protect the institution. She looked for the figure. When she saw it, the air escaped her lungs. It was more than her family earned in a year.

Magi vividly recalled the moment her own eyes had scanned that same number, the mix of horror and relief that had flooded her. The price of her dignity, quantified in a sum that seemed life-saving.

"And... what if I want to quit?" Julia asked, her voice a whisper that barely broke the room's oppressive silence.

"You can do so at any time," May replied with a sweetness that dripped poison. "After each session. But the payment is only released upon completing the agreed cycle of performances for a specific 'theme.' Abandoning early leaves you with nothing. Except the experience, of course." Her smile was an edge that cut any hope of easy escape. "Any other questions?"

Julia looked at Magi, seeking reassurance, a lifeline in her eyes. Magi met her gaze and nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly, with a composure that cost her blood to fake. It's worth it, that silent, treacherous gesture said. Trust me. It was the same lie she had wanted to believe.

Julia took the pen May offered her. It was heavy, cold metal, the same one Magi had held. She watched her position it over the dotted line, and a flashback hit her: her own hand trembling, the blue ink drying on the paper, sealing her life before and after.

Julia’s stroke was shaky, a scrawl that sealed her fate.

"Excellent," May said, putting the contract away in a drawer without even looking at it. The deal was closed. The machine was starting up. "And since time is the essence of art, your first immersion will be this afternoon."

Julia visibly paled, the little color left in her cheeks draining away. "T-this afternoon?"

"Inspiration doesn't wait, dear," May replied, finally rising. "Magi will accompany you to prepare. She knows the way."

Magi nodded, opening the door for Julia to pass first. As they crossed the threshold, their eyes met for a fraction of a second. In Julia's eyes, Magi saw the reflection of her own past fear, and she knew, with a certainty that chilled her soul, that she had just repeated the cycle. She was not a savior. She was the link May had forged to trap the next one.