I'm Only Moderately Smart-My Opponents Make Me Look Good

"Sure!"

Russell shifted against the back of the stone chair and asked with a smile, "How do we sign the contract? Fingerprints, blood, or a soul binding?"

The blurry face made no movement. A yellowed scroll of paper slowly materialized on the stone table before Russell.

Russell reached out and touched it. The paper had a dense structure and good elasticity. It was not the animal hide he had imagined, but seemed to have been parchment-treated—what was commonly called industrial parchment.

That somewhat ruined the lofty image, but the material of the paper was not important. What mattered was what was written on it.

Russell examined it carefully, his brow furrowing tighter the more he read. Since it was a contract, there had to be corresponding rights and obligations. Otherwise, this sheet of paper was meaningless.

But after stripping away all the useless nonsense, Russell found few clauses that benefited the host. Instead, he himself was required to fulfill a great many obligations. The whole thing was obedience, obedience, and more obedience.

He would be taking a huge loss. If he really signed it, he would be little different from a slave!

Russell set down the contract, his face showing dissatisfaction. At that moment, the system's voice spoke up.

"Sign your name where indicated on the contract, and you will become a true host. At that time, all permissions will be opened to you..."

"Hold on. There's too much nonsense in this contract. A lot of the paragraphs are completely meaningless, and that makes me nervous. You didn't pull anything shady, did you?"

Russell interrupted. The system fell silent for a moment before a change occurred. Large sections of useless text vanished from the contract, making it much more concise.

"That looks much cleaner now."

"Your request has been met. You may now sign the contract!"

"Don't rush. This is a serious matter, so I need to get things straight. First, what do I gain by signing the contract and becoming a true host?"

Russell asked bluntly, "To be honest, this contract lacks sincerity. All I see is you exploiting me; I don't see what you're giving in return. Compared to the probationary period, signing this contract places many more restrictions on my freedom."

"There is no need for dissatisfaction. Contracts are inherently like this. Receiving the system's services is your greatest reward! Think of traveling through the worlds of the Myriad Worlds—what will you gain? You may become a god who stands above all living beings. Even godhood will merely be the starting point. You will surpass everything; life, death, and dimensions will no longer bind you. You will become a supreme and eternal existence."

"Heh, that's all in the future. I'm shortsighted—I only care about immediate benefits. I have the feeling that if I sign this contract, I'll lose control of my own life and start serving you."

"Once you sign the contract, you will be the host. You and I will become one, and I will not pose a threat to you..."

For once, the system patiently explained things to Russell. But Russell had no intention of trusting it and kept shifting around in the chair behind him.

The system sensed Russell's displeasure and asked stiffly, "What are you doing?"

"I'm wondering where this place actually is. Could the stone seat under my ass be the computer chair in my home?"

"You're overthinking it!"

"I thought so too. Then where am I now? What is this place?"

The system answered. This time, its voice became incomparably majestic, even carrying a hint of holiness. "This is Contract Land, the fairest hall in the Myriad Worlds. Here, there are only you and me. No third party exists. The spirit of the contract binds us: no deception, no concealment, no malicious contracting!"

"That sounds great. Does that mean we're equal here?"

"Yes!"

"Then why did the contract suddenly appear just now, like you were controlling it?"

"..."

"Why aren't you talking? Did you crash?"

"Because... I rented this venue. As the tenant, I have certain permissions."

Russell sneered. "Heh, fairness bends before money."

"You need not complain. This is a necessary process. Everyone who signs a contract with the system does so this way."

Russell did not ask where the people who had signed contracts with the system before him had gone. The answer was obvious. If they had not died, how could there still be an opportunity for him?

"Alright, this dry conversation is too boring. We Chinese like to discuss business at the dinner table. Talking while eating helps cultivate feelings, brings people closer, and improves efficiency. If you drink the other party under the table, then nine times out of ten, whatever you want done will get done."

The system fell silent. "I do not drink alcohol, nor can I consume food."

"That's fine. You can watch me eat!" Russell said naturally. "Since you're the tenant, you should be able to order food. Since Contract Land charges rent, it must offer dining services too... Do you have any pretty waitresses? The kind who eat, drink, and have fun with you?"

System: "..."

"Fine, you look like some poor system with no money anyway, so forget the pretty waitress. Order me a roast chicken. No handle, mildly spicy!"

Russell looked as though he had all the time in the world and intended to sit down for a meal while chatting, prompting another stretch of silence from the system.

Before long, a steaming roast chicken appeared before Russell, complete with knife, fork, and seasonings. Its enticing aroma made his mouth water.

Russell did not use the knife and fork, nor did he care about dining etiquette. He tore off a chicken leg and began eating it directly.

The system watched quietly. Only after he had finished the chicken leg and reached for a chicken wing did it speak. "How long do you intend to eat? In such a sacred and solemn place, your profane behavior will only sully the contract ceremony."

Russell set down the chicken wing, picked up the tablecloth to wipe his mouth, and closed his eyes to savor the taste for a few seconds before smiling. "This chicken tastes awful... Oh, sorry. What I meant to say was... you're in a hurry?"

System: "..."

"Trying to catch a train? Why are you so eager to sign a contract with me?"

"Because the rent is expensive and charged by the hour. We must make every second count!"

The system gave a very reluctant answer, but Russell went straight for the crux of the matter. "What rent? Where did you get the money? Or are you... skimming it from my mission rewards?"

"No. My permissions cannot deduct..."

The system was about to explain when Russell waved it off. "No need. Lies never hold up. One lie needs a hundred more, or even more than that, to cover it up. Keep lying, and there won't be even a shred of trust left between us."

"I have not lied to you. This is Contract Land. No one can lie here." The system's explanation sounded slightly hurried as it emphasized the point again.

"Not before either?"

"Not before either!"

Russell smiled even more brightly. "When I first used the Medicated Alcohol, your prompt said that once an Item Card was used, there was no time limit, but it could not be taken out of the current world after use."

"..."

"But when I returned to my room, the M9 pressed against my back—the M9 I got from the lottery had come back with me."

System: "..."

Russell spread his hands. "You lied! Following that logic, when you said nobody could lie in Contract Land, that was another lie. And if we keep following that logic, this isn't Contract Land at all... So there's no such place to begin with, right?"

As he spoke, Russell picked up the parchment with his greasy hand, waved it around, and continued, "And this contract—what kind of contract can be freely deleted and altered after it has been drafted? It has no contract spirit at all. It's far too sloppy. Only an idiot would sign it!"

"..."

"Come on, eat this bowl of pork cutlet rice and tell the truth. It'll be good for both of us!"

"..."

"Hurry up. The rent here is expensive."

The system's facial features could not be seen clearly, but its voice sounded melancholy, indifferent, and somewhat resigned. "You are very intelligent, and your powers of observation are exceptionally sharp. This is the first time I have encountered someone as rational as you. The previous Hosts agreed decisively upon hearing about the contract, no matter how harsh the conditions were."

Russell shook his head. "Not really. I'm only moderately smart—my opponents make me look good!"

"..."

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