Chapter 9
The seven families who knowingly bought black favors did not receive identical consequences.
Anthony Vale lost private access completely.
He had understood the custom best.
Corbett attempted to argue that the gift was already accepted because it entered my hotel.
I sent his entire wedding present back unopened.
The vintage car too.
Gareth protested because it had technically been given to him.
I returned it anyway.
“If your network survives only because people think my marriage validates it, then nothing stays.”
Two families apologized and asked to speak through ordinary channels later.
I allowed it.
Not immediately.
Eventually.
A banned man does not become virtuous because his route back was dishonest, but neither does a bad approach make every future conversation impossible.
Precision.
Always.
Then I melted the twelve coins.
Not into door handles.
I had heard enough stories about symbolic metal becoming household fixtures.
Instead we poured the metal into one plain block and stored it in the Ravenshaw archive beside a note:
NO FAVOR MAY BE CREATED WITHOUT THE KNOWLEDGE OF BOTH PEOPLE INVOLVED.
Simple.
No romantic object.
May you like
No trophy.
Just evidence that stupid customs can end.
