Chapter Twenty Five

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Alastor gazed at Angel's peaceful slumber, a twinge of guilt gnawing at his conscience. He knew the stark reality: there were only three ways to sever a contract – the writer dismissing it, their demise, or transferring ownership to another overlord. Glancing at the contract resting on the desk, he recognized the futility of the first two options. Valentino wouldn't willingly surrender it, and Alastor couldn't eliminate him without knowing his whereabouts. That left only one choice.

Desperate for clarity, Alastor descended the stairs, hoping a stroll might clear his troubled mind. To his surprise, Charlie was in the kitchen. "Oh, hey Al," she greeted, a cup of tea already prepared before her.

"It's quite late for tea," he remarked, settling into a seat across from her.

Charlie offered him a cup, smiling warmly. "Ah, I couldn't sleep. Would you like a cup?"

"That would be delightful," Alastor accepted, his thoughts still consumed by his dilemma. "So, can I ask why you're up so late? I've noticed you stay upstairs with Angel at night nowadays," Charlie inquired as she handed him the cup.

Alastor sighed, admitting, "Breaking Angel's contract has proven rather difficult." His gaze drifted to the window, his mind preoccupied with the weight of his responsibilities.

Charlie's expression softened with empathy. "I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you, Alastor. It's not an easy decision to make."

Alastor nodded, acknowledging the depth of his predicament. "I've explored every avenue, but it seems there are no easy answers."

Their conversation lingered in the quiet kitchen, illuminated by the soft moonlight casting gentle shadows. Alastor's concern for Angel weighed heavily on him as he confessed, "I just want what's best for Angel. But I fear that whatever decision I make will only bring him more harm."

Charlie offered a reassuring gesture, squeezing his hand gently. "You're doing everything you can, Alastor. And that's all anyone can ask for."

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