The dim light of a candle illuminated the walls of an old abandoned estate. Frau Lagrange walked slowly through the broken floorboards, being afraid to make any occasional noise.
- Is anyone right here?
- Sure.

Fry has come out of the stained door, dividing a corridor and a well-preserved room, which still hadn't been dismantled by looters. The air became thick and heavy.

- Sorry for bothering you, mister, but I need money... we need.
- Do you know, who am I?
- Yes.. I guess.. not shure.. in general terms.
- And how much do you need?
- Ten thousand, in gold.
- That sounds.. impressive, — tweeted a Prince with his ears perked up.

He made few steps across a woman. Time around felt.. stopped?

- I know, that's not my business, — started Fry, — nevertheless.. why do an elderly woman need so much money? What's the reason?
- It's all about the shelter, — answered Lagrange with shimmering voice.
- Details?
- Yeah.. amm.. — she was struggling with irrational fear trying to take the words from the depths of her memory — there are a lot of children here. I am the director of the shelter amd their closest person ever. We faced the lack of financing.
She was sobbing with tears welling up in her eyes, making Fry give her a handkerchief.

- Thanks, Sir. Hunger, Cold, the lack of clothes for children and money for rent are like a.. sword of Damocles for us right now. That's not for me for real..
- So.. — the Pince stopped in front of her — You wanna make a deal, darling? — asked he curiosly.
- I don't have another way.. there is nowhere to retreat.

Fry thought for some seconds. The time was viscous like a tar. He looked right in her eyes.

- I'll give you ten years.
- Maybe eleven?
- Eight years.
- Got it — exclaimed Lagrange, putting her hand forward. — Ten is ten.
- Sure.
- Should I.. sign something. I've heared, you need my blood or something like that
- Nonsense. All I need is your willing. Your. Voluntar. Sincere. Consent. — pronounced he distinctly, conveying each word to his interlocutor.
- I do. — whispered her with tears on her eyes
- All's good. Ten years is a long term. You will see them happy, grateful. They won't be in need anymore.. need a hug?
- No, thanks..
- Money will be soon. You will not miss the moment. Good luck, Frau Lagrange.

Fry left the estate, leaving an elderly woman alone.

---
- Your Highness, but.. was that a greed? She's nobility itself! Carved in stone!
- Poor you. She doesn't care about them. She cares about her status, power and image. She is so obsessed with her power in this estate that she was ready to sell the soul, if only the source would not dry up. It's rather difficult to fool me.

The Prince inhaled, letting the cold air deep into his lungs.
- The Perfect soul..

Thanks talanted  Uysu for art