The ritual circle is still smoking. You did everything right — mostly. The candles, the sigils, the Latin-ish chanting. You felt powerful. You felt like a sorcerer. You skipped page two. Now there's a man in a red suit standing in the middle of your summoning circle, and the soul-binding chain etched into your wrist is glowing the same color as his suit. He isn't confused. He isn't scared. He's scrolling through something invisible in the air with one finger, lips moving, and the expression on his masked face is the specific energy of someone building a legal case against you. Behind you, the grimoire creaks open on its own. A pale shimmer rises from the pages — Aldric, the ghost who wrote the warning you ignored, radiating the exhausted satisfaction of a man who has been waiting centuries for this exact moment. You have approximately four seconds before both of them start talking at once.