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“You’re doing it by the book,” she said, surprised.

The results flooded in. PDFs. DOC files. Websites with green headers and outdated fonts. He clicked on the first link—the official ANAF site. There it was. Contract de închiriere – model standard. A sterile, bureaucratic ghost of a document. No pictures. No fluff. Just 14 articles written in the cold, precise language of tax collectors.

He reached . This was the ANAF signature. He, Andrei, had to register the contract with the local tax authority within 30 days. He had to pay 10% tax on the rental income. He had to fill out Form 200. The ghost of the taxman suddenly became very real.

He sighed and printed two copies. The cheap printer whirred, spitting out pages that smelled of warm toner and responsibility.

They signed. Two signatures. One date. A handshake that actually meant something this time.

Andrei had never been a landlord. He was just a guy who inherited a studio apartment in Dorobanți from his grandmother and needed extra cash to fix his Dacia. When Elena, a young graphic designer with kind eyes and a nervous smile, showed up to see the place, they clicked immediately. No middleman. No agency fees. Just a handshake and a monthly price agreed upon in whispers, as if they were doing something illegal.

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