The Demon's Contract
The demon contract.
“Um… I’m sorry, but if you’re not going to form the contract, could you please leave right away? And if you wouldn’t mind wiping up the blood on the floor, I’d appreciate it.”
“!!!”
A jawline that was neither round nor sharp—the very image of an androgynous beauty. The polite request to “leave right away” from that boy or girl struck me, the king of the unemployed, the incarnation of empty pockets, the living embodiment of poverty, as nothing short of terrifying. It was invisible violence wrapped in language. Was this a fragment of the Dragon Speech that legendary creatures were said to wield?
The black robe looked suffocating, but it made sense now. The boy or girl was clearly an ice-attribute mage. Nothing else could explain such coldness.
“....”
Perhaps my hobby of observation had reached the realm of authority, because I could almost hear the thoughts behind those inorganic, pitch-black eyes. Roughly summarized: ‘I’m busy as hell and you’re still here? By the way, when are you going to clean the floor?’
The way the body was hunched and the pupils trembled ever so slightly suggested the child was still wary of me. ‘A rather honest personality, huh?’
There were people like that—awkward with eye contact and conversation, yet perfectly blunt and straightforward when it came to their own words.
Setting that aside, the real issue wasn’t what kind of person the child was. It was that the one who had summoned me into this room (presumably) had abandoned me, leaving me to be dragged back to that hell.
Ooooooh. Anything but that! I’d rather be strangled to death. If it’s too hard for you, kid, want me to lend you a gun?
‘Contract. A contract, huh.’
Of course I wanted one. Desperately. But a contract was a sacred ritual that required careful review of terms, mutual concessions, adjustments, revisions, and finally mutual agreement. I couldn’t just sign without reading the contract first.
So I asked.
“...What are the terms of the contract?”
“!!!”
See that? After boldly declaring “I’ll think about it,” the immediate retreat? I wished they would stop looking at me. Sometimes a gaze could be sharper than any blade.
Yet the child never stopped staring with those pitch-black eyes, as if unaware of my feelings. Life returned to a face that had been a blank mask of regret, ruin, and despair. It was the small excitement of a child about to open a gift box. That textbook childish reaction made me chuckle softly. I realized how pleasant it was to see someone happy because of me.
“Wind and necessity, rights and duties align to form a promise that is ultimately kept. ‘Contract’ means exactly that—to bind a promise.”
“Even a five-year-old child and a kindergarten teacher making a pinky promise can be considered a contract.”
The boy—sometimes girl—and I, an otherworldly beggar, exchanged our wishes verbally.
“You won’t obey my every command or anything like that, right?”
“You know your stuff.”
“That’s a shame.”
“What exactly were you planning to order me to do?”
“...Do you really want to know?”
“Suddenly I’m not curious anymore.”
“Protect me from anything that tries to harm me.”
“Isn’t that obvious?”
“Thank you for saying that.”
“I want a living sacrifice.”
“...You don’t mean a human, do you?”
“Hmm. Who knows?”
“That’s troubling.”
“It was a joke.”
“Help me conquer the dungeon.”
“...Dungeon?”
As we got to know each other through conversation and wove the threads of promises one by one, a word suddenly sparked my dried-up inner child and curiosity.
Dungeon conquest! This world was taking its fantasy setting seriously, wasn’t it?
‘I had a feeling. This might be a game world like Terraforming too.’
With dungeons around, the genre was probably RPG or adventure. As long as it wasn’t apocalyptic, it was fine.
That aside—
“What exactly is a dungeon?”
“Hmm, how should I explain it?”
Normally, “dungeon” brought to mind underground prisons or a wicked mage’s secret laboratory. But the information I received from the boy or girl was truly shocking.
“Um, I’m not sure how to explain it properly. All I know about dungeons is what I read in fairy tales and overheard a little.”
No useful information? Was there anything more shocking than that? Information was life itself.
The only somewhat useful thing was learning the name of this region. Dungeon City. What a ridiculous name. I never dreamed those two words would meet in my lifetime. Living long really did bring surprises.
“You’re trying to conquer a dungeon without even knowing what it is? Even borrowing a demon’s power?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to become rich. I heard you can make a lot of money by conquering dungeons.”
What a realistic reason. Adventure, the unknown, secrets, exploration, pioneering, heroism, fame—dungeon conquest was packed with romantic keywords that set the heart ablaze. And the reason was just “I want to be rich”?
“Not bad. Wealth is always right.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
This world overflowed with people who cried out for romance. Emotion over reason. Freedom over rules. Feelings, love, dreams, freedom, imagination—everything sweet, warm, and refreshing just to think about. If I had to define it in one word, it would be “ideal.” That was romance.
But in this world, nothing couldn’t be bought with money. Emotions, love, dreams, freedom, imagination—before overwhelming capital, they were just another category of goods. With money, you didn’t stop at pursuing ideals; you could make them entirely your own. You could manifest your own utopia, once existing only in imagination, into reality!
The domain expansion called capital. Its effect was the realization of everything an arrogant beast calling itself the lord of all creation could imagine.
In conclusion, I liked money. In my previous world, it had been useless beyond kindling or pillow stuffing, but still.
“Ahem.”
They say birds of a feather flock together. The corner of the child’s mouth lifted ever so slightly. An inner closeness born from a common denominator. I returned the same money-obsessed smile, though it was hidden behind the Plague Doctor mask. A forced poker face worth 300,000 won. It wasn’t particularly useful in the current situation.
“I look forward to working with you, Demon.”
“Likewise.”
Thus, aiming to become the richest person in Dungeon City, we joined our aspirations and sealed the contract by clasping hands. A small, pale hand that had barely managed to push back the wide sleeve met a long, thin, pitch-black hand. The moment the contract between a human of uncertain gender and a demon (not really) was formed—an honorable, historic instant.
—Click.
The sound of a lock turning brushed against ears blocked by the crow gas mask. There shouldn’t have been any place for wind to blow, yet the child’s robe began to flap violently.
“Then, from this moment, I declare the ‘contract’ begun.”
A violet authority settled into the pure, introverted, and slightly materialistic eyes of the child. At the same time, the gently glowing candle flame turned purple. The dripping wax spread across the floor. Lines of flame crossed the wooden boards, forming a pentagram, above which multiple red circles appeared, drawing a complex magic circle.
The black book flipped rapidly, embroidering meaningless red strings of characters in the air as it slowly orbited the small but lethal demon contractor.
“Hear me, demon. I am Yuri Alcast. An imperfect creation of the goddess, a legitimate contractor who, of my own will, seeks to form an eternal oath with you.”
Formless power and the laws of the world intertwined like threads, connecting existences and bearing the fruit of fate upon the world tree.
“A false title. Yet from this moment, it shall become closer to truth than anything else in this world. Your second name is......”
The child’s smooth chant suddenly stopped, like a squall that had lasted thirty minutes. Like a presenter glancing at cue cards, the boy or girl’s pure eyes, which had been looking at the black book, turned toward me. Reflected in those quiet violet pools was a transmigrator from a cursed game. A Plague Doctor cosplayer. The last survivor of a ruined world. Me.
The emotion that surfaced on the child’s stiff lips was hesitation. But soon, that hesitation transformed into amusement. Having organized their thoughts, the boy or girl smiled lightly and opened pale red lips.
“Your second name is—”
A second name granted to a stranger from another dimension. An alias. Raven. Meaning “large crow.”
“Isn’t that a bit too straightforward?”
“From this moment, the contract is complete.”
Before I could voice any complaint—question unnecessary. Contract established.
—Click!
Once again, the metallic friction sound rang out, and at the same time, a black pattern blazed to life on the child’s neck like a brand.
“Ugh.”
The child’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if in pain. My neck itched as well, suggesting the same mark was being etched onto me. After some time, the light faded, leaving behind a double-lock pattern burned into the skin like a scar. The brand of a promise. The visual manifestation of fate. The proof of contract.
From this moment, I was reborn in an unknown world with a new name—Raven.
The one who gave me this name, sometimes mother, sometimes father—Yuri Alcast. The overlapping state of boy and girl. A terminal chuunibyou black mage cosplayer. The miraculous alliance of materialism and purity. And the benefactor who pulled me out of that damned hell. My contractor. My savior. The precious child I must protect.
Our eyes met, and strength flowed into the two hands gently embracing each other.
“Once again, I look forward to working with you, Raven.”
“Likewise.”
The form of address had changed at some point. It wasn’t my real name, but being called by a name by someone… felt strange.
—Slide.
The formal greeting ended, and the joined hands returned to their places. Even so, the two of us were clearly connected.
—Thud!
The contractor casually closed the black book and let out a rough sigh like a salaryman who had just finished a job.
“Phew, the contract is done, so please return to the demon realm now.”
“...Demon realm?”
Where was that supposed to be?
“I have nowhere to return to.”
“Even if you say that, Raven’s body is maintained in the material world based on my mana, so after some time it should naturally return to the demon realm… Huh? Wait, why is my mana…?”
My contractor began to panic like a mathematician who had made a critical calculation error. So that was it. Demons in this world apparently worked on a commute system. But I was a homeless demon. For someone who collapsed from exhaustion wherever they fell, there was no place to return to.
“...Don’t tell me that body—you’re creating and maintaining it yourself?”
Hmm. There seemed to be a misunderstanding, but it was true that I had created (account generation) and maintained (possession) it.
“That is correct.”
“What? How? No, that’s not possible…”
Shock. And awe. The misunderstanding instantly swelled into delusion within the boy or girl’s heart. Finally reaching some conclusion, the eyelids that had been closed in thought slowly opened. Gulp. Not a simple nervous swallow, but the greedy gulp of an entomologist who had just discovered an ultra-rare insect. In the contractor’s eyes, rippling with faint violet, burned a fire called desire. It was the obsessive gaze of someone looking at a winning lottery ticket. The madness of a starving stray cat that had found a high-grade churro abandoned on the roadside.
“...Then let’s live together. From now on, Raven is my demon, after all.”
“...Very well.”
The precious contractor was cute and interesting, but honestly, that last part had been a little chilling.