The Curse Contract

It was another version of the Divine Contract. Unlike the Divine Contracts sold at the Goddess Temple and notarized in a god's name, Curse Contracts were crafted by mages.

Break the pact, and the curse inscribed on the divided copies would turn on the violator.

These things were wretchedly hard to make. Their duration was far shorter than a Divine Contract's, and the curses they could carry were hardly potent. On top of that, they inherited every loophole that applied to Divine Contracts. The classic example: if the condition was "do not lie," and the subject genuinely believed something false or was simply mistaken, the contract judged that they had spoken the truth. After all, what was it supposed to do if the person actually believed what they were saying? And if you couldn't wield mana, you couldn't use one at all.

Despite all those limitations and finicky conditions, producing a single set still cost nearly several dozen gold in materials alone — not counting the mage's labor. They were so filthy difficult to craft that the Magic Towers of the Lower Floors turned out only a few dozen sets a year. And yet, ridiculously enough, they sold out the instant they hit the market. A single set went for hundreds of gold. In extreme cases, over a thousand.

The reason was simple. They were used less to compel someone than as lie detectors. Unlike a Divine Contract, which required a priest to preside, a Curse Contract could be used with no priest present — even when it was just the two of you. That made them popular for dealings done in secret.

A Divine Contract, moreover, required a high-ranking priest or above merely to observe its creation. Anyone of lower rank couldn't even draft one. So while Curse Contracts were expensive to produce, they were actually easier to use than Divine Contracts.

So why hadn't I reached for something this useful until now? As I said — they were astronomically expensive. This wasn't a situation to pinch coins, not with a family heirloom on the line, but a Curse Contract could only be used on one person per set. Once the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠effect expired, it was nothing but scrap paper. Disposable. And as I'd already mentioned, it was useless on anyone who couldn't handle mana.

Plenty of suspects. Exactly one set. And the number of people who could wield mana was vanishingly small — the Lord himself and his knights, more or less.

And he wanted to use it on me. That, as much as anything I had accomplished in a single month, told me exactly how high my value had climbed — and how reluctant the Lord was to lose me.

…Only one set. That was all the Curse Contracts our house possessed.

The old steward had fetched it. One half of the Curse Contract now lay before me.

Not a particularly strong curse, as curses went. A one-time affliction. Your hair fell out, then it grew back. A paltry curse. Three questions and a pathetic penalty, and this scrap of paper still cost hundreds of gold a set.

"How do I use this?"

I asked the Lord on purpose. I hadn't seen many of these even in my first life. I was a little curious, honestly. Who would have thought one would turn up in the tutorial?

"Infuse the contract with your mana. It will respond on its own."

I poured my mana into the contract at once.

The Curse Contract.

The Lord used his copy as well. Once he had confirmed it was functioning properly, he explained the procedure.

"I'll keep this simple. You are obligated to answer whenever I preface a statement with the word 'question.' When you answer, you must first declare that you will answer the question of that number, and only then speak. Everything you say after that declaration must be the truth. Be careful. When you finish, ask whether your answer is sufficient. If I affirm, the contract will judge the truth of your words. If I deny, you must answer in greater detail. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I understand."

"Then we begin."

The Lord let out a short breath, then started.

"First question. You, Yoo Shin-hoo — did you steal the Mellid family's heirloom?"

Of course he'd pin it down precisely.

Rather than something vague like whether I had looted the family's secret vault, the Lord asked specifically about the heirloom. That wasn't strange. The heirloom was that important to the present situation. The contract wasn't perfect, either. He was closing off every variable, narrowing the question's scope so I couldn't wriggle out.

I spoke without hesitation.

"I will answer. No. I did not steal the Mellid family's heirloom. I don't even know what it looks like. Is that sufficient?"

"It is."

I had added that I didn't even know what it looked like. That was the truth. In my first life and my second, I hadn't so much as glimpsed the heirloom's shadow.

I hadn't needed to add that. Even words beyond the direct answer still had to be true. But I had a feeling I could use that to interesting effect.

Murmurs of astonishment broke out around us.

The Lord looked thoroughly satisfied — and yet something like regret lingered in his expression. Fair enough. Using the Curse Contract to find the heirloom had, in the end, failed.

"Second question. You, Yoo Shin-hoo — are you a spy for another noble house?"

"I will answer. No. I am not a spy for any house. The only reason our party reached Mellid Castle is that we were lost in a forest we didn't even recognize when we happened to meet Johann. He guided us to Mellid Castle — the nearest fortress — on the condition that we retrieve the Imitation Holy Grail he'd been tasked with obtaining."

I paused, then continued.

"Is that sufficient?"

"What?"

"Shall I answer again?"

"…What is the Imitation Holy Grail?"

He didn't seem to know it by that name. Or perhaps it had a proper name now. We were just calling it whatever the Tower had told us. He'd probably collected it at first as some antique or objet d'art. The Imitation Holy Grail I had seen in the warehouse, stripped of its tarnish, had been strikingly artistic and beautiful.

"It's what I handed over to Johann as payment for his guidance. He just called it a 'vessel.' I understand it was a commission from you, my lord."

"You brought that back?"

"More precisely, our entire party worked together to retrieve it. In return, we received proper guidance. Unfortunately, we'd lost every item that could prove our identities, so we weren't allowed into the castle… but Johann vouched for us, and we were permitted entry under conditions."

The Lord looked at Johann without a word. From his perspective, he had nearly turned away people who had helped fulfill a commission he himself had posted — all because they lacked identification. Identification mattered a great deal, of course, but to a noble like him it was also a trivial thing.

"A spatial storage… kh—"

The Lord started to continue, but the contract flared brightly and he cut himself off at once.

No further questions were permitted. The contract seemed to have decided that the exchange so far constituted a sufficient answer. The trigger was probably that his follow-up had drifted too far from my original reply. Up to a point, it had accepted the extra explanation.

A contract that made basic judgments on its own. In modern terms, it was a scrap of paper with AI built in. No wonder it cost a fortune.

The Lord's entire bearing shifted.

I turned my head and looked at Johann.

Johann's face had already gone deathly black.

The other party was the Lord — a noble. A mere hunter like him had no right to interrupt this conversation. And every word that followed was lethal to him. He'd probably been losing his mind from the moment the Curse Contract first appeared. He either hadn't known such a thing existed, or had only ever heard rumors.

I cheered inwardly. I'd figured I would have to squeeze Johann gradually, but once I borrowed the power of this scrap of paper, situations favorable to me started lining up with almost insulting clarity.

The Lord looked at Johann and spoke.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Th-that's, my lord…"

"There were people who carried out the commission with you? Then why didn't you say so? If you had, they would have passed the identification check at the gate without any trouble."

"Th-that's why I vouched for them instead…"

"And you thought that was enough to settle the debt? You? By what right did you make that decision? Were you that hungry for the credit? Ha. How ridiculous. I've been made to look ridiculous."

At the Lord's words, I understood that Johann was thoroughly finished. This alone was more than enough.

This floor was a society with a rigid class system. A noble — the lord of the castle himself — had lost face because of a subordinate. No: a speck of dust had landed on his cheek. It was a trivial matter, really. The kind of thing that happened openly all the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time. But it had happened in front of his own vassals, and he believed his dignity had been injured. That was the problem.

He was deeply displeased that his honor had been put on the chopping block over something so insignificant. He was in a position where he could not — and must not — swallow his anger. A noble's honor mattered more than anything. The Lord's mood was at rock bottom, and Johann, standing before him, was nothing but a commoner of no consequence.

The Lord probably wanted to tear Johann apart right then and there. But one question still remained.

"Right. Let me ask you this first. Ah — this is not a question from the contract. You need not speak ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the truth."

"How could I possibly lie to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you, my lord?"

A short, dry laugh.

"Yes. Everything you've said has been proven true."

Of course, not everything I had said was the truth. The Lord likely suspected as much. The inventory, for instance. I had hidden it because it could work against me. But that didn't matter to him. What mattered was that I — the castle's hero — was neither a spy nor a thief.

I am a thief, though.

"Then let me ask you just one thing. What would you like my final question to be?"

The spy suspicion and the heirloom-thief suspicion. Both had been cleared. The third question was just a bonus.

Which was why he was handing it to me.

I had no choice but to speak the truth. And he was telling me to decide the question.

Why ask something like this?

I lowered my head as if considering the Lord's question. Meanwhile, my mind raced.

If he wanted something from me, he could just ask. And yet he was asking what question I would prefer? That meant, rather…

I see.

The Lord was offering an indirect apology. The situation had been suspicious enough to justify the inquiry, but the result was as good as a proven acquittal. And that painted a very different picture from Johann's earlier lies. It made him look like a man who had persecuted people who had given their all for the castle's safety. That wasn't a speck of dust on his honor — that was a smear of ink. The worst-case reading, anyway. In reality it wasn't quite that bad. He had used an expensive Curse Contract to help prove my innocence, and he hadn't convicted me — he had simply held a hearing.

The Lord was apologizing in a roundabout way, and giving me an opportunity on top of it. A chance to take revenge on Johann, Kim Insil, and Park Nam-young — the ones who had betrayed and deceived me. And at the same time, by punishing them and treating us well, he intended to keep this from going any further with me. It couldn't be made to have never happened, but the rumor that spread would probably be something like: he had rendered a wise judgment.

That wasn't a bad outcome. But I had no intention of using this opportunity for simple revenge. As I had said, we would be relying on this place through the next floor. The next floor's mission was a full month of survival. If things went this way, I could extract a little more.

Of course, I also had no intention of wasting his goodwill by using the chance he had given me on something pointless.

"If I were you, I believe I would ask me this."

"What question is that?"

The point, I supposed, was that I should use the Curse Contract to prove they had given false testimony against me, and leave behind ironclad evidence so he could punish them. Then he would deliver complete vengeance on my behalf.

But I also knew that Johann was the one who had stolen the heirloom. The Lord probably didn't know that far. He would have his suspicions, of course. It had started with the Ring of Life, after all. I had already laid the groundwork — if they reopened the investigation, Johann would be driven into a corner with ease. And if I also handed them a justification to reopen it?

The only reason our party had been pushed this far in the first place was that they couldn't find any suspicion among the people inside the castle.

I told the Lord the question I wanted to hear.

Despair settled over Johann's face.