By Mutual Agreement
Yuma summoned Encia and Ophelia. The reason was none other than to renew their contracts.
"Young Master. Are you truly all right with this?"
Ophelia turned a worried gaze on Shiron. Her clasped hands were pressed to her chest, and tears welled in her eyes.
"I knew it, Young Master! I just knew you'd choose me. I believed in you the whole time!"
Encia, by contrast, made no effort to hide her excitement. A full smile bloomed across her face as she clenched her fists in a triumphant pose.
Seated on the sofa, Shiron compared the two opposing reactions.
"That happy about it?"
"Of course! I can finally escape this stifling castle. Honestly? I was so moved I almost cried."
Encia dabbed lightly around her eyes. Shiron looked at her with a thoroughly dumbfounded expression.
"If it's such wonderful news, why does Ophelia look like someone died?"
The boy's gaze shifted sideways. Ophelia fidgeted, her lips parting and closing a few times before she finally steeled herself and spoke, slowly.
"...I'm happy too."
She could not bring herself to lie to the Young Master.
But her worry for him was no lie either. Instead of joy, the greater emotion—concern—had simply risen to the surface.
"It's only that I'm anxious about your well-being, Young Master. Whether someone like me could ever be of any real help to you."
"Ophelia. Are you questioning the Young Master's decision right now?"
"......"
Shiron, who had been staring blankly at Ophelia, furrowed his brow. The anticipation that had been building ahead of the contracts settled heavily. He found himself thinking that Ophelia still did not fully trust him.
Not good.
Ordinarily he would have laughed it off and moved on, but this was different—they stood on the threshold of something important. Encia was prattling cheerfully about how she'd always believed in him, while Ophelia was fretting over him instead, and the stress left the back of his neck tight and aching.
I still don't measure up in her eyes, I suppose.
Shiron kneaded the nape of his neck as he looked at Ophelia.
"Why are you the one worrying about that?"
"W-well, but—"
"I chose you over Yuma's recommendation. If there's a price to pay, I'll be the one paying it."
"...Yes."
Ophelia answered in a small voice and slowly nodded. Confirming that the matter had settled for the moment, Yuma stepped forward to stand before Encia and Ophelia.
"Then, may we begin?"
Still seated on the sofa, Shiron nodded.
A contract.
In this world, any being that possessed mana could carve a contract into the soul.
Both parties had to stake mutually agreed-upon terms, and depending on the stature of those involved, the magnitude of the price could swell or shrink.
What one offered as collateral was commonly wealth, a body part, or the soul itself—though under the right conditions, even another person's life could be put on the table.
Tap— tock—
But among all such pacts, a contract with a demon was something a little more special.
Before everyone's eyes, Yuma began undoing the buttons of her top. There was not a hint of hesitation in her movements, yet somehow time seemed to stretch endlessly for Shiron.
At last, having stripped even her stockings, Yuma stood clad in nothing but her undergarments.
Pale skin and crimson hair, black lingerie—and, revealed across her body, the marks etched into her flesh. A form that had existed only in the lore, never once shown in the game itself. A strange excitement began to stir in him.
Those who contract with a demon are left with a mark on their body.
"Then I shall begin the contract dissolution. Encia first."
At Yuma's command, Encia stepped forward to stand before her.
"It's been so long I can barely remember where it is."
Encia scanned Yuma's body, searching for her own mark.
Being stared at so openly might well have been mortifying, yet Yuma raised her arms and actively cooperated.
At last Encia seemed to find it—her head, which had been tilting this way and that, went still.
The left groin.
There, a jagged, sharp design had been drawn into the skin.
"Well then."
Encia took hold of Yuma's leg with both hands and extended her tongue.
A crimson tongue traced over the black mark etched into pale flesh.
------!
A ripple spread from the area around the leg, and Encia slowly rose to her feet.
"Done."
Encia tapped her tongue a few times with a fingertip. Released from her contract with Yuma, she was no longer wearing a maid's uniform.
Dressed in a dress of deep red tones, Encia carried herself with a presence entirely different from moments before.
Shiron stroked his chin as he took in the sight of her.
"So you hadn't changed after the succession ceremony after all."
"It's a little embarrassing. The lady-in-waiting's uniform wasn't so bad either, you know."
"It suits you."
"Thank you for the compliment."
Encia lifted the hem of her red dress slightly and offered an elegant curtsy.
"Is that all there is to the dissolution?"
"Yes. With this, the contract between myself and Encia has been nullified. Now it is your turn, Young Master."
"Where would you like it? Chest? Thigh? Back of the hand? Lips? I'm partial to the lips myself."
"...Don't just decide on your own. Let's confirm the terms of the contract first."
Shiron handed a sheet of parchment to Encia, who was wearing a seductive smile. She snatched it one-handed with a bright little grin. The faintly insolent attitude made the corner of Shiron's mouth twitch.
"Let's see... 'Party A' shall, without fail, slay the Evil God within thirty years, and 'Party B' shall render absolute cooperation to 'Party A.' As the price of failure, 'Party A' shall offer both eyes to 'Party B.'"
"No problems?"
"It's a little light, but it's not as though I'm taking a loss. If anything, I get to leave this place—so the terms are rather generous in my favor, aren't they?"
Encia passed the parchment to Yuma and slowly approached Shiron.
"So, have you decided? I'm still hoping for the lips."
"I'd love nothing more than a nice deep kiss with you myself, but..."
Shiron grinned and pulled off his indoor slippers and socks. Still seated on the sofa, he thrust out his right foot as if inviting her to kiss it.
"The sole of the foot."
"......?"
Encia wore a completely blank expression. The sole of the foot?
"The sole of the foot."
Helpfully, Shiron repeated the location for the girl tilting her head in confusion. Encia crossed her arms and leaned in.
"Come on, isn't this a bit much? Not the chest, not the thigh, not even the side—"
"No. I spent all day yesterday thinking this through. I still have to go to the Holy Kingdom eventually. What am I supposed to do if there's a visible trace that I've contracted with a demon? I'd be lucky to get away with just being burned at the stake."
"Then I'll just kill them all."
Encia said it with a sunny smile, as if it were nothing. Her restraints were already gone. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing left to hold her back.
"Do whatever you want once I'm dead. By then it won't be my problem."
Shiron smirked and held his foot out again.
Encia let out a long sigh and dropped to her knees.
"How about the tailbone instead? That wouldn't show either."
"I'll have to bathe and use the sauna with important people while I'm there."
"Ugh... I'm starting to wonder which one of us is the demon."
Resigning herself, Encia closed her eyes and cradled Shiron's foot in both hands. Bracing for the pain to come, Shiron shut his eyes and clenched his fists tight.
Smack—
Soft lips touched the sole of his foot.
A ripple spread through the air, and a jagged mark began to etch itself into the skin. He had expected searing agony, as if his flesh were being branded—but all Shiron felt was a faint tickle.
A lot less than I thought.
Shiron opened his eyes and looked at the sole of his right foot. There, drawn in black, was a design identical to the mark that had been on Yuma's thigh moments before.
Before him stood Encia, already changed back into a maid's uniform.
"Next is Ophelia."
"Yes."
Like Encia before her, Ophelia began searching Yuma's body for her own mark.
Unlike Encia, it did not take her long to find it.
"I'll begin."
Her gaze came to rest on Yuma's right shoulder. Prominently placed in plain view, her mark took the form of a rose with its stems tangled every which way.
"W-well then."
And so, just as Ophelia was about to bring her tongue to Yuma's shoulder—
"Wait!"
Encia stepped in and stopped her.
"What is it?"
"Confirm the contract terms and get a verbal agreement first."
"......You were uneasy."
Ophelia lowered her eyes, looking wounded. She had sensed that her friend did not trust her.
"I'm sorry. But it isn't that I don't trust you—it's for the Young Master's sake."
"Mm... I understand how you feel."
Ophelia smiled forlornly, took the parchment from Shiron, and read it.
"Both of my arms. Confirmed."
"Good."
Ophelia licked Yuma's shoulder. What followed was the same as before.
In the span of a single blink she had changed into a green dress—and then,
----Thud!
Her head was slammed into the floor.
What just happened?
Shiron's eyes went wide. It had unfolded so fast he couldn't even react.
Both arms wrenched behind her back, her face crushed into the floor—Ophelia blinked her large eyes up at Encia, who was straddling her from above.
"...That's cruel."
"But your eyes looked different from usual. Something was off."
At Encia's answer, Ophelia wore a sad expression—but before long a sheepish little smile settled in its place.
"Well, nothing for it then. Young Master. Please step on my lips with your foot."
"Uh... sure. It wasn't on purpose, so don't hold it against me."
"I won't."
In a gentle voice, as if soothing a child, Ophelia spoke.
Wearing a distinctly uncomfortable look, Shiron reluctantly pressed his foot down onto Ophelia's face.
He had felt nothing in particular toward Encia—and yet,
right now, he felt guilty.