The Devil's Bargain in the Alley

Deila, the third imperial princess, could not comprehend the current situation. Her mind was flooded with questions, leaving her head in utter ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chaos. She asked herself inwardly, '...What is this?' What in the world was going on? Why were the assassination squad members who had tried to kidnap her all lying on the ground in gruesome, miserable states of death? Why was the hero, who had been completely drunk at the banquet hall, standing here perfectly fine? And what was this man to begin with? What was his identity that he emanated such an ominous aura? Was he truly the hero? She could not understand a single thing.

'H-he definitely had his chest pierced...' She had witnessed the final scene. The moment when Vice-Captain Kyle delivered a triumphant blow with the tip of his sword. His blade had clearly plunged deep into the hero's lungs. It was so deep that if it had gone just a little further, it would have pierced straight through to the other side. Yet how could this man be standing there so unscathed?

"Then now, it's just the two of us left, isn't it?"

"Hiiik?!"

At that moment, the hero spoke. Though his voice carried a note of kindness, Deila felt goosebumps rise across her skin. Kyle's severed head rolling behind the hero. The corpses slumped over with countless stab wounds. Amid it all, the hero was smiling gently, which only amplified the grotesqueness of the scene. By all appearances, he had saved the princess, yet she could not relax.

The hero took one step closer. It was simply to talk. But Deila, influenced by the curse, could only tremble. There was no one left to stop him. Only two people remained in this place now.

At least, that was what ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the hero Luke believed. If no one had risen midway, that is.

"Kuh... You shall not take a single step toward Her Highness..."

"Oh?"

Her escort knight. A young man who had not even removed his apprentice badge yet. The level of the youth Luke observed was this.

A mere level 29. Far weaker than even the lowest member of the assassination squad, and not even a match for the weakest regular knight. Yet such a person had stepped forward to block Luke's path. He found it interesting. Had the knight not seen him annihilate the assassination squad single-handedly? No, he must have seen it. The mountain of corpses behind him was proof of Luke's prowess. And yet he still raised his sword...

Luke briefly recalled a memory from the past. 'Come to think of it, there was a character like this.' The escort knight who always died first before the princess's bad ending. He did not know the boy's name. The character had barely been mentioned in the first place. His only role was to die first for the sake of the designed tragedy. Nothing more, nothing less. But what about the boy in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reality?

"You're better than the vice-captain rolling around over there."

He could not have been any braver. Under normal circumstances, Luke might have offered praise and respect. But unfortunately, the boy was not his objective today.

"Move aside."

"I cannot... allow you to lay a single finger on Her Highness..."

"Don't worry. I have no intention of doing anything untoward."

"...No more questions!"

It meant he would hear no more nonsense. As if refusing to listen to any further replies, the knight swung his sword. Well, if you could not trust the other party at all, force was usually the answer. Luke lightly coated his hand with mana and blocked the blade. He did not even need to draw his own sword.

"Courage is admirable, but learn to distinguish it from recklessness. Otherwise you might drop dead in one blow."

As Luke spoke, he activated a skill.

Immediately afterward, a sword composed entirely of darkness pierced the knight's body. It was an intangible blade made solely of black magic. A skill he was using for the first time. Unlike its appearance, it dealt no direct physical damage. However, as it was black magic, its effect was vicious beyond measure. It was a curse-type skill that inflicted phantom pain upon the target. And the pain he had chosen to grant this time was that of stab wounds.

"Krgh...!"

The knight let out a pained death cry. From his perspective, it must have felt as if his entire body was being sliced apart by blades. Since the level of Pain Imprinting was still low, it could only produce pain on the level of physical sensation, but... it was more than enough to make a person shrink back.

"Stay right there. Otherwise the next one will be even more horrific."

Luke spoke and tried to walk forward again, assuming the knight would have been frightened into submission. But the boy's mental fortitude was stronger than expected. Silently, the silver sword traced an arc toward Luke. Luke embedded another black blade.

"Kugh...!"

The pain this time was that of a piercing wound. Agony engraved deep into his bones assaulted the knight's entire body. It must have felt like being skewered by dozens of thorns. Yet the boy did not fall. Even as he writhed in spine-chilling torment, he refused to step aside from Luke's path. Luke found the sight genuinely pleasing.

Look at that. No matter how rotten the world became, humans with such strong will still appeared everywhere. And it was not only the escort knight.

"Stop it, stop it right now!"

After two applications ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of Pain Imprinting, Deila stepped forward. She pulled her escort knight behind her and glared at Luke. Her eyes were undoubtedly filled with terror, yet within them burned a will even stronger than fear.

Third Imperial Princess Deila. The foolish princess who had still chosen to participate in the struggle for the throne even after the first prince had monopolized all power. The reason Luke had chosen her was not simply because she seemed easy to use.

"Your Highness, please flee..."

"Shut up, Riley. What do you expect me to do by running away in this situation?"

First, she had no power. No authority. She had no connections and no supporters. The nobles had turned their backs on her long ago, and all that remained were those who wished to eliminate her as quickly as possible. Yet the reason he was willing to bet on her was this.

"...So what exactly do you want from me?"

She possessed genuine popularity. Not money or power, but the true ability to make people follow her. She knew how to win favor with her upright character. The nobles had distanced themselves from her because of the first prince's tyranny, not because she herself was lacking. It was a talent that he, burdened with countless curses, did not possess. Luke had decided to bet on that talent.

Then how should one place such a bet? A simple relationship of trust was obviously impossible. To Luke, covered head to toe in curses, the word trust was meaningless. But the world was not composed solely of such relationships.

"Let's make a contract."

"I will help you become emperor. If you need power, I will give it. If you need connections, I will assist from the shadows. If you want subordinates, I will gather them for you even from the back alleys."

He wanted a relationship bound so tightly by mutual interest that betrayal would be impossible.

"There is only one thing I want."

He extended his hand.

"No matter what happens, do not betray me. Support me as much as I support you. If you do, you will be able to obtain everything."

How about it? A rather tempting deal, isn't it? He said with a gentle smile.

Deila stared at him blankly for a long time.

"......"

It was like listening to the devil's whisper. A whisper so sweet it was impossible to refuse. In truth, there were virtually no restrictions placed upon her. She would simply be gaining the support of a hero who was worth a thousand armies. The only thing that gave her pause... was the suspicion coiled tightly within her chest. Just what did he want that he would make such an offer? She could not predict his true intentions at all.

Princess Deila felt a chill run through her. 'What do you mean, rascal...' She had been thoroughly deceived. No—not just her. Everyone in the empire had been played for fools. They had all been toyed with by a single person's performance. The hero, having shed his foolish-looking mask, resembled a devil whose inner thoughts could not be read. It was too dark to even guess what kind of blade he held in his heart. The princess's instincts sounded a warning. Her emotions kept screaming that there had to be some kind of trap. Taking his hand felt like selling her very soul. An ominous premonition rose all the way to her throat, but...

"...Very well."

The princess eventually took the hero's hand. After all, she had no other choices left. The path to becoming emperor already seemed nearly impossible. Moreover, even the assassination squad was now trying to kill her without hesitation. She could not even guarantee her own life anymore. If she was fated to simply wither away at the first prince's hands, then so be it.

"I have no reason to refuse..."

She would have to sell even her soul. Her clear, upright eyes turned toward the hero. Though the princess's hand trembled violently, her gaze held him completely.

Luke smiled with his eyes and shook their clasped hands.

"I look forward to working with you."

And so, in a back alley piled high with corpses, the fallen princess and the rascal hero forged a secret contract.