Insurance for Myself
Outstanding martial prowess always comes from a sturdy body. No matter how great your confidence is, if your body's a wreck, it's nothing but arrogant self-delusion. Even though my mind was the strongest in this world, I was diligently working out today as always.
"Ricardo, whatcha doing?"
"Exercising."
The young lady watching me do pull-ups while hanging from the doorframe tilted her head with a big question mark floating above it.
"Exercising...?"
She'd never exercised in her life beyond working her jaw, so she couldn't understand me at all.
"Why?"
"Just 'cause."
"Hmm..."
The young lady wasn't on friendly terms with exercise. She kept her distance from the training grounds, muttering, "Ugh... sweat smell." She just wasn't the type to get along with sweat.
I exhaled lightly with a whoosh and kept repeating the pull-ups from the doorframe. Watching me from her bed where she lay yawning, she drawled in a bored voice,
"Ricardo. You look like a frog stuck to the ceiling."
"That's a weird way to put it."
"But it's true."
She had a point, honestly. With no proper equipment in the mansion, my makeshift doorframe pull-ups looked pretty pathetic even to me. I resolved to make some exercise gear we could use together and focused back on my workout.
"321."
"322."
"423."
"Ricardo, the numbers jumped all of a sudden."
"Must be your imagination."
She seemed more interested in my health than I'd thought. For the sake of her eye health, I stopped the pull-ups and switched to push-ups.
Once I hit over 400...
I caught a glimpse of her squirming in response.
"Eeeeeek!"
She flopped face-down on the bed, flailing around. Smiling faintly, I watched her "enthusiastic" workout and said,
"What're you doing?"
"Exercising."
"That doesn't look like exercise. More like a fresh mackerel flopping around."
"Eeeeeek! Hweeeeek!"
"Totally mackerel vibes."
Drained of energy, she collapsed onto the bed with a thud, panting roughly.
"Huff... haaack... hweeeack... I'm dying."
For someone who'd sworn off exercise, even gravity seemed too much. She was trying push-ups on her knees, but with her legs useless, lifting her upper body without thigh support was brutal. I tried not to mock her effort...
"Pfft...!"
But I couldn't help it. She looked so shocking flopping on the bed.
"Pfbt...!"
"Don't laugh!"
"Pfft... How can I not? It's hilarious."
"Eeeeeek!"
Defiant against my teasing, she puffed out her cheeks like balloons and strained repeatedly.
"Eeeeeeek!!! Oneeeee!"
"Fail."
"Hweeeee..."
Yeah, she really wasn't cut out for exercise.
After laughing for a good while, I wiped my hands on my shirt and started unbuttoning it with a smooth motion. Shirt fabric doesn't breathe well with sweat, and unbuttoning when hot was just habit.
I forgot she was there for a second and undid the buttons on autopilot.
"Ooh..."
Watching intently, she lit up with sparkling eyes, huffing excitedly.
"Ricardo, your chest is huge!"
"Hieeek! What the— that's sexual harassment!"
"Ooh..."
Startled by her lewd remark, I clutched my shirt closed and hunched my shoulders. Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she stared right through me. It was like a switch had flipped in her innocent girl-heart—she'd never seen another guy's body up close, so her eyes sparkled more than usual, ears flushing red.
She gazed at my hands gripping the shirt with those doe eyes, grinning mischievously.
"Lemme see!"
"See what?!"
"Your body!"
"No way!"
Was this okay for a noble lady? Dizzy from her bold words, I shook my head, face heating up.
"Asking to see someone naked is super rude!"
"Eeeeek! Lemme see!"
Once the switch was on, she wasn't backing down. Puffing her cheeks again, she flailed her hands to pry mine away. Blushing furiously, I dodged.
"Pervert!"
"I'm not!"
"Sure you aren't. So lecherous!"
"Eeeeek! Fine, you look at mine then!"
"Huh? Uh... well..."
Staring at her fuming face, I paused. Glanced at her face once. Then imagined her wicked intentions once. For a split second, a dirty thought flashed: Not a bad idea. But reason won out. I sighed deeply and steeled myself.
"No thanks!"
"Whyyy! Show me!"
"No! Go home!"
She made a big circle with her arms, appraising my pecs grandly. Exaggerated, sure, but comparing them to two giant boulders while snorting made me slap my forehead.
"Do it later!"
"What's wrong with now?!"
"So majestic! Looks sturdy—I wanna touch!"
"No, you never cared before—why now?!"
"Just 'cause."
She shrugged with a straightforward answer, and I sighed, flicking her forehead to end the fiasco.
"Eeeeek! Why'd you hit me?!"
She rolled around on the bed clutching her forehead, venting her rage.
"'Cause you deserved it."
"Cheater!"
"Can't be helped."
"Dummy!"
My face burned. For real.
After that face-heating fiasco.
In the darkening room that evening, I was panting roughly.
"1001."
"1002."
Doing shirtless push-ups, sweat poured nonstop down my body. Droplets beaded on my brutally sculpted back muscles, dripping to the floor along my jaw. Veins bulged savagely on my swelling arm muscles. Handstand push-ups were proving more effective than I'd imagined.
Testing the limits of Strength.
"Hoo..."
I pondered it. What I needed to do to get stronger.
Simple question, but reaching the answer required deep thought. I had to consider the story. The protagonist's growth. Blindly absorbing opportunities wouldn't work—too many hitches.
The opportunities I could grab were limited to heretic ones and side-story gigs. Right now, steady training was all I could do. The surefire, no-shortcuts royal road.
But still. There had to be a faster way to my goal. A cheat shortcut using what I had to skyrocket my power.
"Hoo... 2301."
I was sure of it. And I found the method close by.
Limit Break. The ultimate cheat I knew.
As hot sweat soaked the floor...
"How long do you plan to leave me like this?"
A familiar man's voice echoed from the crystal orb on the bed. Bound head to toe in iron chains, unable to move, he sighed deeply at me.
I stood lightly and replied,
"Until your answer satisfies me?"
"..."
"Thought about my proposal?"
"..."
"Answer quick."
The man trapped in the orb was Hans. Sealed in the heretic opportunity "Jewel of Binding," he hung his head.
Shame kept it low, and my offer weighed even heavier.
I smiled at him.
"Choose fast."
Hans wasn't a bad guy. Sure, he killed for power, but only those who deserved it. His moral line truly cracked after killing the Tower Lord with his own hands. I knew the flashback scene when he sacrificed himself to protect Yuria and the protagonist's crew.
—Still, I'm a bad guy.
For his black magic awakening, he'd killed villains. Dungeon scum killing for loot. Soldiers covering crimes for cash. Not that trying to drown me was forgivable, but he had some code.
I extended my hand.
'Become the heretic spy for me.'
Not for trivial tasks, but something heavier: Protect the young lady.
To grow stronger, I needed stronger foes—and injury risks. Hans wasn't top-tier for me, but no pushover. A solid last resort card.
Hanging his head, he asked gravely,
"What's in it for me?"
"Survival."
"...Can't refuse that."
"Right?"
He smiled wryly, nodded, and emerged from the seal, chanting a ritual.
"What're you doing?"
"A mage's contract."
"You're doing that?"
"If I'm doing it, might as well do it right."
Mage's Contract. Taboo among mages. A life-binding pact—break it, and you die. Used for lifelong vows to masters or lords.
For him, it was a self-imposed unbreakable chain.
The wall filled with contract runes in red script. I muttered,
"Gonna need to clean this?"
"I'll do it."
"Cool."
The deal was simple.
"I, Hans, declare the Mage's Contract upon Contractor Ricardo."
— Absolute servitude to Ricardo and Olivia.
— No harm permitted, nor any words inciting it.
— Breach penalty: Contractor Hans's head explodes, instant death.
I added one clause.
"Not heart—head."
"..."
"Gotta be sure."
Deal done. Hans sat on the bed with a hollow look.
"So, what first? Guard Olivia?"
"Nah, do that when I ask. Start with this."
I pulled a grimoire from my pocket—the heretic opportunity I'd snagged—and handed it over.
"Balance first."
And Hans...
"Bro."
Became a loyal dog.
Far in the future, Hans wiped sweat gazing at the massive statue of Ricardo.
"1301. Glory to him..."
Ricardo told Hans,
"Cut the bullshit."