The Price of the Contract

Just as Beatrice stretched a hand toward the door to rush out—

"Wait."

I layered mana into my voice and spoke the word low.

Whether the authority of the contract had kicked in or not, her footsteps froze dead on the threshold.

Brakes slammed on without warning, she turned back toward me with puzzled eyes. Those pupils still brimmed with vengeance and madness.

Honestly, my insides were one spark away from catching fire.

The biggest problem was the system reward output.

Three hundred twenty-seven percent amplification—wasn't that a good thing?

It was. An insanely good thing.

But only if your mana circuits were at least at a basic functional level.

Sure, the skill book said the skill could be used even with shattered mana circuits. That was the trap. It said nothing about the side effects. The skill book didn't care about after-sales service—it was terrible at sales. But me? I was a shopkeeper who might have to take responsibility for the A/S on those side effects!

If I let that hopeless, shell-shocked young ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lady walk out like this, she'd self-destruct on the roadside from a mana surge long before she ever got a look at her enemies' faces.

And if my first premium customer died? I'd have pulled a 327% system reward multiplier and then lost every chance to freeload off it. How was I supposed to sit still for that? It wasn't like the system would reimburse me for a lost opportunity.

Keeping my world-weary, arrogant persona as intact as possible, I pointed with my chin at the mop propped in the corner of the table.

"Go where, exactly? Why don't you do something about the state of this floor first, Conti young lady?"

"…Excuse me?"

"When you walked in, blood dripping off your clothes made a complete mess of the floor. You haven't forgotten, have you? One day out of every week becomes mine. I'm claiming that day starting today."

The Conti young lady's nape flushed red all over again.

Haa… Just how did the Conti family raise this kid!? She was clearly the type who'd been reading weird novels in secret despite being so tiny.

"…So think of this as a prepayment. If you rent a skill and still fail to produce results, I'm the one who takes the loss, aren't I? Rule number one of this shop is maintaining cleanliness on the premises. So wipe that up right now."

Bewilderment flickered across Beatrice's face. She was in a hurry to avenge herself this very moment, and I was telling her to scrub the floor. She looked ready to snap back—but with the contract already signed and sealed, the shop owner's demands were absolute.

"…Fine."

Her formal speech had slipped back into casual address without her noticing. She was properly sulking, huh?

Beatrice trudged over, seized the mop, and began scouring the marble floor with furious, trembling strokes of injustice and rage.

An S-class skill's murderous intent woven into mopping. The form was honestly insane.

I opened my inventory and pulled out one of the potions the system had given me as a shop-opening reward. At a glance, the liquid looked black and viscous, like sewer sludge.

"Young lady, once you're done cleaning, come over here and drink this."

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠set the potion bottle on the table. Beatrice approached with eyes full of suspicion.

"What… is this?"

"The bare minimum so you can fully handle the skill you rented. So, kid—no more backtalk. Down it in one. If you don't want to drink it, void the contract and return the skill. Let's not waste each other's time."

Under my prickly threat, Beatrice pinched her nose, clenched her teeth, and dumped the potion into her mouth.

And three seconds later—

"Ugh?! Uurp……!!!"

The young lady's pure white face shifted in real time through green and purple as her expression rotted away. Watching her gag and roll across the floor, I had to assume the flavor was beyond the pale.

Yeah. I was never drinking that. Not in a million years.

I casually drained the remaining cold black tea from my cup.

A moment later, the stagnant mana around Beatrice's curled-up body began to whirl like an explosion. Her ruined mana circuits were regenerating.

She stared up at me with dazed eyes. I set down my teacup and drove the point home.

"Don't get the wrong idea. I'm no charity worker. If that frail little body of yours can't handle an S-class output skill and blows itself apart, I don't get my reward either—and that would be inconvenient for me."

"……."

"If you insist on forcing your revenge in that state, I'll have no choice but to collect the collateral earlier than planned. Not one day a week—I'm saying I'd seize your entire lifetime."

As the surging mana settled, Beatrice looked blankly down at her own palm. She could clearly feel it in real time—not only had her mana circuits been reinforced and her stamina restored, everything had improved several times over from before.

Her eyes trembled violently, as if struck by an earthquake.

…She just casually gave me a medicine this precious? She deliberately played the villain with cold words to keep me in check—because she was afraid I'd destroy myself…!

Tears welled up at the corners of Beatrice's eyes.

No—why was this kid getting moved all by herself and juicing out tears again?

"Witch… for me, such an undeserved grace…"

"Don't talk nonsense about grace. I'm telling you to manage yourself properly so you don't damage my business."

"Yes…! I have received your profound intent. I will never be swept away by power—I will control myself and become your perfect possession!"

Look, all I needed was roughly one day a week of housework. But what could I do? If my honey pot wanted to jack up the reward output on her own, that was pure profit for me.

"First, change out of those torn clothes."

I pulled out the shop uniform I'd prepared in the corner for a part-timer and handed it over.

And so Beatrice plunged into training for the one contracted day that was "my time" that week. Calling it training was generous—most of it was cleaning the shop, pulling weeds out front, and running errands to the market.

If anyone thought I'd delayed her a whole day just to make her do chores, they were dead wrong. This witch had a plan!

A single potion could fix mana circuits. A collapsed mental state was another matter. If I could improve that mental state even a little, the reward output would draw far more stably—so I couldn't leave it alone. Putting her through menial work for a day was just a way to gently restore a sense of ordinary daily life.

But even while drawing water, Beatrice adjusted the angle of S-class sword qi. Every dusting gesture, every wipe of the rag, she fused with Murderous Aura.

Fueled by desperation and receiving the skill rental system's 327% amplified output, her growth rate was cheat-key tier.

Then—

Ding—!

Ohh—the rewards were finally starting!

Every time Beatrice's proficiency climbed, the experience feedback jacked straight into my body. The sheer sweetness of sitting still, breathing, sipping black tea while my specs rose vertically in real time!

I tried to look solemn, but a smile leaked out anyway. At this rate, this month's witch rankings would put me lightly in the top tier.

This world supposedly had a few other witches who'd received "authority" besides me. Whatever. Dominating those high-and-mighty witches was only a matter of time now.

When a day had passed, Beatrice's eyes no longer belonged to the menhera revenge ghost who'd rolled into the shop. An ordinary day seemed to have succeeded, to some degree, in stabilizing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her mental state.

She had become a swordswoman radiating tremendous sword qi, worthy of the Conti family famous for its bladework.

Yes. The time had come.

Beatrice approached and knelt demurely before me. She had changed into the maid uniform I'd prepared as optimal gear for this quest, her purple eyes sparkling.

…That outfit had been customized for movement and infiltration without drawing suspicion.

"Witch. I am ready."

"Are you? Where are you going?"

"The hunting dogs of the Bell family who crushed our house have made the abandoned fortress of Drebos on the outskirts their base. Tonight, I will wash that place clean with blood and return."

At last, the curtain rose on her revenge.

When Beatrice gripped her sword, an overwhelming blood-red aura poured out—so dense the temperature inside the shop dropped to a chill.

"I'll be expecting the first harvest. Leave so much as a single scratch on my honey pot and see what happens."

"I will become your perfect sword and offer the highest level of reward."

Cheeks flushed, Beatrice bowed deeply toward the captivating silver-haired witch—that is, me—then vanished into the midnight dark the same way she had arrived.

Alone, I turned on my smartphone and refreshed the gallery's real-time popular posts. On the mana-lit screen, the base speculation of people betting on the Conti young lady's miserable bad ending ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was flooding in live.

"Wow, would you look at that? The basement keyboard warriors are having a field day, aren't they?"

The community's vile comments made my faith in humanity hit rock bottom—but at the same time, I felt the corner of my lips curl into a sultry little twitch, completely against my will.

"Tonight, this world's betting board is going to flip completely upside down—so get ready to charge up that dopamine, you gallery trash!"

After taking a sip of freshly brewed black tea, I clicked into the popular post to place a bet of my own.