Chapter 3
"Excuse me.... I'm sorry, but if you aren't going to make a Contract with me, please leave. And I would appreciate it if you wiped the blood off the floor."
"!!!"
A jawline that was neither perfectly round nor sharp, a Little Kid who looked like the epitome of androgynous beauty.
The polite remark 'please leave' coming from him or her was a terrifying thing to hear for me, the king of the unemployed, the avatar of pennilessness, and the very incarnation of poverty.
Invisible violence in the name of language. Was this a fragment of the Dragon's words used by the legendary creatures?
I wondered why they were wearing a stuffy black Robe, but he or she was clearly an ice-attribute Magician. Otherwise, they couldn't possibly be this cold.
"...."
Perhaps my hobby of observation had reached the realm of Authority, because I felt like I could hear the inner thoughts from the Little Kid's inorganic, pitch-black eyes.
To roughly summarize, it was something like: 'I'm incredibly busy, but you still haven't left? By the way, when are you going to wipe the floor?'
Looking at their shrunken body and slightly trembling Pupils, it seemed they were still uncomfortable around me.
'Are they just a bit too honest?'
You know there are people like that.
People who can't even make proper eye contact and have awkward, creaky conversations, yet speak their minds honestly and confidently.
Anyway.
What's important right now isn't what type of Human that Little Kid is.
It's the fact that I'm about to be abandoned by the entity (allegedly) that Summoned(?) me to this room, and I'll end up returning to that Hell.
Ooooo. Anything but that!
I'd rather you just strangle me to death. Little Kid. If that's too hard, should I lend you a gun?
'Contract. A Contract, huh.'
Of course, I also really want to do it.
However, a Contract is a noble ritual that occurs only when both parties carefully review the terms, go through mutual concessions, adjustments, and revisions, and finally reach an agreement.
I can't just carelessly agree to a Contract without even reading it.
So I asked.
"...What are the terms of the Contract?"
"!!!"
Did you see that.
"I will think about it."
—having confidently said that, the pathetically subservient sight of me immediately tucking my tail between my legs?
Now, I'd like you to stop looking at me.
Because sometimes, a gaze can be a Weapon sharper than a blade.
However, the Little Kid didn't stop staring at me with those pitch-black eyes, as if unaware of my feelings.
A spark of life appeared on their expressionless face, which had been dominated by the triad of regret, exhaustion, and despair.
A small flutter of excitement, like a Child about to open a gift box.
That textbook childish reaction made me chuckle.
Realizing that it was truly a joy to see someone happy because of me.
***
Desires and needs, rights and duties merging together to form a promise, ultimately to be kept. A 'Contract' is literally the making of a promise.
In a way, a five-year-old Kid and a kindergarten Teacher doing a 'pinky promise!' can also be considered a Contract.
The Boy, sometimes a Girl, and I, an otherworldly beggar, verbally shared our desires.
"Absolute obedience to my commands. Something like that wouldn't be allowed, right?"
"You know well."
"That's a shame."
"What exactly were you going to make me do?"
"...Do you really want to know?"
"Suddenly I'm not curious."
"Please protect me from all entities that try to harm me."
"Isn't that obvious?"
"I appreciate you saying that."
"I want a live sacrifice."
"...You aren't talking about a Human, right?"
"Hmm. I wonder?"
"That would be a problem."
"It's a joke."
"Please help me clear a Dungeon."
"...A Dungeon?"
As we got to know each other through conversation and grew closer by weaving the threads of our promise one by one, Zap! A word came out that stimulated my dried-up childlike innocence and interest.
Clearing a Dungeon! Isn't this World taking the fantasy setting a bit too seriously?
'I had a feeling. This place might be a World inside a game, just like
Seeing as there are Dungeons, is the genre an RPG or an adventure? Whatever it is, as long as it's not an apocalypse, it's okay.
That aside.
So.
"What is a Dungeon?"
"Hmm, how should I explain it."
When one thinks of a Dungeon, they usually imagine an Underground Prison or an evil Magician's secret laboratory.
However, the information I heard from the Boy or Girl was truly shocking.
"Hmm. I can't quite grasp exactly how to explain it. The only information I have about Dungeons is what I read a little in fairy tale books and briefly overheard from others."
No useful information? What could be more shocking than this? Information is literally life.
The only useful thing was learning the name of our current location. That utterly ridiculous name, Dungeon City.
Never in my life did I dream those two words would meet. I guess you really do see everything if you live long enough?
"You want to clear a Dungeon without even properly knowing what it is? Even going so far as to borrow a Demon's power?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I want to become rich. I heard you can make a lot of money if you clear a Dungeon."
What kind of painfully realistic reason is that?
Adventure, the unknown, secrets, exploration, pioneering, heroes, fame!
When it comes to clearing a Dungeon, there are so many romantic keywords that make your heart burn with passion.
What? The only reason is that you want to be rich?
"Not bad. Wealth is always right."
"Thank you for understanding."
This World is overflowing with people crying out for romance.
Emotion over reason.
Freedom over norms.
Emotion, love, dreams, freedom, imagination.
All those sweet, cozy things that make you feel refreshed just thinking about them.
If I had to define it in a single word.
'Ideals.'
That is the very essence of romance.
But you see.
There is nothing in this World that money can't buy.
Emotions, love, dreams, freedom, imagination.
In the face of overwhelming capital, they are merely another category of merchandise.
If you have money, you don't just stop at pursuing your ideals; you can make them entirely your own.
It means you can unfold your personal utopia, which only existed in your imagination, right into reality!
A Deployment of the domain in the name of capital.
Its effect is the realization of everything that an arrogant Beast, who calls itself the lord of creation, can imagine.
The conclusion is that I like money.
Though in the World I was in before, it was useless for anything other than firewood or pillow stuffing.
"Ahem."
Did they say Kin recognizes Kin?
The corners of the Little Kid's mouth twitched up slightly.
An inner sense of intimacy stemming from a common denominator.
I also gave the same capital-tainted smile, but it was hidden behind my Plague Doctor Mask.
A forced poker face worth 300,000 won.
It wasn't particularly useful in the current situation.
"I look forward to working with you, Demon."
"Likewise."
Like that, having united our desires with the goal of becoming the richest in Dungeon City, we sealed the Contract by joining hands.
The union of a small, pure white hand—only revealed after barely rolling up a baggy sleeve—and a long, skinny black hand.
The glorious and historic moment where the Contract between a genderless (questionable) Human and a Demon (not really) was concluded.
-Click.
The sound of a lock clicking shut brushed against my ears, which were tightly muffled by the Crow gas mask.
There shouldn't have been anywhere for the wind to blow in from. The Little Kid's Robe began to flap violently.
"Then, I will now begin the 'Contract'."
A purple Authority settled in the eyes of the pure, introverted, yet slightly snobbish Little Kid.
At the same time, the softly glowing candle flame was dyed purple. The Flame that dripped along with the melted wax spread across the floor.
Lines of Flame crossed the wooden floor, blooming into a pentagram, and several overlapping red circles formed above it, drawing a Magic Circle with a complex structure.
The black book flipped rapidly, embroidering incomprehensible red strings of text in the air, slowly orbiting the small but deadly Demon Contractor.
It is a universal rule that a Contract is conducted verbally or through a scrap of Paper called a written contract.
However, this was a fantasy World where ominous modifiers like Dungeon were attached to the front of a city, and a Demon would come waving its hand to make a Contract.
An unknown visual manifestation that could not be judged by the standards of reality's truths. The realization of a miracle.
An extra-large-scale Contract ceremony, verbally engraved onto the massive scrap paper of the World, making it eternally unchangeable.
The prelude to a perilous Contract between a Human and a Demon (not really) had risen.
[Listen, Demon. I am Yuri Alcast. An incomplete Creation of the Goddess, and a legitimate Contractor who wishes to forge an eternal vow with you of my own free will.]
Intangible power and the laws of the World wove and tangled together like a spool of thread, connecting existence to existence, bearing the fruit of destiny on the tree called the World.
[A false, empty name. But, from this moment on, the name that will become closer to the truth than anything else in this World. Your second name is...]
The Little Kid's smooth chanting suddenly stopped, like a squall that had poured for about 30 minutes.
Looking at the black book like a presenter glancing at their notes, the pure eyes of the Boy, or Girl, turned towards me.
What was reflected in those incredibly tranquil purple pools was.
A Transmigrator of a doomed game.
A Plague Doctor Cosplayer.
The last Survivor of a destroyed World.
That was me.
The emotion that surfaced on the Little Kid's stiff lips was contemplation.
But soon after, that contemplation was substituted with amusement.
As if their thoughts were sorted, he or she smiled lightly and opened their red yet pale lips.
"Your second name is."
[Raven]
A second name bestowed upon a stranger from another dimension.
An alias. 'Raven'.
Meaning a large Crow.
"Isn't that a bit too direct?"
"As of this moment, the Contract is concluded."
Without even a moment to express my dissatisfaction.
No questions needed. Contract established.
-Clank!
Along with the sound of scraping metal ringing out once again, a black pattern was carved onto the Little Kid's neck, glowing as if ablaze.
"Ugh."
Feeling the pain, the Little Kid's eyes winced slightly.
Seeing them scratching near their neck, it seemed the exact same thing was being carved onto me.
As time passed and the light faded, what remained on the neck like a burn scar was the pattern of a lock fastened to another lock.
The brand of a promise. The visual manifestation of our bond. The token of the Contract.
As of this moment, I was reborn in an unknown World with the new name, Raven.
The name of the mama, sometimes papa, who gave me my name was Yuri Alcast.
A dual superposition state of a Boy and a Girl.
A terminally ill chuunibyou Black Magician Cosplayer.
A miraculous alliance of snobbery and innocence.
And.
The benefactor who fished me out of that damn Hell.
My Contractor, and my savior.
The precious Child I had to protect.
Our eyes met, and strength filled the two hands that gently embraced each other.
"I look forward to working with you once again. Lord Raven."
"Once again, likewise."
A title that had changed at some point.
It wasn't my real name, but being called by a name by someone was truly....
A strange feeling.
-Slip.
The formal greeting ended, and the connected hands returned to their places.
Even so. The two of us were definitely connected.
-Thud!
Closing the black book indifferently, my Contractor let out an easygoing sigh like a salaryman who had just pulled off a big job and said.
"Phew, the Contract is done, so I would appreciate it if you returned to the Demon Realm now."
"...Demon Realm?"
Where is that.
"I have nowhere to return to."
"Even if you say that, Lord Raven's physical body is maintained in the Material Realm based on my Magic Power, so after a certain amount of time, you'll eventually return to the Demon Realm.... Huh? Wait, why is my Magic Power...?"
My Contractor started to panic like a Mathematician who made a critical calculation error.
I see.
Demons in this World must normally commute to work.
However, I am a homeless Demon.
For me, whose bedroom is wherever I collapse from exhaustion, there is no place to return to.
"...Don't tell me, that body. Are you creating and maintaining it yourself?"
Hmm. It seems there's a misunderstanding, but it is true that I am creating (creating an account) and maintaining (Transmigrating) it.
"That is correct."
"Huh? What. Yes? No, how is that even possible...."
Shock.
And.
Awe.
The misunderstanding rapidly inflated in the Boy's or Girl's mind under the name of delusion.
And finally, as if reaching some conclusion, the eyelids that had been closed in deep thought slowly opened.
Gulp.
A greedy swallow, like an entomologist witnessing a super-rare insect, not a physiological response caused by simple nervousness.
In the softly rippling purple eyes of my Contractor, a fire called desire boiled up.
It was an obsessive gaze looking at a winning lottery ticket. The madness of a stray Cat that had starved for three days discovering a premium Churu thrown on the side of the road.
"...Then. Let's stay together. From now on, you are 'my' Demon, Lord Raven."
"...I will do that."
They are a precious Contractor who is incomparably cute and interesting, but.
Honestly, that just gave me goosebumps a little bit.
Read more at https://noveldex.io/series/novel/i-became-the-demon-of-terror-in-the-dungeon-city