~Chapter 04~
At my demand for advance payment, Mephisto frowned.
Seeing an actual crease form on his otherwise expressionless face, I found it oddly amusing and let out a small laugh. He sighed lightly and pressed his fingers against his brow as if smoothing it out.
“I do have the option of torturing you, you know.”
“What a funny joke. Oh, and just so you know, the advance payment part isn’t a joke.”
“I’m aware. You don’t seem like someone who wouldn’t prepare for something like that.”
He raised an eyebrow at me, then adjusted his posture.
“The fact that you came to me yourself means you don’t intend to be hostile. Let’s make a deal. What do you want?”
“Hmm, some financial and material support?”
I pulled out a sheet of parchment from my pocket and handed it to him.
After reading through it, he looked at me as if to confirm.
“Is this really enough?”
“Yep. Just put the rest down as debt.”
“…So you plan to keep using me.”
“Well, yeah. There’s also a business proposal, but we can talk about that after this.”
What I had were information, the system, and my status.
Well… I also had a cute little sister and a tiny bit of money.
Anyway, it’s best to conserve limited resources.
“Business?”
“It’s a win-win, so it’s not a bad deal.”
Right now, Mabel and I were in a precarious position.
We had neither money nor power.
Sure, I could use all the knowledge I had to make a fortune quickly—but if I suddenly became a millionaire?
People would start nitpicking. Tax audits, for one.
Even aside from that—two teenage girls with money but no power?
That’s basically an invitation to be devoured.
For now, it was better to appear small and harmless.
“I need some backing.”
“I see.”
Since I didn’t know what might happen in the future, it was better to save the “Mephisto card” for later.
As for money, there were other ways.
If I joined the knights’ order, I could use my salary and connections as an excuse to justify receiving funds from Mephisto later.
“May I ask a question now?”
“Go ahead.”
“How did you obtain information about me?”
“Well… I’m actually someone from another world.”
He looked at me like I was insane.
If this were a novel, readers would probably be shocked at why I revealed that so suddenly.
But I had my reasons.
“If you don’t believe me, use that. You know—the Saint’s Heart.”
The Saint’s Heart.
A holy artifact.
Simply put—it was a lie detector.
Usable three times a day.
“That would be best.”
Ordinary magical lie detectors judged based on whether the speaker believed what they were saying.
But the Saint’s Heart judged based on objective truth.
For example, if someone genuinely believed a fake gold ring was real, a normal lie detector would say it was true.
But the Saint’s Heart would say it was false.
How that worked? No idea.
But that’s why it was a holy relic.
He pulled out a necklace with a clear gem embedded in the center.
It sparkled like a diamond, and I couldn’t help but admire it.
“This is the Saint’s Heart.”
“I know. It turns black if it’s a lie, right? And you can use it three times a day.”
He placed it on the table.
“Place your hand on it and speak.”
“Alright.”
Without hesitation, I did as he said.
Then I spoke.
“The Sonnet Eduke standing before you right now… is a transmigrator from another world.”
“…!”
The gem glowed white.
Pure white, without a trace of darkness.
Even he seemed shaken, his breath faltering.
“How could that… No, that’s not what I should be asking. What connection is there between you being from another world and knowing about me?”
“In my world, there was something like a game… or a story… that showed your world. People could experience it if they wanted.”
“Like a play?”
“Hmm, similar.”
“How is that even possible?”
“I don’t know.”
That, too, was the truth.
Did this world exist because of the game? Or did the game exist because of this world?
I didn’t know.
Even after filtering my explanation, he still looked confused.
Well, this kind of concept would be completely foreign in a pseudo-medieval fantasy world.
“If you still don’t believe me, I can prove it again. In the world the soul inside Sonnet Eduke came from, there existed a game called Lady Maker, set in this world.”
The gem remained white.
His gaze trembled as he stared at the flawless, shining stone.
But more than anyone, he knew this artifact wasn’t fake.
“…Then…”
He paused, choosing his words carefully before continuing.
“Do you know everything about this world?”
“No. Whether it’s a fairy tale, a novel, or a song—they only tell the important parts. It’s like how much you’d know after reading a single novel. That’s the extent of my knowledge.”
I added playfully:
“And usually, a character who rules the underworld can’t not be important, right? That’s why I know you.”
“…Very well.”
He didn’t look pleased at all.
With his lips slightly more downturned than usual, he asked:
“I’ll make this my last question.”
At his words, I placed my hand on the gem again.
“Who is the protagonist of the story you know?”
“I don’t know.”
For the first time, the necklace turned completely black.
But I removed my hand confidently and said:
“Even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you. That’s extremely valuable information. Haven’t I already racked up enough debt with what I’ve told you so far?”
“…Information about the existence of another world is not particularly valuable.”
I laughed at that—then my expression turned cold.
Who did he think he was fooling?
“Don’t play word games. That’s not all you gained from this conversation, is it?”
To make it clear, I began counting on my fingers.
“No traitors. And yet, there exists another route through which information is leaking—and you now have the chance to block it in advance.”
I looked straight into his eyes and spoke clearly.
“And I can be a very useful ally. That about sums it up. I could say more, but my mouth’s getting tired.”
“…You’re quite formidable.”
“Yep. So let’s move on to the business discussion. I don’t feel like giving you more for free.”
I casually pulled out a stack of papers.
Though reluctant, he took them without hesitation.
As he skimmed through them, reclaiming the Saint’s Heart, he paused briefly before speaking.
“So if you provide information useful for business, I compensate you based on the profit I make?”
“Yep. You run all sorts of operations anyway. I don’t feel like managing things myself, so I’ll just hand over information and take a cut.”
Running a business required effort.
And I’d be busy raising Mabel.
Better to leave operations to a professional and collect fees.
“What’s the ratio?”
“What? Didn’t I write it there? 7:3. I take 70%.”
“That’s ridiculous. Let’s make it 4:6.”
“You’re going to make a fortune. You just saw what kind of information I have.”
“You’re underestimating the effort required to run operations. Also, your information hasn’t been proven yet. You might earn far less than you expect.”
What a pain—arguing over every little thing.
I pouted slightly in irritation, but he didn’t budge.
“I’ll just go somewhere else, you know? I’m a count’s daughter. You think I can’t find investors? 6:4.”
“The fact that you came here first suggests you don’t have many options. 5:5.”
“Wow, aren’t you undervaluing yourself? Maybe I came because you’re the most trustworthy?”
“Trustworthy? You came because I’m easy to threaten, didn’t you?”
“…Well, yeah. But that kind of threat won’t matter once I’m an adult anyway. It’s just about age.”
“If you know that, try being more cooperative. 5:5.”
“Fine. I’ll consider it an investment. 5:5. But I expect fast support in return.”
“Understood.”
“If you’re late, I’ll be angry.”
“Don’t worry.”
I acted dissatisfied, but honestly, I wasn’t.
This was the ratio I expected from the start.
Negotiations always begin high.
Mephisto nitpicked every clause in the contract.
I pushed back just as much.
After hours of heated debate, we finally finished, both a bit worn out as we signed.
“So this is that magical contract where you’re screwed if you break it?”
“Yes. So don’t even think about changing the ratio.”
“Tch.”
Maybe because we argued so much, talking felt easier now.
With everything done, I prepared to leave—then paused.
I hadn’t settled how to address him.
“Oh right, what should I call you? Mephisto? Mephi?”
“Call me whatever you like.”
“I’ll call you ‘partner.’”
Even though I gave him a nickname, he didn’t seem pleased.
Didn’t he just say I could call him anything?
After spending time together, his expressions had become much more varied.
The next day
A group of burly men who looked like thugs stood lined up in front of me—wearing servant uniforms.
“Greetings, big sis!”
“Please call us your underlings, big sis!”
Seeing that, the butler turned pale and asked me:
“M-my lady… who are these people…?”
“Oh? Right, I forgot to mention it.”
Only then did I realize I hadn’t introduced them.
The butler had been resting yesterday, so I hadn’t had the chance.
“Say hello. These are our new servants.”
“…Ugh.”
The butler collapsed again.
Oh dear.
He really seems quite frail. He should take better care of himself.
