# Chapter 2
“Don't you want to make a contract with me?”
Bright silver hair and red eyes.
He looked like an angel, but the wings on his back were devilish no matter how I looked at them.
“I can make you human.”
But I couldn't resist the temptation of his words.
To remain a doll lying in the street, kicked and trampled, was something I did not want.
'What are the conditions?'
When I asked him, a beautiful smile appeared on his lips.
“I will make you a five-year-old girl. So you must find your master before you are twenty. You must win his love.”
'His love?'
“That is the condition.”
So, I have to steal my master's heart?
“If you do that, I will return you to your original world. The day before the accident.”
The original world... the day before the accident?
Then I can live again. To see my mother again.
'Is this true?'
“Of course.”
Although there was something fishy about it, I didn't have the luxury of thinking too much.
Returning to life was worth a contract even with Satan himself.
As for the issue of obtaining love, that is a postponed matter.
'Okay.'
As soon as I finished my answer, the devil said that it was a great choice, and began to recite his incantations.
Suddenly I was bathed in brilliant light, and my view of the world changed.
“Huh… now I can finally breathe.”
What a blessing it is to be able to speak and move of my own free will!
I moved my little hand as I stared at the devil.
“Then I have to find that boy in fifteen years and win his heart, right?”
“Correct. This is the contract document.”
The devil smiled maliciously this time, then clicked his fingers.
A light emanated into the air and a piece of paper appeared on which was written:
[Contract document
Olivia will find her master and win his heart fifteen years from today.
But she is forbidden from directly asking who she thinks is her master, and she is also forbidden from revealing that she was a puppet.
※If Olivia fails to win her master's heart, her soul becomes the property of Mephistopheles.]
* Mephistopheles is a name often given to the character who represents Satan, and is also the name of Satan in the Faustian myth.
"… What is this?"
I suddenly remembered stories I had read.
It's a strange combination of two familiar stories.
“This sounds exciting! They say that souls from other worlds are very delicious... Finally I will be able to taste one!”
I stared at him angrily, then raised my hand.
“Wait, one moment!”
“...a moment?”
“This is a fraudulent contract! You did not tell me the penalty before concluding the contract!”
“Fraudulent?”
The demon looked shocked, and stared at me in surprise.
“The first rule in any contract is to clarify the consequences when breaching it! Do you understand?!”
Perhaps he was surprised by my unusual audacity for someone who had just put on a human body, so he shook his head hesitantly.
“Uh...n-yes.”
“Then there must be a punishment for you too.”
"penalty?"
“I didn't see that boy's face very well. So you'll have to give me a hint about my master.”
"Huh, hint? No, wait! And why should I give you one?!"
Oh, I almost dropped him. What a pity.
“I don’t know his name or his age! I’m not even allowed to ask him if he is the master!”
I shouted confidently, and he looked really confused.
He started scratching his hair and muttering: “Is this true?” Then he looked at me as if he had decided something.
“Okay, I'll give you a hint. Your appearance will be as if you were a doll, so your master might recognize you at first sight.”
“What a ridiculous insinuation!”
I shouted, and the devil spread his wings and flew high, laughing sarcastically.
“If you need me, I will only give you one summoning opportunity.
Call me warmly, saying: “Master Mephistopheles!” and I will appear!”
He said that and then disappeared.
I stood in amazement until I woke up to the sound of bells ringing in the village.
The sun was beginning to set.
“Staying here is dangerous.”
I can't sleep in the street with this small body.
“In times of war, the safest place is the temple.”
***
I went straight to the temple and knocked hard on the door.
“From there...”
One of the priests opened the door and slowly looked at me up and down.
“Oh my God, a little girl is still in the capital! Are you okay?”
I stuttered a little, then pretended to faint.
"Wow! Little one! Our lord priest! Hurry!"
I knew they would ask me later: Where did you live? Where are your parents?
In order to avoid these complicated questions, I preferred to “faint.”
To be honest, I was a little exhausted.
Fortunately, the temple seemed unaffected by the war; He was calm and peaceful.
I don't know how long it took until I woke up and found myself eating a simple soup that did not contain meat, but was rich in flavor thanks to the broth.
“My name is...Olivia.”
"a beautiful name."
truly?
I looked at the old priest sitting next to the bed, smiling kindly, and continued: “I don’t remember anything else. Just… there is a strange, foreign boy. He took a bullet in the hand instead of me, and then one of the soldiers picked him up and took him away.”
Oh, the baby's body is comfortable in this regard.
Adults believe any incoherent words from her.
Pretending to faint also made my story more believable.
Fortunately, the good priests completely believed me.
“It seems that she was in great shock after hearing the gunfire in front of her.”
“Could it be that this boy knows something about her?”
“If he was a foreigner, she might have only met him during the war...”
They continued to exchange guesses while I smiled satisfied.
If they start looking for the boy instead of me, it will make my job much easier.
“He bled a lot from his hand.”
I said that sadly, and they shook their heads sadly.
“If the bullet hit him in the hand, he must have gone to the doctor.
“I will look in that direction.”
“And I will search in orphanages and temples to see if there is a boy with an injured hand.”
I was quite satisfied with how things were going, and finished my plate to the last drop.
While they were talking about sending me to the orphanage, I was begging inside me: I wish they would keep me in the temple!
Then it's time for plan B.
“I...I can do an adult's job! I'm good at cleaning, and I'm good at washing clothes too! I'll only wash them with cold water, no warm water! Please, let me live here, please!”
My miserable words seemed to stir everyone's emotions.
Some of them were hurt by my situation because of the war, and some of them raised their hands to pray for me.
As for the old priest, he gently patted my head without saying anything.
***
“Come in! Take the bread!”
Fortunately for me, I stayed in the temple.
It later became clear that the old man who listened to me that day was the High Priest himself.
It seems that he saw me with compassion, so he allowed me to stay.
I was now distributing bread on the streets, looking for my master among strangers, near the Umba neighborhood where most of the Vogliche people live.
I watched children my age staring at the bread longingly, so I extended my hand towards them with a smile, but they did not dare to approach.
“You can eat it, really!”
I wanted to get a little closer to them, so maybe later I could ask: Did you see a boy with a wound on his hand?
But suddenly...
“…Huh?”
I heard a strange language, so I took a step back in fear.
One of the priests approached and said something:
The child answered, then took the bread and ran away.
“What…what did they just say?”
“Oh, the first time you've heard it? It's an ancient language spoken by the Voglish people before they split into two tribes. Did you know they split a long time ago?”
I had read that in one of the novels.
The Voglich people live in the divided country adjacent to the empire.
The reason for their displacement here is the civil war between themselves.
Almost a century ago, they started a war over their different religions.
Some of them refused to fight against their own people, so they immigrated to the empire.
As for the rest, they became two tribes: “Nikita” and “Aryan,” and they abandoned their brothers who took refuge in the empire.
Because the empire did not grant them the right to reside, these refugees revolted, demanding that they be allowed to live there.
“The boy who saved me spoke the language of the Empire, so I thought all foreigners spoke it too.”
“It's rare for foreigners to speak our language. Maybe he was from a wealthy family, then.”
Now that I thought about it, yes, his clothes were of luxurious fabric.
So my master is a foreign boy about my age, with a wound on his hand, and perhaps from a rich family.
Here I got a new thread!
If I keep searching at this pace, I'm bound to meet him one day.
'Wait for me, my lord... I will steal your heart, whether you like it or not!'