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Chapter 41
“Damn spotted-head bastard…”
Bellacshina ground her teeth as she cursed Abalkin.
It wasn’t because he had spanked her. Well, that was humiliating too, of course.
It wasn’t because he had locked her in the room, either. Nor because he had tied her up with the curtain cords.
And it wasn’t even because he had simply left her there afterward.
The biggest reason Bellacshina was truly furious at Abalkin was—
‘My grimoire!’
That was right.
Abalkin, suddenly afflicted with an extreme case of paranoia, had removed everything from Bellacshina’s room.
And among that “everything” was the “suspiciously hard-covered book.”
Honestly, she had no idea how someone could possibly kill themselves with a book, but whatever.
What was certain was that Abalkin didn’t want to allow even the slightest variable right now. He intended to keep absolutely everything under control.
“…If only I’d made the contract with the System first, there might’ve been hope.”
Bellacshina muttered weakly.
The “contracts” provided by the System generally required signing directly inside the book.
That was how she had written her name the first time, and the “Soul Consignment and Guarantee Contract” she had been shown earlier also had a signature line.
Which meant that, with her entire body tied up like this, she couldn’t even sell her soul to a demon.
‘I should’ve just signed immediately!’
Bellacshina swore to herself that next time, she would not hesitate or doubt for even a second before selling her soul.
Really, when you thought about it, wasn’t it generous enough that someone even wanted to buy it?
Everyone had a soul, but not everyone got the opportunity to sell one. She should have sold it while the chance existed.
Just as Bellacshina’s faith began to waver—
Creeeak.
The door opened.
“Seems it’s not urgent yet.”
It was Abalkin.
Still visibly angry, he stood at the doorway without even trying to hide how unwilling he was to be there.
Naturally, Bellacshina’s response came out sharp.
“What are you here for? I don’t even want to look at your face.”
“Then I’ll come back in an hour.”
“What are you really here for?”
Abalkin, who had been about to close the door and leave again, sighed.
As though he desperately didn’t want to say it aloud, he pressed and relaxed his lips several times before finally speaking.
“You… no, that’s not it.”
“What?”
Abalkin awkwardly tried to phrase it as indirectly as possible.
“You said it yourself earlier. That this situation could cause… certain biological concerns. So I came to check whether that emergency situation had arrived.”
As he spoke, his gaze wandered everywhere except toward her, and his slightly shaken demeanor made it impossible for Bellacshina not to notice.
“You insane pervert!”
“I don’t want this either.”
“But you’re saying you’re going to do that, aren’t you?! Personally, to me…!”
As she spoke, Bellacshina’s face steadily turned red.
Unable to even say the words out loud, she imagined all sorts of things, and unbearable humiliation and shame flooded her.
“W-Wait! That’s not what I meant!”
Realizing Bellacshina had misunderstood him completely, Abalkin hurriedly waved his hands in denial.
“I’m not saying I’ll do that to your… that! And especially not personally! Absolutely not!”
“Then why did you come alone?! You were planning to do that, like that, and just aggressively—!”
Bellacshina’s imagination spiraled further and further out of control, her face becoming scarlet, while Abalkin’s panic and confusion escalated alongside it.
“Stop! Enough! I don’t know what kind of nonsense you’re imagining, but stop it! What do you even mean by ‘aggressively’?!”
“I don’t know! My marriage prospects are ruined!”
“What are you talking about? I’m your husband!”
Both of them had apparently forgotten that they had nearly killed each other not long ago, and instead spent several chaotic minutes arguing in circles about “that thing” neither of them could say directly.
And finally—
After the storm of confusion passed, both of them sagged in exhaustion.
“So what you mean is… you’ll untie me while I use the bathroom?”
Bellacshina asked in a slightly hoarse voice.
Abalkin nodded weakly, fatigue plainly visible on his face.
“Yes. But I’ll be standing outside. And if you take too long, I’ll come in. Since I have no idea what you might try.”
“…You’ll hear everything, though.”
“There’s an etiquette bell.”
That was true.
Bellacshina’s bathroom had a spotless porcelain toilet, a sink, faucets, an etiquette bell, and even a bidet.
Incidentally, these conveniences of civilization were all the result of blood, sweat, and tears shed centuries ago by Mirinae, a transmigrator. Modern bathrooms in particular ranked as her self-declared “Second Greatest Invention.” For reference, first place was air conditioning, and third place was the washing machine.
Returning to the matter at hand, Bellacshina no longer complained about Abalkin’s proposal and simply nodded.
“Fine. Let’s do that.”
It was annoying that Abalkin would be standing outside timing her, but it was still better than having Margareta accompany her. And even if only briefly, getting untied was nice.
“Then I’ll come back in an hour.”
“Wait.”
Bellacshina stopped him.
“Let’s go now. Untie me.”
Abalkin narrowed his eyes, studying her as though piecing together a deduction.
“Sounds like you’re just saying that because you want to be free.”
Sharp bastard.
Bellacshina feigned innocence.
“What if I suddenly need to go after you leave? I can’t hold it for a whole hour.”
“…Do whatever you want.”
Abalkin clearly knew she was lying, but since he had no way to prove it, he had no choice but to let it slide.
At last freed from her bindings and alone, Bellacshina urgently called out in a tiny voice.
“System! System!”
She had no idea where her grimoire was, but the System was some sort of fairy-like existence.
Surely it could appear even from a distance.
[You called?]
And just as expected, the System appeared.
The fact that it suddenly emerged from the middle of the bathroom mirror was startling, but that wasn’t important right now.
“I want to make the contract immediately. Mortgage my soul, whatever, I don’t care.”
[You know that’s impossible, right?]
She knew. She didn’t have the book in her hands.
But she couldn’t just sit here helplessly either.
“Still, isn’t there some kind of method?”
[Hmm. If you cut off a finger, I could stamp it with your bloodprint—]
“Don’t even joke about that.”
Bellacshina glared with an absolutely terrifying expression.
The System, which had just suggested something equally terrifying, immediately shrank back and muttered,
[Then there’s no way.]
“Seriously? Haah…”
[Ordinary transactions can proceed without the book, but if a soul is involved, a signature is absolutely required. No matter how much you want it right now, the contract can’t proceed.]
Bellacshina sighed irritably.
How could things refuse to work out this badly?
Then Abalkin’s voice came from outside.
“Not done yet? It’s already been five minutes.”
Bellacshina snapped back irritably.
“Stop rushing me. Women wear at least eight layers of underwear, you know! Doesn’t that mean I need at least ten minutes?”
“…Understood. Ten minutes.”
She had bought herself another five minutes.
But that didn’t change the fact that there was still no solution.
Bellacshina spent the extra time discussing various ideas with the System, trying to figure out a way out of this situation. But expecting some grand solution to appear within a mere five extra minutes was unrealistic.
When Bellacshina emerged from the bathroom empty-handed, Abalkin said,
“You didn’t try anything suspicious, did you?”
His sharp eyes swept over her thoroughly.
He was checking whether she had injured herself or hidden anything that could be used as a weapon. In truth, Bellacshina had briefly considered ripping off a faucet to use as one, so her heart nearly stopped.
Whew. Running out of time and not bringing it out had actually worked in her favor.
“You’re going to tie me up again, right?”
Abalkin nodded sternly.
There was no point protesting anymore; she would only get the same answer back. Bellacshina merely pouted and plopped down into the chair, while Abalkin wrapped both her and the chair tightly with the curtain tiebacks.
‘I should at least be grateful it’s not actual rope.’
After all, cords woven from gold thread were far softer than rough twisted hemp rope.
‘Wait. Gold thread?’
Bellacshina’s eyes suddenly widened.
“…Gold thread is still gold.”
