There was a bright flash of light, a vague pulling sensation at my core, and then I was standing in the middle of a magic circle. The circle was drawn in dark purple chalk outlined with a sickly yellow glow, had a thin white candle at each of the five points, and once again, I was standing in the middle of it.

I may have scored an atrocious 43% on my last science test, but that didn't mean I was stupid.

Magic circle + weird glow + pulling sensation and sudden teleportation = some poor sap tried to summon a demon or something and ended up with me instead.

Said poor sap was wearing a pitch black robe with a deep cowl hiding their whole face.

"Hi," I said.

They didn't say hi back and instead consulted the thick tome resting beside them.

"Not what you expected?"

"..."

"Yeah, if I was trying to summon a demon - you are trying to summon a demon, right? - for whatever reasons, I wouldn't expect a person wearing a bright red apron and holding a soapy frying pan in their equally soapy hands to suddenly appear either. I was in the middle of washing the dishes, you see."

"..."

"Not really one for conversation, are you? Well, that's alright. I can talk enough for both of us."

"..."

"I like what you've done with the room. It's very dark, dank, and has a really nice demon summoningy feel."

"..."

"Oh, I didn't notice it before, but is that real blood I'm standing in? Wait, stupid question, of course it's real blood. Only the real thing would do, huh? Guess I should have asked if it was human or animal blood."

"..."

"I'm not wearing the best shoes for standing in blood right now though. I don't think I've ever worn the best shoes for standing in blood actually. What would the best shoes for standing in blood even be? Whatever they are, they certainly aren't house slippers."

"..."

"Speaking of house slippers, apparently some households don't require people to take off their outside shoes when they go inside the house. I was pretty surprised when I heard that. But I finally understood what those ads for mops - y'know, the ones with the white suburban mums frowning down at the mud on the wooden floors - were talking about. Of course there's gonna be mudstains all over your floor if your kids don't change their shoes before running all around the house."

"..."

"I know I said I could talk enough for both of us, but some form of acknowledgement would be nice, you know? Like a shrug, or a grunt, or even a 'shut up' would be good."

"Do you ever stop talking?"

"Or that. That works. Your voice is surprisingly high-pitched. Those robes billow out so much, I thought you were sitting down. Now I see that you're actually just a kid."

"Answer my question."

"Okay, okay, chill, chill. Yes."

"..."

He went back to reading his book.

"Oi, don't go back to ignoring me now. Oi. Oi. Ooooooiiiiiiiiii-"

"Shut up."

"'Kay."

I managed to keep my mouth shut for a full minute.

"Hate to ask, but mind letting me outta the circle?" I said, taking a step forward. "The smell of blood's-"

The kid's head snapped up at my words and he yelled, "Stop right there!"

I froze, one foot hovering precariously about five centimetres above the ground.

"Uh," I said, "Like, right here?"

"Yes."

"That's real sadistic of you, kid, I'm already tired of holding my leg up like this."

"Not my problem," he said, going back to his book.

"Well that's just mean."

I managed to hold my position for exactly thirty seconds. Then I just gave up and walked out of the circle. I crouched down beside where the kid was intently staring at his book.

"What we lookin' at?"

The kid started, letting out a rather cute squeak, and scrambled away from me until his back hit the only visible door leading into the room. His hood fell off with his abrupt movements, and I raised an eyebrow at his ridiculously bright red (like red red, not ginger red) hair with equally ridiculously bright green eyes. He started spluttering, seemingly in shock that I had stopped doing what he said.

"You- What- How did you-?"

"I walked, I guess?" I replied.

"Not that! You shouldn't be able to leave the circle before your summoner allows you to!"

"Ah." I looked at the circle I had just walked out from. There was a line of bloody footprints blurring the purple chalk and the yellow glow was gone. Good, because that shade of yellow was just appalling. "The circle was probably defective, or incomplete, whatever. Seems like it didn't have anything protecting it from simply being rubbed out by who or whatever was summoned, or was missing that crucial 'trap' piece, which would have, well, trapped me in there. Word of advice, kiddo, next time you try to summon an all-powerful being, make sure to prepare your circle for anything that could go wrong, yeah? You're lucky it was just me this time."

He narrowed his pretty green eyes at me. "How do you know all that?"

"I read a lot. Like, a lot."

"Hmph."

There was a moment of silence, neither of us knowing what was supposed to happen next. I wondered what his name was.

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> Name: Arswen of Cleimeph

> Level: 13

> Age: 10

> Race: Human  [Details]

> Afflictions: None   [Details]

> Occupation: None

>

> HP: 110/110

> MP: 30/530

>

> [Attributes & Titles]

> [Background]

> [Skills]

...I asked for his name, not a full-on fucking analysis.

The translucent green screen did not answer. I slowly lowered the frying pan to the ground, then slapped both hands on my face, belatedly realizing that they were still soapy and wet. So now I had lemon-scented soap suds on my face, a screen that belonged in a VRMMORPG, and a 10 year old boy named Arswen staring at me.

Great.

"...What are you doing?"

"Regretting the action of slapping my hands on my face."

I finally sat down, stretching my legs out before crossing them.

"So, Arswen," I said, wiping my face with my apron, "were you trying to summon a demon?"

Arswen stared at me for a few seconds longer, then answered, "Yes."

"What for?"

"Why do you need to know?"

I shrugged. "I don't, but it would be nice to know for what reason I was dragged out of my world and into yours." 

"What makes you think you're in a different world?"

"Well, last I checked, my world didn't have floating green screens telling me somebody's name, level, age, yadda yah, and-"

"What?"

"I said, last I checked, my world didn't have-"

"-floating green screens telling you somebody's name, level, age, and 'yadda yah'?" he interrupted.

I frowned at him. "If you heard me the first time-"

"Are you absolutely sure there is a floating screen showing you my information?"

"Can you, like, stop inter-"

"Are you absolutely sure there is a floating screen showing you my information."

"Yes," I huffed, gesturing to it."How else would I know your name? Can you not see it or something?"

"No, I cannot," he said, crawling quickly to my side and snatching up his book. He started flipping frantically through the pages, searching for who knows what.

"Oh. Well then."

Arswen finally found what he was looking for and held the book up triumphantly. He shoved it into my face.

"Read it."

I pushed the book away from my face until I could actually read it, and squinted at the cursive in the dim lighting.

I have discovered something interesting. I was interviewing the people in a small village called Shayre, when a young man came up to me and asked to speak to me in private. This was nothing new, as my topics of research have caused much controversy, and situations in which I am surrounded by people with the intention of forcefully discouraging me from my pursuit of knowledge are not uncommon. I have confidence in my ability to defend myself in such situations, however, so I saw no harm in hearing him out. And I am quite glad I did.

This young man first asked me to [Evaluate] him and look at his skills specifically. I did as he asked and recited them to him as well. [Evaluate] was not among them. He then proceeded to tell me my full name, level, age, birthday, and other pieces of information even someone with the highest level of [Evaluate] could not have known. As I was staring at him in amazement, this young man, who does not wish for his name to be mentioned even in my private journal, confessed that for as long as he could remember, instead of hearing the Divine Words, he would see coloured rectangles in the air. These coloured rectangles also appeared whenever he wanted to know about something, and [Evaluate Block] appeared to have no affect on his unique ability.

I skimmed over the rest, and pushed the book back to Arswen.

"So, you think I'm the same as the guy the author is talking about."

He nodded.

"Right. What are Divine Words?"

"They're words that appear in our minds when we gain a level, level up or use a skill, or do other actions, like entering a dungeon. Some say that Divine Words are the words of God, hence the name. The main religion of this world is centred around Divine Words. I don't practise it though."

I nodded in understanding. This world was turning out to be more and more like something right out of a light novel. Well, whatever. That wasn't really important. What was important was:

"Is there anything in that book of yours that can send me back?"

Arswen turned back to the page with the magic circle and read through it.

"...No."

"Yeah, I didn't think so," I sighed. He had been trying to summon a demon, after all, and demons presumably had the means to send themselves back to wherever they came from once they finished whatever task they had been summoned to do.

"Well," I leant back and placed my hands on the floor behind me. "Since I'm stuck here for the foreseeable future, you might as well tell me why you needed a demon. Maybe I can help you with your problem, in exchange for food and board. Sound good?"

The boy thought about it, tugging on a lock of bright red hair. He eyed me contemplatively.

"Fine," he decided. "I'll tell you."

Arswen was the third and youngest son. The oldest, Arslop (20), had gone off to Nonloso, the capital city of Talcapian and where the royal family resided, and become a Royal Knight, one serving directly under the Second Prince. He hadn't been able to come home recently because of the war between Talcapian and its neighbour Esturus.

The second son, Arsral (15), was an extremely sickly person who was confined to a wheelchair. His expensive treatment was a large part of the reason his older brother decided to go apply to be a Royal Knight.

The brothers' parents had died in a monster attack three years ago. Their father had been a scholar (the journal in which Arswen had found the magic circle had been his) and their mother had been a rather powerful mage, which was why all three siblings had a higher magical potential than most. The two had eloped and settled down in the then small town of Etir, opening a small shop called Cleimeph, which was a combination of their names.

Arsral had found their father's journal half a year ago and had immediately given it to Arswen, who had far more of an interest in magic and the like. Arswen, finding the circle, had taken three months to gather the necessary materials, and another three to prepare the room and circle, then finally did the actual summoning itself today, which resulted in the situation I currently found myself in.

"I wanted someone to help my brother manage the shop while I was in school, and dive in the local dungeon in search of more things to sell," he finished.

I nodded my head in understanding and said, "So basically, you were curious about your father's circle and wanted to know if it would really summon a powerful being."

He flushed red and yelled, "No! Have you even been listening to what I've been saying?"

"Kid, your words don't fool me." I leveled a flat stare at him. "You're interested in magic, pretty much worship your father if the way your face lit up when you mentioned him is any indication, and a Royal Knight's salary is a hell of a lot. If your brother has managed the shop on his own in his condition for three years, he can manage it for a hell of a lot more."

"His condition has been worsening lately," he countered.

"If you can afford all the materials listed in that journal," I pointed at a paragraph beneath the circle, which included things like 'unicorn hoof blessed by Titania herself', "then you can afford to hire a live-in nurse or just someone to help manage the shop when you're not around. Just admit it, you were fooling around."

Arswen turned his head away petulantly. "Hmph."

I sighed and covered my eyes with a (now dry and soap-free) hand. "Well, whatever. I'm here now. In exchange for food and a place to stay, I'll help you guys out. Deal?"

I held my other hand out for him to take.

Arswen pursed his lips. "I'll have to confirm with Arslop, but fine. Deal."

He shook my hand, and violet fire erupted from where our skin met.

> You have made a deal with [Arswen of Cleimeph].

> Skill proficiency reached. [Deal] has reached Level 1.

> [Deal] Level 1

> When your client is about act against a deal, they will receive a warning from the System.

>

> Level 2: When your client is about act against a deal, they will receive a warning from the System. When they break the deal, they will receive a medium electric shock.

I stared at our hands, and then at the messages that had popped up.

Ah, fuck.