The room echoed with the eerie repetition of "E, E, E, E…" as Michael found himself frozen on the edge of his bed, squinting into the shadows where the mysterious voice originated. His eyes strained against the darkness, and a lump of distress lodged itself in his throat, making it hard to swallow. Sweat dripped down his face as a cascade of thoughts flooded his mind.
'Burglar? Nah, impossible!' His apartment, perched on the tenth floor of a twenty-story building with more than eighty units, had a fortress of a door—triple-locked. Who the hell would bother isolating themselves on the tenth floor just to sift through his mundane belongings?
'I must be dreaming, gotta be dreaming...' The mantra echoed in his mind, but he dismissed it with a certainty that only heightened his anxiety. This was no dream; the lucid clarity of his wakefulness mocked the idea.
'Mom! Dad!' Despite being a twenty-three-year-old, fear regressed him to a cowering toddler. He refrained from shouting out for them, terrified of what might unfold if they got involved.
'Stay strong! Burst with power!' A surge of adrenaline prompted him to envision Anime battle scenes, as if summoning a reserve of strength from turbulent emotions. Yet, he remained glued to the bed, the delirium offering only a marginal sense of composure.
'Why isn't it moving? What's it waiting for?' He pondered, breaths coming in ragged pants. Was it baiting him, luring him into some unforeseen action? Was Dan playing a twisted prank? His mind spun with uncertainty, unable to settle on any plausible explanation.
'It's big…hunchbacked, hooded. Long arms reaching from ceiling to floor, fingers twitching.' The silhouette of the entity emerged in Michael's mind, its form unsettling. Hunched, hooded, with limbs stretching impossibly long, its fingers jerked ceaselessly.
'It's not moving. Real or did I conjure it? Am I losing my damn mind?' The question lingered in Michael's thoughts, teetering between the surreal and the disturbingly real.
The Entity's voice reverberated in the room, alternating between small knocks and hissing. "E, E, E, E… A di- di- deal. You- u- u- c- c- called for a di- di- deal," it spoke, the words weaving a strange melody.
"You- u- u- u- want p- p- power. I- I can give you G- Great P- Powersss." The promises slithered through the air, tempting Michael with the allure of unimaginable abilities.
The closed door heightened Michael's anxiety; he couldn't shake the worry that his family might hear the Entity's unsettling proposition.
'The Deal? Is this thing really here to make it? Do I want to? But then… I'd have REAL powers!' Michael's heart raced, torn between the dread of potential consequences and the excitement of acquiring extraordinary abilities.
'I should make it! This might not be the opportunity I envisioned, but it's more than nothing. I must phrase it carefully to avoid deception.' Michael's mind raced, drawing from his knowledge of movies and series involving demons and similar entities. He knew the stories—deceptive contracts with nigh invisible fine print. If he couldn't think like an astute adult at this critical juncture, he'd consider himself a failure.
'I can't let it read my mind or exploit my feelings!' Fully awake now, Michael wrestled with a barrage of thoughts. What to say, how to reply, what collaterals to request, and whether to be blunt or subtle—all raced through his mind.
“W- who are y- you?” Michael involuntarily stuttered a whisper.
“Di- Di- Deals Make- e- er,” responded the Entity, its form shifting in the darkness. Michael sensed impatience, an intent to lean closer.
Unfazed by horrific creatures in horror movies, Michael hesitated in real life, unwilling to bet on his poker face. “I- I want to make a d- deal,” he said, and, whether related or not, the Entity halted, retreating to the corner.
“Ssstate your desire.” The Entity's words slithered with anticipation.
Michael gulped, striving for clarity. “I want power that cannot be taken away. Power that can be endlessly trained and strengthened, with no limits. It should enhance every aspect of me—body and mind. Grant me agelessness, infinite longevity, and the ability to perform feats like flying, telepathy, and telekinesis. A power that can do all of that and more, everything, as long as I commit to its training!”
Michael refrained from labeling the power he sought as "Magic," "Chi," or "Prana." If those concepts fell short of fulfilling his desires, he didn't want to risk limiting the potential by attaching specific terms. He opted for the bare essentials and a single condition, conveying his ultimate goal without unnecessary complexity.
The Entity listened silently, and for a moment, Michael wondered if this was all a dream. If it played out as he hoped, he would finally possess the superpowers he'd always yearned for, even if the cost proved steep.
"And no backlashes. No deformities, sickness, mental problems, bad luck, short lifespan, basically zero negative effects, and not on me, others, or the environment unless I will it through the power and can also retract it," he stressed, anxious to cover all potential loopholes and repercussions.
"I want the power immediately, as we conclude the deal. Lastly, I want to know who I'm dealing with and precisely what price I'm expected to pay—what it means to pay it," he asserted, finding a dose of assertiveness in his tone while maintaining politeness, a delicate balance he learned from light novels.
“You- u- u- u want my n- n- name… You won’t b- be able to b- b- bear it. Death is all you’ll re- e-e- eceive,” the Entity replied.
'It's lying.' Michael trusted neither the Entity nor the contract completely, but he had to rely on the latter for any semblance of control.
“I- I need to know with whom I’m making a deal,” Michael demanded definitively.
“T- T- That you all read- d- dy know. I’m a- a- a- Deals Maker. Now, the contrac- ct…” The Entity presented a piece of blank parchment, strange writings appearing like blood seeping through fabric. As Michael opened his mouth to express his inability to comprehend, the writings changed, becoming readable.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
The parchment detailed his request, even improving upon his own phrasing. When it addressed the cost, it spoke of his soul after death, a currency as mundane as buying a loaf of bread.
‘Should I ask?’ Michael considered, then discarded the idea. He had already inquired, and pressing further might jeopardize the deal.
Glancing at the final part of the contract, a signature remained, one out of two.
‘Deals Maker,’ Michael read how the Entity signed its name.
“P- P- Put your finger above the r- r- red line and say your full birth name.”
‘To sign…’ Michael hesitated. His thoughts whirred, and his head spun from overthinking. ‘Afterward, a new world will open before me, but can I go back?’
Is this truly what he desires, breaking free from a mundane, passionless life? Are the dangers in the alternative worth the powers he craves?
‘I’m still young, plenty of time for a degree, wealth, a girlfriend, a wife… maybe even hitting the jackpot on the first try?’ Michael mused, but his finger was already on a course to the parchment, reaching its destination in a blink.
‘For real powers… I’m still more willing to be alone, forever.’ His heart, perhaps, was no more honest than the Entity.
“Michael… Mir.” He did it! The parchment shuddered, and his name gradually formed above the red line.
“Transaction c- complete!” The Entity declared, and the contract vanished.
“Wait, what about my power-” Michael's words hung in the air as the world turned black, and he felt no immediate change.
…
His voice barely echoed in his ears as his eyes snapped open, fixing on the ceiling above the pillow.
“…powers!” Michael jumped off the bed in a mad rush as his alarm clock blared 07:15. “Ouch!” Abrupt movement after waking up reminded him of stiff joints.
“Wait… morning?” The sunlight streamed through the window, refreshing his memory from the night before—the dream he had. He felt unchanged, and the tip of the finger that had touched the parchment looked perfectly fine.
‘After mustering all that resolve, was it a lucid dream after all?’ Michael grimaced, disheartened, as he reluctantly began his day.
…
Marshel’s Warehouses, 10:30.
“Are you okay?” Melik asked as he passed by the south entrance during his patrol around the compound, taking a short break.
“Yes,” Michael replied, frowning. Since waking up, he had felt an elusive itch in his hands, then his arms, and now his chest. Not a rash, but enough to make him scratch like he had one.
“Well, you better check yourself after work. I’m going. Can’t afford catching something and losing workdays,” Melik power-walked back to his post.
“Tsk!” A vein popped on Michael’s forehead. ‘Dammit! Did I get stung by something?’ Recent news had warned about mosquitoes transmitting deadly diseases, but Michael dismissed the idea.
‘No sting marks anywhere?’ Yet, the itch seemed to move whenever he scratched it.
‘Mm? Wait…!’ Michael’s eyes flashed. ‘Right hand, forearm, elbow, shoulder, right chest, back to right elbow, left chest, left index finger, right pinky!’
The itch not only moved when he scratched but also when he concentrated on a specific location from his arms to his chest.
Michael held his breath, containing the excitement, not daring to assume.
‘Yeah, go there, now there! It’s like a fish in water if I don’t try to grasp it, nice!’
The itch evolved from a nuisance to a subtle tickle. It felt like a silky, four-centimeter string following his every thought.
‘Wait! I must confirm I’m not having a hallucination or something.’
Reality check No.1: Pinch.
Michael pinched with his nails, feeling the acutest pain until he couldn’t endure it and let go.
Reality check No.2: Taste and scent.
As a foodie, Michael’s tongue and nose were sensitive to textures, flavors, and aromas. He grabbed an expired pack of shredded mozzarella from the booth's mini-fridge, but the foul smell stopped him. ‘Nope! I don’t need this foul cheese to tell me I’m fine.’
Leaning on his chair, he resumed playing with the string.
‘The deal… succeeded?’ He directed the string to the center of his palm. ‘My level one mana… should I name it? Maybe I should just call it as is, "String"? Yup. I don’t really know what kind of power source It is. What I should do is start learning how to use It and make It stronger. According to the deal, Its potential is infinite. The catch is how do I train It?’
The answers started with using the String.
Taking a quarter from his wallet, he placed it in the center of his palm.
‘I can move It freely in my body, but can It do something outside?’ The real test—performing telekinesis by forcing the String out below the quarter.
Michael clenched his teeth. How many times had he challenged his imagination after watching Anime or reading cultivation novels? Not to mention all the hopeful experiments he attempted after browsing occult forums…
“Up,” he muttered in a low voice. “Up, up, up…”
The String wiggled, resembling a tadpole breaching the surface of the water. Gradually, Michael felt It leaving his palm, yet their connection remained strong. The quarter shook—shaking as the String emerged and lifted it centimeter by centimeter.
One centimeter, two centimeters, three centimeters, four centimeters—the quarter floated above Michael’s palm.
“One, two, three…” Michael counted, gauging how long the String could hold. “Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…” His pacing was inconsistent, a bit slower than a clock’s.
The quarter fell, and the String receded back to his hand.
“Sixty-four seconds! Perhaps a little more on a timer!” Michael exclaimed in joy, and every hair on his body stood on end. ‘A supernatural power! I have a superpower!’ He wanted to shout his triumph to the world.
Instantly, his mind was flooded with thoughts of skeptics, naysayers, and potential scrutiny. ‘If I upload anything online, a million excuses will label it fake. People would pay a fortune for this kind of proof, but they only believe what they can see with their own eyes. If I claim I developed it on my own, people will flock to me for teachings,’ he mused, overwhelmed by a surge of intoxicating superiority. ‘No, no, no, no! Calm down. I’ve to think about it rationally. Lifting a small coin a few centimeters above my hand for a minute is not what I bargained my soul for! Someone, even the military, might make a guinea pig out of me if I reveal just this bit of supernatural power. I need to get more powerful. No! I need to lift the coin again!’
In the excitement, he missed what happened to the String after It returned to him. When he focused on It again, It was just as lively as before the test.
‘It’s transparent.’ Before attempting to lift the quarter again, Michael wanted to observe how this power looked. What appeared was exactly what he felt—a short, wiggling String that was mostly see-through. ‘Interesting, how long can It stay out if I don’t put weight on It?’
He ran the timer on his cellphone.
‘Hundred and thirty to a hundred and forty seconds, and when It returns, for less than a second, It’s dwindling… what recharges It?’ This was another concerning question that required further study of the String, but first…
‘Seventy, sixty-five, seventy-one, sixty-six seconds,’ four times he repeated the floating quarter test, and the results varied. ‘In light novels, discrepancies typically are ascribed to poor control. Maybe if I start training by doing an assortment of deeds, from simple to complex, the power will slowly improve?’
With this premise in mind, Michael stepped back from coin tricks and focused on familiarizing himself with the String.
‘It’s constantly in a state of motion. Does It have to be, or is it because I have to do something with It, such as refine or tame?’
Refinement requires a technique, placing it on the “Complex” side of the scale. After several failing attempts to make the String stop, “Taming” joined in just past the middle of the scale.
Evidently, the more frustrated Michael became by struggling to unravel the secrets of understanding and mastering his power, the more amused he felt. The String gave him the ability to perform feats considered imaginary, making him feel alive and passionate about his newfound abilities.
And so, the rest of the workday elapsed in his first session of training.