The contractor was a man in his late fifties, with a hunched back and a mouth that desperately needed new teeth. His tutted his cane while I walked downstairs, freshly dressed in a new set of clothes. Abel walked right behind me, and somehow his presence made me feel more comfortable.

“Master Nero,” the man gave a short bow. His voice was too raspy and loud. “I was delighted to know the Opal Household was occupied back again after the years of loss. And of all people you contacted me, the most popular contractor in the whole town,” he scuttled towards me. “This means you’re good with your rubies eh?”

“Do what you came here to do, contractor,” Abel growled behind me.

The man kept a step back, still holding onto his thin smile. “Of course, of course. First we should have introductions. I am Contracter Verus. I am the one who provides all Tower Masters of this province with their servants. My costs are bit high but you get a solider worth your coin. Now, I believe your butler already requested someone for you.”

“Indeed,” Abel stepped beside me. “Do you have her?”

The front door opened, and a girl a few years older than me stepped in. She looked sturdier and stronger than the girls I’ve seen in the streets. She carried a shield on her back and a sword strapped to her belt. A fur cloak covered most of the black rough clothes she wore beneath. She had cropped white hair, something that was very rare in town. Perhaps in hell things were different.

“One of my best warriors,” Verus walked around the girl like examining a artifact stolen from a museum. “Her name is Atora. She was born in the pits. Was ten when I took her under my care. Trained her every bloody day from the hour of dawn to the hour of death. You’ll never find a warrior like this even if you search the entire town.”

“The one you requested was your best warrior,” Abel said. “I read your rankings. She came as the second. What happened to the first?”

“Ah,” Verus scratched the bald part of his head. “He was already taken.”

I felt like it was time I injected myself to the conversation. I didn’t want the new girl to believe Abel was the master and I was the butler. “So you are selling us the second in your rankings for the same price as your first?”

Atora’s brows furrowed. It was a dangerous look. Something that would have made me instantly regret what I said if Abel wasn’t on my side.

“Even though I have given them rankings, they are all the same,” Verus tapped his cane impatiently. “If you would request a demonstration, I would gladly ask Atora to perform one. But I would require a cost, of course.”

I spared a glance at Abel, who was frowning back at the Contractor. “No, we’re out of time. We will see her strength in battle, and if she fails, you better have answers for me Verus.”

The Contractor gave a toothless smile. “I have become the number one Contractor in this province for a reason. Are we ready for the transaction?”

“The binding should be done first.”

Verus’s eyes twitched. “Of course. Give me your hand young Master.”

I followed him, seemingly having no choice. He gripped my hand tighter than I thought, and pulled out a blade from his back.

My blood turned cold. “Hey, hey gramps-”

The knife sliced a clean cut through my palm.

“Ow, you…” I swallowed some curses.

“Give your hand lass,” Verus snapped at Atora.

She obeyed like a puppet. Only once her wrist turned upwards I saw the mark cut across it. Two triangles and a line. I’ve never seen such tattoos even back when I was still human.

Verus calmly placed my hand on top of the mark and let the blood fall upon it. He began uttering something - fast and silent. The mark began to glow in red. A grunt escaped from Atora’s lips and the blood that fell upon her hands turned black as it drooled down to the carpets.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

After a few seconds Verus released both our arms, then looked at Abel like he was about to eat him. “…now, for the payment?”

“Walk with me,” Abel pointed at the door. “Master Nero, please show Atora to her room. It’s the one right beside yours.”

I watched the two adult men walk out of the room. They were an odd duo - one hulking beast and a scuttling, hunched bald man.

Only after a few seconds the silence dawned on me. I quickly cleared my throat. Years as a homeless guy made me forget basic manners.

“So,” I extended my hand. “Atora, huh? Nice to meet you?”

She looked at my hand, which made me stare at it. Only then I realized I wasn’t feeling any pain. The cut was still there, and my plam was bathed in red blood, but I barely felt a thing.

“Huh? Interesting.” I muttered.

“The ceremony is done through a white blade,” Atora spoke. Her accent was very different. Being in the streets I’ve gotten used to many accents, but her one was something I never heard before. “It doesn’t make you feel pain.”

“And you can talk,” I smiled.

“And you are a traitor who killed the previous devil lord of this House.”

My smile vanished.

“Who told you about that?”

“Not important. But I am here to serve you, and as long as you can give me the hex I need, I wouldn’t bring that matter up.”

I frowned. “I thought I was supposed to be the Master?”

“Yes, master,” the last word escaped like a chortle. “I was simply stating my opinion. Now would you show me to my room?”

“Of course…” I stopped. Clearly this wasn’t going to the way I expected. I should find a way to take back control of the situation, or my servants would start acting like masters on their own.

§

The problem with hell was that you didn’t know what time it was. After Atora shut herself in her room without barely speaking any word to me, I spent some time enjoying the cushioned bed. It was far better than sleeping under a rag on the street, or a garbage bin with a crackled lid, but the weight of my situation was weighing heavily on me. When I looked out of the curtains the mist was still glowing in a dying red. It seemed “night” wasn’t a thing in hell.

Every time memories of my past life surfaced, I drowned them. I lied to myself, telling I would think about it if I survived all of this. I still got flashbacks of the corpses, and the portrait of the man I killed hanging in my room wasn’t helping at all.

When boredom got the better of me, I walked out of my room to inspect the house. It was larger than I expected. Corridors paved ways to new rooms, all tightly sealed shut, and a stairway spiraled upwards towards the roof. The only accessibly place was the large balcony that overlooked the sprawling city below. On the very top of the distant mountain I found a large palace gleaming with crimson torches. I assumed it to the palace of Lucifer. Beyond the walls, behind the red mist, a maze spiraled to nowhere.

It was still too much, and for some reason I suddenly missed the world I used to live in. The world where there was a sun, a moon, people who talked and walked like normal people. Not hell-lords, towers and bodyguards who formed contracts with my blood.

“Enjoying the view Master?” Abel’s voice jolted me.

“You should stop doing that.”

“I’m sorry my Lord,” he gave a short bow. “But there are a lot of progressions at hand.”

“I got a warrior, isn’t that all?”

Abel gave a broken growl, or perhaps it was a chuckle. Who knew?

“There’s a lot more to be done. We need to restore the fallen name of House Blackheart. For that we should enter you as a tower master.”

My head was starting to ache. “Does that involve my blood as well?”

Another growl. Or a chuckle. “Hardly. But that is a long and tedious process. You should first be enrolled as a tower lord and earn your Crystal. For that you need to participate in the Blood Jury and face a Strategy Game with their supervision. For that you need to have a demon mage by your side. So I prefer if we start with that.”

I stared at the man. In the last few seconds I heard more strange words than the curse words I used to hear back in the streets.

“My dear Abel,” I folded my hands. “Is there any way that I can go back into my room, fall into my bed, and pretend none of this ever happened and wake up back where I was? Perhaps this could be a very realistic bad dream.”

“I believe that option is way out of hand my lord. If you were in a dream you would have awakened the moment that man slid a blade through your hand.”

It was a logical point. And I hated when people made logical points. But I knew at one point I should accept all of this as reality. As much bizarre as this was, I was in it. And if I am to survive, I should learn to thrive in it. I should accept all the bizarreness that came with it and pretend I was a part of it.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It was just like in the streets. Pretend it’s another bad day.

A bad day that was never going to end.

“Alright,” I opened my eyes and stretched my hands. “Let’s start with the demon.”

Abel smiled. “Perfect. I have placed a set of new clothes in your room. I will prepare a carriage and request Atora to be at your service. She will take you to the demon market. Hopefully your hex levels will be high enough to summon a stronger one.”

He turned back and walked inside. I followed him. I understood nothing he spoke of. But on that day, at that balcony, I said good bye to the old life of a street urchin, and welcomed the new life of a Tower Lord.