Chapter 103: The Best of a Bad Bargain
This was it. The critical moment. I took a deep breath, calmed my frantic heart, and recited the words I had rehearsed in my mind a hundred times. “Oh, great and powerful Lady Gremory,” I began, my voice a low, respectful murmur. “I wish to become your servant. Please, accept this humble vessel as your witch. I am willing to pay any price.”
The speech was a modified version of a template from the grimoire. The original author had used a similar plea to the demon Andrealphus, emphasizing her thirst for knowledge. I had altered it to better suit Gremory. My tone, my posture, my attitude—it was all perfect. Surely she would accept. All that remained was the price. I prayed it would be something simple, something material.
But Gremory’s beautiful face hardened, her smile vanishing. “Are you mocking this lady, little witch?” she asked, her voice now as cold as the grave.
“No! Of course not!” I stammered, a wave of panic washing over me. “I would never dare!”
“No?” she hissed. “Then why do you come to me, asking for a pact, when you are already bound to another? Do you think I have a taste for unfaithful servants?”
“What? Bound to another?” I was utterly bewildered. “But I’m not! When did I… ah!” The memory, the horrifying, suppressed memory, returned. The Great Fly. Had it… had it forced a pact upon me? But I had never agreed! And compared to that repulsive, cosmic horror, this beautiful, elegant noblewoman was a far, far better choice of patron. And what price had I paid? I had no idea.
Seeing the genuine confusion on my face, Gremory’s anger seemed to subside. “It seems you are as ignorant as you are small,” she said with a sigh. “Very well. I will forgive your impertinence this one time. What is it you truly desire? Speak.”
My mind was a chaotic whirl. The Great Fly, the writhing maggots on my arm… I felt sick. Who would want to be bound to such a foul entity? An idea, desperate and foolish, formed in my mind.
“Lady Gremory,” I pleaded, “I beg you, break my old pact. Let me serve you instead.”
Her anger returned in an instant. “To steal another’s contracted soul is, in the circles of Hell, akin to picking up another’s cast-off shoes,” she snarled. “I have more taste than that.”
I was speechless. And to think this demoness had just used the term "cast-off shoes" to describe me; it stung more than I expected. So that's what breaking a pact is like in Hell, then? The equivalent of being a common tramp?
She looked me up and down, a slow, appraising gaze, and then a slow, cruel smile spread across her face. “And besides,” she purred, “I see you are a favorite of Bael. You are covered in the marks of his… affection.”
"Affection?" I stammered, a wave of pure revulsion washing over me. What 'marks of affection'? My lady, you must be clearer. The thought of that monstrous fly, that cosmic horror, having left any kind of... 'token of its favor'... on me made my entire body feel even more unwell, a deep, soul-sickness that went far beyond any physical ailment.
“I have no desire to anger that mountain of flesh for the sake of a trifle like you,” Gremory continued, fanning herself with a velvet fan that had appeared from nowhere. “It is simply not worth the trouble.”
Her refusal was absolute. There was no room for negotiation. And from her tone, I knew that no other demon would be willing to cross this "Bael" either. I had heard the name before. He was a demon king of some renown, I believed. I knew the name, at least, though the specifics were lost to me. But in all this chaos, at the very least, I had gleaned one vital piece of information. The demon god I was bound to... its name was likely Bael. And he was, with a sickening certainty, that same foul, cosmic entity. The Great Fly.
“Very well,” Gremory said, her patience clearly wearing thin. “Make another request. A realistic one this time. If you waste my time with any more impossible demands, I will take it as a personal insult.”
“I… I have no other requests,” I stammered, my mind a blank slate of terror and confusion. “I am sorry to have troubled you. You may return.”
But my response only seemed to enrage Gremory further. Her beautiful brow furrowed in a storm, and her lovely eyes narrowed, now blazing with a dangerous, imperious light. "Are you making a fool of me?"she shrieked. "Do you take me for some common spirit, to be summoned and dismissed at your whim? It seems I must teach you a lesson in manners!"
I was at a complete loss. I had come here genuinely wanting to make a pact, and now, because she couldn't fulfill my request, she was blaming me for not having another one ready? How was I supposed to conjure a new wish out of thin air? And any deal required a price. At this moment, I had no wish so great that I was willing to pay the terrible cost she would undoubtedly demand. This was an unreasonable demand; she was forcing my hand.
A pity, then, that these were only frantic thoughts inside my own head. I didn't dare speak a word of my internal script aloud. And now, I had to invent some excuse, some lie, to placate this fickle, terrifying demoness.
"Don't worry," Gremory purred, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "For Bael's sake, I won't take your life. I will merely make you suffer a little." She raised a hand, taking aim at me.
“Wait!” I cried as she raised a hand. “Stop! Please stop! I have a wish! A treasure! I wish for a treasure!” It was the most common, most vulgar request I could think of.
“Oh?” She lowered her hand, a flicker of interest in her eyes. “And are you prepared to pay the price?”
What choice did I have? I could only bite the bullet and said: “Take what you will,” I whispered, my voice a dry rasp.
“Very well,” she said, her voice now a low, seductive purr. “Then I shall have a taste of your body.”
“What?” I stared at her, my mind reeling. Was she going to eat me?
“Don’t be so dramatic,” she laughed. “I merely find you… adorable. And I suspect you would be even more so in bed.”
Bloody hell! Is that what she meant by a "taste"? So I'd drawn the "best of a bad bargain" the witch wrote about after all? But this was wrong! I had specifically chosen a female demon to avoid this exact price! How could I still not escape it?
“Heh heh, because I am a woman, I cannot have such desires?” she asked, a wicked glint in her eyes. “I assure you, I find a handsome young man just as appetizing. The Paladin over there, for instance. He looks quite delicious too.” She licked her lips, her gaze lingering on Jared.
My God! How could I have been so naive? This was a demon god, a predator whose appetites knew no bounds, no scruples. I had been a fool, a naive, mortal fool, to think that by choosing a female, I could somehow escape an outrageous demand.
And besides, I would not, could not, let her lay a single venomous finger on Jared. I quickly moved to stand in front of him, a small, pathetic shield against a demoness. Steeling myself, I said, "Lady Gremory, your bargain is with me. I will be the one to pay the price."
“Very well, little witch,” she purred, beckoning to me with a single, elegant finger. “Come here.” I took a deep breath. I was a man, in a girl’s body, about to be taken by a beautiful, female demon. It wasn’t the worst fate in the world, was it?
“Wait! No!” Jared’s voice, sharp and furious, cut through the tense silence. He stepped between us, his hand on the hilt of his dagger.
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