"You're calling me by quite a nostalgic name. Who are you? How do you know that name?"

The tan-skinned woman—presumably the "Demon"—spoke.

Even if she asked who I was, I was at a loss. In this world, I'm unmistakably a foreigner, so proving my identity is practically impossible... Then again, maybe that wasn't really what she meant.

But this demon... or rather, Nightmare race—was striking. She had hair that was less white and more of an ivory color. Her eyebrows were a bit thick. Despite living in a cave, her tan skin looked remarkably healthy.

Then there were her breasts, which seemed to be making a constant, loud plea for attention. Most importantly, two twisted horns sprouted from the sides of her head... Yeah... definitely a cowgirl type.

"Shamash..."

The girl with the prison crest muttered, gripping her luxurious dagger. Her red eyes wavered with confusion.

It was a beautiful dagger with a Damascus blade. It looked just like the one I'd seen at Shello-san's place. If I remember correctly, that one was originally a gift from the Emperor to the leader of the mercenary group Shello-san used to belong to. He said he received it as a memento when the leader passed away.

I see—if she possesses such an item, this prison-crest girl must have quite the backstory.

Honestly, I wondered if she'd sell it to me. I'd been looking for something like that in Erische, but I'd never seen anything of that caliber. Though, if it's some kind of heirloom sword, she probably won't part with it...

The demon put her hand on her hip and shrugged with a 'good grief' expression.

"In any case, that gentleman is my guest. Put your blade away... Fufu, it's been ages since I had a guest. Let's have tea and a proper chat, shall we?"

Her voice was slightly deep and as smooth as silk. She was also much more cheerful than I had imagined.

Since she was called a "Demon," I had pictured someone with green skin and antennae—something that would make you think, "This one's dangerous," at a glance. To have a beautiful young woman walk out instead was... a surprise.

And so, she led us to her residence inside the tunnel.

The prison-crest girl still looked wary of me, despite the "misunderstanding" being cleared up.

The tunnel was cool, with a steady airflow suggesting it connected to the outside somewhere else. It wasn't pitch black either; there was a mysterious light source. It was about as bright as twilight—enough to barely recognize a person's face from a short distance. I didn't know the logic behind it, but this was a fantasy world. Maybe there was luminous moss or something.

Without any light, even the prison-crest girl would struggle to live here. With this amount of illumination, though, living here wasn't impossible. It might even be more comfortable than a normal house.

The demon's residence was located in a slightly wider section of the tunnel.

"Hm? Ohhh, that's cool!"

"You understand the appeal of this? Fufufu, did you hear that, Ion, Dargos?"

"Danna, your aesthetic sense might be a bit off, don't you think?"

"Ehh? You guys don't like this?"

The exterior walls and doors of the residence were covered in flamboyant carvings. Stone and wood had been transformed into the shapes of plants and animals, pulsing with life. It was European-style... maybe Art Nouveau. The design was sophisticated and cool—nothing like what I'd seen in Erische or Lucraella.

The place had a mysterious charm that screamed "demon's home!" Personally, I loved it.

"Did you carve these yourself?" I asked.

"Yes. My proudest work. I'm quite bored and have nothing but time, after all."

She gave a small, triumphant look.

Impressive... She was a Demon, but maybe she was a stonemason or something? Before any talk of magic, she was clearly a master craftswoman. That might be why she's acquainted with the master.

We entered through the grand wooden door. There was a small fireplace with a modest, flickering flame.

The room was warm, and like the exterior, the furniture was covered in those same mysterious, curving designs. Paintings of intertwining vines adorned the walls. Every table and chair was intricately carved with high design value.

Were all of these made just because she was "bored"? I genuinely wanted to get to know her just as a fellow craftsman.

"Please, have a seat. I'll prepare some tea."

She cheerfully gestured to the chairs.

The three of us—me, the master, and the prison-crest girl—sat around the table.

It felt a bit awkward.

A stranger, a strange house...

I've gotten used to this world lately, but I'm still a shut-in NEET at heart. I'm still bad at interacting with people I've just met.

After a moment of silence, the prison-crest girl spoke.

"...I apologize for earlier. I didn't expect Shamash to have guests... I... assumed you were here for me."

She bowed her head politely.

It seemed her hot-headedness had finally cooled down.

"Shamash" must be that demon's name. If she didn't expect guests, she must be a hardcore loner. She's such a beauty; if she wanted to, she could probably have suitors lining up at her door.

"No, no. I came abruptly, so I apologize as well."

"Ara? You're quite polite."

"Just common courtesy."

Not especially polite, but at least I refrained from asking about her prison crest straight away. Truthfully, I wanted to ask, but having a prison crest meant she probably violated some spirit contract and was likely on the run. No need to stick my nose in unnecessarily.

Contracts—for example, the contract between me and Marina—don't have terms that would cause this Prison Crest. Breaking it would just mean losing the blessing.

Generally, Prison Crests appear when one fails to fulfill a sentence of penal servitude. That would mean this girl was some kind of criminal who had escaped. And now, the Demon was sheltering her here.

"...Is it bothering you? This?"

She said while stroking the writhing black tattoo on her arm.

Her eyes were downcast, staring at the table's edge. She must feel some guilt about it.

"Not particularly. I have someone similar at my place."

In a way, Diana's tattoos were more impactful—at least they were colorful. Besides, she seemed self-conscious about it, so I couldn't very well say, "I'm curious! So curious! Super curious!"

Honestly, from my modern Japanese perspective, full-body tattoos weren't shocking. Forget tattoos—I work with a cat-person who speaks fluently.

Back in my black company days, even the "yakuza consultant" who occasionally visited our office had full-body tattoos. The design and color were different from Diana's, but the concept of colorful full-body ink was similar. So I didn't feel anything beyond, "Oh, tattoos!"

"Sorry to keep you waiting. We rarely have guests, so it took me a moment to find the cups."

The demon returned with tea on a tray. She set the cups down and sat at the table. Then, she stared at me intently.

Whoa... stop right there.

I have eye-contact anxiety, so what is it?

"Now then... this is very important, and I want to confirm something. I've been curious ever since I first saw you."

She looked me in the eyes as she spoke. We hadn't even introduced ourselves yet...

She took a sip of tea, took a small breath, and said:

"That thing at your waist... is that perhaps a magic sword?"

"Huh?"

"I'm a bit special among my kind. I'm rather sensitive to demonic waves. That sword of yours isn't an ordinary sword, is it?"

I see... so someone who knows magic swords can tell.

Come to think of it, that bear monster also reacted by shouting, "A Magic Sword! Unforgivable!" or something like that.

"You're right, it's a Magic Sword. Its name is Heart of Blood."

No real reason to hide it.

Though if she suddenly attacked like that bear, it'd be trouble... but surely she wouldn't do that... right?

When I answered, the demon closed her eyes.

"I see... I'm sorry. If it's not too much trouble, would you mind letting me see it?"

"Sure thing."

I handed over the sheathed sword.

She likely had a personal interest in magic swords.

Carefully, she drew it and admired the blade.

"...Ohhh! Just as the legends said... seven divine magic swords forged with demonic energy. To think they truly exist..."

Seven divine swords?

"Isn't that a legend passed down among the dwarves? I think Oyakata mentioned it too."

When I showed the sword to him, he muttered something similar: Seven magic swords, each drenched in the blood of seven races...

"Yes. Magic swords are famous. Even dwarves know the legend. But the whole truth? Probably only my kind knows it."

"The whole truth?"

"Yes. It is said that magic swords were not forged by human hands. And the swords themselves choose their wielders. In the Spirit Civilization era, there were seven wielders acknowledged by the magic swords... And when the Spirit Civilization era ended, the magic swords vanished as well. Along with their wielders."

"Vanish? Uh... there is one right here though..."

Actually, it was sitting quite casually outside of a second-hand shop.

"According to our legends, the wielders of the magic swords changed frequently. However, the wielders were always heroes—warriors with strength beyond measure. Do you know of the Spirit Civilization era?"

"No, hardly anything. Wasn't that about a thousand years ago?"

"Correct. A thousand years past. For us or the Elves, that is only a few generations ago, but for humans, it is the ancient past."

True. A thousand years ago for us would be the Heian period... Wait, are Demons as long-lived as Elves?

"You've probably heard of famous Unique Vocation holders like 『The Venom』 of the Malice Swamp or 『The Silhouette』 of the Shadows? It's not well known, but there were apparently quite a few others with Unique Vocations back then. Only four are remembered today, though. Oh, and 『The Mirage』, the Great Archmage of Illusion, is separate—that one is a recent human."

The Venom? The Silhouette? They sounded vaguely familiar... I think Priestess-chan mentioned them when I received my blessing. She said there had only been five people with Unique Vocations in history. If she was right, there were actually more than that.

"At any rate, the Spirit Civilization era was an absurd time. It is said that a Unique Vocation will not manifest unless one has five or more normal Vocations. And people like that were everywhere back then. Furthermore, monsters were far more rampant than they are now, and the number of Magic Beasts was incomparable. In turn, the strength of the hunters who opposed them was far beyond anything in the modern age..."

"Sounds like a violent era..."

Scary, scary.

If I'd lived back then, I probably would've been beaten to a pulp by mere goblins.

She continued her story.

"The heroes of the Spirit Civilization era—the only ones who held the Magic Swords. Why do you have one? After a thousand years, has someone finally been acknowledged by a demonic sword again? And why do you know the true name of my race? Who... are you?"

Whoops...

She took the long way around, but apparently I'm quite the suspicious character.

Well, might as well answer honestly.

"I just found the magic sword at a regular second-hand shop. It was just pure luck, or you could say it was a chance encounter. As for your race's name, it was from Guidance. It said, 'Meet the Nightmare race'. So I didn't actually know you were a Nightmare until just now. That was also a coincidence."

"...No. I am certain now. Your words just now convinced me. At the very least, you are not a follower of the Great Spirits."

"How so?"

I hadn't told her that I had an Elf slave. Did the master tell her already?

I thought that might be the case, but it wasn't.

"A devout follower of the Great Spirits would never call an encounter born from Guidance a 'coincidence.' They would view it as the result of the Great Spirit's guidance or the Great Spirit's will."

Crap, I messed up... Indeed, everyone else says things like that.

"Well, whatever. You don't seem like a bad person. It's a bit late, but my name is Shamash. As you can see—I am what you would call a 'Demon'. To be precise, as you said, I am of the Nightmare race. But you can forget that. It's a name lost to history."

And so, we finally got to introductions.

* * *

"To be honest, you gave me a real heart attack earlier. Pulling out a dagger and looking like you were ready to end it all..."

"I am truly sorry. I have my own circumstances."

"Circumstances, huh... Oh, by the way, that dagger you have is incredibly cool."

"Eh? Oh... thank you."

We chatted idly over tea.

The prison-crest girl's name is apparently Ion. It sounds like the name of a large supermarket chain.

The master said it was his first time meeting Ion too. If we hadn't met by chance this time, she might have remained hidden and never met him at all.

Then again, having a Prison Crest meant you were a wanted criminal with a bounty on your head. One gold coin is a lot of money; meeting a total stranger was a massive risk for her.

"Still, Danna, you're a sly one too," the master grumbled. "If you got Guidance to meet a Demon, you should've just said so."

"That's... well, the Guidance only told me to 'Meet the Nightmare Race,' and I didn't actually know that they're called the Demon race as well. So this was just a coincidence—err, I mean, the Great Spirit's guidance."

Truth be told, I'd imagined a "Nightmare" to be some kind of pale, ghostly figure standing under a willow tree.

Never did I expect the complete opposite—a voluptuous beauty like this.

"I see. You must be fated to meet Shamash-san. Seriously, Danna, just who in the world are you? Even if you're just wealthy, getting involved with an elf, a demon, and a magic sword—this is way beyond normal."

"Elf?"

Shamash-san leaned forward across the table.

Sniff sniff sniff.

"Indeed, I can smell an elf's scent..."

You're too close!

Is she a natural airhead? Because she was leaning so far forward, the view of her cleavage was... substantial. If I hadn't already built up a resistance thanks to Marina, I'd be in trouble.

"Do elves have a distinctive smell? Like river fish or something?"

"Yeah. Well, not fish. It's a scent humans can't perceive."

I see.

It's like a frequency range.

Like bats or dolphins communicating with sounds humans can't hear.

"The scent is so strong it's practically stained onto you. Is this Elf your... 'special someone'?"

Special someone? It's hard to describe my relationship with her in a few words, but...

"Technically, it's complicated, but simply put: she's my slave."

"Slave! A slave?! How awful! You have the blessing of Le Baraka, don't you?"

"Awful, you say... Yes, the blessing is Le Baraka. Really, there are a lot of circumstances involved."

Everyone has their own circumstances.

Ion-san, with her Prison Crest, and Shamash-san, living like a hermit in this cave—they all have their circumstances. Well, wanting to enslave an elf was my own desire, even without Diana's guidance... setting circumstances aside.

"I see... not a follower of Le Baraka... and owns an elf slave..."

Shamash-san muttered to herself, deep in thought.

By now, I think she'd realized I was the "eccentric" type in this world.

"...Mmm. So, what was it again today? You wanted me to purify demonic influence from a sword, right?"

Ah, right. I didn't come here just to chat!

It seemed the master had already passed on the request. I took out the [Rusty Sword -2] and the Magic Crystal and placed them on the table.

"It's this one. The master says it's not ordinary rust, but something demonic clinging to it..."

"Heh..."

Shamash picked up the sword with interest. It was so rusted I'd hesitate to touch it with bare hands, but she didn't seem to care at all.

"Interesting... Are you a connoisseur? Where did you find something like this? If it belonged to your elf slave, I could understand, but..."

Her gaze shifted from the sword to me as she asked.

It's a sword I bought long ago and left untouched... was it actually something special?

A connoisseur? That's... a tricky question.

Without that appraisal ability, I never would have bought a rusted piece of junk, let alone brought it here for repair.

"I am a connoisseur. I'm a merchant, after all. I found it at a regular second-hand shop."

As a merchant, being a connoisseur isn't strange... probably.

Come to think of it, I bought both my magic sword and this mysterious rusty sword from that second-hand shop. There might still be hidden gems there.

Whether she was satisfied with that answer or not, Shamash-san shifted her gaze back to the sword.

Oh, right. I need to ask that.

"By the way... how much will it cost?"

"...Oh. Right. Yes, payment. I'll need to be paid."

Shamash-san looked like the idea of being paid had been a total blind spot for her. Living like a hermit here, cash income must be especially important. Or maybe she’s mostly self-sufficient? Ion-san was out catching turkeys, after all.

"You... no, Ayase-kun. I'll take responsibility and purify this sword for you."

"Oh! Thank you."

"However, regarding the fee..."

"Yes. How much will it be?"

"...100 gold coins. Could I ask that much?"

"Shamash!!"

WHAAAAT?!

That's expensive! Way too expensive!

That's like 15 million yen (approx. $100,000)—the price of five Spirit Stones!

The one who shouted—Ion-san—was so shocked her face went pale, and she stood up so fast the table rattled.

"No, no, no! She's lying, Ayase-san! Shamash, stop talking nonsense—"

“Ion, be quiet. Ayase-kun, surely you understand, don’t you? I’m a demon, so living in a place like this isn’t especially painful. But this girl is different. She's still young, yet she's forced to bear those Prison Crests, living like a primitive in this cave without a normal youth.”

Hm?? I'm not following how this connects.

"I'm begging you. Of course, this isn't for free. You can use Ion as a maid or anything else you need, and I'll do whatever I can as well. If you want, I'll even become your slave."

"What!? What are you saying, Shamash!?"

"Ion, you don't honestly think it's fine to live here with me forever, do you!? I know you cry quietly at night!"

"Stop it... please... I'm glad I met you, and I don't think life here is that bad. Besides... you said you'd protect me until my life ends, didn't you?"

"I said that because I didn't think destiny would flow in this direction. A merchant who keeps an elf slave, isn't a follower of the Spirits, and can afford 100 gold coins... Ion, you have to realize we'll never meet someone like him again. I enjoy living with you too, and part of me wouldn't mind staying here forever. But..."

"Shamash..."

"Um, excuse me..."

The two got really heated, but I couldn't follow the conversation at all.

"First of all, what exactly is this about? Could you explain this in simpler terms?"

"Ah, sorry. To put it simply... I want you to remove Ion's Prison Crest."

Ah, so that's it.

So Prison Crests can be removed?

"As a Demon, I cannot wash away the Great Spirit's Prison Crests. It requires five Spirit Stones. I have no connection to such things, and Ion has lost her blessing. But you... you could obtain them, couldn't you? After all, you have an elf slave..."

"I see. Well, it's not impossible."

"I knew it! Then please! Ion has had a tragic life. I've been looking after her, and she's truly a good girl. As I said, if someone like me is enough for you, I'll gladly be your slave or whatever else... I know my dark skin might be unappealing to you, but I can use magic, and of course, I can use Demon Arts. What do you say? Won't you accept this, as the Great Spirit's guidance?"

"Stop it! Shamash, you don't have to go that far! Becoming the slave of a man you just met is just..."

"Ion. I am a Nightmare. Our lifespans are completely different from yours. Being a slave for a little while is nothing. Besides, he's a man who keeps an elf as a slave. Someone like me wouldn't even be a target for that kind of thing. Though, to be honest, I wouldn't actually mind that either."

Uh, you would definitely be a target for that. But that's not the point.

"Moreover... whether it's because you're a man recognized by a demon sword, I'm personally interested in you too. Originally, my race—the Nightmare race—is said to love men. Neither my mother nor I were like that, which was puzzling... Fufufu. The so-called Great Spirits' guidance isn't so bad after all."

She gave me a seductive sidelong glance, casually pressing her arms together and emphasizing her chest. She was acting like a full-on seductress.

...Maybe the "Nightmare" race isn't about bad dreams, but rather good dreams—like succubi?

Still... the Great Spirit's guidance, huh?

To be honest, having a Demon slave was a very tempting offer, but just saying "Okay, sounds good" felt somewhat sleazy.

I just came here to fix a rusty sword, and now things have taken a wild turn...

Now then, what should I do?