“Do you want to make a contract with me?”

He had snow-white hair and crimson eyes. Although he looked almost angelic, the wings on his back were unmistakably demonic.

“I can make you human.”

But I couldn’t resist the temptation of those words. I had no interest in staying a doll, lying on the streets, being kicked and stepped on.

‘What’s the condition?’

At my question, he curled his lips into a pretty smile.

“I’ll turn you into a five-year-old child. So, until the day you turn twenty, you must find your master. And win their love.”

‘Love?’

“That’s the condition.”

So, I have to steal my master’s heart?

“If you do that, I’ll send you back to your original world. The day before the accident happened.”

My original world. And the day before the accident, too. That meant I could survive. I could see my mum again.

‘Is that for real?’

“Of course.”

Something felt off, but I didn’t have the luxury to question it. Just the fact that I could go back and live again was enough to make this contract with the demon worthwhile. Winning someone’s heart could come later.

‘Alright.’

The moment I gave my answer, the demon praised it as an excellent choice and began casting a spell. Soon, a brilliant light enveloped my body, and my vision shifted drastically.

“Whew. Now I can finally live.”

Being able to speak and move of my own accord was such a blessing! I wriggled my tiny fingers and looked up at the demon.

“So, I have to find that kid within fifteen years and win his heart, right?”

“That’s right. This is the contract.”

Unlike his previous pretty smile, the demon now wore a wicked grin as he snapped his fingers. A single sheet of paper appeared in midair, glowing with light.

[Contract]
Olivia must find her master and win their heart by this day, fifteen years from now. However, she is forbidden from directly asking anyone suspected of being her master. She is also forbidden from revealing that she is a doll. If Olivia fails to win her master’s heart, her soul shall belong to Mephistopheles.

“…What is this?”

For a moment, stories I had read in fairytales came to mind. It was like someone had cleverly mashed up two very different tales.

“This is going to be fun! They say souls from another world are especially delicious. I’ll finally get to try one myself!”

The demon laughed gleefully as I glared at him, then suddenly raised my hand.

“Hold on. Time out.”

“…Time out?”

“This is a scam contract. You didn’t explain all the conditions before I agreed!”

“A scam…?”

The demon looked at me, clearly flustered.

“Any proper contract starts by explaining what happens if the terms aren’t met. Got it?!”

Maybe surprised by my boldness—hardly fitting someone who just possessed a body—the demon blinked and nodded awkwardly.

“…Y-Yeah.”

“So, you need a penalty too.”

“A penalty?”

“I didn’t even get a good look at that kid’s face. You need to give me a hint about who my master is.”

“A hint… Wait, hold on! Why should I give you one?!”

Ah, so close. I almost got him.

“I don’t know their name, age, anything! And I can’t even ask if they’re the one!”

I shouted confidently, and the demon looked genuinely confused. He clutched his head, muttering, “Is that true?” before finally looking at me with a resolute expression.

“Fine, I’ll give you a hint. You look exactly the same as when you were a doll. So your master might recognize you.”

“Hey, how is that even a hint?!”

As I shouted, the demon spread his wings and floated into the air, laughing in that unnerving way of his.

“If you ever need me, I’ll give you a one-time summoning chance. Just call out with all your heart—Lord Mephistopheles!—and I’ll come!”

With those parting words, the demon vanished.

Left standing in a daze, I came to my senses at the sound of bells ringing throughout the village. The sun had already begun to set.

“It’s dangerous to stay here any longer.”

There was no way I could sleep on the streets in this tiny child’s body.

“In times of war, the safest place is probably the church.”

***

I headed straight for the temple and knocked on the door with all the strength I could muster.

“Who’s there…?”

A priest from inside opened the door and slowly looked down.

“A little child still in the capital at this hour! Are you alright?”

At his worried question, I fidgeted my lips and then—fainted. Or rather, pretended to.

“Oh dear! Little one! Priest! Someone, help!”

If they started asking where I lived, or where my parents were, things would get complicated fast. It was easier to just collapse right away. Besides, I was honestly a little exhausted.

Thankfully, the inside of the temple was peaceful and quiet, as if untouched by the war outside.

After some time had passed, I opened my eyes and ate a bowl of soup. Though there wasn’t a scrap of meat in it, the broth was rich and flavorful—probably thanks to the vegetables.

“My name is Olivia.”

“That’s a lovely name.”

Is it? I looked at the elderly man sitting beside the bed, smiling kindly, and continued speaking.

“I don’t remember much else. Just… a strange boy, a foreigner maybe, got shot in the hand instead of me, and then a soldier picked him up and took him away.”

There were advantages to being a child. Even if I couldn’t speak clearly, adults would figure things out for themselves.

Faking fainting also made my story about memory loss more convincing. Fortunately, these kind priests believed everything I said.

“She must’ve been deeply shocked to hear gunfire so close.”

“Could that boy possibly know something about this child?”

“If he’s a foreigner, it’s possible he was a child she met during the war…”

While the priests continued making their guesses, I smiled to myself in satisfaction. If they could search for him on my behalf, that would be a huge help.

“He was bleeding a lot from the gunshot.”

I spoke gloomily, and the priests nodded in sympathy.

“If the bullet grazed the back of his hand, he would’ve gone to see a doctor. I’ll look into that.”

“I’ll check the orphanages and temples too, see if any boys with gunshot wounds have turned up.”

Satisfied that things were going just the way I wanted, I scraped the bowl clean. While I ate, the priests quietly discussed sending me to an orphanage, since I was still a young child.

I had hoped they’d let me stay in the temple instead!! If that’s the case, time for Plan B.

“U-Um! I can really pull my own weight! I’m great at cleaning, and I can do laundry too! I’ll even use cold water only—no need for hot water! So please let me stay here, okay?”

In response to my plea, some sadly shook their heads at the state of the war-torn world that had driven a child like me to act this way. Others clasped their hands together in prayer, asking for protection for this young soul.

The elderly priest, who had remained calm throughout, simply patted me on the head.

***

“Here! Come get your bread!”

Fortunately, I was permitted to remain in the temple. It turned out that the elderly gentleman who had listened so attentively to my story was the High Priest himself.

Perhaps he had taken a liking to me because he let me stay. I was now handing out bread in the Umpha district, home to many Puglish people.

“……”

I held out a piece of bread to a group of foreign children around my age who were staring at it. They didn’t dare come any closer, though.

“Hey, it’s okay to eat this!”

Once I got a little closer to them, I was hoping to ask if they had seen a boy with a bullet wound on his hand. But then…

“ᚤᛔᛖᛈᛊᛙ᛬ᝃ?”

“…What?”

Suddenly, I was hit with a stream of foreign words. Startled, I stepped back in confusion, and just then, another priest approached.

“ᛄᛕᛗᛘᛘᛤᛡᛢᛰ”

“ᛮ᛭ᛟᚯᛔᛓ!”

The little boy replied, then grabbed the bread and quickly disappeared.

“Um, what was that just now?”

“Oh, first time hearing it? That was an ancient language—used by the Puglish people before they split into two tribes. You know about that, right?”

I read about it in a novel. The Puglish were a divided nation located right beside the Empire. The reason foreigners, as they were called, began flowing into the Empire was because of the civil war that the Puglish had started themselves.

Over a hundred years ago, they started fighting over their differing beliefs. Some groups, unwilling to fight their own people, fled to the Empire to insist on coexistence. Those who continued to fight in the name of their gods split into two factions: Nikita and Arian. They abandoned those who had fled to the Empire.

Those who remained in the Empire were not accepted back into their homeland, and the Empire refused to grant them residency, continuing to label them ‘foreigners’. Ultimately, they sparked another conflict by pleading for the right to stay.

“I thought all foreigners spoke Imperial since the boy who saved me did.”

“Most foreigners don’t speak Imperial. That boy must be from a wealthy family.”

Now that I thought about it, the fabric of his clothes did seem rather fine. So, my master is likely a foreign boy around my age, with a gunshot wound on the back of his hand, and possibly rich. A new clue.

If I keep searching like this, I’ll meet him eventually, won’t I?

Wait for me, Master. I’m going to steal your heart!