Episode 48: I Don’t Believe, I Don’t Buy, I Don’t Do (19)

“Haha! Esper Baek Juyul, you have a real talent for jokes! Hahahaha!”

Sodam flinched as if she had been burned, jerking backward while forcing out an awkward, exaggerated laugh.

She didn’t even need to think about it to know that moving in with Juyul would come with far more benefits than drawbacks. Her living expenses would practically freeze at zero, meaning she wouldn’t have to scrape together money for meals or skip them altogether anymore. It was, objectively, the best possible option for her situation.

The problem was the one major drawback that overshadowed all those advantages.

This was the same Baek Juyul from the original story—the one who, even with S-class and higher-ranked Guides surrounding him, still carried the constant risk of going berserk.

Right now, there were no major monstrous creatures appearing, so she could somehow manage to Guide him. But once large-scale subjugations started, things would be different.

There would inevitably come a moment when no matter how much she sacrificed herself to Guide him, it still wouldn’t be enough to stop his rampage.

To avoid that kind of disaster for both of them, maintaining some distance was crucial.

Even if she had to grit her teeth and accept being his exclusive Guide, living with him was an absolute no-go.

She laughed as naturally as she could, but her gaze flickered with unease as she glanced at Juyul, wary that he might press the issue further.

“I was just offering it as an option. No need to panic—I’m not forcing anything.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, it was funny watching you pretend to consider it when you obviously never would.”

“……”

For a brief moment, she felt deeply insulted.

If, instead of moving in with Juyul, the alternative was a debt-free, rent-free, tax-free, fully covered 20-pyeong apartment, she would have tossed aside her pride and nodded without hesitation.

But this guy had the audacity to throw out a ridiculous suggestion, watch her flounder, and then mock her for not taking it?

It was infuriating.

Still, she kept her mouth shut. If she lashed out now, she feared the whole ‘moving in’ option would somehow be thrown back into the conversation.

Juyul, clearly enjoying the sight of her internal struggle, shifted his gaze to the wrist he had been holding onto.

The bruise from before had long since faded, but for some reason, his eyes kept landing on the faintly reddened skin. The sight left a bitter taste in his mouth.

His expression darkened slightly as he brought his lips to her pale wrist, pressing a soft kiss against it before speaking.

“I’ll pay off your debt.”

“…What?”

“In exchange, you’ll become my exclusive Guide.”

“Uh… huh?”

“I think it’s a fair deal.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, as if he didn’t even consider that she might feel uneasy about it.

Maybe it was because the whole living together fiasco had been the first bombshell, but by comparison, this offer actually seemed… reasonable.

Or maybe it truly was a good deal.

Sodam couldn’t tell.

But she did know one thing—this was it. This was the moment she had to make a decision.

‘No, not just a decision. The decision. This is really the best choice I have. It’s basically half a slave contract, but… honestly? I think I’d rather be a half-slave with no debt than a so-called free person drowning in ten billion won of debt…’

She was already living a life that was plenty miserable.

But this particular ‘master’ wasn’t just paying off her debt—he was also covering her living expenses.

How was she not supposed to waver?

Even so, there was one last thread of rationality keeping her grounded.

The duration of this contract.

If he was paying off ten billion won, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for him to demand ten years of service in return. She couldn’t even argue against that. But at that point, it wouldn’t just be a question of her life—it would be a matter of survival.

So before she signed herself away, she had to be absolutely sure about the terms.

Her eyes sharpened as she carefully asked,

“…What’s the duration of the contract?”

“Typically, exclusive contracts are set for a duration of two years.”

For Sodam, there was no better typically than this. Two years from now would be precisely when the main heroine was supposed to make her appearance—this was as perfect as it could possibly get.

To the association that established this standard, I am eternally grateful. Well, maybe not for a lifetime… but I will live in gratitude for the next two years. And I sincerely hope the main heroine appears right on schedule…

The existence of the main heroine was essential—both for the original storyline and for reality. Sodam could replace Han Dalam’s role, sure, but the position of the main heroine had to remain untouched.

Otherwise, Sodam wouldn’t just die from overwork—she would die from over-Guiding.

Even if, by some terrible twist of fate, she ended up as the main person in Juyul’s heart, the original heroine had to stay by his side in some capacity.

Because let’s be real—if your entire arm was scraped raw on asphalt and bleeding profusely, you wouldn’t just slap on a cute little children’s bandage and call it a day.

This was why the grand historical decision to set the contract duration at two years was a stroke of brilliance. If it had been three years instead, leaving no room for the main heroine to enter the picture, that would have been a real disaster.

The fact that one simple number could ensure a future where everyone was happy… Sodam’s heart, which had been trembling with anxiety over the contract, was now trembling with relief.

As she basked in that relief, Juyul effortlessly lifted her and sat her down on the bed. Then, from the nightstand, he pulled out a sheet of paper.

Before she could even react to his chillingly prepared readiness, the contract was shoved right in front of her face.

“Read it. I don’t want to hear you whining later about being scammed.”

“Oh, absolutely! I’ll read every word, savoring it to the fullest!”

She declared it confidently, but with her legal knowledge bordering on zero, there was no way Sodam could fully comprehend the contract.

Still, she couldn’t afford to let this golden opportunity slip away, so she did her best to go through the document carefully. That was, until she suddenly hit a roadblock.

Her gaze, which had been scanning the text smoothly, stopped at a particular line.

Tilting her head slightly, she lifted the contract and pointed directly at the section in question, pushing the paper toward Juyul.

“What’s this part? ‘Party B is obligated to pay Party A a penalty amounting to ten times the contract fee under the following circumstances’…?”

“To make sure Guide Maeng Sodam does her job properly, I figured a clause like that was necessary. As long as you follow the terms, you don’t have to worry about the penalty.”

“‘If Party B is more than 10 minutes late to the designated working hours set by Party A,’ ‘If Party B violates even a single contractual duty’… This is a slave contract!”

“I’ll say it again—just follow what’s written, and there won’t be a problem. If you don’t think you can, you don’t have to sign. But it won’t change the fact that the only Esper you’ll be Guiding is me.”

“…This is ridiculous.”

Sodam, who had been breezing through the obligations section at first, now began reading it with intense scrutiny—like a person carefully savoring every bite of an ominous meal.

Juyul watched her with a relaxed expression before casually tossing out a bait—something he was certain would hook a big fish.

And unfortunately for Sodam, it was something she wouldn’t be able to resist.

“By the way, even after signing the exclusive contract, you’ll still receive your current daily wage.”

“Where’s the pen? Is this where I sign? Do I need to stamp my fingerprint? If so, do you have ink…?”

The amount was far too much to argue against becoming a slave.

Sodam eagerly accepted the pen Juyul handed over, signing with enthusiasm. A vague sense that something wasn’t quite right did cross her mind, but even that thought was crushed beneath the sheer, jaw-dropping financial incentive.

Why do transmigrators usually avoid contracts? Isn’t it because they typically lead straight to marriage or romance? But this is just a perfectly normal employment contract, right? There’s absolutely no reason not to sign it. Yep, none at all.

She had to do this job anyway. If all it took was signing a piece of paper to erase her debt and earn a salary, then refusing would have been the truly insane choice.

And so, with a light heart, Sodam mentally erased a rule that had been carved into the tombstone of her mind.

▶ Forbidden Keywords for Transmigrators ◀
1. Contract
– No contract relationships, no contract marriages—avoid anything that involves a contract at all costs!

She had barely overcome one of the three metaphorical mountains, so surely, there was no major issue yet.

Of course, some of the contractual obligations put her in a rather uncomfortable position, but those could always be negotiated with her dear employer.

“…By the way, I don’t have to do the Guiding through kissing, right? Holding hands is an option too, isn’t it?”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, no, I figured it wouldn’t be.”

…Of course, negotiations could always fail.

But honestly, kissing wasn’t the worst thing in the world. In fact, from a purely practical standpoint, it was far more efficient than holding hands—so much so that Sodam herself should be pushing for this method.

Every time she had attempted to Guide by holding hands, it had nearly sent her body into complete shutdown.

Right. It’s not that I can’t do it another way—I’m simply choosing not to. For the sake of my health.

Having successfully negotiated with herself, Sodam flashed a bright smile.

The mere thought of her crippling debt disappearing lifted an unbearable weight from her chest, making the expression come naturally.

Juyul, who had successfully shackled her with a contract, returned her smile in satisfaction.

And so, on the surface, a contract that seemed to bring happiness to both parties was officially signed.