"I'm so hungry…"
An unknown Sarkaz girl collapsed onto the ground.
Her clothes were in tatters, her face pale, and she had gone many days without food.
During the war of the Twin Kings in Kazdel, children like her—nameless and forgotten—were countless.
Clutching a scavenged knife, she could only defend herself and scrape together a meager existence.
But who would care about a frail little child?
To survive, she was forced to steal, or act as an informant for mercenaries.
Recently, however, the camp she had been living in was destroyed by the sudden outbreak of battle.
She had no choice but to flee, wandering in search of somewhere even slightly safer.
But along the way, her strength finally gave out.
"Now, whose child might this be~?"
Just before her eyes closed, she heard an unfamiliar voice.
---
When she opened her eyes again, the girl found herself lying by a campfire. Across from her sat two figures.
One wore clothes she could not comprehend, topped with a hat that seemed extravagant and pointless.
The other was shrouded entirely in a black cloak, a sword in hand, her face hidden behind a mask.
The man in strange attire—a red-haired Sarkaz—smiled gently at the girl, and with his gloved hand, offered her a tin of canned food.
The girl snatched it at once and devoured it ravenously.
Whatever hidden malice this man might harbor no longer mattered to her.
All she wanted was not to die.
---
"What trick are you trying to pull, Satan?"
The masked woman, sword in hand, questioned coldly.
"My, my… unknown Miss Confessarius," the red-haired Sarkaz—Satan—replied smoothly, "I only pitied this child and wished to save her. Why must you think so poorly of me? Could it be that your noble Order of Confessarius, claiming to heal the Sarkaz, is truly so cold and merciless?"
"…"
The Confessarius fell silent. She did not know how to answer.
She had been assigned to monitor this man.
Though Satan cooperated with the Order, he was an unpredictable and dangerous element—one who required the close watch of a guardian with exceptional strength.
And this nameless Confessarius's mastery of the sword was extraordinary.
Within the Order itself, her skill was ranked among the very best.
That was why she had been chosen for this task.
---
Through the vessel known as "Satan," Kashchey regarded the woman with quiet amusement.
Saving the little girl had merely been incidental. His true aim was to plant hesitation in the heart of this formidable Confessarius.
"How curious. A pair of hands drenched in blood, yet she still yearns for the light."
Satan offered her some compressed rations.
"This poor girl… Tell me, the two Kings who sparked this war both shout of noble causes. Yet all they've achieved is endless fire and blood. And there are countless other children like her~"
"Stop spouting your rhetoric, Satan. These sacrifices are made in pursuit of a greater cause."
"Oh? And who, exactly, benefits from such sacrifices?"
"…"
"Are they made for the children's future? Perhaps, if some survive the flames, they might scrape up a few crumbs of what remains. But most will never live to see that day."
"…"
"If these sacrifices are truly for a greater cause, then what of those forced to pay the price?"
"…"
"Should they resent their lofty rulers? No… no, of course not. Better a short pain than a lingering one. Sacrifice a few so that many may prosper—that is surely the wisest choice a ruler can make. They have done nothing wrong."
"…Enough."
"Fine, fine, I'll stop. It's just…" Satan dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief, feigning emotion. "Those poor souls who are sacrificed… I can't help but feel so sorry for them~"
"It's a pity, really. I'm nothing more than a profiteer, making my fortune from the misery of others. I can't change anything. All I can do is give this poor child a meal, to soothe the gnawing guilt that haunts me day and night…"
"…You're so hypocritical."
"Perhaps. But for this child, my actions are nothing less than kindness, don't you think~?"
The little girl, meanwhile, was too absorbed in devouring the canned food to pay any attention to their conversation.
---
"Child, up ahead lies a camp. You can go there and find a new way to survive…"
Satan called out to the girl who had been following him and the Confessarius from a cautious distance.
Ever since her first meal, she had remained on guard—keeping herself neither too close nor too far.
But neither Satan nor the Confessarius minded.
After all, in times of war, a wary child had far better chances of survival than one who was naïve and trusting.
She had survived by scavenging the scraps left behind by the two of them.
Although, truth be told, those "scraps" had been far too generous to truly be called leftovers.
---
Hearing Satan's voice, the girl hesitated, then finally gathered her courage and ran up to the two.
"Can you… tell me your names?"
The Confessarius faltered, but in the end chose silence.
Satan, however, answered without hesitation.
"My name is Satan, a humble merchant. If you survive and we meet again, you may come and do business with me. Knowledge, skills, treasures—you'll find anything you desire at my wares~"
Straightening his attire, he pulled out a card with practiced elegance and handed it to the ragged, malnourished girl as though she were a noble customer.
The girl accepted it with both hands.
Written on the card were the words: 'Profit without killing, self-interest without altruism.'
Alongside was a small portrait of Satan himself.
"With that card, you'll even receive a ten percent discount~"
Tipping his tall hat in a courteous bow, Satan and the Confessarius then vanished from the child's sight.
---
"Why give her your card? You don't actually believe a child like that can survive a war, do you?"
"Ah, are you angry? Angry that I stopped you from taking her in? That I denied you the chance to play savior?"
"…"
"You acted on impulse. You're a Confessarius. Your comrades would never allow you to adopt some nameless Sarkaz child. Or perhaps… you thought to raise her as one of your own?"
"…"
"You know better than anyone how harsh it is for a war orphan to become a Confessarius. That would only be dragging her from one hell into another."
"…Then why did you give her your name? Don't tell me it's because she might become your customer in the future. You and I both know the odds of that are close to zero."
"…Perhaps, as I said, it was to soothe my guilty conscience?"
"…"
"Alright, alright. I admit it—I didn't feel guilty at all~"
With that, Satan dismissed the matter entirely, ignoring the Confessarius's silence.
'I simply did it because I wanted to. Nothing more, nothing less.'
'If a small act of convenience can put my heart at ease, then why not?'
Neither of them realized then that the seemingly impossible—those near-zero odds—would indeed come to pass in the not-so-distant future.