I Became a Swordsman in the Middle Ages.

Beatrice Schwarzfeder.

She was regretting it.

'To think I had misunderstood such a kind person...'

Beatrice, who had been thinking of Sisilia as part demon, was ashamed.  

She was a true superior who knew how to take care of her subordinates.

Of course, there were some slight, very slight doubts.

Wouldn't it have been better to just clear it rather than make a contract...?

'Let's not doubt her intentions. Focus on conquering the dungeon for now.'

"Huh... I knew you were incompetent, but I didn't expect this much."

Ricart ran his fingers through his hair as if dumbfounded.

Beatrice looked at Liharton, who was fiercely glaring with his sword pointed, and thought.

'It's just as Sisilia said.'

-Rules only apply to both sides. If the other party doesn't keep them, you won't receive a penalty for breaking that rule.

When the trainee knights said they would go fight, Sisilia kindly advised them.

She said they had no chance of winning in a head-on assault, and even if they did, they would sustain a lot of damage.

The trainee knights fell into despair. Sisilia looked at them with a faint smile and said.

-It's not that there's no way to win at all.

"You don't possibly think you can beat me, do you?"

Ricart shook his head. It was exactly the reaction Sisilia anticipated.  

-When he tries to intimidate you, clearly acknowledge it.

"...No way. Just looking at you is scary."

"Kuhaha! This is really fun. Then how will you pay with my heart?"

-Then propose a game. The demon will gladly accept. Even if he knows it's disadvantageous to him, he'll focus on the gains right in front of his eyes.

Tension floated among the trainee knights.  

Will this method really work?

No matter how they thought about it, there seemed to be no benefit for the demon to accept such a game.

But they couldn't stop now that they've started.

"I propose a game."

As Beatrice bravely spoke, Ricart blinked his eyes.

"A game?"

"Yes."

"That's quite an interesting proposal. What kind of game would you like to play with me?"

"...How about we compete to see whose heart is heavier between us."

Ricart frowned for a moment, not understanding.  

"How do you know about the existence of the scale? Among demons, only a very few are allowed... I see.

'The Butcher must have advised you. No wonder the humans who had lost their fighting spirit came here on their own. Whatever trick you used... Meaningful intervention is impossible due to the contract anyway.'

Ricart smiled leisurely.  

"Alright. I'll accept."

Among human emotions, the most delicious is the feeling of frustration.  

The emotion that comes from taking victory away from a human certain of winning is incomparable to any delicacy.

"But if I win, all of you will have to work in this mansion. Forever."

Beatrice calmly nodded. Ricart gestured for her to follow and entered the room. He sat at the table.

As Beatrice sat across from him, Ricart took out a scale from the darkness.

One side of the scale was empty, while the other side had a flickering black flame.  

He raised his hand slightly and gave a bizarre smile.

"This is the scale of hearts. A very simple tool. It measures the weight of hearts. But you should know, right? The 'weight' mentioned here isn't just physical."

Ricart lightly touched one side of the scale with his finger. The black flames on that side blazed even more fiercely.

"Your emotions, fears, guilt, and life will be placed on this scale. The heart of one ridden with regret will float lightly like a feather, while the heart of the courageous will press down heavily."

Ricart politely put his hands together.  

"Are you my opponent?"

Beatrice took a light yet deep breath and nodded.

"Yes."

Then Beatrice's chest glowed. A bright light extracted from there was placed on the opposite scale.

Ricart was amazed.  

"What a truly beautiful heart."

"..."

Beatrice didn't know whether to cry or laugh.

'Why did you choose me?'

Choosing Beatrice as the participant in this game was Sisilia's will.

She said Beatrice could win this game, but... Beatrice thought differently.  

It would have been better for Liharton to do it. No matter how you look at it, doesn't he seem more courageous than her?

As the forcibly suppressed fear squirmed, Beatrice bit her lip and desperately recalled Sisilia's words.

-If you can't believe in yourself, believe in me. I'm the knight who has conquered more dungeons than anyone else in the Windsor Knights.

"Then, shall we start the game? The winner will be the one whose scale is tilted and maintained for 1 minute."  

Ricart lightly clapped his hands. Immediately, Ricart's heart tilted the scale.

-At first, the demon's heart will naturally be heavier. Changing that is relatively simple.  

"Oh my, it seems my heart is more valuable."

Tsk, Beatrice inhaled and spoke.

"I know you committed irregularities."

"...Irregularities?"

The scale shook slightly.

"You purposely adjusted the dungeon level lower than it actually is to lure weak opponents, right?"  

-Make the demon tremble in fear. What they fear most is...

"If your superior, say the Demon King, finds out about this, will he forgive you?"

-The Demon King. Demons are salary workers just like us. Fearing superiors is the same.

"...Do you think you can get out of here alive? Even if you do, how will you report to the Demon King?"

"It'll be difficult for us. But Sisilia will be different."

Sisilia's advice worked well.

The scale that had tilted toward Ricart slowly rose. He had a clearly puzzled expression.  

"This... is quite a blow. Yes. The heart of one who commits irregularities loses some value. But,"

Ricart glared fiercely at Beatrice.  

"Still, what can a human who only lived a tenth of my life have in their heart?"

-Around now, he'll get excited and use informal speech, then bring up the rules. Demons also have to follow the rules they set.

"You broke the rules."

"...!"

"The heart of an incompetent demon who can't even properly follow the rules he set himself seems like it would be worth less than mine."

Ricart's pupils shook. He turned his head with a whoosh and looked at the scale.

Kiiik-

The scale moved. Now Beatrice's heart was heavier. 1 minute left.

"I didn't expect to be driven into a corner with just two arguments."

Ricart reached out, sweating slightly.

"It's cleaning time. Servants!"  

-If things turn a bit unfavorable for him, he'll resort to tricks. He'll probably attack the other knights with ghosts. Endure it as much as you can.

"Everyone-! Form ranks!"

Liharton shouted, standing at the front.

"Never get close to Beatrice-!"

The trainee knights desperately blocked the ghosts swarming in through the doorway.

-You can sufficiently overcome a moderately ranked dungeon with just you all. Believe in your comrades, Beatrice.

The sound of weapons clashing noisily.  

"Oh my, you're frightened. Even as your comrades fight, the value of your heart that can't help them and only feels fear is higher than mine?"

Beatrice closed her eyes and kept repeating Sisilia's words.

'Until now, it's progressing exactly as Sisilia said.'

It was a prediction to the point of amazement. Is this the level required for the Windsor Knights?  

Believe in comrades. Believe in Sisilia. Beatrice opened her eyes with a firm heart.

"No, I believe in my comrades."  

The scale was still tilted toward Beatrice.

"...!"

'Th-this can't be. I could feel this human's fear until yesterday. But now I can't feel it at all.'

The demon's strategy to lower the weight of the heart, using that as an excuse, failed.

'There's only about 30 seconds left. I have to shatter this human's logic somehow.'

"...I acknowledge your argument. Yes, I deceived you about the dungeon's rank."  

Acknowledgment. And,

"I sincerely apologize and will readjust the dungeon's difficulty."

Correction.

The 'irregularity' Beatrice claimed is diluted.  

"From now on, I'll treat you as the master of a 'difficult' level dungeon."

And Beatrice,

'As expected, it's not that simple.'

Beatrice quietly got up.  

The scale tilted back to Ricart, but she didn't mind.

-If he still lashes out after you've done all this, call me.

Beatrice clenched her fists.  

There must be a contract, so why did Sisilia purposely leave those words?

Although not for long, she learned while being with Sisilia.

Sisilia's words always carried meaning.  

This time was the same.

'Sisilia can't move because of the contract. But-'

That's only limited to 'this round.'

The moment the dungeon difficulty increases, it becomes a 'new round.'  

That was the conclusion Beatrice reached. Sisilia aimed for this from the beginning.

"Sisilia! The dungeon difficulty has increased!"

Beatrice's shout reached the ceiling.

The surprised trainee knights looked at Sisilia.  

"Haha, what a novel struggle."

But- the scale didn't move.

Sisilia didn't come either.

"Ding-"

Ricart sighed in relief and wiped his sweat with a handkerchief.  

"1 minute has passed. That was dangerous for a moment."

Beatrice was bewildered. This wasn't it? Then... am I...

Going to die?

"You're finally feeling fear. Very, very satisfying. Now, as promised, I'll take the price."

It was when Ricart's hand moved toward Beatrice's heart.

"Stop right there."

A soft voice echoed in the room. Beatrice's face brightened.

"I acknowledge that the dungeon level has increased from moderate to difficult."  

Sisilia was walking into the room with a languid face.

"I have judged the difficulty to have exceeded the capacity of trainee knights. From here, Sisilia of the Windsor Knights will take over."

Ricart sneered.

"Don't tell me you're mistaking it as a 'new round' just because the dungeon difficulty changed..."

Crack-!

Ricart felt a warm breeze brush past his neck.

He instinctively touched his neck.

But he couldn't touch it. More precisely, his hand wouldn't move.  

Because his neck was already cut-

And held in Sisilia's hand.

"H-how? De-definitely the contract should still be maintained..."

Sisilia raised the demon's head.

Then, with a faint smile, she slowly- very slowly- brought a finger to the corner of her mouth.  

Shh–

Ricart turned pale with an overwhelming sense of fear.