Chapter 343. At a Motel with a Prostitute in the Room Next Door: A Chat with the Prostitute in the Morning. (3/8)
“Do you believe in souls?” Since I didn’t know how to respond, I changed the topic to something completely random.
“Souls? Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?”
“Nowhere, really. It’s just some small talk.”
“That so? But... souls? Do I believe in them? Dunno if I do.”
“If souls existed, would you sell yours for a second chance at life?”
“Haha, even if souls really existed, I definitely wouldn’t have one anyway. As for a second chance at life for me, that’s even more impossible than souls existing.” She laughed in a condescending manner directed toward herself.
“Would you like to verify whether you have a soul or not?”
“Verify I have one? And how would one verify that?”
“By trying to sell it of course.”
“Sell it? Who would I sell it to? Don’t you need a devil for that?”
“Have you ever tried selling your souls to anyone before?”
“No.”
“Then how would you know whether it was possible or not to sell it to someone who isn’t a devil?”
“That’s a pretty good point actually. If I’ve never tried to sell it to anyone before, how would I know whether it’s impossible or not?”
“Precisely.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who’s in the market of buying souls in exchange for a second chance at life, would you?”
“As if someone like that would really exist.”
“Yeah, there’s no way anyone would ever make a deal like that.”
“But putting that aside, how about we test it out? Whether or not you have a soul and whether or not you can sell your soul to someone.”
“How?”
“Just try selling it to me?”
“To you? How will you be able to tell whether I have a soul or not, and to begin with, how would I even sell it to you?”
“Don’t devils use contracts? We can write up a contract and see if it works for humans.”
“Humans… am I even considered human?”
“You look just as human to me as anyone else.”
“Hmm… don’t you think I look more like trailer trash than a human?”
“No, you’re human.”
“I see. So I look like a human to you.” She closed her eyes and relaxed on the bed.
“So, want to try selling your soul?”
“Sure. Doubt I have one though.”
“Alright, let me write up a contract. You have any paper I can write on?”
I’d used up the piece of paper I kept with me at all times on Yuna yesterday.
“Paper, you think I have paper lying around here?”
“Any receipts then?”
“Nope.”
“Don’t you buy food or groceries?”
“Never.”
“Huh? What do you do for food then?”
“Whenever clients show up, they bring food with them for me or they order food to be delivered here.”
“Seriously… all you eat is delivery or stuff your… clients bring you?”
“Yeah. I’m a prostitute after all. I’m selling my body for a reason. I’m pretty much useless when it comes to anything else. I’ve never cooked for myself once in my entire life.”
“I see.”
“Well, I guess I could ask the front desk for some paper.”
“Don’t bother, just use this.”
She stretched her leg out off the bed and stuck it into a pile of some clothes on the ground. When she bent her foot back up perpendicular to the bed she waved what she held between her toes back and forth.
“You… want me to write out a contract on that?”
“Yeah. It’s fitting for a prostitute like me. Panties are like a contract for a prostitute. Once we receive our payment, the panties drop.”
“I think that’s a pretty big stretch.”
“Whatever, just write out the contract on the inside of it.”
“Uh… if you say so.” I grabbed the panties she’d held up to me between her toes.
“You’re… really going to do it?”
“Yeah.”
“But it’s dirty and worn.”
“Remember what I said before?”
“Soap and water?”
“Yeah. Anything can be cleaned up with enough soap and water. It’s just a matter of how much time and effort you’re willing to put into washing it.”
“How long would it take to wash your hands after touching this?”
“Not long. A minute.”
“Are you sure about that? It might be dirtier than you think it is.”
“It isn’t that dirty.”
“...” Her leg slowly descended back down to the bed as she fell into silence.
The pen in my hand began to move across the fabric. It was pretty difficult to write on it, and I had to go over the letters multiple times for the letters to come out properly.
I didn’t know if this would actually work though. Every contract before was done on paper made out of wood. Would a contract on a piece of fabric work as well? Why hadn’t I ever considered something like this before? The possibilities were endless if it worked out.
If it did… it would be entirely possible to print out a contract on a shirt, then if you got someone to sign their autograph on it where you wanted them to, you could have them sell their soul to you without them even realizing it. In a way, it was actually an ingenious idea I’d never even thought of before meeting this prostitute.
If this really worked, my random encounter with this prostitute may have just resulted in a monumental discovery. My heart beat out of control at the prospect of such a convenient acquisition method for souls. Anyone famous could easily fall victim to this.
Wait… could this be part of the reason why people who became famous often changed? Perhaps they sold their soul to a devil without even knowing and they became puppets controlled by them. I personally didn’t know how to do anything with people’s souls once I acquired them, but surely there was something that could be done with them.
I really needed to get around to investigating this at some point. But I didn’t like the idea of controlling people using their souls. I was only collecting them because I instinctively felt they were something beneficial to me in the long run.
My hand finally stopped moving after I drew out a dotted line for her to sign.
“Here’s the contract. You want to read it?”
“All that’s included on my end is the sale of my soul and nothing else, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright, I’ll sign.”
I handed over the pen and panties to her. I gulped anxiously as she held her panties up against the wall and signed them. Would this really work?
When she pulled her hand away from her panties, I tasted something sweet in my mouth.
Holy shit… it worked.
“It seems you have a soul after all.”
“Huh? What do you mean? I don’t feel anything different. Nothing even happened. You’re just making stuff up, aren’t you?”
“I’m not, I swear. Anyway, if you ever want your soul back, all you have to do is burn it. Uh… as for washing them until the ink disappears… I don’t know if that works.”
That was definitely a drawback I hadn’t considered with regards to fabric. Was it the material itself that kept the contract binding, the ink on the fabric, or the words themselves?
Could a contract be written out in dirt or sand? That could eliminate the possibility of it being tied to the ink. But how would it work for the material? There was too much I didn’t know.
Why couldn’t there be some course for devils to learn this shit? It seems like it might be pretty complicated. Devil Contracts 101 for Dummies. Why does such a convenient book not exist?
“Haaaah. Well, whatever. Not like I seriously expected anything to come from finding out whether I had a soul or selling it. You can have my soul, I don’t have any need for it if it really exists as you claim.”
“I see.” She’d given up on life, her future, her well-being, her very existence, everything. Nothing mattered to her. She was apathetic. I understood that feeling quite well.
Chapter 343. At a Motel with a Prostitute in the Room Next Door: A Chat with the Prostitute in the Morning. (3/8)
“Do you believe in souls?” Since I didn’t know how to respond, I changed the topic to something completely random.
“Souls? Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?”
“Nowhere, really. It’s just some small talk.”
“That so? But... souls? Do I believe in them? Dunno if I do.”
“If souls existed, would you sell yours for a second chance at life?”
“Haha, even if souls really existed, I definitely wouldn’t have one anyway. As for a second chance at life for me, that’s even more impossible than souls existing.” She laughed in a condescending manner directed toward herself.
“Would you like to verify whether you have a soul or not?”
“Verify I have one? And how would one verify that?”
“By trying to sell it of course.”
“Sell it? Who would I sell it to? Don’t you need a devil for that?”
“Have you ever tried selling your souls to anyone before?”
“No.”
“Then how would you know whether it was possible or not to sell it to someone who isn’t a devil?”
“That’s a pretty good point actually. If I’ve never tried to sell it to anyone before, how would I know whether it’s impossible or not?”
“Precisely.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who’s in the market of buying souls in exchange for a second chance at life, would you?”
“As if someone like that would really exist.”
“Yeah, there’s no way anyone would ever make a deal like that.”
“But putting that aside, how about we test it out? Whether or not you have a soul and whether or not you can sell your soul to someone.”
“How?”
“Just try selling it to me?”
“To you? How will you be able to tell whether I have a soul or not, and to begin with, how would I even sell it to you?”
“Don’t devils use contracts? We can write up a contract and see if it works for humans.”
“Humans… am I even considered human?”
“You look just as human to me as anyone else.”
“Hmm… don’t you think I look more like trailer trash than a human?”
“No, you’re human.”
“I see. So I look like a human to you.” She closed her eyes and relaxed on the bed.
“So, want to try selling your soul?”
“Sure. Doubt I have one though.”
“Alright, let me write up a contract. You have any paper I can write on?”
I’d used up the piece of paper I kept with me at all times on Yuna yesterday.
“Paper, you think I have paper lying around here?”
“Any receipts then?”
“Nope.”
“Don’t you buy food or groceries?”
“Never.”
“Huh? What do you do for food then?”
“Whenever clients show up, they bring food with them for me or they order food to be delivered here.”
“Seriously… all you eat is delivery or stuff your… clients bring you?”
“Yeah. I’m a prostitute after all. I’m selling my body for a reason. I’m pretty much useless when it comes to anything else. I’ve never cooked for myself once in my entire life.”
“I see.”
“Well, I guess I could ask the front desk for some paper.”
“Don’t bother, just use this.”
She stretched her leg out off the bed and stuck it into a pile of some clothes on the ground. When she bent her foot back up perpendicular to the bed she waved what she held between her toes back and forth.
“You… want me to write out a contract on that?”
“Yeah. It’s fitting for a prostitute like me. Panties are like a contract for a prostitute. Once we receive our payment, the panties drop.”
“I think that’s a pretty big stretch.”
“Whatever, just write out the contract on the inside of it.”
“Uh… if you say so.” I grabbed the panties she’d held up to me between her toes.
“You’re… really going to do it?”
“Yeah.”
“But it’s dirty and worn.”
“Remember what I said before?”
“Soap and water?”
“Yeah. Anything can be cleaned up with enough soap and water. It’s just a matter of how much time and effort you’re willing to put into washing it.”
“How long would it take to wash your hands after touching this?”
“Not long. A minute.”
“Are you sure about that? It might be dirtier than you think it is.”
“It isn’t that dirty.”
“...” Her leg slowly descended back down to the bed as she fell into silence.
The pen in my hand began to move across the fabric. It was pretty difficult to write on it, and I had to go over the letters multiple times for the letters to come out properly.
I didn’t know if this would actually work though. Every contract before was done on paper made out of wood. Would a contract on a piece of fabric work as well? Why hadn’t I ever considered something like this before? The possibilities were endless if it worked out.
If it did… it would be entirely possible to print out a contract on a shirt, then if you got someone to sign their autograph on it where you wanted them to, you could have them sell their soul to you without them even realizing it. In a way, it was actually an ingenious idea I’d never even thought of before meeting this prostitute.
If this really worked, my random encounter with this prostitute may have just resulted in a monumental discovery. My heart beat out of control at the prospect of such a convenient acquisition method for souls. Anyone famous could easily fall victim to this.
Wait… could this be part of the reason why people who became famous often changed? Perhaps they sold their soul to a devil without even knowing and they became puppets controlled by them. I personally didn’t know how to do anything with people’s souls once I acquired them, but surely there was something that could be done with them.
I really needed to get around to investigating this at some point. But I didn’t like the idea of controlling people using their souls. I was only collecting them because I instinctively felt they were something beneficial to me in the long run.
My hand finally stopped moving after I drew out a dotted line for her to sign.
“Here’s the contract. You want to read it?”
“All that’s included on my end is the sale of my soul and nothing else, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright, I’ll sign.”
I handed over the pen and panties to her. I gulped anxiously as she held her panties up against the wall and signed them. Would this really work?
When she pulled her hand away from her panties, I tasted something sweet in my mouth.
Holy shit… it worked.
“It seems you have a soul after all.”
“Huh? What do you mean? I don’t feel anything different. Nothing even happened. You’re just making stuff up, aren’t you?”
“I’m not, I swear. Anyway, if you ever want your soul back, all you have to do is burn it. Uh… as for washing them until the ink disappears… I don’t know if that works.”
That was definitely a drawback I hadn’t considered with regards to fabric. Was it the material itself that kept the contract binding, the ink on the fabric, or the words themselves?
Could a contract be written out in dirt or sand? That could eliminate the possibility of it being tied to the ink. But how would it work for the material? There was too much I didn’t know.
Why couldn’t there be some course for devils to learn this shit? It seems like it might be pretty complicated. Devil Contracts 101 for Dummies. Why does such a convenient book not exist?
“Haaaah. Well, whatever. Not like I seriously expected anything to come from finding out whether I had a soul or selling it. You can have my soul, I don’t have any need for it if it really exists as you claim.”
“I see.” She’d given up on life, her future, her well-being, her very existence, everything. Nothing mattered to her. She was apathetic. I understood that feeling quite well.
