Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage’s Book

“*Buuurp!*”

Binaeril couldn’t help but let out a loud belch as he struggled to keep down the copious amounts of beer he had consumed. Only five minutes had passed, with another fifteen minutes still to go. It was hard to believe that Inyakan had been knocked out so quickly.

‘If only he hadn’t bragged so much, I wouldn’t be so annoyed with him. All show and no substance,’ Binaeril thought, resolving to add this incident to the list of things he would tease Inyakan about later.

With Inyakan out early, their chances of winning seemed slim. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. Empty beer mugs piled up in front of Binaeril. Most of the other contestants had already dropped out, but Binaeril was still standing strong. He could feel the pressure building in his stomach, but he wasn’t yet drunk to the point where he couldn’t control himself.

“No way, this guy can really hold his liquor!”

“Human! You’re something else!”

“By the Earth Mother, I’ve never seen a human lad drink like this before!” The surrounding Toins cheered and applauded, impressed by Binaeril’s endurance.

That’s when Binaeril remembered: back at the after-party in the Duchy, he had been the last one standing as well.

“*Ugh, I can’t drink anymore…*” The last Toin beside him, who had been trying to keep up with Binaeril’s pace, finally gave in and collapsed with a thud.

“Even Birradin’s down!”

“Why are there so many humans who can hold their drink at this year’s festival?”

Now, only one opponent remained: a solitary human who had been quietly drinking under a hood, never once glancing at the crowd. His determination was palpable, as he methodically drained his mugs without any sign of faltering.

“*Hurk!*” Binaeril let out another burp, his eyes narrowing as he focused on his final opponent. *If that guy falls, the victory is mine!*

If neither contestant fell within the 20-minute limit, the winner would be determined by the total amount of beer consumed. Binaeril’s head was starting to spin, and he felt like his stomach might burst. He wondered if he had ever swallowed this much liquid in his entire life.

Sensing Binaeril’s determination, the hooded man increased his pace for the final stretch.

“Everyone, let’s count down!” the announcer called out, prompting the crowd to join in.

“Ten!”

*Gulp, gulp!*

“Nine!”

*Buuurp!*

“Eight!”

*Grrrrk!* 

“Seven!”

The announcer’s voice boomed across the square, urging the crowd into a frenzy.

“Three!”

The hooded man, in a final, desperate gulp, tipped his last mug high, chugging down the beer. As he did, his worn hood slipped off, revealing his face. 

*Where have I seen him before…?* Binaeril thought, a strange sense of familiarity washing over him.

“Two!”

“One!”

*Piiiieeeep!* The whistle blew, signaling the end of the competition. Binaeril set his mug down and finally got a good look at his opponent’s face.

“…Huh?”

He shot up from his seat, stunned. The face staring back at him was one he could never forget.

“What?!”

“Pfuh…” The opponent calmly wiped the remaining foam from his lips, his face flushed with the telltale signs of inebriation. 

“Hm…?” The man blinked a few times, as if trying to confirm that the person in front of him was truly who he thought it was. 

*Drreeek—* Then, just like Binaeril, the man suddenly stood up, pointing a finger at him.

“You!”

“You!”

Before either could utter another word, their voices were drowned out by the raucous cheers of the crowd.

“The match is over! All participants, please step down from the platform and await the final tally!”

*Waaaaah!* 

The shouts of the audience filled the square, muffling the names they were about to shout at each other. But their eyes, one pair gray and the other silver, remained locked on each other. They both knew they were facing someone unforgettable.

“And now, the results are in! Who is the winner?” The announcer paused, building suspense as the crowd leaned in with anticipation.

“Who’s the champion?!”

“The winner is… Binaeril’s team!”

*Waaaaaah!* 

Loud applause and laughter erupted from the Toin spectators. The difference between Binaeril and the other man’s total beer consumption had been a mere half-mug—the exact amount Inyakan had managed before passing out.

*Thank goodness,* Binaeril thought, silently thanking the fallen Inyakan as he raised his left hand in a gesture of triumph.

“Wooah!”

“Kid, you can really drink!”

“I like this one!”

Amidst the noise and celebrations, the man who had heard the announcement of his defeat began walking toward Binaeril. 

“Looks like I was right,” the man muttered, his voice dry as he gazed at Binaeril with weary eyes.

Binaeril stood his ground, meeting his gaze head-on. The man’s long, flowing silver hair, once draped over his shoulders, had been cut short, giving him a more restrained appearance. Yet, the faint sheen that had always marked his presence hadn’t dimmed in the slightest. The elaborate garments and the platinum-hilted sword that had been his symbols were gone. Still, he was unmistakable.

“…It’s been a while, Dominic Schiller,” Binaeril said, recognizing the Platinum Knight before him.

“Rat, how did you end up in a place like this… urgh.” Dominic’s attempt at an insult was interrupted by the lingering effects of the beer.

“…Would you mind turning your head before you speak?” Binaeril quipped, slightly annoyed.

Dominic instinctively reached for his waist, where his sword would have been. But his hand grasped nothing but air, fumbling uselessly. His eyes betrayed a swirl of complex emotions—frustration, perhaps even regret.

“Shall we move somewhere quieter to talk?” Binaeril suggested, noticing the chaos of the festival around them.

Dominic hesitated. The mage standing before him had once been his enemy, part of a group he despised. But this was also the man who had defeated him and freed him from Marquis Schiller’s grasp. After a moment of contemplation, Dominic decided to follow Binaeril.

Together, they dragged the unconscious Inyakan to a nearby inn. Once they had dumped him in a room, his snores resembling a bear’s growls, Binaeril and Dominic sat across from each other at a table on the first floor.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Binaeril had occasionally wondered if they would meet again, but never in a place like this. He shifted uneasily, locking eyes with Dominic.

*He’s calmer than I remember,* Binaeril thought. The Dominic he knew was always looking down at him with cold disdain, but now that sharp anger seemed absent.

Still, sitting in awkward silence, staring at each other, was unbearable, especially given their history as former enemies. Fortunately, Dominic broke the silence first.

“You’ve changed a lot.”

“Have I? Haha, well, a lot has happened. Meeting on the opposite side of the continent, it’s only natural that we’d change,” Binaeril replied, inwardly cringing at his own awkward attempt at conversation. He hadn’t done anything wrong, yet the situation felt incredibly uncomfortable.

“You’ve changed a lot too,” Binaeril ventured.

“What, my face? Someone messed it up so now I can’t play the handsome hero anymore,” Dominic replied, a bitter smile on his lips.

Despite his words, Dominic didn’t seem particularly upset.

“Dominic Schiller,” Binaeril started, but Dominic quickly corrected him.

“I’ve abandoned that name,” he said. Dominic had once been a knight of the Schiller Marquisate. His reputation as the Platinum Knight and the title of the Marquis’s attack dog were both things he had gained from his service to the Schiller family.

“Viktor Schiller is no longer in this world,” Dominic continued.

“But the marquisate still exists, doesn’t it?” Binaeril replied, referring to the aftermath of the failed noble rebellion. The twin empresses had spared the families and estates of the rebellious nobles, only executing the main instigators. The Schiller family was among those spared.

“He wasn’t the one I served. I left that name behind. Now, I’m just a wandering mercenary,” Dominic explained.

Binaeril hesitated before asking, “Do you still hate me?”

Dominic took a long gulp of the cold water that had been placed on the table. After drinking so much beer, he was paradoxically parched.

“If you hadn’t ruined my chances today, maybe I wouldn’t,” he replied dryly.

Binaeril choked on his water, coughing and sputtering. Dominic had always been an uncomfortable presence for Binaeril, at least in the past. But now, seeing him laugh lightly at Binaeril’s discomfort, Binaeril realized it was the first time he had ever seen Dominic smile.

“So, what brings you all the way to Aliba? And why are you participating in the Festival of Three Names? Especially in such a brutish event?” Binaeril asked, trying to steer the conversation.

“You participated in that brutish event too, didn’t you? Judging by how much you drank, you were the most brutish one there,” Dominic retorted.

“It wasn’t that bad…” Binaeril mumbled.

“Anyway, thanks to you, my plan is ruined,” Dominic said with a sigh.

“Was winning your plan?”

“Yes. I’ve run out of funds. I was hoping to pick up a new weapon here too,” Dominic explained.

“A weapon? What about your old sword?” Binaeril asked, thinking of the platinum-hilted sword that had been Dominic’s trademark.

“I left it behind. I gave it to the new Marquis Schiller. Taking the sword while abandoning the Schiller name would have been greedy.”

“So, you came all the way across the continent without a weapon?” Binaeril asked, surprised.

“I had a cheap iron sword, but it broke on the way, so I discarded it,” Dominic replied.

That explained the empty space at his waist.

“I found a sword I liked on Furnace Street. I planned to buy it with the festival prize money, but then you…” Dominic trailed off.

Each winner of the Festival of Three Names received a prize, and it seemed Dominic had entered the competition simply for the money.

“Never mind. It was a fair fight, so I won’t blame you,”

“A brief reunion. Not exactly a joyful one. I’m leaving,” Dominic said, pulling his worn hood back over his head as he turned to leave with a grace that seemed out of place in his ragged attire.

As he walked away, his back seemed lonely, and in that moment, an idea struck Binaeril. The events in the Festival of Three Names were team-based, with a maximum of three members per team. Currently, Binaeril’s team had only two members, and the next competition required all three participants.

If they needed to find a third person anyway, then maybe…

Binaeril called out, stopping Dominic in his tracks. “You said you’re a wandering mercenary now, right?”

Dominic paused, turning slightly as Binaeril continued, “I’m willing to hire you. Why not join us for the rest of the festival?”

The Festival of Three Names spanned three days, with different competitions each day. On the second day of the festival, Binaeril’s team registered for the event and waited for their turn.

Inyakan, having recovered somewhat from his ordeal the previous day, eyed Dominic warily. “Who’s that?”

“A new friend,” Binaeril replied casually.

“You made a new friend while I was asleep?” Inyakan asked, suspicious.

“I have a knack for making friends,” Binaeril said with a grin.

“…He doesn’t look very friendly,” Inyakan observed, watching Dominic, who was standing some distance away, idly kicking at the ground.

Binaeril had seen that kind of behavior before, back in Elfenbine. It was typical of those who didn’t quite fit in—outsiders who kept to themselves.

“Dominic! Come over here,” Binaeril called out.

“Isn’t it enough to just compete?” Dominic grumbled.

“No, I mean, let’s at least stick together.”

“Hmph…” Dominic’s lips twitched into a strange, reluctant smile as he slowly made his way toward them. The awkwardness in his movements made it clear that he appreciated being included, even if he didn’t quite know how to express it.

*Maybe I shouldn’t have brought him along,* Binaeril thought, regretting his decision momentarily as he watched Dominic struggle with the unfamiliar situation.