Haunted Village: Dargorad's Pact

Gregor, a young man, was walking through a field near the mill. The day was drawing to a close. Due to a rampaging poludnica, a midday spirit, and rumours about the ghost of an old man who was murdered by it, people were afraid to leave their homes, whether during the day or at dusk.
It was all the easier for him to win the affection of his would-be in-laws amidst this widespread fear.

That daughter of theirs. Pfft! The mere mention of her made him shudder. She was far from beautiful, but at least she was wealthy. But the thought of spending his life with her, of waking up every morning to see her hideous face... Ugh! It made him feel sick. Fortunately, he found a lovely young woman. But, unfortunately, that one didn't have a penny to her name.

Then he had an idea. What if the miller's ugly daughter died and he supported the wealthy parents afterwards? He would treat them so well that they would come to love him as their own son. After a year, he could bring home a new girl, someone better and more beautiful, and they would accept her as their new daughter.
Yes, that was the perfect plan.
He lured the ugly girl out into the fields at night, killed her with his newly bought axe and threw the weapon into the Visula, the river that flowed near their village.

He somewhat regretted getting the axe so dirty. He had bought it with his first paycheck and carved his name into it, the only word he knew how to write. And then had to dispose of it because of that ugly woman.

He hadn't expected her to appear as a poludnica, a midday monster, but he decided that this was for the best. Such a manifestation merely confirmed that the girl had died a cruel death. Had she appeared as an ordinary ghost, she might have revealed his secret, but luck was truly on his side this time.
A broad smile spread across his face as he gazed at the tall mill. It would soon be the source of a fortune that would allow him to live a life of ease with his beloved beautiful wife and wealthy in-laws.

“Hey!” a voice called out from behind him. Gregor turned around and saw a red-haired man. It was the same man who had brazenly broken into his beloved in-laws’ house and smashed that beautiful door. Thank goodness the strange yet stunning young woman had paid for the repairs.
“Yes? Is there anything else you want to know about…” he forced out a weep, “…my late beloved?”
“Yeah, yeah.” The redhead waved a hand dismissively. “You can drop the act.”
Gregor flinched and looked at the man standing before him. Something was wrong.
The man stepped up beside the future miller and, like him, gazed up at the mill.
“A magnificent building, a neat fortune... But was it really worth killing for?”
At that question, Gregor swallowed hard.
“Hmm. It must have been, given that you had that smile plastered all over your face while admiring something that unfortunately won't be yours.”
“What are you…?”
The redhead stepped up to him, pressing a finger to his lips to silence him.
“Let me explain. You surely remember that the masked girl who came here with me today is a Soul Guide. Why do you think she came out to the field today?”

Gregor’s eyes widened. It couldn't be.

“Yes, you're thinking along the right lines. To find out who that girl was and what her soul wanted. Unfortunately for you, Soul Guides have the power to look into the lives of souls. She knows what you did. What’s more, she sent her little minion after you who witnessed your conversation with your mistress. With her magic, she could easily show the deceased girl’s parents everything that happened.” The redhead stepped away from Gregor and began to circle him.
“Why are you telling me this?” the villager asked, his eyes tracking the stranger.
“Because I’ve sniffed out a business opportunity,” the stranger smiled. “I am Dargorad, a chort in the service of the demon Rokita,” he said, bowing.
Gregor felt his legs wobble as he stood there, feeling very dizzy. He covered his mouth with his hand.
“And you want to offer me a contract in exchange for my soul?” he asked, trembling.
“What else?” Dargorad laughed. “Don’t worry. We’ll set the terms of the agreement to suit you.” He snapped his fingers and a small table bearing an inkwell and a quill appeared between them. A sheet of paper inscribed with a single sentence also emerged from the black flame.

In exchange for ensuring that no human speaks about the crime committed by Gregor of Bibice, he will surrender his soul to the demon Rokita for a hundred years.

Gregor read the sentence and was dumbfounded.
He pondered what he had just read for a moment.
Heh. What is a hundred years in the face of eternity? If he survived a century, he could then head to Weles’s realm and enjoy the rest of eternity in peace.
And he’d have an ideal life before that, too!
In that case, perhaps he could secure something else.
“Would it be possible to add something about increasing my wealth?” he asked timidly. “Or having a wife who remains alluring...”
Dargorad looked at him in surprise and laughed aloud. “Certainly, my friend!”

“Though that does require an additional fee.”

“More years in Selew, presumably?”
“Precisely,” Dargorad replied cheerfully. “In that case...” The chort snapped his fingers and a new contract appeared before Gregor’s eyes.

In exchange for ensuring that no human speaks about the crime committed by Gregor of Bibice,
he will surrender his soul to the demon Rokita for a hundred years.
Furthermore, Mr Gregor will receive double his monthly earnings,
and his wife will be granted unfading beauty,
provided he does not breathe a word about his crime.

“Does that work for you?” Dargorad asked, smiling gently.
“Absolutely!” Gregor signed the contract.
The two men shook hands to seal the deal. A satisfied Gregor headed home.
Watching the man practically skip away, Dargorad snorted.
“Ready for your part?” he asked.
Leontina emerged from behind the mill. Since the moon was already high in the sky, she wasn't wearing her mask. A liho sat on her shoulder and Mozuta stood beside her, staring at the chort in terror.
“Yes. Let's go pay another visit to that oh-so-lovely family,” she answered with a voice as sweet as honey.
“He really got played,” Mozuta muttered under his breath. “We were really lucky that you got into the right house,” the boy told the hhort.
“Huh? No,” Dargorad waved his hand. “From the beginning, I knew this was the house I should have burst into,” he smiled. "Little secret,” he said, smirking at the boy. “Chorts can see the souls of living beings. In that house, there were two slightly white ones and one black.” He leaned down to look at Mozuta. “Want to know what color your soul is?” he asked.
“Not interested,” the boy replied, running to Leontina and grabbing the hem of her dress. He would rather be as far away from that chort as possible.