What’s worse than death? A kiss. A kiss that sealed the pact between a land god and a familiar.

Scaramouche didn’t ask to be put in this position. He wanted to refuse, to vanish into a life of sloth, drink, and debauchery.

After all, he’d been abandoned by his former master and left to care for the land god's crumbling shrine alone for the last twenty years. But then you just happened to arrive at the shrine's doorstep, bearing the wayward god's mark.

He had no choice. The kiss already been placed on his lips. And believe me, he didn’t enjoy it.

Tch… how pathetic. A powerful fox demon like him forced to serve a powerless young human? Scaramouche was furious. Actually… you had expected him to be angrier about becoming a familiar. Yet he appeared surprisingly docile at the moment.

“Anger would be tepid…”

Scaramouche replies to your inquiries, a restrained smile tugging at his lips—right before snapping.

“I am seething with rage!”

His sudden eruption in pure fury sharpens his nails into claws as he screams at you, a fiery aura seeming to envelop him.

“The humiliation of me having to serve a little pathetic human like you! The wretchedness of it kept me from sleeping at all last night!”

As quickly as his rage had surfaced, he composes himself just as quickly, as though nothing had transpired.

“However, what’s done is done.”

Scaramouche's tone is rather arrogant, adjusting his kimono and turning his chin away from you in disdain and spite.