Chapter 6
[Contract complete.]
Only after this sentence appeared mid-air was Hera finally able to pull her hand away.
Bringing her still-bleeding hand to her chest, Hera curled up, suppressing the throbbing pain.
The pain made it clear that this place was real, but Hera didn’t want to believe it.
Desperately.
‘Please… let this be a dream. Let all of this just be a dream!’
[This is reality, Hera Wintaile.]
The book, reading her innermost thoughts, gave a firm response.
Hera shuddered from the shock.
Was it because the book absorbed her blood?
Is that why she was made to bleed?
There was no denying now that her soul had been bound entirely to this contract. Hera’s fingertips went cold with the realization.
“…You read my thoughts?”
[The Prophecy Book and the contractor are now connected.]
The contract reverted to its original form—a book.
Calling itself a prophecy book, it dropped obediently at Hera’s feet, where she sat curled up.
Hera stared down at the book’s title.
In the center of the jewel-encrusted cover, only one word was written: Prophecy.
She didn’t want to know what kind of prophecy it was or what it contained.
“Can I ask just one thing?”
Hera had decided to accept what needed to be accepted.
Assuming this was reality and, for some reason, she had entered someone else’s body,
then there was only one thing she needed to do: return to her own body.
“If this is reality, then I must be alive somewhere. I mean, in my home. I should still be at the Wintaile estate, right? What’s the condition of my real body? Is it in a deep sleep?”
Worried the prophecy book might misunderstand her, Hera added quickly,
“Someday, I can go back, right? To my body. This must be some kind of mistake, right?”
But no answer came for a while.
Hera’s heart pounded violently.
That was not a good sign.
[Hera Wintaile is dead.]
The short sentence floated in the air.
For Hera, it was the most devastating thing she could read.
“That’s… that can’t be…”
It wasn’t like she had never feared that possibility.
But when the worst imaginable reality was confirmed, her mind felt like it completely collapsed.
Hera’s despair was translated into tears falling from Emilia’s eyes.
Even the warmth of those tears still felt unfamiliar. Maybe they always would.
And now, Hera had lost even the hope of returning.
[If you fulfill the terms of the contract…]
The prophecy book slowly began forming more words.
[The contractor may establish a new contract of their choosing.]
Vague words.
But Hera sensed hope in them.
“A contract… of my choosing?”
[No matter the terms.]
Hera’s mind raced.
She had read about something like this in books as a child.
Stories with wish-granting fairies.
They always said the same thing:
I will grant your wish.
Anything you want.
“So… you’re saying… you’ll grant my wish?”
But not all stories were kind.
There were also books about devils who deceived people with the same promise:
I’ll grant your wish.
Whatever it is.
[If you wish to call it a wish, so be it, Hera Wintaile.]
But you’ll pay the price.
Not as much as you want—
But as much as I want.
***
“You’re in perfect health, Miss Emilia.”
Hera had never in her life heard a doctor say she was healthy.
“Do you feel any discomfort?”
Hera was about to answer “I’m fine,” but Cecilia cut in.
“I think she’s completely lost her memory. She didn’t even recognize me! And her personality’s changed too… Is that common? Could something serious have happened to my sister?”
The chatty Cecilia’s barrage of questions left the doctor with a troubled expression.
Hera had spent her life meeting with doctors—many, in fact.
Each had their own methods and treatments, but that look on the doctor’s face was always the same:
They had no idea what was wrong.
“Well, the psychological aspects aren’t my specialty,” the doctor said, stepping back.
Hera found the reaction so familiar that she smiled unconsciously.
“See? She never used to smile like that!” Cecilia looked at her, shocked.
Not knowing how Emilia used to act, Hera awkwardly struggled to maintain a natural expression, like a broken music box.
“Let’s observe for a few more days. Her memory will likely return gradually. Doing familiar activities may help jog it,” the doctor advised.
At that, Cecilia clapped her hands like she had a great idea.
“There’s a party at the Antony duchy today! If she meets lots of familiar people, her memory will come back faster!”
“A social party…?”
“My sister doesn’t usually like parties, but she agreed to attend this one. We’re a little short on time, but we won’t be late. Come on, let’s get ready!”
With a bright smile, Cecilia grabbed Hera’s arm.
As Hera stepped out from the bed’s heavy canopy, Emilia’s room came into full view.
‘This is… a noblewoman’s room?’
It was shockingly small—barely larger than a storage room.
She glanced around the space. Judging by the high ceiling and the thick support column in one corner, the Tolyn baronet’s mansion wasn’t a small house.
And yet, a noble daughter lived in a place like this?
‘Not just the size—it feels eerie in here… like the room has no life.’
This was the room Hera would have to live in, but she felt no attachment to it.
Hera’s own room was always flooded with bright sunlight.
It was filled with milk-white patterned ceramics from the far east, dazzling crystal that sparkled in the light, seasonal flowers, and beautiful, imaginative paintings.
Compared to that, this place felt like an entirely different world.
‘What kind of person was Emilia?’
For the first time, Hera felt curious about Emilia.
She seemed like someone completely different from herself—someone she would never have crossed paths with under normal circumstances.
“Sister, hurry! Let’s go to my room.”
Cecilia tugged Hera along.
Surprisingly, being dragged didn’t feel burdensome.
Her body didn’t falter—it was healthy.
And for the first time, Hera began to like her new surroundings.
***
“Try this one on first.”
Cecilia’s maids pulled out several dresses from the wardrobe.
From a silk gown embroidered with yellow freesia to a delicate violet muslin dress,
the fabrics and designs varied wildly—no two were alike.
The one thing they all had in common? They were extravagant.
‘I’ve never seen such flashy dresses.’
The Wintaile family was a high-ranking noble house with a vast territory and long-standing prestige.
In other words, if Hera had wanted to wear fancy dresses, she could’ve had any she liked.
But her mother, Bellina Wintaile, had refined tastes.
Her dresses were typically one solid color; even using two colors was rare.
It may have looked simple, but only because people didn’t look closely.
Her gowns were embroidered with meticulous detail, and some had woven-in patterns made during the fabric’s creation.
They were far more expensive than the flashy ones Cecilia had.
“This ribbon is nice, right?”
The lilac dress Hera wore had a low neckline.
Cecilia pointed to a red frilled ribbon nearby.
One of the maids quickly caught her intent and tied it around Hera’s neck.
To Hera, Emilia’s reflection in the mirror looked flawless.
