Chapter 23:
Was it because Julian, the competent leader of the city guard, was too used to his position?
Sometimes, Julian treated others as if he were interrogating them.
Afraid he might catch on to the truth, Hera shifted her gaze away.
“Emilia.”
Her sister, who had lost her memory, was very different from before. She had waited and waited, but Emilia Tolin still hadn’t returned to her original self.
While he hoped she would go back to who she used to be, Julian was also tormented by heartbreaking suspicions.
What if she had run away?
What if she hated the Tolin family so much that she gave up being Emilia Tolin herself?
What if she erased all her memories because she wanted to?
If the way she was now was the person Emilia had always wanted to be, Julian felt even a hundred apologies wouldn’t be enough.
He felt ashamed and guilty for having burdened her so much that she felt the need to run away.
“…!”
Lost in these thoughts, Julian realized he could no longer bear to face his sister.
He stood up and pressed a short kiss to her forehead.
“I’m on your side.”
Just like you once were on mine, I’m on your side too.
“Never forget that.”
Don’t forget, Emilia.
We lived because of you.
After a short tea time, Hera returned to her room and rubbed her forehead.
Julian could be surprisingly intense sometimes.
‘The Duke of Antony… he was desperately looking for the jewel.’
Hera had eavesdropped on the salon conversation because the Duke of Antony mentioned the obsidian.
Her heart had nearly leapt out of her chest, fearing he had found out who had stolen it.
But thankfully, the Duke had no clues—just like Julian and the city guard.
No one was on her trail yet.
Still, something bothered her.
She began to wonder if the treasure she had stolen was something incredibly precious to someone else.
“It’s already inside the book. I can’t exactly give it back now, can I?”
By now, Hera was quite used to manifesting the prophecy book.
She opened the book mid-air and flipped between The Black Tears of Banyole and The Dancer on the Peony.
The obsidian aside, she thought she really should return the painting to its rightful owner.
She didn’t know why someone had painted such a picture, but if the subject of the nude painting found out it was being sold at auction and used for entertainment, she would probably want to tear it apart on the spot.
‘At the auction, they said everyone had been waiting for her. That must mean she’s a real person.’
From the context, it seemed the dancer in the painting was someone famous—currently famous.
‘Just who could she be?’
With growing curiosity, Hera gently ran her fingers over the painting sealed inside the book.
Then, letters floated above the image:
[The Dancer on the Peony is a painting modeled after Veronica Azel.]
She didn’t expect it to come with commentary.
Hera asked the prophecy book for more explanation.
“Who’s that? Is she someone famous?”
[Veronica Azel is the lover of Ron Arista, known publicly as the crown prince’s mistress.]
The crown prince’s mistress.
So that meant everyone at the auction had gathered to buy a nude painting of the crown prince’s lover?
[The Dancer on the Peony was painted by her lover, the artist Bill Pearson.]
“Wait a minute. So Veronica Azel had another lover?”
[Bill Pearson died five years ago.]
Was it really okay to know this much about someone’s private life?
Hera didn’t ask more about the painting.
It was clearly a picture with a story.
If her deceased lover had painted it, surely he hadn’t meant for it to be displayed publicly like this.
It must have been a private memory between the two of them.
Hera now felt guilty about keeping the painting.
“Even if I wanted to return it, I don’t know how…”
She murmured to herself and glanced at the prophecy book.
Storing treasures in the book was simple.
When she gave the command “slot open,” a slot tailored for the treasure would appear, and then “sealing complete” would show up.
Sealing.
If something could be sealed in the book, couldn’t it also be unsealed?
“Unseal…?”
[Sealing released.]
She had spoken the phrase without much thought, but the book responded.
Just like when it was sealed, the book returned the painting to its original state with blue rose petals.
Seeing the large painting now before her, Hera’s jaw dropped.
“You mean I could take it out?!”
Okay, unsealing was possible—but what would happen if she actually returned the painting?
“If I return this painting to its owner, what happens?”
[You cannot complete the prophecy book.]
Not being able to complete the prophecy book meant she couldn’t make a wish.
The wish to return to being the healthy Hera Wintail would disappear.
“What should I do? I need to become Hera again…”
Hera covered her face with both hands.
She had decided to steal—a thing so out of character for her—because she wanted that wish so desperately.
But this concerns a woman’s honor. Maybe it’s more important than my return to being Hera Wintail.
Peeking through her fingers, Hera looked at Veronica Azel in the painting.
She looked so happy, as if hoping that moment would last forever.
That expression kept pricking at Hera’s conscience.
“Let’s return it.”
Hera now had Emilia’s healthy body.
She had Julian and Cecilia, who cared for her.
Even if she couldn’t return to her original body, it was a good life. As Hera Wintail’s “friend,” she could approach her father and mother in the Kingdom of Karen like a daughter.
Hera decided to follow her heart.
The prophecy book began to float with more intensity than usual.
But Hera didn’t notice the strange motion.
‘By the way, where does the crown prince’s mistress even live?’
Her determination was strong, but reality was harsh.
Hera, who already knew less about the world than most people, wasn’t going to figure out this kind of information easily.
‘I asked the prophecy book, but it said it didn’t know. I guess its powers have limits most of the time.’
As she suspected, the book’s powers could only be used from the moment a treasure was targeted until it was sealed.
It was just a temporary ability meant for treasure collection.
‘This is frustrating. It’s not something I can just read in a book, either.’
Hera’s mother, Bellina, always made her read on good days.
She believed that all the world’s knowledge could be found in books, and she wanted her daughter to see the vast and beautiful world—at least indirectly.
But something like the address of the crown prince’s mistress wasn’t in any book.
Hera felt stifled by her own limited knowledge.
Sitting on a couch in the corner, lost in thought, Hera was eyed awkwardly by the noble ladies gathered in the salon.
“Lady Emilia has been making appearances here and there lately. We’ve seen her quite a bit.”
This was the Buell family’s salon.
Lady Derilda Buell had hosted the tea party and invited her close friend Cecilia.
Hera had come with Cecilia, but the other noblewomen weren’t exactly welcoming.
“I know, right? We used to only see her once or twice a year, if that.”
When Emilia had been the real Emilia, she’d been known as rather unreliable.
As a lady of the social circle, she had obligations to attend and follow certain traditions—like these tea parties.
But Emilia had always been an outlier, so it was no surprise the young noble ladies found her awkward and difficult to approach.
“I’m just so happy everyone is welcoming my sister! I can’t be the only one who gets to keep such a lovely person to myself, can I?”
Though Cecilia had her frustrations with her sister acting like a different person since losing her memory, she was still glad to have her accompany her to parties like this.
Socializing alone was lonely and exhausting.
Cecilia smiled, pretending not to notice the nobles’ disapproving faces.
But the other young ladies didn’t look pleased to hear such sentimental words.
