#8.
“…The Duke’s bedroom.”
As she followed the directions given by the prophecy book, Hera arrived at the Duke’s bedroom.
It was a room filled with cumbersome decorations from floor to ceiling, clearly reflecting the Duke’s personal taste.
[Follow the blue rose petals. After finding the treasure, say “Slot Open.”]
Perhaps because Duke Antoni and the main household’s servants were all at the ballroom, the bedroom was pitch black without a single candle lit.
A single blue rose petal glowing faintly as it floated through the air was the only clue to finding the treasure.
As if under a spell, Hera blindly followed the small petal.
After drifting through the air for a while, the petal suddenly moved in a straight line and lightly landed on a silver box on a shelf attached to the wall.
‘It must be there.’
Without a hint of doubt, Hera crossed the dark room toward where the petal had fallen.
Only the faint moonlight seeping into the dark room served as a guide.
Just as she was about to cross the center of the room—
“Ah!”
Something caught her foot.
She lost her balance and fell forward to the floor.
But she felt no pain from the fall—strange.
That was when Hera instinctively realized:
What she had tripped over wasn’t an object—it was a person.
“What do you think you’re doing on top of me?”
A cold sweat ran down Hera’s spine.
“A… person?”
Though her body wasn’t hurt, falling on top of someone while attempting a theft—Hera almost wished she had landed on a hard floor instead.
“When I heard your quiet footsteps coming in, I thought you were a cautious thief. Turns out, you’re actually quite clumsy.”
The man beneath her had a sharp, cutting tone—not necessarily from suspicion, but likely just his nature.
“So you’re just a mess, huh.”
Because of his sarcastic way of speaking, Hera failed to realize he was half-joking.
In truth, more than his tone, it was Hera’s lack of interaction with people that posed the real issue.
She had never really learned how to converse with others.
“I’m sorry… ah!”
Realizing she was lying against his chest, Hera snapped out of it and quickly tried to sit up.
But in her haste, her necklace got caught on one of the man’s shirt buttons.
“…I’m so sor—”
Just moments ago, she had cursed the darkness in the room, but now she was thankful for it—at least it hid her bright red face.
Flustered, Hera reached toward his shirt to untangle her necklace.
But her hands trembled so badly that she kept fumbling.
Then, the man’s hand suddenly covered hers.
“…!”
Hera was so startled she couldn’t even scream.
Without showing the slightest concern for her stiff, frozen body, the man deftly unhooked the button entangled in the necklace using firm pressure.
The necklace came free.
All that remained in Hera’s hand was a dull ache—and the man’s button.
As Hera stared in a daze at what had just happened, the man let out a quiet, mocking laugh.
“Whether it’s theft or seduction, you should at least do one thing properly.”
The man had made a strange misunderstanding.
Just as Hera was about to deny it, voices came from outside the room.
“Are you sure she came into this room?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Unbelievable. What kind of disaster is this?”
Duke Antoni was approaching the bedroom with his servants.
‘They’re coming to catch me.’
The thought of being discovered wiped away all memory of the man’s sarcastic remarks from her mind.
Panicked, Hera jumped to her feet and looked around.
But there was only the door—and a window partially hidden behind a curtain.
The Duke was right outside the door. That exit was impossible.
The window was an option—but it was on the second floor. A pretty high second floor, at that.
“Excuse me. I’ll be leaving first.”
The man, still lying on the floor, casually stood up.
He walked toward the window and forcefully pulled the curtain aside.
With the moonlight streaming in, Hera finally got a clear look at his face.
He was so breathtakingly handsome she had to doubt her own eyes.
Golden hair like sunlit fields, a small, perfectly symmetrical face.
His eyes were neither raised nor drooping, holding a gaze that drew attention, while his amethyst-like purple eyes and perfectly shaped red lips were irritatingly well-balanced.
For a moment, Hera found herself mesmerized, simply staring at his face.
“Don’t worry. I won’t report you. Duke Antoni stole this house too, ten years ago.”
From his vantage point, Hera was still hidden in the shadows.
Even though they’d just been close enough to touch, the man didn’t bother to look at her. It was as if he were talking to himself.
“Try to steal something valuable. That guy should know what it feels like to lose something precious.”
With that, the man opened the window and jumped out.
Startled, Hera rushed to the window and looked out.
He landed gracefully on the lawn below, clearly familiar with physical movement.
[Owner of “Black Tear of Banyole” approaching.]
The prophecy book alerted her that Duke Antoni was getting close.
She couldn’t hesitate any longer.
Clutching her dress, Hera dashed toward the box containing the Black Tear of Banyole.
Grabbing it, she returned to the window—but unlike the man who’d jumped so fearlessly, she didn’t have the courage.
“I could die doing this…”
Sometimes even stairs scared her.
Her frail body made everyday life a dangerous thing.
Clutching the window frame, she hesitated.
Then came the voices again:
“Click. I thought she’d be locked away in the south for life.”
“Your voice is too loud. She’ll hear you.”
Had she paid attention, Hera would’ve realized they weren’t even talking about her.
But she had no mental space to notice.
As the door creaked open, Hera finally threw herself out the window.
‘Emilia… please, I hope your body is used to falling from this height.’
She squeezed her eyes shut and silently prayed.
Hera didn’t even know how to position herself to land safely.
If she fell like this, even Emilia’s healthy body wouldn’t survive intact.
And then—
[Wings equipped.]
“…Wings?”
As Hera plummeted awkwardly, her body suddenly slowed and lifted gently into the air.
Wings had sprouted from her back.
They were large, white, and holy-looking—like something out of a sacred painting.
Hera steadied herself in the air and landed safely on the grass.
“Wings… I grew wings.”
Still in disbelief, she stood there stunned.
Right. The contract. It said the contractor would be granted abilities necessary to fulfill the terms… So this is what it meant?
Suddenly recalling the words of the contract, Hera let out a sigh of relief.
Curious about the texture of the wings, she reached out to touch them—only for them to pop like soap bubbles and vanish.
Feeling regretful, Hera hid behind a nearby tree and opened the box to check the Black Tear of Banyole.
Inside was an obsidian gem, glittering beautifully even under faint moonlight.
It was delicately carved in the shape of a teardrop and about the size of her palm.
Not very large, but with a smooth surface and a paradoxically clear darkness—like staring into deep black water.
It was worthy of being called a treasure.
“Oh, right. Sl… Slot Open.”
[Slot Open.]
Remembering what she had to do, Hera gave the command just in time.
The prophecy book released blue rose petals, which transformed into what looked like a soft cushion.
Hera placed the Black Tear of Banyole onto it.
“So… is that it?”
[Seal complete.]
The treasure was sucked into the prophecy book.
Wondering how something bigger than the book had fit inside, Hera opened the book again.
There it was—Banyole’s Black Tear—perfectly intact but miniaturized, sealed inside the book like an illustration.
