Chapter 20
The reason he had been watching the disguised Hera since the beginning of the auction was because of her black hair.
Hair that reminded him of Hera Wintail—long-missed, jet-black hair.
A black-haired woman who had won the painting Dancer on the Peonies, the lover of the Crown Prince, Veronica Azel, with a huge bid.
She was intriguing in many ways.
“Shane.”
“Don’t call me by my real name. What do you think we’re doing in a secret auction house?”
“…You petty glasses-wearing nerd.”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“The woman who just won the painting. Can you find out who she is?”
When Marriott asked, Shane frowned as the glasses over his mask kept sliding down.
“Nope.”
“No?”
“Yeah. She’s not even important. You’re only curious because of her hair, aren’t you?”
Adjusting his mask, Shane saw right through Marriott’s motives.
“And do you know how tight the security here is? It took me six full years to infiltrate this place.”
Once Shane said no, he never changed his mind.
Marriott, sitting beside this frustrating subordinate, let out a long sigh.
That sigh stirred the petal of a blue rose near his cheek.
It was the same petal that had appeared when the prophecy book responded to Dancer on the Peonies.
The burly man, contrary to his appearance, courteously led Hera to an inner room.
It was a secluded place, far from where the auction was taking place—private enough even without a door.
He carefully leaned the painting Dancer on the Peonies against the wall and began to write something down.
It was probably a simple contract.
Since she couldn’t carry the item out, it must be a contract promising delivery upon payment.
Blue Rose.
[Yes, Hera Wintail.]
The problem was, Hera didn’t have a single coin on her.
As the large man hunched over to write the document, Hera frantically sought the prophecy book.
It had made the impossible possible before. Surely creating money wouldn’t be too much to ask?
Money. Give me money.
[Not possible.]
What… did you say?
[I cannot create currency, Hera Wintail.]
Then how am I supposed to buy this painting?
No answer came to her question.
It was as if the book had never existed.
Blue Rose. Blue Rose!
Hera cried out in desperation in her mind, nearly to the point of screaming, but it was useless.
Meanwhile, the man turned to her with a pleasant smile and handed her a piece of paper.
“Milady, thank you for waiting. Congratulations on becoming the new owner of Dancer on the Peonies. This is the receipt and confirmation form. Once the payment is made, we will deliver the piece to your desired location. Please do not lose this document.”
Despite his kind explanation, Hera couldn’t smile.
She was so tense, she didn’t even realize she was holding her breath.
“Will you be paying in silver? Gold? Promissory note? The Collin Hugh Rivers Auction House accepts all forms of payment.”
That overly kind man could turn at any moment. She was definitely in trouble, but Hera had no other choice.
She had to be honest.
“T-To tell you the truth, I currently don’t have any money to pay…”
“Excuse me? What do you mean?”
His face turned far more menacing than Hera had anticipated.
He immediately took a hostile stance, as if convinced she was a scammer.
Until now, he had kept his back hunched, but now Hera realized he was even more massive than she thought.
“I had to come urgently… Is there any way I can pay in installments, or—”
“You placed a bid without any money?”
The man growled, cutting her off.
“Do I look like a joke to you?”
Hera had expected his kindness to vanish, but not for it to become this terrifying.
She was too frightened to speak.
She had never in her life faced anyone this frightening.
If she had still been in her old body, her heart might have stopped on the spot.
“Oh dear. Looks like old Hammer’s bad habits are surfacing again.”
A gentle male voice came from behind her.
A man, also masked, with a slender, elegant build entered and stood beside the burly man.
The newcomer, who had called the brute “Hammer,” gave a soft, red-lipped smile.
“I’ve always said to treat our clients gently and with grace, haven’t I?”
“Director, that’s not what I meant…”
He had a soft but commanding tone—he must have been the director who managed this auction house.
Though the situation wasn’t yet resolved, Hera felt strangely relieved.
Maybe this soft-spoken director would listen to her calmly.
“Hammer, apologize.”
“My sincerest apologies, milady.”
With just a gentle order, the director made the massive man apologize.
Then the director stood in front of Hera.
Though his mask showed a smiling face, his voice sent chills down her spine.
Perhaps it was the way he spoke—slower than most people.
“Now, shall we hear exactly why you placed a winning bid with no payment ready?”
The director perched on the edge of the table, arms crossed, listening intently to Hera.
Or rather, listening intently to her lies.
“So, you’re saying you came to bid on your father’s behalf and simply forgot to bring the money?”
“Yes.”
“Sigh… What to do. Our auction house has a strict rule of collecting payments on the same day. Since we accept all types of payment, assuming you don’t have a single coin, let’s consider other valuables…”
He blatantly scanned Hera from head to toe.
Even through the mask, she could feel his eyes undressing her.
“The earrings—top-grade garnets—worth about 10,000 Lunas. That outfit—premium quality—roughly 20,000 Lunas. Shoes—5,000. Hair ornament—2,000 or so.”
Even Hera, who was used to seeing Bellina’s luxurious things, didn’t know those prices.
The director finished evaluating her with a regretful smile.
“Still, all that’s nowhere near the total value.”
When Hera swallowed hard, the director nodded.
“Well, we can’t exactly strip a high-ranking noble lady and throw her out.”
His tone was gentle, but his words were not.
He didn’t seem as kind as Hera had hoped.
She instinctively curled into a defensive posture.
“We don’t only accept items as payment.”
“Excuse me?”
“If you give us something of equal value, that will suffice.”
His previously slow tone had changed now.
Like a hunter who had slowly cornered his prey, the director’s arrogance now showed.
“For example, a precious and secret story, perhaps?”
So that’s how this secret auction house operated.
The way the director behaved, it seemed entirely possible.
At the mention of “secret,” Hera’s eyes widened.
She had plenty of secrets worth more than the painting—
The sword of Ijina, the prophecy book, the truth about Blue Rose…
“A secret…”
Hera murmured under her breath. The director took a paper from his inner coat pocket.
He knelt in front of her, swiftly closing the distance.
Then held the paper up to her eyes.
“Even a simple secret, like where you got this forged invitation, would suffice.”
“……!”
“It’s a very sophisticated forgery. Do you have a skilled accomplice? Or was this your own work?”
Hera hadn’t even imagined the forged invitation would be discovered.
She inhaled sharply and couldn’t even exhale.
“Perhaps next time, practice your lying skills more than your bidding.”
The director crumpled the invitation in front of her and gave a sly smile.
“You clumsy little thief.”
He reached for Hera’s mask.
“No—!”
Just as his hand grazed the edge of her mask—
