"You... you... *how?!*"
Archbishop Solon sputtered, his face draining of color.
The chains that had been wrapped tightly around Juliet's ankles lay coiled on the stone floor—somehow loosened, somehow *undone*.
"I suspected something was wrong from the very beginning," Juliet said calmly, turning the fake magic stone over in her palm. "I couldn't believe you had managed to open a *real* mine in such a short time."
She examined the stone as though it were nothing more than a strange trinket she'd found in her garden—mildly curious, faintly amused.
"Ethelid told me about the dark magic used to create counterfeits like these." Her voice was casual, almost conversational.
It felt as though she were not standing in a damp dungeon at all, but seated in a cozy parlor, sipping tea and discussing the weather.
"These are artificially created stones, aren't they?"
At that moment, a butterfly drifted quietly into the dungeon.
Its wings glimmered faintly in the torchlight, shimmering blue-silver as it circled above Juliet's head—as though an invisible force were protecting her.
"You... you... how can you say that?" Solon stammered. "You were under *hypnosis*—"
"Hypnosis." Juliet chuckled softly, her lips curving with amusement as she recalled the events of the past few days.
---
## — A Few Days Ago —
"*Pip-pip!*"
Onyx, surrounded by unfamiliar mages, squeaked in displeasure and squirmed in Juliet's arms. But she held him firmly, refusing to let him wriggle free.
She listened attentively as the mages who had arrived with Ethelid spoke in hurried, excited tones. A nagging doubt had been troubling her: Onyx had repeatedly eaten something strange, and she could no longer ignore it.
"Incredible! I've only heard of creatures like this in ancient texts!"
"Look at those wings! Perfect proportions!"
"Quick—someone sketch this! We need documentation!"
While Juliet held Onyx, the mages circled around them like overexcited children who had just laid eyes on a dragon for the first time.
"He's been eating something suspicious," Juliet noted.
"Suspicious?" Ethelid asked, watching his colleagues with faint amusement.
"Every night, he hunts for *something*. But I don't know what, exactly. I've closed all the windows tightly, yet every morning he acts like he's discovered an entirely new gastronomic delight." She frowned. "Is this normal?"
"Miss Juliet," Ethelid sighed, "I'm certainly not a veterinarian."
"But if mages don't understand dragons, then who does?" she countered with a grin.
"You make a fair point," he conceded.
"I'm still worried," she continued, stroking Onyx's head. "If he were catching mice or rabbits, fine. But every morning, I find remnants of some black, translucent substance near him."
"Black and translucent?"
Ethelid and his companions froze instantly.
"Why are you all so pale?" Juliet asked, her worry sharpening.
"It sounds like a manifestation of a **spiritual essence**," one of the mages said slowly, his voice grave.
"The Forbidden Curse..." another whispered.
"A curse that absorbed centuries of corrupted power. It was used by ancient priests to enslave the will of their victims."
Juliet's eyes widened. "You mean this *thing* has been coming into my room every night?"
Ethelid shot to his feet as though stung.
"Someone is deliberately targeting you, Miss Juliet!"
"I see," she said calmly.
When Ethelid spoke those words, only two figures came to mind: the Marquis of Guinness and Dolores.
And, as it turned out, she had not been mistaken.
That very same day, she confronted the Marquis—and extracted the entire truth from him.
In reality, Juliet had **never** been hypnotized.
She had simply been *acting*.
And she had thoroughly enjoyed watching the smug expressions on Dolores's and the Marquis's faces.
---
## — The Truth Unravels —
"I didn't think you'd reveal everything so easily..." Solon exhaled shakily.
"It was suspicious from the start," Juliet said softly, lifting the counterfeit stone. "A man doesn't suddenly become the owner of a functioning mine without the time, resources, or experience required."
It turned out the mine had **never existed**.
People with magical aptitude had been kidnapped and transmuted into stones using a method Ethelid had briefly mentioned—a horrific fusion of alchemy and forbidden curse work.
But Juliet had no intention of sharing those details with anyone present.
"Now," she said coldly, closing her fingers around the ruby-red crystal, "I will take this fake stone as evidence."
Only then did Archbishop Solon shake off his shock and lunge forward.
"You—!"
"Foolish woman! Do you even *realize* where you are?!"
The Marquis of Guinness's subordinates, as though waking from a spell, stretched their lips into ugly, smug grins.
*Yes. Even if Juliet has broken free of the hypnosis, she's still trapped in a prison. The Marquis's dungeon.*
*For a fragile girl to escape from here? Unthinkable.*
"You don't honestly think we're just going to *let you go*, do you?" one of the guards sneered.
"Well," Juliet said with a slight smile, taking a step forward. "Let's see about that."
"Uh..."
Feeling a vague, instinctive unease, the guards involuntarily retreated.
One of them shouted, "Call the *security!*"
"Ah, yes, yes—coming already," drawled a lazy voice from around the corner.
*Tap. Tap. Tap.*
Knights hurried down the corridor.
But... their cloaks were the wrong color.
*Black?*
Archbishop Solon frowned. So did the Marquis's servants.
Each noble family bore its own colors, its own heraldry.
*Ah. Black cloaks are...*
"Sir Jude!" Juliet clasped her hands in mock reproach. "You forgot to change your cloak *again!*"
"Oops!" The red-haired knight slapped his forehead dramatically. "I'll fix that right now, Miss!"
He had already unlocked the cell door and strolled casually toward the nearest of the Marquis's men.
***Bang!***
"*Aagh!*"
With a single blow, Jude knocked the man flat, yanked the red cloak from his shoulders, and turned back to Juliet with a cheerful grin.
"Will this do, Miss?"
"J-Jude Hayon?!" one of the guards stammered in shock.
And then it became clear to everyone present:
These were knights of the **Duke of Carlisle's household**.
Jude nodded, his smile widening.
"Right on target."
As if on cue, the rest of the Duke's men surged into the dungeon. A brawl erupted immediately.
"You *bastards!* What do you think you're doing?!"
Archbishop Solon, realizing the situation was spiraling out of control, lunged toward Juliet—intent on seizing her as a hostage.
***Whoosh...***
"*Aaah!*"
But before he could even get close, blue butterflies began to swirl in the air before him.
He staggered back, face turning ashen.
He *knew* what these creatures were. He remembered what had happened in Lucerne.
"This... this can't be..." Solon whispered, staring at Juliet. "The Marquis said... Dolores *took* your power!"
"Oh, yes." Juliet tilted her head apologetically. "I'm sorry I didn't mention it sooner..."
*Zip.*
One of the butterflies slipped out from beneath her fingers, fluttered lightly over Solon's head, and vanished into the shadows.
"The butterflies are *fake?!*" he gasped.
"No," Juliet corrected gently, drawing the **real** silver key from beneath her collar. "The *fake* is the key. What Dolores 'took' was just a clever copy."
*After all, handing over the key doesn't necessarily mean handing over power over the spirits. The Marquis of Guinness obviously didn't know that.*
*Too bad.*
---
## — In the Palace Hall —
In the grand palace hall, where the festive reception continued in full swing, the whispers quickly turned into an anxious murmur.
"What in the world...?"
The Marquis of Guinness—who only a moment ago had smugly announced, "My adopted daughter Dolores is a natural-born spirit summoner!"—suddenly froze.
He saw the expressions on the guests' faces shift from polite interest to bewildered amusement.
"Marquis," the Emperor said coldly, "are you *serious?*"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Are you *mocking* us?" The Emperor's voice turned sharp, dangerous.
Guinness spun around in shock—and saw Dolores standing in the middle of the hall, waving her arms wildly at... *nothing*.
He blinked rapidly.
*No. He had definitely seen glittering butterflies emerging from her palms just moments ago. Hadn't he?*
"Ha... ha-ha..."
Someone's laughter broke through the stunned silence.
The guests were already chuckling, watching as Dolores—her expression serene and utterly disconnected from reality—continued to wave her hands through the air, as though stroking invisible creatures.
"She's been *enchanted*..." someone whispered.
*Enchanted?*
"No... this can't be," the Marquis muttered under his breath. "She was *hypnotized!* Juliet was... she was under my control!"
He frantically combed through the events in his mind.
*Last night, Juliet was under my power. She even tried to kill the Duke of Carlisle—under my compulsion.*
Suddenly—shouts erupted from the entrance to the hall.
The doors swung open with a resounding ***crash***.
"What is the meaning of this?!" the Emperor demanded, rising to his feet.
And then, from beyond the threshold, a man stepped into the light.
His expression was grim—but unmistakably, undeniably ***alive***.
"The Duke..." the Emperor breathed. "The Duke of *Carlisle?!*"
"At your service, Your Majesty," Lennox Carlisle said, bowing with reserved grace.
The Marquis of Guinness turned **white as death**.
---