It was lunchtime when I exited Duke Demetrius's council chamber. The meeting had been quite long, covering a variety of topics, and Demetrius was careful to ask for my opinion on almost all of them.

I was quite surprised when he eventually told me I was free to go. I was genuinely afraid he was going to make me solve his marital issues, for Christ's sake.

Anyway, I was finally free for a bit. And I knew exactly how I would spend this newly gained time. One of my main reasons for coming here, to the Duchy of Caelmont, was to find a mystical item. And based on the novel I'd read in my previous life, I had a fair idea of where it was.

I still had a skill acquisition item I hadn't used, and I was actually considering it for Willabelle, as it belonged to her anyway, but now I wasn't sure if I should give it to her.

In the original novel, Willabelle was the one who used the scroll from the three skill acquisition items after they successfully escaped the first dungeon I had visited.

The reason I hadn't given her this skill item yet was my lack of trust. But Willabelle had clearly decided to pursue a relationship with me. Actually, I had nothing to worry about; she was my slave now, bound by a slavery contract.

Yet, something inside me was still uneasy. This lack of trust wasn't just about her past or her origins; perhaps I didn't trust myself.

Every step I'd taken since arriving in this world was an attempt to change the narrative with my own lines in a story that destiny had already written. And sometimes, no matter how hard I tried, the feeling that fate would drag me back to that old original ending would occasionally visit me.

As I descended the mansion's stone steps, I looked at the silent, bending silhouettes of the gardeners in the courtyard.

The Duchy of Caelmont truly possessed fertile lands. Even the sunlight here shone with a different hue, as if the soil itself was swallowing the light only to give birth to it again. There was splendor even in this silence.

A gentle breeze from the garden carried a mingled scent of earth and flowers. I paused for a moment and inhaled. These lands held a kind of peace that lulled one to sleep, but I never belonged to that peace.

No matter how quiet it seemed, every corner echoed with power struggles and hidden intentions. Perhaps that's why I felt so comfortable here. I knew how to relax in places like this.

The mystical item... The Heart of the Blue Swirl.

In the novel, it was sealed beneath holy water in the ruins of an old monastery north of the Duchy of Caelmont. Legend had it that monks who claimed to hear the voice of God once lived there, but over time, that voice had given way to darkness. And I remembered that the stone, born from the ashes of divine light, was hidden exactly there.

But going there wouldn't be easy. That region was known as the "Valley of Silence" — a place where the voices of spirits could be heard, filled with illusions that could damage the human mind. In the novel, the protagonist had gone there with his allies. I, however, had only silenced and a bit of internal paranoia.

Before leaving, I grabbed a hood wide enough to conceal my face, told the servants I wanted to stroll through the city alone for a bit, and stepped outside.

As I passed through the mansion's iron gates, the air's distinctive heavy humidity hit my face. The sun was positioned in the sky as if it wanted to stop time. The wind had shifted north, giving me the feeling that destiny was extending its own hand.

North... the direction of the Valley of Silence.

The groom preparing my horse bowed immediately when he saw me. Taking the reins and mounting the animal, the only thought crossing my mind was that I had to be careful.

As my horse's hooves left the cobblestone path for the dirt track, the sounds of the city slowly faded behind me. When I looked back a while later, Caelmont's elegant stone buildings and soaring towers remained like a painting on the horizon. Ahead of me were only the misty paths stretching north. Everything felt as if it were calling me somewhere.

I'd had this feeling before. Perhaps thinking that fate was guiding me was a romantic delusion, but... I still liked the sensation.

The path to the valley first wound through vineyards, then under the shade of thick trees. My horse's breath gradually warmed; I loosened the reins a little. As the sun drifted overhead, the dust particles rising from the dirt road sparkled like gold in the air.

At one point, a fork in the road appeared before me. The path on the left was flatter but longer; the one on the right was rocky and covered with vines. I remembered which road the hero chose at this point in the novel: he opted for the flat road. But I wasn't him. Unlike him, I knew what awaited me on both paths.

I turned onto the right-hand trail. As I passed through the trees, the wind gently rustled the branches, spreading a low moan through the leaves.

Even nature seemed to speak here, but I only listened to the silence. Because the first condition for approaching the "Valley of Silence" was mastering one's own voice.

After about an hour, I saw the monastery ruins for the first time. A silence born of time and forgotten things reigned among the moss-covered stones.

The roof had long since collapsed, and the arched doors were half-ruined. But there was still a sense of grandeur, of defiance, in those stones.

I left my horse outside, tying its reins to a tree. Stepping inside, my boots echoed on the flagstones. With every step, the shadow of the past seemed to settle over me.

Inside, old carvings on the walls caught my attention. Half-erased inscriptions, divine figures, monks carrying water pitchers... But I was looking for one specifically.

As described in Chapter 100 of the novel, the seal protecting the "Heart of the Blue Swirl" was hidden behind a single wall carving. The carving showed three monks: one praying, one weeping, and the third turning his water pitcher upside down.

There it was...

I approached, wiping the thin layer of dust from the stone with my hand. There was a very slight indentation in the stone just beneath the hand of the monk turning the pitcher upside down. When I inserted my finger, the stone gave way with a click.

A small mechanism engaged, and a scraping sound came from inside the wall. Immediately afterward, a section of the stone retreated, opening a dark passage behind it.

I took a step back and looked inside. A faint smell of dampness and the sharp taste of old water filled my nose. I reached into my robe and pulled out a small light charm, a bluish glow emanating from my fingertips.

The passage opened onto a narrow spiral staircase.

The air grew heavier as I descended. Water dripping from the stone walls echoed, and the sound of my footsteps came back to me as if they belonged to someone distant.

Finally, the narrow passage opened into a wide chamber. In the center was a pool of water, but this water was not ordinary. Blue swirls glowed on its surface, like light passing through the veins of a living creature.

"The Heart of the Blue Swirl."

But it shouldn't have been this easy. When the novel's protagonist arrived here, the stone wasn't hidden beneath the water but secured by a "reflection trap" formed within the water itself. The real stone was behind an image that didn't actually exist. My difference was that I had not only read the novel but understood it.

I took a small glass vial from my inner jacket pocket. It contained a dark purple liquid, a simple substance I had bought to break mind-based illusions. I uncorked the vial and dropped a single drop into the water.

Instantly, the surface of the water rippled. The shimmering blue veins darkened for a moment, then the surface split in two, like a curtain.

Beneath it, a stone the size of a hand glowed.

I knelt, carefully reaching out my hand. The stone beneath the water was beating like a heart, leaving a slight burning sensation on my fingertips with every throb.

The moment I touched the stone, a momentary image flashed before my eyes: misty mountains, a glowing sky, then a dark sea. Then it all vanished.

I gripped the stone and lifted it from the water.

What I held felt like a living thing. Light pulsed across the stone's surface, sometimes taking the shape of a symbol before disappearing.

"The stone born from the ashes of divine light..." I murmured to myself.

I stood up; the glow on the stone slowly began to fade. I wrapped it in my glove and placed it in my inner pocket. Before leaving, I looked back one last time.

This ancient room beneath the monastery was as silent as a tomb. Perhaps the stone's true power was to awaken the inner unrest of the one who took it. Mine was already awake.

When I ascended, the air outside felt cooler. The sun had slowly slipped west, and the shadows had lengthened. My horse raised its head when it saw me; I untied the reins and jumped onto its back.

As I left the Valley, a low moan echoed among the stone ruins behind me. Perhaps it was the wind, perhaps a warning. But I listened only to my own inner voice.

"I'm one step closer..."

As my horse's hooves struck the ground, each impact felt like it was breaking the chains of the past. I now held a stone in my hand, a symbol of both power and curse. And I was more than impatient to see what it would turn into.

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