Ronan sat in his seat in the Basic Magic Principles class, but as usual, he ignored the professor.

  Normally, it was because he already knew what was being taught. But this particular morning, it was because his roommate was an idiot.

  Not that Ronan had a very high opinion of his intelligence, but he thought at the very least, Damien would have enough common sense to heed his warning.

  Threaten…

  He didn’t threaten. If he had really wanted to squeeze the life out of him, he would have done it. And not because he had a high strength stat, but because that adrenaline, that rage that had surged through his body when he heard him suggest violating his lady, had momentarily granted him the strength to do it.

  And he almost did.

  In his mind, he already had a plan to ensure no one could ever link the body back to him.

  However, his lady wouldn’t have liked that. At least not without consulting her first.

  So he gave Damien a warning, trusting that the guy had just enough sense not to mention his lady again in his presence and to stay out of their way.

  And instead, he was spreading rumors.

  Clearly, he needed to take a more drastic approach.

  Well, that would be tonight’s problem.

  The professor, noticing Ronan’s odd smirk, asked him a question from the lesson.

  Ronan, without hesitation, gave the correct answer.

  He might not have been paying attention, but considering his long years of isolation and study, the academy had yet to teach him anything new. Even less in dark magic, since the professor couldn’t even raise the dead.

  Good thing Ronan was practical and was improving and experimenting on his own.

  As I take the steps toward the table where the chest sits, I hesitate, then extend my hand, still unsure of what to do.

  Except for Ronan, none of my friends saw the scorpion boss, and to them, the only one who remained fighting in that room was the zombie bear. If I open it, there will be too many questions. The rector probably won’t give me any trouble since he knows about my spirit element, just like the colonel. But the others don’t. And more than that, I’m afraid this could somehow be a loose thread that leads them to the contract binding me as the next Dark Lord.

  I have to fake it—there’s no other option. As I think this, my fingers touch the chest.

  But nothing happens.

  When I make contact, I feel that the metal is warm and pleasant to the touch; however, there’s no click, no surge of magic—nothing. Confused, I try to lift the lid slightly.

  Nothing.

  I don’t know what’s going on, but maybe this is for the best.

  In front of me are the rector, the baronet, and the colonel. I can see in their expressions that they weren’t expecting me—the last one remaining—to be unable to open it either.

  Then, as I still have both hands resting on the lid, I feel the little pup stir in my pocket. He seems to be trying to tell me something.

  Oh no! It can’t be!

  Or can it?

  “Bianca, you can return to your friends,” the rector says, seeing that I haven’t let go of the chest. “I don’t understand why it hasn’t opened. I must confess, when I saw you were the last one, I assumed it would.”

  Okay, that has a double meaning. They praised the prince, but the rector undoubtedly knows that it takes more than a group at our level to clear an elite dungeon. That scorpion boss—if not for the shadow wolf—would have wiped us out without question.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  So, do I step back and let Bob and Tom steal the chest tonight?

  “Bianca?” the rector repeats when he sees I’m not moving.

  Because if I do that, they might conclude that someone else had to have killed the boss, that we weren’t strong enough to clear it, and they might not let us return to the desert dungeon. If there’s one thing I’m sure of now, it’s that I need to improve and level up. The pup told me, and I believe him.

  Damn it, what do I do…?

  "Come out," I whisper on a whim, pulling my hands away from the chest.

  For a moment, I picture myself in the middle of a support group, standing up from my chair and saying: Hello, I’m Bianca, and I’m just as impulsive as I was on Earth. Only, back there, my impulses killed me in video games—not in the real world.

  The pup, still tiny like when I first found him, jumps from my pocket onto the table. Before everyone’s eyes, he grows to his true size, about that of a three-month-old puppy—like when he climbed onto Mary’s lap in the carriage. He places his paw on the chest, and it begins to glow. A multicolored light shines from each embedded gem, pulsing twice before disappearing. A click sounds.

  I reach for the lid and lift it easily, aside from its weight.

  Inside, there are about a hundred gold coins, what looks like two dozen decorative jewels, and an object that calls to me.

  I don’t even hesitate.

  I reach for it.

  I don’t know if someone tells me to wait because I feel like I’m in a trance. All I see is that glorious sword, its mana resonating with mine, with my very essence or soul. And when I grasp it and lift it, it’s as if a sublime melody drowns out everything else for an instant, making me shine—then nothing.

  Just the fleeting memory of having shared a moment of communion with an object that seemed to have a will of its own.

  “What is it, Bianca?” Vincent asks, astonished.

  “It’s perfect.”

  I read the system prompt:

  Legendary Sword of the Queen Mother.

  Binds upon pickup. Only the bound one may wield it.

  +1 magic damage per damage type used in the attack. Condition: The bound wielder must carry the sword; it doesn’t need to be drawn.

  +1 damage and +1 HP to all vassals, subjects, and summoned creatures.

  The prince steps closer and extends his hand to inspect it. I hand it to him.

  And then something curious happens—his fingers pass through the sword. He can’t grab it.

  “It’s bound?” Theodore exclaims, eyes wide. “A bound item…”

  “Alright, Bianca, hold it in your hands so I can identify it,” Vincent says.

  “I’ll do it,” the rector interjects, likely having the spell at a higher level than the prince.

  I step closer to him, and he casts the spell.

  “Indeed, it is bound to Bianca. Congratulations, you’ve obtained a legendary bound item that grants +1 magic damage per damage type used in an attack. It also boosts the damage and HP of vassals, subjects, and summoned creatures.” He seems genuinely astonished—more like dumbfounded. “That last part… for those of you here, it would have only benefited the necromancer. The vassals’ buff would have been invaluable to His Highness… even more so if the king wielded it, benefiting the entire kingdom. A shame, really, since for now, you’re not a countess, meaning no one else can benefit from it.”

  A few seconds of silence follow as everyone processes the rector’s words. Judging by his frown, I think he regrets saying all of this aloud instead of discussing it privately with the colonel. A slip-up, perhaps—he got caught up in the moment.

  Or maybe Ronan knew?

  First, because he warned me. Second, because before the rector even finished identifying the item, Ronan had moved to the office door and closed it, sealing us off from the curious onlookers in the hallway—including the rector’s secretary.

  “Perhaps if she were to marry His Highness, the crown prince?” the colonel suggests, calculating.

  “No,” Vincent intervenes. “My brother is already engaged.”

  “A prince’s marriage must be political. Remember his duty to the kingdom, Your Highness.”

  Oh no, no, NO! No way are they making me marry the fiancé of Sol's sister—Faith is the ultimate villainess of the otome game. That would be just my luck.

  Besides, I’m way too young to get married.

  And what’s Mary doing, looking at Vincent like she thinks he might start ignoring her because of this whole matter?

  Not to mention that Ronan is watching me pensively, Vincent is looking at me, and Alistair just elbowed Darius, the two of them snickering at some joke only they understand.

  At least Theodore remains the same as always, his expression unreadable and mysterious, though his gaze moves between Mary and Vincent.

  "We have to secure this item for the kingdom," the colonel continues. "And protect the daughter of House L’Crom. If she dies, the sword will become unbound, and she will become a target for assassins. The noble families must not find out." He then turns a stern gaze toward the baronet. "Baronet Jorund, you are to be promoted."

  The man puffs up, lifting his chest and his eyes gleaming with pride.

  "Thank you very much, Colonel, Your Highness. You have my utmost loyalty. Not a word will leave my lips."

  "Is this really the blessing it seems to be?" Mary suddenly interjects, her face lighting up. "A child, a peasant, who has 2 or 3 points of life would now have 3 or 4? Oh, Bianca, you have to marry the crown prince! Imagine all the good and the lives you’d save. Diseases wouldn’t be as devastating if people’s life expectancy increased like this!"

  She’s right. Here, the average person is born with just 3 health points, especially if they aren’t noble and haven’t inherited strong magical affinities or high stats.

  "Exactly," the colonel looks at her. "You’re the student with high light affinity, correct?" he asks, and she nods. "It makes sense that you would be wise enough to see the benefit this would bring to the kingdom."

  As I’m utterly horrified, I don’t even notice that Ronan has moved closer to me. Then he leans in and whispers, barely audible, directly in my ear:

  “My lady, if you wish to add the human kingdom to your empire, I can take care of the crown prince issue.”

  I push him away with my hand.

  What the hell is he saying?