### Chapter 93: I’m Just Going to Eat One
In my previous life, on certain sleepless nights, I often daydreamed.
I fantasized about one day gaining powers like the heroes in movies… you know, like Superman, Iron Man, Thor, and so on. These heroes are not only powerful but also incredibly cool—they throw lightning bolts, sh**t lasers, and can easily lift a skyscraper, all while saving the world from utter chaos every single day.
I envied them. Although I knew back then that such people could only exist in stories, and in reality, if they did exist, they’d probably be whisked away by research institutions for experimental procedures, leaving them little time or motivation to save the Earth.
But that didn’t affect my admiration for them because daydreams are always beautiful. The images of those strong and gentle heroes etched themselves into my heart. However, I wasn’t envious of their flashy skills like fire-breathing or lightning-shooting. What I loved most about my favorite heroes was that they all had one shared ability—freedom to soar through the sky.
Flying has been humanity’s dream since time immemorial. In the world I came from, there was no Power of Order, no Power of Faith, and definitely no strange Infernal Fire that burns oneself. What people could do was rely on a force called technology to realize their hopes.
But things are different here.
Although the technology in this world lags far behind my previous one, making it incredibly hard to believe that I’ve been forced to give up my smartphone. There are no computers, no internet, and no high-speed transportation, yet it possesses an irresistible charm—if I were to be transported back now, I’d probably be perceived as a superhero by everyone!
The feeling of wielding “Power” is quite wonderful, but unfortunately, despite being formidable, I still haven’t mastered the art of flying.
But this woman in front of me can.
Is this what they call the ultimate affinity of the Power of Wind?
I can’t envy that… Who is this woman?
Wait.
If I’m not mistaken, with the mimicry of Chaotic Power, could it be that if I practice it well, I might…
That thought popped up and was immediately shot down.
No way.
The Abyss is too terrifying; I shouldn’t casually use that power until I understand what it truly is. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee what I might turn into.
As I was lost in my thoughts, the blonde woman floated gracefully down.
Her figure resembled a heavenly goddess dancing through the sky, a vision in white against the night, as a soft breeze filled the air with a faint scent of wine. She landed smoothly right in front of me and spoke calmly.
“Step back.”
With those simple words, the green-haired man and the woman standing in the courtyard lost all their earlier zeal. They bowed their heads and, like cheetahs, swiftly melted into the darkness without any hesitation, even though I was still a mysterious, powerful intruder to them.
The mansion returned to tranquility as if nothing had happened, leaving just the blonde woman silently gazing at me. Her face was shrouded in the dim light of the ceiling, but those captivating golden eyes drew my gaze in a way I couldn’t explain.
After a moment, she spoke again.
“Want to sit down for a bit?”
Her flat tone held no fluctuations but carried an undeniable authority that made refusal impossible.
She must be someone who regularly gives orders… After that thought crossed my mind, I took a step back and shook my head gently.
“Maybe… not. Someone’s waiting for me.”
The woman stared at me, calm as ever.
“Carlos isn’t back yet.”
“……”
…So she knows Carlos, huh? She seems quite well aware of his whereabouts.
“Don’t use him as an excuse. Come here.”
Without waiting for my response, a gust of wind whisked her away; her graceful figure flew off the rooftop, landing lightly in the stone gazebo and sitting down with her skirt in hand.
I hesitated.
To be honest, I’m not a fan of dealing with people like her. Those born into noble families, sitting on top of the pyramid since birth, like Edward and this seemingly twenty-something woman, often have a common flaw—they feel inherently superior… perhaps more than just a little.
Maybe they do their best to appear approachable, but that innate pride makes them accustomed to issuing commands—especially this blonde woman.
I really dislike that kind of attitude.
The Duke cast a similar vibe, but he never showed his aura around me.
So, I thought about ignoring her and walking away, but at that moment, I heard the enchanting melody again.
“Let my heart be filled with song, and take me to the moon…”
My steps stopped.
That song, with its softly melancholic emotion, is coming from this woman?
Unexpected.
But it suddenly sparked my curiosity toward her.
I turned and jumped down from the rooftop, using Moon Step to zip over to the gazebo and half-lie down on the rocking chair opposite her, lifting my gaze to her face.
In the flickering firelight, I finally saw her clearly.
At that moment, I caught my breath, suddenly a bit mesmerized.
Blonde hair and golden eyes, with lips like a flower and brows like the moon.
My mind was flooded with countless elegant phrases to describe her: remarkable beauty, captivating elegance, bright eyes and white teeth, and skin like jade… but when I tried to apply those words to her, everything felt inadequate.
None of the words could capture her beauty adequately; she is one of a kind, a rare gem that seems unimaginable to exist in this world, her beauty dulling the stars and brightening the darkness.
All I could do was sigh in my heart: what a stunning person… though she’s still a tad behind me.
Just a tad, not lying.
“Are you that youngest Pope Knight in history?”
The woman met my unwavering gaze head-on, her tone somewhat haughty. I frowned in annoyance, then defiantly stared back at her.
“So what!”
The blonde woman paid no heed to my childish defiance; she shifted her gaze to the wine glass sitting on the table.
“Want a drink?”
Though she asked, it was clear she didn’t have a cup ready for me and had no intention of doing so. She only lifted a wine bottle with her delicate fingers and poured some for herself.
Then she took a small sip.
“1954 Smaranka, quite nice.”
…Is she bragging?
What does this woman even want from me?
Unclear about her motives, I couldn’t think of anything to say, and clearly, she wasn’t the chatty type either.
The atmosphere grew tense, until suddenly the blonde woman set her wine glass down, fixed her gaze on me and said, “…If you want to eat, just eat.”
I was taken aback.
“How do you know?!… No, I don’t want to eat!”
I thought I had concealed my desires well enough.
Even though I could smell the fruity aroma from the platter and felt saliva pooling in my mouth, I still tried to maintain a disinterested facade—my acting was top-notch. How did this woman see through it?
“You looked at my face twice, the wine glass once, and the fruit platter twenty-two times since you sat down,” she said calmly. “Do whatever you want. It’s fruits—there’s no need to hesitate. I don’t like your attitude.”
…Since when do I care if you like it or not?!
This woman is insufferably arrogant, thinking everyone should comply with her whims!
Does she think so little of others?
So I fixed my gaze on her resolutely.
“I’m just going to eat one.”
