Nobody.

You are alone. The motes of dust dance in the last rays of the evening sun like some lazy drunkards staggering through town. You squint. Wait. Listen to the rushing of the blood in your ears.

But there is nobody, and you are all alone.

Slowly, you turn back to the box, thinking about Lady Vessa, sprawled on the bed, her perfect marble skin glistening with sweat as she pleasures herself with the cock substitute you just found. Moaning, yes. Suddenly hesitating. Listening, paranoid. Fearing to have been caught, something that catapults her arousal into previously unknown heights. She covers her pussy and listens, glancing around, stroking her mound with her thumb. Slowly. Ever so slowly. A small wet patch on the satin sheets, where her legs join.

You pull yourself back into here and now, look at the box, unsure where the erotic vision came from.

Whatever. Something about this place perhaps, what with all the magic. You push the thoughts aside and go back to work.

The second box is a tough nut to crack. You even start looking around in the bedroom, searching for a key or a hint of sorts. But nothing of the same is to be found. So it was the hard way again.

After what seemed like forever, you finally are able to open it. The box contains a heavy tome, perfect in its simplicity. No adornments, no nothing. Just a strange symbol on the cover. Stepping towards the window to have more light, you wonder what to do with it.