Chapter 255: When History Bled Truth

Chapter 255: When History Bled Truth

[Divine Library—Continuation—Lavinia’s POV]

The diary was heavier than it should have been. Not in weight—its leather binding was delicate, its corners softened by centuries—but in the way it pressed against my palms, like it carried the burden of an entire world within its pages.

"Lilith Devereux..." I whispered, tracing the name inked in bold, deliberate strokes across the first page. My voice sounded small, swallowed by the towering shelves and the faint echo of magic lingering in the air.

I hesitated, my breath shallow. "So... she truly existed. And if she returned..." My lips trembled, barely daring to form the thought. "...then the first emperor really did reverse time."

The words both thrilled and terrified me. History had always been a distant thing, an untouchable relic. Yet here it pulsed beneath my fingertips, raw and alive, daring me to dig deeper.

With a deep breath, I opened the diary.

The handwriting was different this time—softer, more fluid, carrying the scent of humor between its curves.

"My crazy Father... he has lost his mind. Today he burned a marriage proposal from a foreign empire, and instead of peace, he marched our armies to war. Sometimes I wonder if he is mad... or if he simply wishes to make me as mad as he is."

I blinked, the words dancing before my eyes. "So... this is her... Princess Lilith’s own hand."

Unlike the first diary, this one did not whisper about fate or time. Instead, it was brimming with her—her voice, her complaints, and her laughter buried in ink. Line by line, Lilith’s thoughts spilled out: her confusion at First emperor Hadrein’s temper, her reluctant admiration for his reckless love; and quiet mentions of an assistant she clearly trusted.

It was not history. It was her life.

I turned another page, and my breath hitched.

"Today, I feel strange. There is life inside me. Fragile... yet burning bright. Father is too happy. He already guarded me like a hawk, but now... he has turned into a beast. He does not even allow Silas to step inside my chamber anymore."

My throat tightened. Lilith had been assassinated. That was what the first diary said. And yet—here she was, speaking of a child. A child who should never have existed.

My hands shook as I turned the next page.

And then—my world stilled.

"Today, Father has named my son Kaelen Devereux."

The ink glared back at me, bold and certain, cutting through centuries of silence.

I froze. My heart thundered in my chest. Kaelen Devereux... the third emperor. His name is etched across every history book, every coin, and every decree of the old empire.

My lips parted, trembling. "So it’s true... Lilith wasn’t just erased. She lived. She gave birth. And her son... was the third emperor."

The diary seemed to hum in my hands, the weight of its truth crushing me.

"That means... he really did it. The first emperor reversed time." The words fell from my lips like shards of glass.

Then something made me confused. My pulse raced. "Then... why would Papa and Osric keep me away from this place? It’s not as if someone reversed time to bring me ba—"

I stopped.

The words turned to ash on my tongue. My eyes widened, darting to the towering shelves that loomed like silent witnesses, their spines glinting faintly under the stained-glass light. The air pressed in, heavy and expectant.

I was Reina Suzuki in my past life.This world... it’s a novel world.

But—I don’t recall ever reading a novel like this. My life as Reina Suzuki had been too busy—work, deadlines, endless commutes. I never had the time to sit down and read anything beyond reports. I didn’t even have friends who could’ve whispered stories to me, no late-night recommendations, no stolen Chapters under blankets.

So why... why did this world feel so familiar the moment I was born?

But...I know the title or...there’s was no title...just my memory created?

Did I read it online once, scrolling absently, forgetting it the moment I closed the page? A stray story lost in the flood of the internet? Or... was it planted inside me somehow?

My hands trembled as panic surged through me, cold and sharp, cutting deeper than the chill of the marble beneath my feet.

Was I really Lavinia Devereux? Then who was Reina Suzuki?

Where did the titles come from? Where did this knowledge come from?

My breath hitched, uneven. "What... what’s going on here?" I whispered to no one, the library swallowing my voice like it swallowed time itself and I started looking around.

Row after row, the diaries stood neatly in their places, every spine carved with a number. Each emperor. Each story. Each end. Some are missing. some just empty.

I stepped closer, my fingers brushing the bindings. Some volumes were thick, brimming with words; others were thin and nearly empty. A few were so dark, so heavy, I could almost feel

And then—my gaze froze.

No. Seventy-Five.

I felt my stomach lurch violently. "Fifty-five..." I whispered. "How...how is that possible?"

My eyes widened with shock.

"Papa... is the seventy-fifth emperor of Eloria."

My hands trembled, clutching the shelf. "But... that’s impossible."

The diaries were sacred, their order unbroken. They appeared only when an emperor’s reign was over. Only after death.

And yet here it was. My father’s number, resting quietly among the dead.

My lips parted, the air searing my lungs. "So why... why does a diary for the seventy-fifth emperor exist... when my papa still lives?"

The words echoed in the vast chamber, bouncing back at me like an accusation.

The silence thickened. No longer a hush of reverence—it was suffocating, pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. The shelves loomed taller, their shadows stretching long and sharp, as if the library itself was listening... and waiting.

My fingers quivered as I reached out. The spine of Diary No. Seventy-Five was warm against my skin, alive with an energy that prickled like static. I curled my hand around it, lifting it from the shelf.

It was heavier than any book I had held that day—heavier, somehow, than the world itself.

My breath faltered. I wanted—no, I needed—to open it. But terror rooted me to the spot. Because deep down, a part of me already knew...

Whatever was written inside would change everything.

My hands shook violently, the diary pressed against my chest, my pulse thundering in my ears. My fear warred with my curiosity, each heartbeat a knife’s edge.

I closed my eyes.

And didn’t dare open it.

Not yet.

The library held its silence, watching me drown in it.

And that was where my courage ended.

***

[Emperor’s POV—Same Time—On the Road to the Divine Temple]

Damn it. Damn it all!

My grip on the reins tightened until my knuckles turned white, the leather biting into my palms. My stallion thundered beneath me, hooves striking the dirt like war drums as I pushed him faster—very faster.

The wind whipped against my face, but it did nothing to cool the fire burning inside my chest.

I should have asked her. I should have demanded the name of that cursed village before letting her go. If only I had been sharper—if only I had kept her within sight like I always swore I would.

Behind me, Ravick’s horse labored to keep up, his voice booming through the rush of air. "Your Majesty! Do you truly believe Her Highness would go so far? To the Divine Library itself?"

"Yes!" My voice cracked like a whip, raw with fury and fear. "I know my daughter. She will not stop until she rips the truth from the gods themselves."

The reins trembled in my hands—not from the gallop, but from the quake inside me.

The moment Osric came to me with those cursed words—Lavinia has had a vision—I should have known. I should have locked the library doors and burned every map and every history and diary.

But I was dumb. Dumb enough not to realize Lavinia was my daughter. And my daughter would always chase the truth, even if it shattered her world.

My chest heaved. The vision... the village... damn it all, that village was far too close to the Divine Temple. And if the Temple was within her reach, then so was the Library.

And the Library carried what I had buried with my blood and soul.

My throat constricted. "If she finds it... if she learns who she truly is—" My voice broke, and I bit down hard, grinding my teeth. "...I will lose her."

The image of her flashed in my mind—golden hair, defiant red eyes burning like fire. My little girl. My crown princess. My reason for reversing heaven and earth itself.

I could not lose her again.

I spurred the horse harder, every hoofbeat hammering the fear deeper into me. The closer we drew to the Temple, the colder the dread coiled in my veins.

"Damn it, Lavinia," I hissed under my breath, voice ragged with desperation. "Don’t open that book. Don’t open it..."

By the time I reached the Temple gates, I didn’t wait for the guards, didn’t wait for Ravick. I leapt from the saddle, boots striking stone, and sprinted through the marble corridors. The Divine Temple loomed with its suffocating silence, its holy air heavy with judgment, but I didn’t care.

I reached the library.

And froze.

Lavinia was there, just beyond the threshold, bathed in the pale silver of moonlight streaming through a high window. Her golden hair glimmered faintly, but her face—her face was bloodless, her eyes hollow, staring at the light as though she had been carved from stone.

"Lavinia..." My voice broke as I stepped toward her.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned to me. Her gaze met mine, and in those crimson eyes I saw not my daughter’s usual fire, but something fractured—an ache so deep it threatened to shatter me where I stood.

Her lips curved into a smile, but it wasn’t joy. It was a smile that bled pain, brittle and trembling.

"So..." her voice was soft, but it sliced through me sharper than any blade, "...you really abandoned me, Papa."

My breath caught. The walls of the temple swayed, the ground tilted beneath my feet. My entire world shook.

She had found out.

And I had lost her.