After Lume fled the library as if chased by divine punishment itself, I turned my attention back to Lady Yuria.
She was still unconscious.
For a moment, I simply observed her.
Her breathing was steady, but shallow. Her expression, even in sleep, was tense as though her mind refused to rest even when her body demanded it.
Exhausted.
Even after fainting.
My mother was correct. Fainting and sleeping were not the same.
After she woke up.
Her lashes fluttered.
She inhaled.
Then immediately sat up too fast.
"Ow."
After that little moments of enjoyment
I rose halfway from my seat before stopping myself.
She blinked, eyes unfocused, then slowly turned toward me.
After ensuring she was stable, I gestured to the chair opposite me.
"Please," I said. "Sit. Slowly."
She obeyed, posture stiff but controlled, though her fatigue was obvious. Her shoulders sagged the moment she stopped forcing herself upright.
I studied her briefly.
Even now, she looked unwell.
"Lady Yuria," I asked politely, "do you require something to drink? Or perhaps something to refresh your mind?"
She paused.
Then lifted both hands, gently pressing her index finger against her cheek and tapping it twice, as though thinking deeply.
"…If Lord North does not mind," she said carefully, "I would like a cup of coffee."
I nodded. "That can be arranged."
I pressed the small crystal button given to me by the attendants a device designed specifically so gods would not need to raise their voices.
Within ten seconds, footsteps hurried toward the library.
Lume returned.
She looked anxious.
And embarrassed.
And painfully aware of what she had witnessed earlier.
"Bring two cups of coffee," I ordered indifferently. "Standard strength."
Her shoulders visibly relaxed.
"As your command, my eternal lord," she said quickly, bowing far too deeply.
She fled again.
Yuria watched her go.
Then glanced back at me.
"My eternal lord," she said hesitantly, "if you don't mind… could you call me Yuria? Like you do Lady Noxelle and Lord Raka?"
I considered her request.
"To be called 'Lady' by a god," I said neutrally, "does feel somewhat distant."
I neither agreed nor refused.
But my silence answered her question.
She smiled.
"Then," I added, "you may call me North when we are not in public."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"…Really?"
"Everyone I know does," I said. "Except elders who enjoy formality."
A pause.
"And," I added, "it is more comfortable."
Before she could reply,
"My eternal lord, may I enter?"
Lume's voice trembled beyond the door.
"Yes," I replied.
She entered quickly, placing the coffee and a small plate of sweets onto the table with practiced precision.
"You may leave," I said. "And stop sneaking around."
She froze.
"Curiosity," I added calmly, "has a habit of shortening one's lifespan."
Her face drained of color.
"I—I swear I wasn't spying, my lord! I only please—"
She dropped to her knees.
"I have younger siblings," she blurted. "No parents. If I lose this job, no one will hire me. We'll starve."
Silence filled the library.
I stared at her.
Speechless.
That was unexpected.
For a brief moment, I wondered if she had missed her calling.
With acting talent like that, she could have dominated the royal theatre.
"What a waste," I murmured absently.
She flinched.
"I forgive you," I said at last. "This once."
Her head snapped up.
"But never repeat this mistake," I continued. "And before returning to work, clean yourself."
"Yes! Thank you! Thank you, my lord!"
She stood.
And thanked me again.
And again.
And again.
The library was vast. It took her an unfortunate amount of time to reach the exit.
"Thank you for your mercy, my lord!"
The door finally closed.
I exhaled slowly.
Then returned my attention to Yuria.
She had already taken a sip of coffee.
Sip.
Another sip.
Her expression brightened.
"…This is dangerously good."
I frowned slightly.
"Lord North," she said casually, "do you enjoy bullying cute maids? Your methods resemble those of a mortal aristocrat."
I stared at her.
At first, I did not understand why.
Then I processed her words.
"…That was extremely rude," I said flatly.
She froze.
"My apologies," she said quickly. "That slipped out of habit."
I nodded once.
She relaxed.
I took a sip of my own coffee.
It was acceptable.
Yuria, however, looked far more invested.
After a moment, I set my cup down.
"Yuria," I said, "I came here for a reason."
Her posture straightened.
"Have you received any prophecy regarding the near future," I asked, "or anything requiring immediate attention?"
Her expression hardened.
She stared into her cup.
Then
"Lord North…"
Her voice dropped.
And the air in the library shifted.
___________________
Lord North's voice was calm when he asked the question.
Too calm.
"Have you received any prophecy regarding the near future," he said, "or anything requiring immediate attention?"
I stared at the surface of my coffee.
The liquid was dark, almost black, reflecting my face in a distorted way. For a moment, I wondered if that reflection looked like someone who could casually decide the fate of a world.
It didn't.
"Lord North…" I began, then stopped.
My throat felt dry despite the coffee.
How much should I say?
That question had haunted me since the moment I opened my eyes in this world.
Tell too little, and disaster would unfold anyway.
Tell too much, and I might become the disaster.
I inhaled slowly.
"There are… several threads," I said carefully. "Some urgent. Some dangerous. Some that become catastrophic if ignored for too long."
North rested his chin lightly on his hand, elbow on the table.
His posture was relaxed.
His presence was not.
"Begin with the one you believe matters most," he said.
That was the problem.
I almost laughed.
Almost.
In every novel I had ever read, this was the part where the protagonist confidently changed the future with a single sentence.
Reality was uglier.
"The most immediate concern," I said slowly, "is not an invasion, nor a rebellion, nor even the Devourer."
North's eyes sharpened.
"It is erosion."
Silence followed.
I continued before he could interrupt.
"Not of land, Not of faith Of meaning."
I met his gaze.
"There are forces in this world that do not destroy by violence. They erase context. They remove why something exists, leaving only the act behind."
His fingers curled slightly.
"You are speaking of Recognition," he said.
I nodded.
"He does not steal strength," I said quietly. "He steals memory, Connection even Purpose, A god forgets why he protects, and one day realizes ruling is easier."
North did not look away.
But something in his eyes… dimmed.
I swallowed.
"I have seen fragments," I continued. "Incomplete visions, Gods standing alone atop fields of angels, Ice piercing the heavens and A throne built not from ambition but from necessity."
I forced myself to keep speaking.
"And beneath it," I said, voice barely above a whisper, "Recognition smiling as if he had simply solved a puzzle."
North leaned back.
His expression was composed.
Too composed.
"You are saying my ascension accelerates this," he said.
"Yes."
"And that without intervention," he added, "I lose control."
I nodded.
"For a moment," I admitted, "you stand alone. Attacked by angels who believe they are saving the world."
His jaw tightened.
"But you are not corrupted," I added quickly. "You are isolated."
That word lingered between us.
North exhaled slowly.
"I was taught," he said, "that a god must accept solitude."
"Yes," I replied. "But solitude chosen is different from solitude enforced."
He looked at me again.
Truly looked.
"And what do you suggest?" he asked.
I hesitated.
Then decided honesty was the only path left.
"There is a curse," I said. "One you already know of."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Snow White."
I nodded.
"Lady Erdaline."
At the name, his posture shifted.
Graviel's daughter.
"She does not die in the immediate future," I said. "But she becomes unusable. Frozen in place by a curse that eats away at her resonance."
"Space divinity," North said quietly.
"Yes," I confirmed. "Pure. Rare. Stable."
I folded my hands in my lap to hide the trembling.
"In the future I saw, she survives barely. But without intervention, she cannot assist you when it matters most."
"And if she can," North said, "Recognition's pathway can be sealed."
"With the help of the Goddess of Solidity," I said. "Yes."
He fell silent.
For a long time.
I waited.
Finally, he spoke.
"This can wait until after my ascension," he said.
I nodded quickly. "Yes. It should. Acting now would destabilize too many variables."
He studied me.
"You speak of variables as if fate were arithmetic," he said.
I smiled faintly.
"After enough suffering," I replied, "everything starts to look like math."
For a moment, something almost like humor flickered across his expression.
Then it vanished.
"There is one more thing," he said.
My heart sank.
"Is there anything," he asked, "related directly to my ascension that requires caution?"
I closed my eyes.
This was the point of no return.
"I cannot answer that," I said softly, "without prophecy."
Silence.
North looked at me steadily.
Then, without hesitation, he extended his hand.
"Then proceed."
I froze.
"…My lord?"
"Use it," he said. "You asked for honesty. I will not deny you the means."
I stood slowly.
"Please forgive my rudeness," I said, voice unsteady, "but prophetic activation requires physical contact."
"I am aware."
I reached out.
His hand was cold.
And warm.
Impossible, yet real.
Flawless. Pale. Strong.
A god's hand.
I swallowed.
And took it.
The system reacted instantly.
────────────────────
SYSTEM
Name: Yuria
Age: 21
Sex: Female
Level: 1
Blessings:
– Blessing of the Creator
Abilities:
– All-Knowing Eyes (5/day)
– Prophecy (1/week)
– Variable Existence (Fate Anomaly)
– Growth Potential: Abnormal
– Buff / Debuff (Scaling)
– Resurrection (Conditions Apply)
WARNING:
Target exceeds safe prophetic threshold.
Fate deviation accelerating.
──────────────────
"Activate Prophecy," I whispered.
Light exploded.
The world compressed.
North vanished.
The library vanished.
The moon screamed.
And I saw a grand hall.
In ruins.
Blood everywhere.
A figure stood at its center.
His face , It resembled North.
And my consciousness shattered.