I looked up from the book, my gaze shifting to the old man, and with unwavering confidence, I asked,
"Do any languages exist other than the one in this book and the one before it?"
The old man, along with the others in the room, looked at me with surprise. He glanced briefly at the emperor before answering.
"Yes, only one book does," he said. The emperor nodded in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable.
I turned my eyes back to the emperor, then back to the old man.
"Show me," I ordered. Then, because I realized I might be sounding like a complete jerk to older humans, I added, "Please." It was a small courtesy, but I couldn't help but feel like I was demanding too much.
As the old man left to fetch the book, the emperor asked, "Why do you want to see the book if we can't even understand the language it's written in?"
I smirked, meeting his gaze.
"Wait and see."
Moments later, the old man returned, the book in his hands. I took it from him with careful hands, then opened it and began skimming through the pages. The language written in it was unmistakable—it was a language I knew.
I could feel the emperor's eyes on me, but curiously, the commander had his eyes closed, standing to the right of the emperor's throne, almost as if he were blocking everything out. It was strange.
I looked up from the book and, with a joyful grin, said,
"I have what you asked for—the proof that I'm a fallen angel."
The commander opened his eyes, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of surprise in his gaze. But it wasn't just him—everyone in the room seemed shocked. Well, almost everyone. The emperor remained as still as a statue, his face void of any emotion.
"What language is that?" the emperor asked, his voice tinged with doubt.
Annoyed, I shot him a sharp look. Did he really think I would lie about something like this?
"It's a language called Latein," I replied, the confidence in my voice unwavering.
The emperor's expression remained impassive as he asked, "What is the book about?"
I flipped through a few more pages before looking back up at him, taking a deep breath.
"Well, according to what I've read so far, it's just a storybook. It tells a tale from back then, something to do with the gods they believed in."
The emperor smirked, a faint glimmer of intrigue flickering in his eyes.
"Alright, how many languages do you know?" he asked.
I paused for a moment, running through the languages in my mind.
"I can speak and translate four languages without any problems, including the one we're speaking in right now. There are two others I only know a few words and phrases in," I answered confidently.
The emperor sighed softly, as if weary of the conversation.
"How old are you?" His voice was low and steady.
I didn't hesitate.
"I was born in 2009."
At those words, the room went still. The commander's face morphed into confusion.
"2009?" he asked, his voice uncertain.
"Yes," I replied, a little surprised by the reaction.
The emperor's expression remained unchanged, but he didn't seem as surprised as the commander.
"Do you know what year it is now?" he asked me, his tone flat.
I frowned, doubting them slightly.
"It's 2025, right?"
"It's not," the commander said firmly.
I blinked, taken aback. But as the realization sank in, it made sense. There was no empire, no emperor, back on Earth. Not to mention, no one would be dressed so... oddly, so old-fashioned, in 2025.
I sighed, the exhaustion creeping in. "We'll talk later," the emperor said, his voice as cold and detached as ever.
To be continued...