lLin Yue didn't go back to her chambers.
Not because she was brave.
Because she knew the palace would follow her if she did.
The fake prince's voice still clung to her ears like perfume on a wound.
*I am Prince Shen Rui. Your fiancé.*
A lie said with the softness of a lullaby.
The kind that made people stop fighting.
The kind that made women surrender.
Lin Yue wasn't people.
She was a mistake the palace hadn't finished deleting.
She walked fast through the halls, barefoot still, cloak half-draped over her shoulders like she'd stolen it from a life that didn't belong to her.
Servants bowed.
Guards stared.
Whispers rose and died behind her.
"Princess Lian Yu…"
"She looks… different…"
"Her hands—"
Lin Yue ignored them.
Her knuckles throbbed.
Blood had dried in thin lines across her skin.
She liked it.
It reminded her she wasn't porcelain.
Porcelain cracked quietly.
She planned to crack loudly.
The ring sat in her fist.
Blank.
No crest.
No proof.
Just a circle of metal that remembered nothing.
And that was the most terrifying part.
Because it meant the palace didn't just erase Shen Rui.
It erased the world's ability to remember him.
Lin Yue's eyes narrowed.
If Shen Rui could be erased…
Then anyone could.
Even her.
Especially her.
She turned at the next corridor and headed for the palace library.
The library wasn't grand like the throne room.
It didn't scream power.
It whispered it.
A long building of dark wood and stone, lanterns burning low, doors carved with old symbols that looked like they'd been drawn by hands that no longer had names.
Lin Yue pushed the doors open.
The smell hit her immediately—
paper.
Dust.
Ink.
Time.
The kind of smell that made truth feel heavy.
Inside, rows of shelves towered like trees.
Scrolls, books, records, ledgers.
Everything the palace wanted to keep.
Everything it wanted to control.
A librarian looked up from a desk.
Elderly.
Thin.
Eyes too sharp for someone who spent their life reading.
He stood quickly and bowed.
"Princess Lian Yu."
Lin Yue didn't bow back.
She walked straight to him.
"Where are the records of the Mirror Rite?" she asked.
The librarian blinked once.
Then smiled politely.
"Your Highness… such records are restricted."
Lin Yue leaned forward slightly.
Her voice stayed calm.
Too calm.
"Restricted for who?"
The librarian's smile tightened.
"For everyone."
Lin Yue's gaze dropped to the man's hands.
Ink stains.
Old scars.
He wasn't just a librarian.
He was a keeper.
A guard with paper instead of steel.
Lin Yue lifted her bloodied knuckles into his view.
"Do I look like I'm asking nicely?" she murmured.
The librarian's eyes flicked to her hand.
Then to her face.
Something shifted in his expression.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Like he'd seen this kind of girl before.
A girl who didn't belong in the palace's script.
He lowered his voice.
"Princess," he said softly,
"you should rest."
Lin Yue smiled.
It wasn't kind.
"I'll rest when I find my dead man."
The librarian's breath caught.
His eyes widened for half a heartbeat—
then he covered it fast.
But Lin Yue saw it.
He heard the words.
He understood the meaning.
He believed her.
Good.
That meant Shen Rui's erasure wasn't perfect.
There were cracks.
And Lin Yue loved cracks.
She stepped closer, voice dropping to a whisper.
"Tell me where you keep the things that don't exist."
The librarian stared at her.
Long.
Quiet.
Then he turned his head slightly, checking the room.
No one else.
Only lanterns and books.
He reached under the desk and pulled out a key.
Old iron.
Heavy.
He placed it on the wood.
It made a dull sound like a coffin closing.
Lin Yue's eyes locked onto it.
The librarian didn't look at her when he spoke.
"Third shelf," he said quietly.
"Behind the genealogy scrolls."
"There is a door."
Lin Yue didn't move.
"Why help me?" she asked.
The librarian's voice was barely audible.
"Because the palace doesn't only erase traitors," he said.
"It erases inconvenient truths."
"And I am tired of pretending that is holy."
Lin Yue took the key.
Her fingers brushed his.
Cold.
Shaking.
She nodded once.
Not gratitude.
A promise.
Then she turned and walked deeper into the library.
The shelves swallowed her.
The air grew colder as she moved away from the lanterns.
The third shelf was exactly where he said.
Genealogy scrolls—thick, dusty, tied with red string.
Names of families.
Bloodlines.
Legacies.
The palace loved bloodlines.
It was how it justified control.
Lin Yue slid her fingers along the wood behind the scrolls.
Her nails caught a seam.
A hidden door.
She pulled.
It didn't budge.
Locked.
Lin Yue inserted the iron key.
Turned it.
The lock clicked.
A sound too loud for something meant to stay secret.
She pushed.
The door opened inward.
A narrow staircase descended into darkness.
Lin Yue stared down.
Cold air rose from below like a breath.
Not human.
Not animal.
Something older.
Something that didn't like being disturbed.
Lin Yue tightened her grip on the ring.
Blank metal, cutting into her palm.
She stepped onto the first stair.
Then the second.
Then the third.
The door closed behind her with a soft, final thud.
Darkness wrapped around her.
For a moment, she heard nothing but her own breathing.
Then—
a whisper.
Not a voice.
A feeling.
Like the palace itself had noticed her movement.
*Wrong.*
Lin Yue swallowed hard and kept going.
Down.
Down.
Down.
The stairs ended in a small archive room.
No windows.
Only shelves.
Only boxes.
Only silence.
Lanterns hung on hooks, unlit.
Lin Yue reached for one.
Her hands trembled slightly as she sparked it.
Light bloomed.
And the room revealed itself.
Every shelf was labeled.
Neatly.
Coldly.
Like a butcher's inventory.
—CORRECTIONS
—REWRITES
—DISCARDED NAMES
—FAILED VESSELS
—ERROR FILES
Lin Yue's breath hitched.
Her eyes locked onto the last label.
ERROR FILES.
Her heart pounded.
This was it.
The place where the palace threw away what it didn't want.
Lin Yue walked toward it slowly, like approaching a grave.
Her lantern light flickered over boxes stacked in rows.
Each box had a tag.
Dates.
Names.
Some had been crossed out.
Some had been burned halfway through.
Some were blank.
Just like Shen Rui's ring.
Lin Yue reached for the first box.
Her fingers hesitated.
If she opened it…
would the palace know?
Would it correct her?
Would she vanish mid-breath?
Lin Yue's jaw tightened.
She opened it anyway.
Inside were papers.
Thin, brittle.
Ink faded.
The first page read:
SUBJECT: "Mara Whitlock"
STATUS: DISCARDED
REASON: UNSTABLE VARIABLE
Lin Yue's stomach twisted.
Mara.
The name hit her like a slap from another life.
A memory that didn't belong in this world—
but belonged to her soul.
She flipped the next file.
SUBJECT: "Vera Ashbourne"
STATUS: CORRECTED
REASON: CONTAMINATION RISK
Lin Yue's throat tightened.
Those names…
They weren't supposed to be here.
They were from her old world.
From the funeral.
From the first life.
From the land that smelled like coffee and smoke.
Her fingers trembled.
The palace didn't just rewrite this world.
It was touching her past life too.
It was reaching through realities like a hand through water.
Lin Yue forced herself to breathe.
Focus.
Shen Rui.
She shoved the files back into the box and moved to the next.
The tags blurred in her lantern light.
Names she didn't recognize.
Names crossed out.
Names written, then erased.
Then she saw it.
A box with a tag that had been ripped.
Only half the name remained.
"Shen—"
Lin Yue's breath stopped.
Her fingers moved without permission.
She pulled the box out like she was yanking a heartbeat from a corpse.
It was heavier than it should've been.
She set it on the floor and opened it.
Inside…
was almost nothing.
A few torn pages.
A strip of cloth.
And a small piece of paper with a single line written in fresh ink:
SUBJECT: "Prince Shen Rui"
STATUS: ERASED
REASON: SACRIFICED AS PAYMENT
Lin Yue's vision went white.
Payment.
He wasn't punished.
He wasn't killed.
He was used.
The palace took him like a coin.
A price.
A trade.
Lin Yue's knees nearly gave out.
She grabbed the edge of the shelf to steady herself.
Her breath came in ragged pulls.
She flipped the pages.
Most were blank.
Like someone had burned the words away.
But one page had a stain.
Dark.
Like old blood.
And beneath the stain—
a single sentence remained.
Not official.
Not cold.
Handwritten.
Messy.
Like someone wrote it fast before the palace could stop them.
*"He chose to be erased so she could remember."*
Lin Yue's throat closed.
Her tears came fast, hot, furious.
She covered her mouth, shaking.
Shen Rui…
He didn't just sacrifice himself.
He sacrificed his name.
His existence.
His future.
So she could stay awake.
So she wouldn't become Lian Yu completely.
So she wouldn't forget herself.
Lin Yue clenched the ring until it bit into her skin.
"Idiot," she whispered, voice breaking.
"Stupid… beautiful idiot…"
Her shoulders trembled.
She forced herself to stand.
She wiped her face hard, angry at her own weakness.
She couldn't afford grief.
Not now.
Not when the palace was still chewing.
Lin Yue scanned the shelves again.
If Shen Rui was erased as payment…
then what was the palace buying?
What was it protecting?
What was it afraid of?
She moved down the row.
Another label caught her eye:
FAILED VESSELS.
She didn't know why her hand reached for it.
Instinct.
A fear she didn't want to name.
She opened a box.
Inside were pages.
A list.
Not names.
Numbers.
Dates.
Then she saw it.
A line written in sharp ink.
SUBJECT: "Lin Yue"
STATUS: INCOMPLETE TRANSFER
RISK LEVEL: HIGH
Lin Yue's blood turned to ice.
Her breath stopped.
She stared at the words until they blurred.
Then she flipped the page.
Another line.
SUBJECT: "Lian Yu"
STATUS: ACTIVE HOST
RISK LEVEL: HIGH
Lin Yue's fingers went numb.
The palace wasn't just rewriting her name.
It was treating her like a disease.
A contamination.
A glitch.
A mistake.
Lin Yue backed away from the shelf.
Her lantern shook.
The light flickered violently.
And then—
the whisper returned.
Not from the walls.
From inside her head.
Soft.
Cold.
Almost gentle.
*You are not supposed to read this.*
Lin Yue's stomach twisted.
Her skin prickled.
She turned, lantern swinging.
The archive room was empty.
No one.
Only shelves and boxes.
But the air felt thicker.
Like someone was standing behind her.
Lin Yue's voice came out hoarse.
"Show yourself."
The lantern flame dipped.
A shadow moved across the far wall.
Not a person.
A distortion.
Like the room itself was bending.
Then a voice—clearer now.
Not human.
Not male.
Not female.
Something in between.
*You are an error.*
Lin Yue's hands shook.
She tightened her grip on the ring.
Her blood dripped onto it.
Still blank.
Still nothing.
Lin Yue lifted her chin.
"You erased him," she said, voice trembling with rage.
"You erased my name."
"You replaced him with a puppet."
The air shifted.
The lantern flame trembled like it wanted to die.
*Correction is mercy.*
Lin Yue laughed.
It sounded cracked.
It sounded insane.
"Mercy?" she repeated.
"You call this mercy?"
She stepped forward.
Her bare feet splashed in a puddle of cold moisture on the floor.
"I will burn your mercy down," she whispered.
"I will carve his name into your walls."
"I will force this world to remember."
The whisper paused.
For the first time…
it sounded uncertain.
*You cannot fight the palace.*
Lin Yue's smile sharpened.
"Then why are you scared I'm reading?"
Silence.
The lantern flame steadied.
Lin Yue's eyes narrowed.
She turned back to the shelves.
If the palace was reacting…
it meant she was close.
Close to something it couldn't erase easily.
She grabbed the Shen Rui box and shoved the torn pages into her cloak.
She grabbed the FAILED VESSELS list too.
If she died, she'd die holding proof.
Then—
her lantern light caught something at the very bottom shelf.
A thin file.
No label.
Just a red string tied around it.
Lin Yue crouched.
Her fingers untied it quickly.
Inside was a single page.
A drawing.
Not a record.
A sketch.
A man.
Long hair tied back.
Eyes sharp.
A face that looked like it had been carved out of loneliness and war.
Not the fake prince.
The real one.
Shen Rui.
And under the sketch—
a symbol.
A crest.
Not on the ring.
Not on the tapestries.
Not in the official records.
A hidden crest.
A mark the palace missed.
Lin Yue's breath hitched.
She pressed the paper to her chest like it was his heartbeat.
Then she heard it.
Footsteps.
Above.
On the stairs.
Someone was coming down.
Lin Yue's blood ran cold.
She extinguished the lantern instantly.
Darkness swallowed her.
She backed into the shadows between shelves, clutching the papers, clutching the ring, heart pounding so loud she thought it would betray her.
The door above creaked open.
A lantern light spilled down the staircase.
A silhouette appeared at the top.
And a voice—human this time—spoke softly:
"Princess Lian Yu…"
Lin Yue's breath caught.
The voice was calm.
Polite.
Familiar.
It was the fake prince.
"I know you're down there," he said gently.
"Come out."
"We can fix this."
Lin Yue pressed her hand over her mouth to stop her breathing from shaking.
The fake prince stepped down one stair.
Then another.
His lantern light swept across the shelves.
Boxes.
Labels.
ERROR FILES.
His voice stayed warm.
"I don't want you to be afraid," he said.
"I am your fiancé."
"I am Prince Shen Rui."
Lin Yue's nails dug into her palm.
The ring cut her skin.
Her blood soaked into the blank metal.
And in that moment—
the ring warmed.
Just slightly.
Like something inside it had awakened.
Lin Yue's eyes widened.
She looked down.
In the darkness, she couldn't see the ring clearly.
But she felt it.
A pulse.
A memory.
A presence.
Not erased.
Not dead.
Just buried.
Lin Yue swallowed hard.
Her lips parted.
A whisper escaped her, barely audible:
"Shen Rui…"
The fake prince froze.
His lantern light flickered.
His head tilted.
Slowly.
Like a predator hearing prey breathe.
"Princess," he murmured.
"…what did you say?"
Lin Yue's heart slammed.
Because his voice wasn't warm anymore.
It was hungry.
END CHAPTER 29
Cliffhanger: Lin Yue finds Shen Rui's ERASED file + her own "INCOMPLETE TRANSFER" record.