Chapter 32: The Day the Sun Almost Sank

Chapter 32: The Day the Sun Almost Sank I didn’t mean to fall. I really didn’t. One second, I was laughing—my little feet dancing over the garden path. Sunshine on my hair. A butterfly fluttering just out of reach. And then—SPLASH. A slip. A stone. A sharp turn that didn’t go the way I planned. My arms flailed. The world spun. And suddenly—I was under. The water wasn’t deep. Not to grown-ups. But to me—so small, so little—it was like an ocean. Cold. Loud. Angry. My vision blurred. The sky above me rippled and vanished. I opened my mouth to scream—and water rushed in. I choked. Get up. Move. Please move, Lavinia. But my legs didn’t listen. My arms floated like broken toys. Wasn’t I supposed to be strong now? Didn’t I get another chance? Wasn’t I supposed to grow up and live a full life this time? Move. Get up. Swim. But nothing worked. My body dangled like broken strings, and I was floating—no, sinking. And it hurt. Gods, it hurt. My heart pounded too fast—or maybe too slowly. I didn’t know anymore. My body didn’t feel like mine—it felt far, far away. And still... I thought of him. Papa. The only family I have. I’d lived before, hadn’t I? Worked myself to death in that world. No love. No warmth. Just endless days of nothing. But now I was here. With him. With Papa. And yet—was this it? Was I going to die again? Wasn’t I supposed to die by poison? Isn’t this a story? I just wanted a little freedom. I just wanted to play, to laugh, to enjoy the life I never had in my previous one. I know I was wrong...very wrong. But my fate was to die from poison.Not like this. Not cold. Not scared. Not in a place where Papa couldn’t reach me. I don’t want to. I don’t want to die again. I know I was wrong—I shouldn’t have snuck out. But please— Someone... someone, save me...please...PAPA! I want to stay with my Papa. I want to grow. I want to feel the love I never had. So...Please... someone... please save me...anyone...please... Then, a whisper left my lips, fragile as a breath—"P...Papa..." But I knew no one would have heard my whisper. The sky above me shimmered, rippled, and faded. I reached for it, but my fingers only grasped empty blue. Everything felt so far. So far away. And It hurt. So much. Maybe... maybe if I just closed my eyes, it wouldn’t hurt anymore. Maybe if I just— "...vinia...!" A voice. Distant. Desperate. Calling my name. "Lavinia!!" The sky tore apart. A shadow. A splash. Arms. Strong. Shaking. Pulling me from the dark.Air.Light. A ragged, burning gasp—Life. "Lavinia!" I knew that voice—rough, fierce, but safe. Papa? I couldn’t see. My eyes wouldn’t open right. But I knew who he was. Even through the cold that clung to my skin. Even though the dark is still trying to take me. That scent. That voice. Those arms that wrapped around me so tightly, like they’d never let go. It was Papa. My father. He held me against his chest like I was something precious—like if he let go, the whole world might shatter. "You’re okay. I’ve got you," he said, but his voice cracked. "Lavinia, open your eyes. Please..." I wanted to smile. I wanted to tell him, I’m okay now, because Papa was here, and he always made the bad things go away. But the pain tugged me down again, like the water hadn’t quite let me go. Still—just before the dark swallowed me whole—I felt it. The way he trembled. The way his heart pounded against my cheek. The way his breath shook as he whispered— "I’ve got you." His lips pressed to my forehead. Gentle. Desperate. Real. "I’m here, my girl," he whispered. "Please... wake up." And suddenly, I wasn’t afraid anymore. The last thing I heard was a roar—his voice, wild and broken, laced with terror and fury. "Call the physician! The priest! Drag them here—fast!" *** I opened my eyes. But I didn’t see the sky. No sunlight. No garden. No Papa. Only dark. Endless, suffocating dark. It wasn’t cold, exactly. Not warm either. Just... empty. Like the space between heartbeats. Like the breath held just before a scream. I blinked. Once. Twice. Still nothing. No shadows. No land. No stars above. Just me and... the mirror. It floated in front of me—tall, thin, silver-framed, like something pulled from an old, forgotten memory. There was no stand, no reflection. Just a faint shimmer on the glass, as if it remembered light, even if I didn’t. I stepped closer, though I wasn’t sure how. My legs didn’t move. My feet didn’t touch anything. Yet somehow, the mirror loomed larger. The air shifted. And then—I saw her. Me. But not me. Reina Suzuki. Dressed in a wrinkled office uniform. Slumped over her desk in a cubicle that looked exactly the same as every other. Gray. Lifeless. A half-drunk cup of black coffee beside her keyboard. Her back curled forward. Her eyes were wide open. Dead. She didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. She just... stopped. Alone. Unnoticed. A single sticky note fluttered on the edge of the monitor—"Meeting at 3PM." But that meeting never came. I pressed my hand against the glass. "That was me..." Her reflection didn’t move, but I could feel her thoughts. The exhaustion. The ache in her spine. The silence was so loud it hummed in her ears. The loneliness that settled like dust and never left. She was always the dependable one. The responsible one. The one no one missed. The one who died, and no one even realized until the cleaning lady came in the next morning and screamed louder than Reina suzuki—aka—me ever did. And then—just as my throat tightened— The mirror shifted. The office dissolved into firelight and gold, and suddenly, I saw— Papa’s royal chamber. He stood in the center, still in his formal robes, but with a sword in one hand and a physician dangling midair in the other like a particularly useless rag doll. His face was furious, like a ruthless, bloodthirsty king. His voice, thunder. "IF SHE DOESN’T WAKE UP, I BEHEAD EVERYONE IN THIS PALACE!" The poor physician squeaked, legs kicking. I blinked. "Papa!?" The mirror shattered into glimmering dust. "Wait—HEY! What the heck!?" I spun in place—or, I think I did. "Where’d the mirror go?! I wasn’t done processing my trauma!" But the dark didn’t answer. Then—suddenly—light. A door of pure white cracked open somewhere beyond my vision. Blinding. Warm. It spilled across the darkness like sunrise over a nightmare, chasing the shadows away. And I heard voices. "Princess... Please wake up..." Faint. Muffled. Familiar. Then— "HEAL HER!" Papa’s voice. Raw. Commanding. Terrified. "I don’t care what you do—bring my daughter back!" That’s right. He’s my Papa. The emperor of an empire, the nightmare of a thousand nobles, and right now—very possibly the downfall of an entire medical system and a holy temple, if I didn’t get back fast enough. I took a deep breath—or maybe I just imagined it—and let the light pull me forward. *** Warmth hit me first. The feel of soft sheets. The faint scent of herbs and ink and something distinctly Papa—like steel wrapped in lavender. My eyelashes fluttered. My chest ached. My throat burned like I’d swallowed fire, salt, and regret. But still... I opened my eyes. Just for a second. Blurry figures moved above me—light haloed their edges. The ceiling spun. Voices rang like echoes in a cathedral. My eyes fluttered open—just a tiny bit. Everything was fuzzy, like someone had smeared the world with jam. And there—right there—I saw him. Papa. Still in full armor, still terrifying. He had the physician dangling mid-air like a naughty cat, his sword almost kissing the poor man’s neck. His red eyes burned like twin suns. Fury. Panic. Madness. All wrapped up in one terrifyingly majestic man. My voice came out dry, broken—barely more than air. "Papa..." I rasped. "Don’t... kill them..." Silence. A hush fell over the room like the world held its breath. And then—chaos. Boots slammed against marble. Gasps. Shouts. Someone tripped. Probably the priest. Papa dropped the sword like it burned him, the clang echoing like thunder. He was at my side in seconds, faster than the storm. "Lavinia—!" Warm hands cupped my face. The scent of steel and panic wrapped around me like a blanket. I smiled. Just a little. Thank God, I thought, he didn’t kill them. He looks very worried. Scared. I can still feel his hands trembling as he holds my little hands. I wanted to say more. Tell him I was okay. That I wasn’t a ghost. That I was still here. But the pain was heavier than my words. So I let my eyes close again. Safe. Sleepy. Warm. I slipped back into sleep, wrapped in the storm of his fear—and the warmth.