The Incubus System Chapter 932. Old Habits Die Hard

The Incubus System Chapter 932. Old Habits Die Hard

Emerging from the portal, I found myself in Camila's room. Her room exuded an air of tranquility and orderliness, with its spacious layout and pristine appearance. The neatly arranged furniture and tasteful décor.

However, something seemed different this time. My eyes were drawn to a table positioned in the center of the room, surrounded by several chairs. On the table, I noticed an array of eating utensils neatly arranged, indicating that a meal was being prepared. Yet, the absence of any food suggested that it was not quite ready.

I furrowed my brow in confusion, scanning the room for any sign of Camila or Olivia. But to my disappointment, they weren’t here yet.

"I forgot to text them," I mused silently, mentally kicking myself for the oversight. But since I was already here, I figured I might as well turn this into a pleasant surprise. Also, I could announce that I was here using my Telepathy if I needed to. But I chose to wait.

With a sense of curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar surroundings, I decided to take a leisurely stroll around Camila's room, eager to explore the new environment.

Instinctively drawn to the collection of books, I approached the shelf with a mixture of anticipation and excitement. After all, old habits die hard, and my penchant for literature had a way of asserting itself even in unfamiliar surroundings.

I scanned the spines of the books and quickly realized that this was no ordinary collection. Unlike the novels and fiction books I found before, these volumes were all connected to demon lore and history. Titles like "The History of Lightglen City" and "The Great Demon War: A Thousand Years of Conflict" immediately caught my attention.

Some of the books looked a bit old. Others were thick tomes, their sheer size rivaling that of a dictionary.

"So she's also curious about my ancestors, huh?" I chuckled to myself, a wry grin playing at the corners of my lips. "Guess my bloodline's got more twists and turns than a Netplix series."

I felt a sense of amusement at the thought. Sure, my family history was a bit... unconventional, to say the least. But hey, who could blame Camila for wanting to know more?

My fingers grazed over the spines of the books, lingering on one that caught my eye. It was titled "The Kingdom of Aeros: A Tale of Intrigue and Betrayal."

With a sense of anticipation, I pulled the book from the shelf and flipped through its weathered pages. The cover depicted a grand kingdom, its towering spires and lush landscapes painted in vivid detail.

I opened the book and began to read and found myself drawn into a world of political intrigue. It revolved around the prince of Aeros and his dealings with two powerful demon lords vying for control of the kingdom.

Intrigued, I read on, my eyes scanning the pages for any clues or insights. But as I delved deeper, I couldn't help but feel a sense of disillusionment creeping in. Much of what was written seemed to be embellished or distorted, painting a picture of the kingdom that was far removed from reality.

A mocking chuckle escaped my lips, my disbelief growing with each passing sentence. The kingdom of Aeros, portrayed as a bastion of virtue and honor, was far from the truth. I knew behind its grand façade lay a dark underbelly of corruption and deceit, secrets that were buried deep beneath the surface.

"The term 'history written by the winner' is real, huh?" I mused to myself, a wry smile tugging at the corners of my lips. It was a phrase I'd heard countless times, but it never failed to ring true. After all, who got to decide what went down in the history books? The ones who came out on top, of course.

Placing the book back on the shelf, I couldn't help but reflect on the complexities of history. In the case of Lord Damon, he may have emerged victorious, but his story was just one piece of the puzzle. After all, he never lived in the human world after that, so it was up to humans to fill in the gaps, to speculate and theorize about what really went down.

And who were the ones doing the speculating? Well, mostly intellectuals and government officials, I imagined. They were the ones shaping the narrative, crafting a version of history that suited their purposes.

I reached for another book, my fingers brushing against the worn spine, but the sound of the door opening drew my attention away. I turned towards the entrance, expecting to see Camila or perhaps both Camila and Olivia entering the room. Instead, there stood Olivia, framed in the doorway like a statue, her expression frozen in shock.

She stood there alone. She hadn't brought anything with her, and her attire was casual yet effortlessly stylish—a simple tank top paired with shorts. The contrast between her laid-back outfit and my more formal shirt and jeans made me suddenly self-conscious, as if I had missed the memo on the dress code.

For a moment, we just stared at each other. Olivia's eyes widened in surprise, her lips parted slightly as if she were searching for words that failed to materialize.

"Hey," I greeted Olivia with a friendly smile, breaking the awkward silence. Seriously, it was getting weird with her just standing there like a deer caught in headlights. I understood that my sudden appearance might have thrown her off, but she knew who I was. It shouldn't have been that shocking.

My greeting seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she was in, and she hurriedly closed the door behind her. "Oh, sorry," she apologized, her words rushed and slightly flustered. "You just... remind me of someone."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her cryptic response. "Who?" I asked, unable to resist the urge to satisfy my curiosity.

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze meeting mine as if she were searching for the right words. "You," she finally admitted, her voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

I blinked in surprise, taken aback by her unexpected answer.