Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 143

Chapter 143: God of Misery
Richmond fell asleep again.

The dream was soft at first, like a whisper carried on the wind. Richmond felt himself drift into it, weightless, like a leaf floating on a tranquil river.

The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming flowers. A silver moon hung in the sky, large and luminous, casting a soft glow over the land.

All around, delicate petals of unknown flowers swayed gently, their colors shifting between shades of violet, blue, and silver as if reflecting the moon’s radiance.

Fireflies flickered between them, tiny golden lights weaving intricate patterns in the air, like stars that had descended to the earth.

In the heart of this serene beauty, a couple walked hand in hand.

Richmond felt his heart clench as he watched them. The man’s laughter was deep, rich, carrying warmth and familiarity.

His voice resonated with ease, as if the world held no burdens for him in that moment.

His steps were confident yet unhurried, his posture relaxed, his presence commanding yet gentle.

It wasn’t until he turned slightly that Richmond saw his face clearly.

It was his own.

The shock struck him like a blow. But before he could process it, his gaze shifted to the woman beside him.

She was there, right next to the man who bore his face, but her features remained blurred, as though the dream refused to reveal her identity.

Her long hair flowed like silk, moving with the night breeze. She leaned into the man’s touch, her laughter like the chime of wind bells.

Richmond strained to see her face, but the more he tried, the hazier she became.

He wanted to call out to her, to ask her who she was, to ask himself what this all meant, but no words left his lips.

Then, a voice broke the silence.

“God of Misery.”

Richmond stiffened.

It wasn’t the woman’s voice. It was someone else. Someone distant, unseen, yet heavy with meaning.

The title rang in his mind, reverberating through his bones.

“God of Misery?”

He had never heard those words before, yet something deep within him stirred, as if awakening from a long slumber. The man who looked like him didn’t react to the name.

He simply smiled at the woman, brushing her blurred face with a tenderness that sent a sharp pang through Richmond’s heart.

“Who are you?” Richmond wanted to ask. “Who am I?”

The scenery shifted.

The moonlight dimmed.

The sea of flowers wilted.

The fireflies flickered and faded into darkness.

A cold wind rushed past him, and suddenly, the dream was no longer beautiful.

The man, the version of himself in the dream, stood alone now. His expression was different. No laughter. No warmth. Only an unbearable loneliness that seeped into his very being.

His clothes were soaked in crimson. His hands, once gentle, were now trembling fists. The woman was gone.

Richmond’s chest tightened. A sense of loss gripped him so strongly he nearly gasped. A drop of rain fell onto the ground. Then another. It wasn’t rainwater. It was blood.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sky split apart, revealing a shadow so massive it swallowed everything in sight.

Then came the voice again. “God of Misery, do you regret?”

Richmond’s breath caught. Before he could react, the darkness surged forward, consuming everything. The dream shattered.

He woke up with a gasp.

His body jerked upright, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs. The room around him was quiet, untouched by the storm he had just witnessed in his mind.

He could still feel the weight of that title pressing against his chest.

God of Misery.

What did it mean? Why did that man, why did he, hold such a name? And that woman… who was she?

His fingers curled into the sheets. He could still hear the faint echo of her laughter, still feel the ache of her absence. It was maddening.

Richmond took a shaky breath and ran a hand through his damp hair. It was just a dream. But deep down, he knew better.

It wasn’t just a dream. It was something more. Something that had been lost. And something that had yet to be found.

Richmond rose early, his mind still clouded by the remnants of his dream.

The weight of the name, God of Misery, clung to him like an invisible shroud, refusing to fade with the morning light.

The image of the man, his face, his voice, still haunted him, along with the laughter of the blurred woman who had vanished into darkness.

He needed answers.

Dressing swiftly, he left his room and made his way through the corridors of the white mansion.

The air inside Cresencia was always serene, untouched by the chaos of the outside world.

The golden morning glow spilled through the windows, casting soft patterns against the polished floors. It felt almost peaceful. Almost.

As he neared the main hall, he found Ahcehera standing on the balcony, overlooking the endless expanse of Cresencia’s dreamlike landscapes.

She was radiant, her long hair cascading down her back as the breeze played with the strands.

Even here, in this safe haven, she looked like someone who carried the weight of a thousand battles.

Richard was not with her, which made this the perfect moment. Richmond took a breath and approached. “Ahcehera.”

She turned at his voice, her expression shifting into one of mild surprise. “You’re awake early.”

“I couldn’t sleep well.” He hesitated, then asked, “Do you have a book on the God of Misery?”

Ahcehera blinked, then narrowed her eyes slightly. “That’s an unusual request.”

“I had a dream,” he admitted, shifting uncomfortably under her piercing gaze.

“It wasn’t normal. There was a man who looked exactly like me. Someone called him the God of Misery… and I have a feeling I need to know what that means.”

Ahcehera studied him for a long moment. Then, with a nod, she turned and motioned for him to follow.

“There’s a book in the mansion’s library,” she said. “I read it once when I was younger. But if your dream is truly connected to it, then this is more than just history repeating itself.”

Richmond didn’t respond. He only followed as they walked through the mansion’s grand halls, descending a spiral staircase that led to the vast underground library.

The scent of old parchment filled the air as they entered.

Towering bookshelves lined the walls, stretching up toward the high ceiling, filled with countless ancient texts, chronicles of forgotten gods, lost civilizations, and interstellar myths.

Ahcehera moved with practiced ease, her fingers trailing across the spines of books until she found what she was looking for.

She pulled out a thick, leather-bound volume and handed it to Richmond.

“The Book of Forsaken Gods,” she said. “This should tell you everything about the God of Misery, if it is indeed real and not just some fabrication of old myths.”

Richmond took the book carefully, running his fingers over its worn cover. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find inside, but he knew one thing for certain.

That dream wasn’t just a dream.

And now, he was one step closer to uncovering the truth.