Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 89: The Missing Page.

The Imperial Archives smelled of dust, old magic, and despair.

It was a massive, subterranean library located beneath the East Wing, filled with endless rows of bookshelves that stretched up into the darkness. It was the kind of place where silence was heavy enough to crush you.

Unless, of course, you brought a Wolf Warlord.

"This is boring," Lord Rurik announced, his voice echoing off the stone ceiling. He pulled a book off the shelf, sniffed it, and shoved it back. "None of these have pictures. It is just words. Words about corn taxes. Who cares about corn?"

"Civilization cares about corn, Rurik," Archduke Cassian replied without looking up from a pile of scrolls. "Now please, stop touching the Neolithic Agricultural Records. Your hands are greasy."

I sat at a long wooden table, my head resting on a stack of encyclopedias titled Myths of the First Era. My eyes felt like they were filled with sand.

Twenty days until the Ball. We had the etiquette down (mostly). We had the dancing down (kind of). But the cure for the Void? We had nothing.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" I asked, suppressing a yawn. "Bastion said Ophelia was erased from history. Maybe her records aren’t even here."

"History cannot be erased, Primrose," Cassian said, adjusting his monocle. The crystal lens glowed with a faint blue light as he scanned a crumbling parchment. "It can only be redacted. The Snake Clan has managed these archives for six hundred years. We know that ink fades, but the indentation on the paper remains."

He gestured to the vast darkness of the library.

"The First Lion Emperor tried to burn the truth. But ash leaves a stain."

"I can smell magic," Rurik insisted, wandering into a darker aisle marked Fiscal Reports: Era 1–5. "It smells like... spicy air. And ozone."

He picked up a particularly brittle, yellowed scroll. It was sealed with a wax stamp that had long since cracked.

"This one smells tingly," Rurik grunted. He brought the ancient paper right up to his nose and inhaled deeply.

The dust of a thousand years rushed into his sinuses.

Rurik’s face contorted. His nose twitched. His massive chest expanded as he took in a breath that sucked the air out of the room.

"Ah... ah..."

"Rurik, put that down," Cassian warned, sensing the disturbance in the force.

"CHOOOO!"

Rurik sneezed. It wasn’t a human sneeze. It was a sonic boom.

A shockwave of wind blasted the scroll. The ancient paper didn’t just tear; it disintegrated. It turned into a cloud of confetti and dust that exploded outward, coating Rurik in grey powder.

Silence fell over the library.

Rurik stood there, blinking, holding two empty wooden dowels where the scroll used to be.

"Oops," Rurik whispered.

Cassian walked over. He looked at the pile of dust on the floor. He looked at the empty shelf tag.

"That," Cassian said, his voice trembling with suppressed rage, "was the original Tax Allocation for the Northern Grain Routes, Year 402. It was the only surviving copy."

"It was dusty," Rurik defended, wiping his nose. "And now... it is dust. Circle of life."

"I am going to turn you into a rug," Cassian hissed, green mana crackling dangerously around his fingertips.

"Boys!" I slammed my hand on the table. "Focus! We aren’t here for grain taxes. We’re here for foxes!"

Cassian took a deep breath, centered his chakras, and let the mana dissipate.

"Primrose is right. The main archives are useless. We must go deeper."

He walked to a wall at the far end of the room. It looked like solid stone, carved with the crest of the Imperial Lion.

"This is the Vault of the First Emperor," Cassian explained. "Only the Royal Historian has the key. Fortunately..."

He pulled a small, silver lockpick from his sleeve.

"...I have sticky fingers."

He worked the mechanism. Click. Clack. Thud.

The stone wall groaned and slid open.

The air that rushed out was stale and cold. We stepped inside.

This room was different. It wasn’t filled with rows of books. It was a circular chamber with a single pedestal in the center. On the walls, massive murals depicted the history of the Empire.

I walked along the wall, tracing the painted figures.

It showed the Seven Founders standing together against a swirling mass of black ink.

There was the First Lion, wielding a sword.

The First Tiger, roaring with dual sabers.

The First Wolf, holding a spear.

The First Panther, blending into shadows.

The First Imugi (Snake), coiled and wise.

The First Jiaoren (Merman), commanding the waves.

But the seventh figure was gone.

The stone where the First Fox should have been was violently chiseled away.

"The Traitor," Cassian mused, stepping closer to the defaced wall. "That is what the history books call her. They say Ophelia betrayed the Union. They say she stole the Heart of the Tide—the artifact that bound the Clans together—and fled, leaving the world vulnerable to the Void."

"But that’s a lie," I whispered, staring at the empty space. "Caspian and I found the truth in the Sunless City. She didn’t steal the Heart to keep it. She took it to sacrifice herself."

"Indeed," Cassian nodded slowly. "She used the Heart to seal the breach. But the Emperor didn’t know that. Or perhaps... his grief turned into hatred."

He moved to the pedestal in the center.

On it lay a single, heavy book bound in white leather. It was chained to the table.

Cassian opened it.

"The Chronicles of Union," he read. "The personal diary of Emperor Leonis the First."

He flipped through the pages.

"Here," Cassian pointed. "The final entry."

The last ten pages had been ripped out. But on the jagged edge of the torn paper, a few words remained.

...she is gone. The Heart is gone...

...my jealousy was a poison...

...I have exiled her memory to the Sanctuary...

...let her name be forgotten, for I cannot bear the shame...

"He erased her," Cassian corrected, his golden eyes narrowing. "He didn’t kill her. He couldn’t. She was too powerful. So he hid her history away."

He turned the book over. Tucked into the back binding, hidden beneath the leather flap, was a thin, flat case made of obsidian.

It wasn’t a book. It was a map case.

Cassian pulled it out. He tried to open the lid. It didn’t budge.

He tapped it with his crystal slate. ACCESS DENIED.

"It is magically sealed," Cassian muttered. He inspected the lid. There was no keyhole. There was only a small, needle-sharp spike protruding from the center.

"A Blood-Lock," Rurik identified immediately. "Wolf Clans use these for our weapon vaults. It tastes the DNA. If the blood doesn’t match the Founder, it stays shut."

Cassian looked at the case, then at me.

"The First Emperor erased Ophelia," Cassian said slowly. "But he kept the map to her Sanctuary. And he sealed it so that only her bloodline could open it."

"Why?" I asked.

"In case the Void returned," Cassian deduced. "He knew that if the darkness ever broke the seal, the world would need the Fox again."

He held the obsidian case out to me.

"Primrose."

I took a step back. My heart hammered against my ribs.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Cassian, stop. Look at me. I have no tails. I have no magic. I can’t even light a stove without a mana-stone."

My gamer brain screamed. My species in the character creation menu was Nine-Tailed Fox, but that was just data. This is real life. I can’t tell them I’m from another world. They’ll think I’m insane.

"I’m just a mutant," I insisted, trying to keep my voice steady. "A birth defect. I am not the descendant of a Goddess."

"You have no tail," Cassian pointed out logically. "The legends say Ophelia ascended, shedding her physical form. Your biology is an anomaly in this world. An anomaly that matches the missing piece of history."

"He’s right," Rurik grunted. "You smell weird. Not like a normal Fox. Like... starlight. And cookies."

"That’s just my shampoo!" I argued.

"Test it," Cassian insisted, holding the case closer. "If you are wrong, nothing happens. We just prick your finger."

I looked at the sharp needle on the case.

If I touched it, and it opened, it meant I wasn’t just a random gamer who fell into a plot hole. It meant I was the Chosen One.

I hate being the Chosen One. The Chosen One always has to die in the end.

"I don’t want to be special," I whispered. "I just want to run a daycare."

"You are already special," Rurik said surprisingly gently. He put a large hand on my shoulder. "You tamed us, didn’t you?"

I looked at Rurik. I looked at Cassian.

I sighed.

"Fine. But if I get tetanus from this rusty needle, I’m suing the Empire."

I reached out. I pressed my thumb against the spike.

Prick.

A drop of red blood welled up. It touched the obsidian.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then...

THRUM.

A pulse of pure, white light shot out from the case. It wasn’t mana. It was warmer, brighter. It felt like the sun rising in my chest.

The obsidian hissed. The lid clicked.

Slowly, smoothly, the case slid open.

Inside lay a scroll made of silk that shimmered like moonlight.

Cassian exhaled, a sound of pure awe. "The lost map."

Rurik grinned. "Told you. You smell like magic."

I stared at the open case, my finger stinging. The light faded, but the truth remained.

I wasn’t just Primrose the Nanny. I was the key to the lock that had been shut for a thousand years.

"Okay," I said, my voice trembling. "We have the map."

I snapped the case shut and shoved it deep into my satchel.

"But we can’t leave yet. We have a Ball to attend. And a little girl to save."

"And then?" Cassian asked, looking at me with a new, terrifying level of respect.

"And then," I said, looking toward the exit of the dark archive, "we go find my great-great-great-grandmother. And we ask her how to kill a Void."