History Doesn't Repeat Itself But It Does Rhyme 소설 & 이야기

This wasn’t a simple love triangle. This was unfinished history. And history doesn’t fade quietly. It fights to repeat itself. ---

He was ancient, spoke in a monotone, and expected me to memorize centuries of history in one afternoon. "House Rashad ruled for three hundred years," he droned. "Established trade routes with the eastern kingdoms. Created the currency system still in use today. Your great-great-grandmother brokered the Peace of the Three Rivers, ending a twenty-year war with the northern territories." "Can we maybe focus on recent history? Like, things that might actually help me not die?" "History is cyclical, Your Highness. To understand the present, you must understand the past." "I understand that people want to kill me. That feels pretty present."

She had touched the same brown newspaper I'm touching now. She had told me to look closely and I'll see how approximately 2200 lives were lost due to the woeful mistakes of the rich who lost nothing but money and said 'ops' for the destruction that set on the poor. Every historic tale Mom told revolved around the oppression of the cruel rich and the helpless poor. Such museums are proof that history repeats itself. To this day, the same cycle is being repeated and we all are still damn hypocrites. "Never become cruel, Plinio," Mom had once advised me. But that's what I have become today. Cruel to the weak, cruel to myself, and left with no choice.

I had watched her leave me, and now …’i cannot go through that again’ My mind wandered to this, to the fact that we were both reborn in this new life, we were both given a second chance. ‘It has to mean something. I might not understand the mechanics of a new life, but i understand that i am willing to do whatever it takes to keep her. History cannot repeat itself. We cannot be stuck in an endless loop, one that begins at me loving her and ends with me losing her. I refuse to let that happen. I refuse to relive my mistakes.’

Not emotionally. Not politically. Mechanically. Victoria crossed her arms slowly. “This assumes loss is necessary,” she said. Samuel nodded. “It is.” Amelia frowned. “Based on what?” Eleanor answered without hesitation. “History.” That word again. History. It had been used so many times in this room already that it no longer felt like context. It felt like authority. Julian finally spoke again. “What has history shown?” Eleanor’s voice softened slightly. “That systems which retain everything eventually collapse under their own completeness.”

It serves as a guidance and reminder to end the cycle. "Stop the cycle?" Ethan repeated, a hint of incredulity in his voice. "You are discussing the rewriting of history itself." Zara corrected, "No." "I'm not revising it. avoiding reiteration. Farida leaned forward, her composure unflinching. "What should we do if that is the case?"

There was finality in his tone, and my head snapped up, It suddenly clicked. Ash and ruin. Ash and ruin. I gasped, slapping my palms over my mouth. This wasn't a fairytale or a bedtime story. It was actual history, passed down from generation to generation, from one pack to the other. "Have you finally gotten it?" The sides of his eyes crinkled as he smiled widely.

Andrew gasped and covered his mouth. "This Council… Perhaps this is the first time in generations that this Council isn't filled with bloodthirsty, power-hungry individuals that seek nothing more than to tear each other and the ruler down. History keeps on repeating itself. Even if you are all good people, your children might not be, and even if your children are good people, your grandchildren will not know you and they will not care about the things you hold dear. History will repeat itself again. Family will rise against family, brother will kill brother because of power.

And most importantly history never repeats itself. “Do even have the slightest idea of what you have just done?!” She yelled. I raised my brows slightly with a small scoff, forced my hands to stop shaking as I took one tiny step closer to her, I lifted my head slightly and held her gaze very sternly. “Ofcourse.”

“Meaning?” He pointed to the way the serpent’s tail ended unfinished, bitten halfway through. “They’re telling you it’s begun again… but not complete. They’re rebuilding.” The courtyard lights flickered. A hush fell over the guards. From somewhere in the distance came the faint toll of a bell, one that hadn’t rung since the day Bianca burned her stepmother’s altar to ash. Bianca rose slowly. “They think history will repeat,” she said. “But history bends to the will of those who survived it.”