Lothe sighed for the tenth time that day. He leaned back in his wooden chair, idly scribbling on a scrap of paper with his left hand as he looked over the empty rows of seats.
He shook his head. "What is actually going on today?" he muttered.
Time seemed to move differently at The Crowns Academy when the halls were empty. On normal days, students flooded this library like it was their second home.
Lothe usually spent those hours quietly watching them, gauging their habits and personalities from afar. It was a strange pastime, but it was just how his mind worked.
He glanced over at a specific corner table near the back where a particular couple usually sat and kissed. I wonder where they are today, he thought.
Leaning forward, he picked up his round, deep-blue student hat and set it atop a messy pile of textbooks at the corner of the desk, pulling out a fresh sheet of paper.
"Hey, Lothe."
A voice broke the silence. Lothe didn’t look up immediately; he already knew who it was.
"Hello, Old B," Lothe said, finally raising his eyes.
Old Barnaby, his mentor and the veteran librarian who had given him this part-time job, stood by the counter. He wore his usual attire, a short-sleeved white shirt under a worn brown jacket, loose black trousers, and sturdy leather boots.
Same old clothes, Lothe thought. He resisted the urge to shake his head again. He had done that too much since morning, and his neck was starting to ache.
"Don’t look at me with those empty eyes of yours," Old Barnaby said, leaning against the counter. "I honestly don’t understand you, boy. You’re a student at the most prestigious academy in the country. Why are you always hiding in here?"
"The most outstanding school in the country, as you said," Lothe replied with a lazy, slow smile. "You mean I should go out and make friends with those wealthy heirs? The ones who spend their entire day in endless, meaningless talks?"
He tapped the book on his desk. "Hard pass, I’d rather read three textbooks, Old B."
Old Barnaby could only shake his head. "You know, I
never expected you to grow up and still be that quiet little boy," he said, his face softening with worry.
"What do you mean, Old B?" Lothe asked, his expression shifting to one that looked slightly hurt.
"At least try to interact with them," Barnaby said gently. "How else will you learn who is worth keeping as a friend and who isn’t? You can’t spend every free hour cooped up in this dust."
"I tried, Old B. It didn’t work," Lothe said, his voice dropping to a casual, flat tone. "All they talk about is girls and how to get the latest sports car when they already drive models we can’t afford. Besides, why would they want me around? Their friendships are transactions. If you don’t have a wealthy family or a powerful backing, you don’t exist to them. I have neither."
He paused, letting out a soft exhale. He hated talking so much, but with Old B, he always ended up rambling.
"Not that I’m complaining, of course," he added.
Barnaby stared at him.
The quiet boy who loved being invisible had only gotten better at disappearing as he grew older.
Sighing, the old man straightened his back. "You should get moving, Lothe. You’ll be late for your next lecture."
Lothe chuckled, patting the heap of books. "No class today, Old B. I’m stuck here with you."
"New reads?" Barnaby asked, nodding toward the thick volume in Lothe’s hands.
"Yes." Lothe had barely opened the cover when the heavy wooden doors of the library creaked open.
A girl walked in. She looked to be about his age, wearing the same elite academy uniform, though she wore two large, round-rimmed glasses that made her eyes look exceptionally wide.
Her dark hair was tied into two neat buns at the top of her head, while the remaining locks draped surprisingly long down her back, reaching all the way to her waist.
Seana scanned the vast room, her eyes searching for a specific section.
Finding nothing, she realized she would need the librarian’s help to access the restricted upper floors.
She turned, her gaze briefly catching Lothe.
Seeing his uniform, she assumed he was simply another student studying, and quickly looked past him, her eyes landing on Old Barnaby behind the counter.
"Hello, sir," she said, her voice soft and light.
Walking up to the counter, she bowed slightly to Barnaby.
The gesture froze the old man mid-breath. Behind the desk, Lothe’s pen stopped. In the Crowns Academy, where wealthy students treated the staff like background furniture, a noble student bowing to a common librarian was unheard of.
Receiving no immediate reply, the girl remained in her bow, patient and poised. Old B quickly snapped out of his daze.
"Ah... forgive me, young lady," Barnaby stammered, offering a flustered wave. "Just a bit of old age slowing my reaction."
Lothe watched her from his seat. Her uniform was the standard white and deep blue, neat and unadorned. His eyes caught the copper-rimmed ID card pinned to her collar: Seana.
"No problem, sir," Seana said. "I am looking for the archives on traditional herbal medicine."
"Oh, those are on the restricted upper floors," Barnaby said, pointing a finger at Lothe. "You’ll need the librarian to open the gate."
Seana turned, her large glasses catching the dim light as she looked at Lothe. She blinked, looking between the boy her age and the old man. "He is the librarian?"
Barnaby chuckled, the tension leaving him. "Miss Seana, you haven’t heard of our famous young librarian?"
"No," she said simply.
Lothe’s brow twitched. He wasn’t one for fame, but he had managed this library for three years. Even the most arrogant heirs knew him as the quiet boy who ran the records.
For her to have absolutely no clue...
Did Old B actually have a point about me being too invisible? Lothe thought dryly.
"Ahem." Barnaby cleared his throat, suppressing a grin.
"Well, he’s the one with the keys."
Seana walked over to Lothe’s table. "Hello. I am Seana. I would like to access the traditional medicine records in Section S."
"Hold on," Lothe said.
He pressed a release latch on the wooden desk. A brass-framed panel slid back, revealing a recessed terminal. He swiped his master keycard and keyed in the request.
Across the desk, the small jade-embedded badge on Seana’s collar vibrated, glowing with a faint green light.
"Done. Follow me," Lothe said, rising.
He led her to the heavy, iron-reinforced oak doors at the back of the hall. He swiped his master card. With a heavy click of gears, the doors swung inward, revealing the vast, silent upper archives.
Rows of towering shelves rose thirty feet high, connected by brass sliding ladders. The air was cool, smelling heavily of dried ink and beeswax.
"What is your target location?" Lothe asked, walking ahead.
"Section S, Column 301," she replied, her shoes tapping softly on the stone floor.
"This way."
They walked in silence. Lothe usually preferred quiet, but as they turned the corner into the medicine aisle, he felt a strange, uncharacteristic urge to say something.
He wanted to ask why a student from the medical class was looking for dusty, ancient herb textbooks instead of modern molecular ones.
He silenced the thought. What is wrong with you today?
"We’re here," Lothe said, stopping before a massive mahogany shelf. "Your access is tied to your ID. You have exactly two hours. Keep track of the time; the biometrics on the main door reset every three hours.
If you’re late by even a minute, the gears lock, and you’ll be stuck inside until the next shift."
Seana didn’t seem to hear the warning. Her eyes were already fixed on the top shelf, locked onto a thick, leather volume with frayed gold lettering.
"Could you..." She pointed upward, her voice small.
"Could you reach that one for me, please?"
Lothe looked up, then back at her. For a split second, behind those large round glasses, he swore he saw a faint, desperate spark of excitement.
He sighed softly. "Wait here."
He stepped onto the brass ladder, his boots clicking on the metal rungs.
Vrmmmm.
The metal beneath his fingers vibrated. A low, heavy shudder ran through the stone floor, making the massive shelves groan. Lothe gripped the ladder tight, stabilizing himself.
"What was that?" he muttered, looking down.
Seana was dusting off her knees, having stumbled during the tremor.
"Probably the heavy maintenance team in the lower vaults," Lothe said, though his own instincts doubted it.
The academy’s foundations were built on solid granite; they didn’t shake for simple repairs. "It doesn’t usually happen. Are you alright?"
She nodded, her expression tense as she stared at the high shelves.
Confirming the ladder was stable, Lothe climbed two more rungs. He reached out, his fingers just brushing the dust-covered page of the book.
Splat.
A sound like a wet, heavy sack hitting stone echoed, not from the building, but from the very air around them.
Then, the world stopped.
For a single, terrifying heartbeat, gravity vanished. The dust motes in the air froze. Lothe felt his body lift slightly off the rung.
Then, everything crashed back down.
The building violently buckled. The brass ladder tore from its tracks with a screech of twisting metal. Lothe lost his grip, falling backward into the empty air.
As he hit the stone floor, the gas lamps and terminal lights cut out instantly, plunging the archive into pitch-black darkness.
"What’s... happening?" Seana’s voice was a panicked gasp in the dark.
Before Lothe could answer, the air in the room suddenly thinned. It felt as though a giant vacuum had opened, ripping the oxygen clean out of his lungs.
Seana clawed at her throat, her knees buckling as she collapsed onto the cold stone, her long hair spilling around her as her eyes rolled back.
Lothe tried to drag himself toward her, but his chest burned. The air felt heavy, metallic, and hot, like liquid lead entering his throat.
The darkness in his vision closed in rapidly.
As his hand fell inches from her sleeve, his consciousness slipped into the dark.