They walk—several turns, then an alley behind a neon-lit library sign flickering CITY ARCHIVES & BOOKHOUSE.
The street opened into a large center where the city’s oldest library sat like a patient guardian—stone façade warmed by decades of hands, its windows lit honey-gold against the evening.
One wouldn’t call it a creeky old library partly shrouded in dust and gloom though as this was one of the busiest and standard library and bookstore, the city had to offer.
[INT.
CITY ARCHIVES.
— MAIN FLOOR]
It’s huge—about seven floors of books, soft lighting, warm wooden desks, the faint hum of printers.
The place smelled like coffee, paper, and time.
People moved in quiet currents — librarians shelving, a child reciting a poem under his breath, eyes totally focused on the book in his hand, a circle of older readers murmuring, students, parents, professors with thermoses, a line of teenagers arguing softly about exams.
Sunlamp light pooled around wooden tables; the bookshop annex smelled of glue and new print.
The façade worked—this was the sort of place professors assign, couples meet, exam crammers haunt.
Perfect cover — the place felt alive in the ordinary way a heart is alive: steady, noticed yet serene.
Violet slowed and let them take it in for a second, the noise washing over them.
She smiled, one of relief and newly found belief.
The air smelled of paper, wood, people and damp concrete.
(half to herself, half to them)
“Public.
Busy.
Safe.
Some places hide the dangerous things under things people actually like.”
QIŪ HUÀ BǏ
(blinking)
“Wait—this is Factor IV?!”
VIOLET
(heaves slightly)
“Why hide underground when you can just open to the public?”
YÈ YĪ
(quietly, almost to himself)
“I’ve been here before…”
QIŪ HUÀ BǏ
(surprised)
“Same.
Finals week last semester.” Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
They exchange a look—equal parts disbelief and tired amusement.
VIOLET
(starts walking)
“Guess you both missed the restricted section sign.”
QIŪ HUÀ BǏ
(dry)
“Oh sure, next time I’ll ask one of the librarians for directions to the secret tech base.”
Mù Xiāo Xiāo leads them behind a shelf labeled CLASSIFIED HISTORICAL RECORDS.
A smooth glass panel scans her palm.
A mechanical hum follows, and the bookshelf splits open silently, revealing an elevator.
VIOLET
(to Yè Yī and Qiū Huà BǏ)
“Welcome to the real Factor IV.
Try not to freak out.”
It took me a while lot of a while to actually remember that I am yet to distinctly describe the features and some other characteristics of our Specialists characters, so our next few chapters will be diving into such, so as to open your minds to a new dimension of what our characters actually look like.
DOLCE