“Eh, a Librarian turned Unread!”

  Yes, by all means, the way his own voice sounded just now felt wrong, terrible, in fact. The very thought that what was said was reality was deeply disturbing. Yet still, in some part of his newly formed heart, Lucian knew it had been true all along.

  Back when he obtained his first story, in some strange way, he understood many things. The most crucial information he gained was that Librarians and the Unreads within their Codex were always at war, a war to seize control over the body.

  In essence, an Unread inside a Codex was like a parasitic tree, growing around a healthy one, feeding on the nutrients of its host.

  But still… Lucian had been rejecting this idea ever since yesterday. He was afraid, so afraid, in fact, that he did not even dare to open his Codex and study his first chapter.

  “Then… doesn’t that mean we should not obtain Unreads similar to our Codex type, in order to avoid giving them an advantage?”

  Lucian asked, dread evident on his pale face.

  “You will soon understand why we can’t,” Kasturi said quietly.

  “What happened next? After the Unread takes control?”

  Kasturi’s gaze lingered as he muttered, “You are about to know what happened next.”

  Lucian frowned.

  “But first, you need to resist your name.”

  Kasturi pointed toward the reception counter.

  “But I have not officially become a member yet.”

  “No need. They are already informed.”

  *****

  Lucian walked toward the reception counter, where he saw a beautiful lady in formal attire, wearing glasses. She smiled faintly as she noticed him approaching awkwardly. She adjusted her already well-placed glasses and retrieved a piece of paper from below the desk.

  “Hello, you must be the new member. Sorry, we still have not received your documents yet. So you need to write an application first.”

  She handed him the paper and a pen without losing her impeccable smile.

  “Eh… alright. And the topic?” Lucian asked, accepting the paper and pen.

  Her smile shifted slightly, though not enough to be accurately noticed. Maintaining her cheerful expression, she said, “Entrance to the Black Prison.”

  ‘Black Prison? Is that where we are going? How am I supposed to know that?’

  Lucian smiled back as he began writing the application.

  After finishing, Lucian handed it back. She skimmed it briefly, focusing only on the essential parts, then stamped it decisively.

  “So, your name is Loo-shen. Welcome to Black Index.”

  “Ah, no… it’s pronounced Loo-see-an.”

  “Ah-huh! So you must be from the North. You speak Oriha quite well.”

  “Yes,” Lucian answered with a slight pause.

  “I heard the North is not in a good condition.” She slowly leaned closer and whispered, “You know… after the execution.”

  At that, Lucian’s eyes subtly darkened, like the harbinger of an approaching storm.

  “Of whom?”

  “The Lysanders. The traitors—”

  The receptionist abruptly paused as a chill passed over her body. Looking back at Lucian, she saw his darkening eyes fixed on her in a narrow stare.

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  “I—”

  “We don’t have time.”

  A sudden hand on his shoulder jolted him back to his senses.

  “Yes,” Lucian said, lowering his voice. His eyes returned to her once more. “Thank you for your time, miss.”

  *****

  Lucian, who seemed to have mastered the art of making a poker face, looked terribly angry. He frowned from time to time and deliberately didn't make eye contact with Kasturi on their way to his so-called Black Prison.

  “You really need to improve your control over your emotions.” Kasturi finally broke the silence.

  “Do you think we were terrible enough people to be deserving of death?” Lucian asked behind the shadow of his emotions.

  “Never met anyone before.” Kasturi said in the tone he always spoke in.

  “Is that so?”

  Kasturi observed him for a second too long.

  “There is an old saying among Readers. Before you kill an enemy with your sword, you must kill your own heart first.”

  “I have,” Lucian responded, “I literally ripped my heart beyond the cage of my ribs, remember.”

  “I do.” Kasturi saw an unmistakable fire in his eyes. “Looks like you are ready to truly become a Librarian.”

  *****

  They walked past the hall of the Containment and Incarceration Division, where Lucian noticed far fewer people than he had expected.

  Along the way, he observed the symbol of an open eye bleeding ink. He had no idea what the emblem represented, but it appeared everywhere within the Black Index headquarters, so it was most likely their insignia.

  They eventually stopped near a dark corridor and approached an old wooden gate that looked as though it could break at any moment.

  “We are here,” Kasturi said.

  Lucian was in slight disbelief. It was not as grand as he had anticipated.

  “So, where is that Librarian turned Unread?”

  Without answering, Kasturi clapped three times.

  Clap!

  The first clap did not echo as Lucian had expected in such a narrow space. Instead, it sank into the air like a stone dropped into deep water.

  Clap!

  Then a tremor passed through the space. The walls wavered, their edges blurring as though they were mere outlines sketched upon paper before the real painting began.

  Clap!

  The world shattered as if it had been made of glass.

  Then, as though a painting had finally begun, blue light seeped forth, spilling from invisible fissures.

  Then red followed, like blood coursing through unseen veins. Then came gold, the color of brilliance and sovereignty, descending in sharp rays that pierced through everything else.

  Lucian raised an arm to shield his eyes, but the radiance forced its way through his lashes. His vision burned. The ground beneath him seemed to vanish, yet instead of falling, Lucian felt as if he were floating in midair. Then, suddenly, everything returned to normal. He once again felt the reassuring weight of his own body.

  When he forced his eyes open, the dark and narrow hallway was no longer the same.

  Instead, he found himself in another world, a magical one.

  Before him drifted hundreds of floating islands, each rising and falling gently, burdened by the weight of the illusory doors they carried.

  Half of those doors appeared dull and lifeless, painted in stark white. The others were entirely different from one another, except for their uniform size. Their intricate designs felt as though each one narrated the story it contained.

  Before Lucian could study the doors further, he noticed Kasturi waiting for him a few steps above, standing upon a lucid staircase that led toward the doors.

  Lucian hurried to follow. But unlike before when he would have gathered every fragment of information available, this time he was too mesmerized by the doors to question anything further.

  Then he noticed the same eye symbol he had seen throughout the headquarters. However, something new accompanied the bleeding ink eye this time, a symbol formed by four lines crossing at a single point.

  Unlike the eye symbol, Lucian recognized this emblem. If his newly recovered memories still functioned properly, it was known as the Symbol of the Closed Gate, though many called it the Eight Pillars of Imprisonment.

  Recalling the legend behind the symbol, Lucian could not help but smile faintly.

  When he was young, as the prince of Lysander, he had been forbidden from reading any stories until he awakened his Codex at the age of sixteen.

  However, his rebellious sister Aris would sneak into his room every night and recount the stories she had learned that day.

  Among them, one tale Lucian particularly cherished was called The Tale of the Demon and the Prideful Craftsman.

  The story told of a demon wreaking havoc across the world. It behaved like a mischievous child endowed with immense strength. On the king’s command, countless attempts were made to stop it, yet the demon proved impossible to kill and even harder to contain.

  Every time it was captured, it freed itself without fail.

  Then came an arrogant craftsman who demanded the hand of the beautiful princess in marriage if he succeeded in imprisoning the demon forever. With the king’s permission, the craftsman began to build his masterpiece.

  With the aid of a hundred master craftsmen, on the night of the ninety-ninth day, he completed eight pillars of gold that rose as tall as the heavens.

  And finally, the demon was captured.

  The prideful craftsman laughed and declared that the demon had been sealed, permitted to never move towards any of the the eight cardinal directions.

  Though the seal possessed a grave weakness, as it left the sky and the earth unguarded, the craftsman merely sneered. Below, he claimed, existed hell, the birthplace of monsters. Above lay the heavens, stretching as high as eternity itself.

  But the arrogant craftsman was wrong.

  The demon gathered all its strength and leapt higher than the heavens.

  And with that, it was never captured again.

  After recalling the story Lucian was confused.

  ‘Why use a symbol of failure, in a prison used to impression Unreads?’