The Uneventful Neighborhood – Chapter 3

Fish-shaped pastry, back alley.

…….

Why would anyone bother making bread shaped like a fish? Did they catch some fish and stuff it in there or something? I’m fine with eating anything, but your kind doesn’t eat stuff like this, right, Mister?

…….

Of course there’s no fish in it. It’s just shaped that way. All that’s inside is &#$ and some sugar.

…….

That’s not bad then. Oh, this is actually pretty tasty. The outside is a bit greasy but savory, and the inside is nice and sweet.

…….

It’s not as good as I thought. The one I ate with him was better.

…….

It’s plenty tasty, isn’t it? Can’t you tell me how it’s made?

…….

Fine, I’ll show you later. Forget that for now—why didn’t you tell me?

…….

I thought I told you everything I needed to, Mister.

…….

There was a scent of Mist-Eraser Flower on that kid’s right hand. Didn’t he meet a flower?

…….

Huh? No way. The only locals he’s run into are probably at the subway station, at most. And since I bailed him out in time, there shouldn’t have been any real damage. Besides, where would you even find a Mist-Eraser Flower around here? The only plant colony in this area is the Old Flower cluster. You’d have to take a bus or subway pretty far to find anything else.

…….

I know that much. I was just asking in case he stopped by around here on the subway or something. Though, you’re right—he probably didn’t meet the flower itself. If he had, the scent wouldn’t just be on his right hand…

…….

What, were you jealous thinking that kid met some other flower besides you, Mister? Don’t worry, I patrolled thoroughly.

…….

Can’t you watch what you say? That’s weird, though… The flower scent was definitely real.

…….

Wow, sounds like possessiveness.

…….

Just because you’re a hunter doesn’t mean you can spout nonsense at me, you little crow. Anyway, you’re saying he didn’t meet the flower itself, right? That’s gonna complicate things… If you know any merchants dealing in Mist-Eraser Flower byproducts, could you ask around? Find out if anything like that’s been sold recently.

…….

For free?

…….

I’ll pay you when you bring me the info. Besides, getting away with teasing an elder is its own kind of reward, you insolent punk.

…….

…….

…….

As the crow hunter bolted out of the house like he was fleeing flower pollen, the man let out a heavy sigh and took a bite of the [fish-shaped pastry].

The warm, sweet flavor was decent enough, but somehow it didn’t quite measure up to the one he’d eaten earlier. Was it a difference in ingredients? Or was it just that it tasted better because he ate it with that kid?

The man was pretty confident in his cooking, and since even the crow hunter gave it decent praise, he figured he’d more or less nailed the flavor. But when he tried to recall the taste from before, all he could picture was that idiot’s face, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk as he munched away.

Feeling oddly unsettled, the man scratched at his calyx for no reason. Until recently, he’d been stubbornly denying it, but lately, thinking about that clueless kid made him feel all tingly inside. Today, his emotions had been so all over the place that he’d even embarrassed himself. He’d only meant to sniff the kid’s finger—there was no need to lick it. It did taste a bit salty and warm, though.

Could it be that attending the harvest ceremony had affected him somehow? Seeing others find partners and bear fruit might’ve made him sentimental for no reason. As a deep flower, he had no obligation to produce fruit, and even if he did, it wouldn’t matter without a suitable partner…

“Speaking of which, it’s been bugging me. The scent of Mist-Eraser Flower on that kid’s right hand.”

To shake off the embarrassing thoughts, the man deliberately focused on another issue. The young crow hunter had teased him, assuming it was some misunderstanding, but the man’s concern about the scent stemmed from an entirely different reason.

“It’d be better if he’d met a living flower. The problem is if he came into contact with a flower’s byproduct.”

Living Mist-Eraser Flowers are generally timid and gentle, not the type to act maliciously toward others, but their byproducts are a different story. The powder made from drying the outer petals of a Mist-Eraser Flower can, if used properly, completely erase any influence a local has left on someone.

For example, the scent a dog leaves to mark its territory, the inscriptions a book carves to claim its possessions, or… the pollen the man had doused someone with before heading to the harvest ceremony.

Up to that point, it might seem like a hassle but not particularly dangerous. The real issue comes next. Creatures from other worlds typically can’t properly perceive the world the locals inhabit, thanks to an intangible filter that clouds their vision and dulls their senses. This protects the locals, but it also, in a way, protects those otherworldly beings.

If a Mist-Eraser Flower’s byproduct comes into contact with them, things that should be distorted to fit their world’s perspective are instead seen and felt raw, without any buffer. Given that the kid mentioned seeing things that weren’t there, it’s possible…

“I’ll need to keep a close eye on him from now on.”

Asking the kid directly probably wouldn’t yield much. He doesn’t even have the ability to distinguish between “people” and “locals.” More importantly, asking too openly might make him seem weird. Even to the man himself, it felt suspicious to grill someone he’s just gotten close to about who they’ve been meeting or what they’ve touched.

Plus, if the kid mistook it for jealousy or something… If he got spooked thinking the man was suddenly obsessing over him and ran off…

“What am I even thinking?”

The man let out a deep sigh, rolled up his sleeves, and headed into the kitchen. As always, baking was surprisingly labor-intensive. Since he’d tried making a new dish today, the kitchen was an even bigger mess than usual, so for now, he’d have to focus on cleaning it up and push aside any stray thoughts.

Library

It wasn’t until the next morning that I finally checked the paper box.

I must’ve been exhausted because I slept for over twelve hours. I think I collapsed around five in the afternoon on Saturday, and when I opened my eyes, it was seven in the morning on Sunday. It was a shame to have wasted a precious Saturday, but I still had Sunday left. Thanks to the deep sleep, my cold symptoms had completely vanished, which was a relief.

The first thing I thought of upon waking was the paper box. What if there was food inside? Even though it’s winter, wouldn’t it spoil if left at room temperature for too long? Feeling a vague sense of waste, I hurriedly scrambled out of bed before coming to my senses.

“No, wait, I wasn’t even planning to eat it. How could I eat something so suspicious?”

Even if it was food, I had no intention of blindly eating something that might be laced with hallucinogens. Of course, growing up, I was taught not to waste food, so I couldn’t help feeling a bit reluctant, but health is more valuable than food. I had no desire to ruin the rest of my Sunday by eating something weird.

But contrary to my unease, the contents of the paper box weren’t food at all.

“Open a paper box and find paper inside…?”

To be precise, it was a torn book page and a single note. Despite the packaging suggesting something like cake or dessert, there was nothing edible, which made me feel oddly cheated, but on second thought, it was probably for the best. Since it wasn’t food, I wouldn’t feel guilty throwing it away.

Still, it was strange contents. The torn page seemed quite old, its edges yellowed with age, and it was densely covered in brown text in some language I couldn’t identify. At the bottom left of the page, instead of familiar Arabic numerals, there was an unfamiliar symbol.

Is this some elaborately crafted fake? It couldn’t possibly be torn from an actual centuries-old manuscript, could it? If it was, I’d want to report it for cultural heritage vandalism. No matter how closely I examined the page, I couldn’t make sense of it, so I decided to look at the note first. At least that seemed somewhat decipherable.

[If you liked the powder, insert the missing page into [833.mk—Ka57SM] on page 37 and sprinkle the powder.

P.S. The change might not happen immediately. It took me 7 weeks.]

No, correction. It’s in Korean, but I still have no idea what it means. For starters, there’s no explanation about what the powder is. It seems to refer to that white powder I got before…

“How could I possibly like that powder? What a scammer!”

The café owner must’ve believed I’d love the powder and come back for more. Does he not know what I went through because of it, or is he doing this despite knowing?

Honestly, I want to chuck that powder into the nearest trash can. But if it’s actually a drug, carelessly tossing it could get me in trouble, so I can’t just throw it away…

“Speaking of which, forget the powder—what’s with this page?”

The note clearly said to “insert the missing page on page 37.” That means this page was originally part of some book’s 37th page but was torn out. But what’s the book’s title? Is this 833-whatever supposed to be the title?

“Is this even a book sold in bookstores? Can I order it online?”

Just in case, I searched on an online bookstore site, but as expected, nothing came up. Could it be some kind of code? Like in an escape room game, where there’s a specific rule to crack the code and reveal the real book title?

“But I have no clue.”

This isn’t the time to be solving puzzles. It’s like I went to remove a wart and ended up with a bigger one. I went to figure out what the powder was, and somehow I ended up with a weird page too—what is this?

The powder, the page—I honestly don’t even want to deal with them. I just want to repack them neatly in the box and return them to the café. If I hand them to the part-timer and never go back to that café, won’t all my problems be solved?

Alright, they say to strike while the iron’s hot—let’s go return it now. With that resolve, I started getting ready to head out. The part-timer definitely said the café owner would be away for a few days. If I go now, only the part-timer will be there, so I can settle this without the awkwardness of facing the owner.

“When’s their opening time? Ten in the morning?”

It’s seven now, so I’ll have to wait about three hours. Even accounting for a hearty breakfast, showering, getting dressed, and travel time, I’ll have at least one or two hours to spare. What should I do in the meantime? I could just relax or catch up on chores, but today I felt too restless to stay put. I wanted to head out early. Is it because I want to get rid of this ominous powder and page as soon as possible? Or because I slept so long that I’m bursting with energy…

“Oh, right, I need to return those library books.”

Thinking about returning the page led my thoughts in a slightly odd direction. Come to think of it, it’s about time to return the novel I borrowed a while back. The library in this neighborhood isn’t huge—compared to the one in my old area, it’s almost cute in its smallness—but it has everything you need. It stocks recent bestsellers, so it’s great for borrowing.

Since I’m going out anyway, I might as well stop by the library to return the book. The library opens at nine, but there’s an automated return machine at the entrance, so I can just drop it off there. If I take the bus to the library and time my transfer to head to the café, it should work out perfectly.

Let’s see, where did I put that book? I reached for the library book on the table next to my bed to put it in my bag but froze. There was nothing wrong with the book itself. It was exactly the same as when I finished reading it a few days ago. But…

[843.6 Leo47L3]

The label under the barcode on the book’s cover felt eerily familiar. After staring at it for a while, I realized what the note’s code meant. It was none other than a library book classification number.

I’m really just going to return the book and leave. As I walked from the bus stop to the library, I kept muttering that flimsy excuse to myself.

It wasn’t entirely baseless, though. At this hour, there’s nothing to do at the library besides returning a book. It’s 8:10 in the morning. The library won’t open for another hour, and I’m not about to shiver in the cold morning air waiting for it to open. I have zero intention of bringing back the cold I just shook off.

“I wouldn’t even be able to get in if I wanted to. And I don’t want to…”

Besides, no matter how I think about it, that classification number is too suspicious. On the bus ride over, I checked the library’s website, but searching the code from the note yielded no results. Thinking it might be another library, I checked nearby ones too, but none gave me any useful results.

It’s undeniably fishy. Since the library’s closed anyway, I should stop entertaining weird ideas, return the novel, and be done with it.

After about a ten-minute walk from the bus stop, the familiar library building came into view. As expected, the entrance was locked, but the automated return machine booth next to it was open as usual. I just needed to step into the glass booth and slide the book into the machine.

“The return deadline was cutting it close. I’ve been so out of it lately, I completely forgot.”

If the deadline had been more generous, I wouldn’t have bothered coming today. The book was pretty engaging, and I finished it a while ago, but with frequent overtime and all the weird stuff happening, I’d left it sitting for over a week. If I didn’t return it by tomorrow, it’d be overdue, and I’d rather not deal with an extra bus transfer to the library on a hectic Monday evening. Better to just get it done today.

I scanned the barcode and slid the book into the slot the right way. With a clunk, it dropped inside. I’d been uneasy coming here, but returning it felt refreshing. Alright, no more business at the library. Now I’ll head straight to the café and return the page. That should cut off the root of all the weird stuff that’s been happening lately.

“Maybe I’ll run into Mister today? I feel like I’ve seen him around the downtown area on weekends…”

Maybe because I was relaxing, random thoughts started creeping in. No, even if it’s Mister, he wouldn’t be wandering downtown at this hour. I don’t know where he lives, but on a Sunday morning, he’s probably chilling at home, right? What should I do then? Since I’m out early, maybe I’ll grab a window seat at a chain café nearby and keep an eye on the street…

Slinging my backpack—now holding only the note and the torn page—over my shoulder, I leisurely stepped out of the return booth. The air felt oddly warmer than before. Was it my imagination? Or had the sunlight warmed things up already? But the answer lay elsewhere entirely.

“Huh? The door’s open?”

The library door, which had been secured with a lock and chain earlier, was now wide open. A warm breeze was flowing out from inside. Are they getting ready to open? If it’s warm because of the heating, the bus stop will still be cold. What a letdown.

But something felt off. This library isn’t the type to crank the heat like this. Unlike cafés or restaurants, public institutions aren’t usually so aggressive with heating. There’s no way they’d have the heaters on full blast right at opening, letting warmth spill out like this.

And that wasn’t the only thing that felt strange. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but the opening hours posted next to the entrance seemed… off.

“Sunday hours: 3 a.m. to 12 p.m.?”

Are my eyes going bad? Who in their right mind goes to a library at three in the morning? Thinking I’d misread it, I rubbed my eyes and checked again, but the hours didn’t change. According to this, the library had been open for five hours already. I could’ve sworn it was supposed to be nine in the morning to six in the evening.

“Must be a prank. Kids these days go all out with their jokes. It’s printed so convincingly, like a real sign.”

It was so meticulously done that an unsuspecting person might fall for it, which made me chuckle. As I lingered near the sign, my gaze unwittingly drifted toward the open door. The warmth flowing out felt oddly pleasant, almost like someone inside was pulling me in.

It’s cold out—would it be okay to step in for a bit to warm up? If I’m lucky, I might even borrow a new book. It’s not opening time yet, so borrowing might be tricky, but maybe I could ask a librarian about the torn page.

“Right, now that I think about it, if this page was really torn from a library book, doesn’t that make it the library’s property?”

Then I shouldn’t return it to the café owner. That obvious realization hit me. If you think about it, the café owner damaged a library book and stole the page. So, it’d be better to give the page to a librarian. Suspicious or not, stolen property should go back to its rightful owner.

Even if it’s not from this library, a librarian could handle it, right? Returning misplaced books to their proper libraries is part of their job. I’ll give the page to a librarian and the powder to the café part-timer. It’s one extra step, but it doesn’t change much in the end.

“Alright, I’ll just hand over the page and go.”

I strode into the library. It might just be my imagination, but I had a nagging feeling that if I didn’t go in, something worse would happen. My backpack had been feeling strangely heavy since earlier. A creeping dread tickled my neck, as if the bag would keep getting heavier if I didn’t unload its contents.

The 800s classification should be in the literature section, right? Maybe it’s part of a novel. If I ask a librarian to look it up, I might find the book’s title. If a small library like this has it, it can’t be some obscure book. I could check page 37’s contents online or at a bookstore later.

I hustled up the stairs to the third-floor literature section, but unfortunately, no librarian was in sight.

“Maybe they’re preparing to open somewhere else? The door’s open, so I’ll wait inside.”

They might’ve gone to fix that fake opening hours sign at the entrance. I worried about wandering in without permission before opening, but with the door wide open, my feet moved on their own.

The literature section was just warm enough to make me want to linger if I had the time. But since I wasn’t in the mood for that, I headed toward the shelves. Maybe I could find the book myself before a librarian showed up.

“Let’s see. 833 should be around here. Where’s the mk section…?”

Scanning the area, I found the right shelf and stepped in. The shelves were packed with leather-bound books, all without titles. I stood there, mouth agape, at the unfamiliar sight. Wow, this little library has a section like this? It feels like a private study.

It reminded me of a university library. The one I went to rebound old books with green covers, all identical, so you couldn’t tell them apart by the cover alone. Maybe this section was similar.

The difference was that my university library had titles printed, but these books only had barcodes. Still, I could probably find the right one using the barcode number.

Luckily, it didn’t take long. On the second shelf from the top, the leftmost book had the serial number from the note. I pulled it out immediately. From the spine, it looked plain, but up close, the cover had elegant gold embossing that paired beautifully with the brown leather.

“Alright, I’ll take this to the return desk and wait for a librarian.”

I was dying to open it and check the title, but something told me I shouldn’t. The book looked expensive, and given the torn page’s condition, it seemed old. Handling it carelessly might damage it. It’d be safer to ask a librarian to check the title.

“Are you not planning to read it?”

At that moment, a voice came from behind me, and I froze in place. I couldn’t bring myself to turn around. The voice came from a place too strange to process.

I mean, it was definitely behind me. But the problem was it wasn’t coming from a normal distance. If it had been at least a meter away, I wouldn’t have been so startled. I’d have assumed it was a librarian or another patron and brushed it off.

The issue was how close it was. In terms of distance, it was less than ten centimeters. In other words…

“I don’t know what physical traits the person outside the bag has, but would it be alright if I checked whether you have eyes? I’m not a braille book, so it’s impossible for someone without sight to read me. I thought you should know in advance.”

Inside the bag.

A soft, calm female voice was coming from none other than inside my backpack.

I cautiously glanced behind me, but as expected, the aisle was empty. I almost wished someone had been there. Even if some shady person had been whispering right against my bag, I could’ve made sense of it. Or would that have been creepy too? In terms of unease, it might be a toss-up.

This confirmed it. The voice was definitely coming from inside my bag. I set the book on the right side of a nearby table and placed my bag on the left. It wasn’t my imagination—the bag was heavier than before. And it felt oddly bulkier too.

What the hell is in my bag right now? A chilling thought flashed through my mind. A strange story I’d read in a manga café back in school. Someone opened an icebox and found a severed human head inside. The head gaped like a fish, ate food, and even swam…

A woman’s severed head in my bag. Before that absurd image could fully form, I frantically unzipped the bag. As the zipper opened, revealing the contents, my eyes widened.

“Huh? What?”

[You can finally see me. A person with two working eyes—good. I’m so relieved there’s no issue with reading!]

It was a tablet PC. You know, those things everyone carries around these days. The ones with the apple logo are especially popular, or so I’ve heard. I don’t care much for them, so I don’t own one.

Anyway, the sound was coming from there. A tablet PC making noise was far more mundane than I’d expected, and I couldn’t help but sigh in relief. It makes sense—tablets don’t have braille functions. Some have text-to-speech for e-books, but it’s hard for someone without sight to use a touchscreen, so the warning made sense. It wasn’t some bizarre situation, which was reassuring.

…Or is it? This isn’t the time to be relieved.

“Wait, why is this here…?”

The problem, as I mentioned, is that I don’t own a tablet PC. So where did this thing come from? And to make matters worse, when I took the tablet out, I noticed something else. The old page I’d carefully stored in a clear file was gone. It was as if the tablet had appeared in its place.

[You brought me here, didn’t you?]

“…You mean the page? Or the book?”

[Since I’m both, there’s no real point in distinguishing. Didn’t you bring me to read?]

“No, I didn’t. I can’t even read it since I don’t know what language it’s in.”

Why am I being polite to a machine? I don’t know what model it is, but it’s probably just some AI like Siri or Bixby. It’d look ridiculous to others, but switching to informal speech now feels like it’d reveal something. That aside, there’s a much bigger issue.

[You don’t know the language? That can’t be. If you can understand me, you should be able to read my text. Let’s see…]

Why does this tablet’s AI talk like it’s the book itself? Maybe it has a scanned copy or e-book version of the book. I tried to brush it off, but deep down, I knew what was happening. There’s a more fitting explanation for this, just not a realistic one.

If this book’s page is like Mister or that cop—not an ordinary book. If it has some strange power, like how they appear and disappear, allowing it to shift from an old book page to a sleek tablet PC at will…

Ugh, I didn’t want to think this far. The moment my thoughts veered into fantasy territory, the tablet, which had paused as if pondering, suddenly blurted out something random.

[Oh, I see. This is marked as a stolen book!]

“What? Uh, what book?”

[A stolen book. It must’ve been locked automatically when the page was taken outside! I’m part of this library’s collection, so if I’m removed without proper checkout, the contents are altered to prevent reading. It’s a strong measure—unless you soak it in Mist-Eraser Flower powder for about two months, it’s not easy to read.]

That café owner really did steal a library book! And he even tried to forcibly undo the theft protection! The reality of actual theft was scarier than my imaginary theories, and a chill ran down my spine.

Plus, I don’t know what Mist-Eraser Flower is, but hearing “powder” and “two months” gave me a rough idea. The café owner said it took him seven weeks, right? He was probably trying to get me to steal a library book and sprinkle the powder on it for two months to disable the theft protection. Was he trying to make me commit a crime too?

“Uh, I mean… I didn’t steal it, but I’m really sorry. It sounds like you’ve been through a lot.”

[Having a page torn out was rough, for sure. Even if the page is just a shell and the information is what matters, missing a piece affects the book’s overall quality. I was treated as an incomplete book for a while.]

Incomplete book? What’s that? Glancing at the book, I flinched. The book I’d left on the table was gone.

Even more startling was that a woman I’d never seen was sitting in the chair to my right, which had been empty. She wore a leather mask with the same intricate pattern as the book’s cover. A thought crept in. Could that mask’s pattern symbolize an “incomplete book”?

No, don’t think about it. I absolutely shouldn’t dwell on what’s happening here… My brain already seems to have reached a conclusion, but it’s resisting acknowledging it. Something like a realization—that it’s better for both me and this woman not to accept it—pricked at my heart.

The woman stared at me and let out a small laugh. Or rather, the laugh came from the tablet. Her lips, faintly visible behind the mask, didn’t move, and her voice continued to come only from the tablet.

[You’re not an intimidating person. Your reason seems dull, but your instincts are sharp.]

“…What does that mean?”

[The person who ‘tore’ me last time was the opposite. His instincts were dull, but his reason was sharp. And he was unlucky.]

“……?”

[I’ve never seen people like that last long. Maybe bad luck was the biggest factor, but that’s just hindsight.]

I have no idea what she’s talking about. Is she referring to the café owner? As I tried to calm myself, the woman reached for the tablet I was holding. I handed it to her reflexively.

It’s her property… or rather, a part of her, so it’s only right to return it. She laughed again, a joyful sound despite her masked face hiding her expression.

[Anyway, since you returned my page, I should be free from the incomplete book status. But you still can’t read my contents.]

“It’s fine if I don’t read it… But why can’t I?”

[The stolen book lock hasn’t been lifted yet. You’ll need that removed to read it. If you talk to the librarian, it should be quick. Want to come with me?]

At that moment, she turned her head toward the aisle, as if staring at something. She murmured, “Oh my,” sounding slightly surprised. She didn’t say anything, but I felt like I knew what she was thinking.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Maybe that’s what she was thinking.

[You came all the way here, Librarian. I was just about to look for you.]

“…It seemed noisy, so I came to check, and it looks like we have a book vandal and thief caught in the act. Are you alright, *****?”

Book vandalism and… Wait, what? I stared up, mouth agape, at the man called [Librarian].

The Librarian was an eerily tall and gaunt middle-aged man. He was not only taller than me or the woman, but even a head or two taller than Mister, the largest person I knew. To look at the Librarian’s face, I had to tilt my head quite far back. His limbs were stick-thin, making his already imposing height seem even greater, yet this did nothing to lessen the overwhelming presence he exuded. If anything, the imbalance made me shrink back more. He didn’t need brute force to intimidate; there was something else about him that overpowered in a different way.

No, this isn’t the time to be sizing up a stranger’s appearance. I mean, uh…!

“No, I didn’t do it! I just came to return a page from a book!”

“That’s just your claim. I can’t trust it.”

I shouted urgently, but all I got in return was a cold stare. Sure, what criminal would readily admit their crime? But still, I didn’t do anything wrong. I glanced at the woman, and thankfully, she immediately backed me up.

[Well, for starters, this person didn’t tear me. In fact, as he said, he returned my page. I think it’d be best to rule out the vandalism charge for now.]

“Is that so? If you say so yourself, that’s certain. However, it’s not enough to completely clear him of suspicion.”

“Uh, w-what do you mean by that?”

“Even if this person isn’t the one who tore the book, issues remain. Vandalism aside, the theft charge still stands. How did he even get your page in the first place? It was stolen twenty years ago, and no one knew its whereabouts.”

Twenty years? The café owner stole a book twenty years ago? The older Librarian alternated his gaze between me and the woman before fixing his eyes on the inside of my bag on the chair. I felt a flash of irritation at him peering into my bag, but that was short-lived. With a bony hand, he reached in and pulled out a small glass vial.

Wait, that vial.

“Didn’t you bring this to sprinkle Mist-Eraser Flower powder on it? To unlock the stolen book protection.”

“No, that’s not it! Someone I know gave it to me, saying it was deodorizer! I sprinkled a little on my sleeve and thought I was going to die…!”

“Someone you know? So, you’re saying there’s an accomplice?”

No, that’s not what I meant. I wanted to retort, but my mind froze, and words failed me. I couldn’t think of anything convincing to say.

Even I can see how suspicious this looks. From the Librarian’s perspective, some stranger shows up with a long-lost page, and that same person happens to have the perfect tool for theft. To anyone, it’d look like I was trying to succeed where a previous theft attempt failed.

But I can’t just stay silent. I have to say something to defend myself!

“Look, I think I get why you’re misunderstanding, but it’s really not true! I was tricked too!”

“That’s what people caught doing bad things usually say.”

“I didn’t do anything bad! If I really meant to steal the book, why would I waste time talking to her? I’d have sprinkled the powder and bolted before anyone noticed!”

“With so many patrons around, weren’t you pretending to talk to the book to create a distraction? Probably planning to slip away in the confusion.”

So many patrons? There’s no one at the tables around us. Bewildered, I looked around, and the Librarian gave me a puzzled glance before suddenly turning his gaze to another nearby table. His reaction, as if someone had called him, sent a slight chill down my spine.

“…I see. I’m not familiar with their ecology.”

And he’s spouting nonsense too. Ecology? Why bring up ecology here? He’s not talking about fish for soup, is he? The more I thought about it, the more terrifying conclusions I reached, and I hesitated. At that moment, the woman quietly approached and held the tablet to my ear. A faint whisper came from the tablet’s speaker.

[Don’t think too deeply.]

“What?”

[That habit of yours probably helped you survive stepping into a place like this, right? I think you’re harmless. I can tell from how others react to you.]

Others? What others? There’s no one else here… I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t bring myself to. That would’ve gone completely against her advice to avoid “thinking deeply.”

The Librarian, who’d been acting like he was talking to someone else, finally looked back at me, as if he’d finished his conversation. Fine, I won’t think too deeply. Maybe he’s wearing wireless earbuds and talking to someone through them. Maybe he looked at an empty table because he didn’t want to meet my eyes…

For now, I’ll think of it that way. Even if there are holes in the logic, I don’t have to fill them without preparation. I forced myself to act casual and looked up at the Librarian. Unlike earlier, when he seemed openly wary, he now looked somewhat deflated. Maybe he’d just gotten some important information from whoever he was “talking” to.

“Yes, it’s true I don’t know much about people like you. I’ll admit that. I’m not exactly up to speed on recent rumors either.”

“Well, since we’re meeting for the first time, that’s only natural. I don’t know what you mean by rumors, but… Look, you’re free to think what you want, but I really don’t know anything. The person who gave me this page is just the café owner from my neighborhood, someone I barely even know.”

“As I said before, that’s just your claim. And frankly, I don’t believe you’re completely unconnected to the thief from twenty years ago.”

“…Why not?”

“The smell.”

Smell? The Librarian leaned down slightly and sniffed the top of my head. What smell was he talking about? I wondered briefly, but the answer came soon enough. Perhaps.

“I remember this smell, at least. The person who stole the book here twenty years ago had this flower scent too. It was much fainter back then, not as distinct.”

“What? What are you talking about…?”

“From what I’ve heard from other patrons, the reason you carry this flower scent seems to be entirely different… Still, I find it hard to believe there’s no connection.”

Flower scent—could it be Mister’s…? My eyes widened, and I tried to ask the Librarian, but he shook his head in exasperation, turned, and started walking away. The woman, cradling the tablet, naturally followed him.

“Anyway, you can’t interact with ***** right now. The book needs to be repaired to remove its incomplete status, so if you’re truly uninvolved, go home for today and come back next week.”

“What? Just like that? Wait, can you tell me more about this flower scent?”

“I’m telling you to leave. Do you have any idea how much chaos you’ve caused in the reading room? I don’t want to waste more time on someone who’s not even a library member. I’m busy.”

“I have a library card!”

“Even if you do, it’s not for this library. If you keep harping on the smell issue, it could be seen as picking a fight with a deep flower… Leave before this escalates.”

No, but, hold on…! As I frantically reached for the Librarian, he suddenly vanished without a trace. Or rather, it wasn’t just him. The woman standing beside him, along with the tablet, disappeared as if they’d never existed.

“…Huh? How did you get in before opening hours?”

Across the truly empty reading room, a young librarian with a familiar face was looking at me with a startled expression.

Library, Back Alley, Epilogue.

…….

…….

…….

Hello? Oh, &&&&&&&&&&. I’ve already heard the details. First, congratulations on the return of that beloved book. And, well, thank you for putting in a good word with the Librarian. I’ll make sure to repay you soon.

…….

No big deal, really. Our Librarian probably wouldn’t want to clash with someone from outside the library either… You don’t need to offer anything grand, but if I may, could I ask a question instead?

…….

Of course. What’s the question?

…….

Do you happen to remember twenty years ago? To be precise, twenty years and three months ago. That’s when that book’s page was stolen.

…….

Twenty years ago? Back then… Not just me, but all the flowers in our colony were in hibernation. We were probably deep in our collective dream at the time.

…….

Right, now that you mention it, that time does overlap with that period. Was it every three hundred years or four hundred years… Anyway, since everyone was asleep, it’s hard to know what to tell you.

…….

If you’re asking me about the circumstances of the book’s theft, I can’t answer. It’d be the same if you asked anyone in our colony.

…….

As expected. Well, the pollen of an old flower isn’t exactly hard to come by, so it’s probably a stretch to find a connection just based on the scent.

…….

By the way, that kid brought *****’s page… I’m a bit worried. He didn’t look too good, and I can’t help but wonder if someone’s been using him.

…….

Well, he does seem kind of clueless, like an easy target for manipulation… No, I mean, I’m not badmouthing him. I don’t know much about the world where people live, but even in other worlds, scams or at least minor tricks could happen, right?

…….

Well, it’s a world with living beings, so that’s only natural… You’d have to ask him directly to know for sure, though. So, does that answer your question?

…….

Yes, anyway, *****’s restoration should be done by next week, so if you’re interested, come by our library. Oh, and…

…….

Hm?

…….

If you happen to get any information about the book thief from twenty years ago, could you share it with us? Of course, if you’re not inclined, there’s nothing we can do, but… Since it’s related to someone *** cares about, I thought you might look into it a bit.

…….

No, it’s not like I care that much or anything. Uh, how do I put this? Since the thief apparently carried our flower’s scent, I can’t exactly ignore it… Anyway, if I get any info, I’ll let you know. I’m hanging up now.

[There was no one in that world. At least, not that I can recall. I never met a single person there.

But there was a sleeping flower. A flower so breathtakingly beautiful just to look at, with a scent so unforgettable.]

—Huh? This is the boss’s handwriting? Does our boss have a hobby of writing fantasy novels or something…?

—What are you looking at, Hwayoung?

—B-Boss? It’s just, there was this unfamiliar diary on the table. It was open, so I glanced at it without thinking…

—Oh, that’s mine. I was working on something while sitting there for a bit.

—I see. Sorry about that.

—Did you read any of it?

—Uh, I swear I only saw the first page! I mean, uh…

—Wow, our part-timer’s snooping through people’s diaries. Well, I was careless leaving it out, so I’ll let it slide this time. Just be more careful in the future.

—Yes, I really won’t look again. But is it a novel? Or, like, a book review or excerpt?

—…What do you think it is?

—I’m so sorry!

—No, I was just teasing. By the way, Hwayoung, has that customer from last time come by?

—That customer…? Oh, that one? Not yet. At least not while I was here.

—I see. Alright. Get home safe.

Pharmacy

In the end, that day I barely mustered the remaining strength to escape the library and return home as if fleeing.

I thought I had brushed it off casually, but it seems I was actually incredibly tense. I can hardly remember how I managed to talk with the Librarian or how I got on the bus to come back. Without eating or even properly drinking a sip of water, I crawled into bed, plagued by nightmares of being accused of book theft, getting fired from my job, and ending up in jail. I spent a long time drifting in and out of sleep.

When I opened my eyes, it was seven in the evening. Not only had I wasted all of Saturday, but I had blown through Sunday as well. It was as if my entire precious weekend had been stolen from me. This couldn’t be happening. There’s nothing more pitiful than an office worker who loses their weekend.

Yesterday, after sleeping, I woke up feeling refreshed with my cold symptoms gone, but today, perhaps because of the constant nightmares, I felt worse than before I went to bed. My head throbbed painfully, and my body lacked strength. At this point, I had clearly lost both time and health.

No, now that I think about it, there’s an even more important issue.

“I didn’t end up going to the café… Even if I had, it’s not like there was any great solution.”

As I washed off the cold sweat from my back in the shower, I sank into various thoughts. After what happened earlier, I think I understand. I might be entangled in some kind of incident that’s too much for me to handle.

“They called it Mist-Eraser Flower, right? I’ve never heard of such a flower… I bet even searching for it wouldn’t turn up anything.”

Of course, I don’t know much about flowers, but my instincts were whispering to me. There’s no such flower in the world. Even if a similar flower existed, it wouldn’t have effects like causing hallucinations or strange experiences when sprinkled.

That white powder is definitely something I shouldn’t be handling. I shouldn’t even try to figure out what it is. Relying on clumsy internet searches or flipping through books won’t help, and if I’m not careful, I might catch the attention of someone strange like the café owner and end up harassed.

But keeping it halfheartedly isn’t good either, so I need to dispose of it somewhere as quickly as possible. The problem is, I’m not sure if returning the white powder to the café owner is even the right decision.

“It doesn’t feel like just returning the powder will solve anything.”

Until this morning, I might have been able to smooth things over somehow, but now it’s impossible. Because in the library, I gave the page I got from the café owner to that strange man. I don’t regret it, and in fact, I think returning the page to the library was the right move…

It’s just pointless, that’s all. If I returned both the page and the powder, it could carry the nuance of cutting off all unnecessary ties, but returning just one of them feels meaningless. If anything, it might provoke the other party.

“To begin with, isn’t going back to that café itself dangerous?”

If I run into the café owner, I feel like I’ll end up learning things I don’t want to know. Even if I time it when the owner isn’t there, that guy might use an unsuspecting part-timer to pass me some weird item again.

So what now? Should I just live as if nothing happened, or is there some good solution… As I rolled all sorts of possibilities through my mind, my body suddenly shivered with chills, and a fever surged. My head felt hot, like a full-blown fever was kicking in.

“…Ugh, cold symptoms.”

The cold I thought I’d shaken off yesterday seemed to have returned worse than before. I must have spent too long in the shower thinking.

And now that I noticed, the water from the showerhead, which was hot at first, had turned lukewarm. I’d been thinking for months that there was something wrong with the boiler, but I kept putting off fixing it, letting time slip by. It was fine in the fall, but now in winter, it’s not. Well, even in winter, if I shower quickly, it’s fine, but lingering makes it not fine.

If this keeps up, I’ll catch a cold again just before going to work. I hurriedly turned off the shower and dried off, but of course, that didn’t make the cold symptoms disappear. I just felt chilly and my head throbbed as the water dried from my body.

It got even colder when I stepped out of the bathroom. I was wearing clothes, so why was it so cold? Then I realized that after coming home and collapsing to sleep, I forgot to turn up the boiler. Checking it, as expected, it was set to “away” mode. I had set it that way when I left in the morning, so it made sense.

I turned up the boiler, but it wouldn’t warm up right away. I thought eating some hot soup might help, but when I checked the fridge, let alone soup, there wasn’t even a spoonful of rice left in the rice cooker. I was supposed to go grocery shopping over the weekend to stock the fridge and fill the rice cooker, but I didn’t, so this is my fault. Living alone means if I slack off, no one else picks up the slack.

“Ugh, nothing’s going right…”