Villanelle crossed through the library’s oak doors once again, walking briskly toward the administration desk.
Mr. Casper had his head buried in stacks of registers and scrolls as usual, the tip of his quill vibrating with extreme speed.
“Mr. Administrator, I need to enter the underground Forbidden Books Area. Here is the permit signed by Professor Hiram.”
She spoke concisely, pulling a parchment roll from her robes and placing it on the empty space of the oak counter along with her student ID.
The scratching sound of the quill stopped abruptly.
Mr. Casper looked up quickly, took the parchment, and pulled it toward him. He adjusted his glasses, scrutinizing the document with great care. As he read, he looked up a few times to eye Villanelle.
In his decades of being an administrator, this was the first time he had seen a lower-year student permitted to enter the Forbidden Books Area.
Time seemed to stretch in the silence.
After a long while, Mr. Casper sat up straight and looked at Villanelle through his thick lenses. His eyes held a hint of scrutiny, but he spoke in a dry, flat voice.
“Professor Hiram’s permit is specific in its scope. Do not exceed the boundaries.”
The warnings were already detailed on the parchment, so there was no need to repeat them.
Villanelle nodded. “I understand, Mr. Casper.”
“The Ninth Archive Room is located on the first basement level. Follow me.” Casper pushed himself up using the armrests of his chair and grabbed a heavy ring of brass keys from the file cabinet behind him.
He then hobbled toward a small side door, with Villanelle following close behind.
*Click.* The door opened, revealing a dark, spiraling staircase behind it.
A chill rushed over her. Magic Guide Lamps were embedded in the walls at regular intervals, casting a ghostly blue light downward.
Mr. Casper handed the keys to Villanelle and stepped aside, seemingly having no intention of leading her further.
“The keys must be returned before you leave the library. All books must be returned to their original positions.”
“Thank you.”
She took the cold keys, gripping them tightly in her hand as she stepped into the descending shadows.
After walking down dozens of steps, the space ahead suddenly opened up.
A dim corridor stretched out before Villanelle, extending in both directions toward an unseen end. Forbidding doors lined the hallway, each hanging a nameplate that indicated a number.
Searching room by room along the corridor, Villanelle stopped in front of a door marked with the number nine.
She took a deep breath, inserted the key into the lock, and gave it a gentle turn.
The door slid open inward without a sound.
The archive room was much more grand than she had imagined, and far more oppressive.
It was a vast space that felt like an underground palace. Countless ironwood bookshelves, standing as tall as the ceiling, acted like silent giants, dividing the space into a grid-like maze.
The illumination came from the tops of the shelves and from crystals hanging from the ceiling on chains, casting island-like pools of light onto the aisles and the distant black stone reading tables.
The bookshelves themselves and other far-off corners were hidden in deep shadows.
The air was bone-chillingly cold — unnaturally so.
According to the area numbers marked on the permit, Villanelle spent a moment identifying her surroundings in the dim light before heading toward the third section.
‘Can’t they make this place normal? Does it have to be so creepy…’ she complained silently.
The tall bookshelves cast long shadows. As she walked between them, it felt as if countless ancient gazes were peering through the spines of the books, silently watching the intruder.
Villanelle stopped in front of a row of shelves in the third section and looked up.
The catalog was vast, consisting mostly of obscure fields she had never heard of. She confirmed the key titles Professor Hiram had listed on the parchment and searched for them one by one on the shelves.
*Compendium of Non-standard Magic Pollution Cases (Volumes One to Three)*. Three thick volumes caught her eye.
Found them. This was one of the sets the professor had authorized.
Villanelle carried them to the nearest reading table.
The stone table was icy. The tabletop, engraved with blue Runes, glowed faintly the moment the books touched it, though the light faded quickly.
She opened the table of contents of the first volume and skimmed through it.
The cases were divided into several major categories based on the source of pollution: Abyss Energy residue, Chaos Erosion, Evil God Whispers, ancient curses…
Villanelle scanned them briefly, identified a few categories that might be valuable, and turned to the corresponding page numbers to read.
Her finger traced lines of cold, descriptive text.
Most of the case records were brief, ending in blunt conclusions — “Contaminated, purified,” or “Mental derangement, isolated.”
That was until she reached the end of an appendix in one of the volumes.
On the ancient, fragile paper, Villanelle saw a set of initials that had been repeatedly scribbled over but remained legible:
A.V.A.
The description below the name, while still brief, seemed slightly more detailed than the cases she had seen before.
“Subject: A.V.A., Female, member of the Imperial family.
Confirmed to possess a certain degree of Abyss Energy perception. Subject self-reported continuous reception of ‘Whispers.’ After multiple examinations, no standard signs of pollution were found. Determined to be hallucinations and cognitive bias triggered by a mental disorder.
Measures: Isolated observation recommended; contact with any relevant literature forbidden. Follow-up: Committed suicide during isolation. All personal research records have been destroyed according to regulations.”
Villanelle’s gaze lingered on this description for a moment.
‘A member of the Imperial family…’
She wasn’t overly surprised, though she felt a slight pang of sentiment before turning the page.
Time ticked away, and she finished the three volumes before she knew it.
Villanelle stood up and carefully moved the three incredibly heavy books back to the shelves, trying her best not to make too much noise.
In the shelves of the fifth section, she found a volume titled *Forgotten Contracts: Investigation of Seven Special Symbiotic Cases (Fragmentary)*.
The pages were damaged. However, one of the cases mentioned an ancient form of symbiosis “based on a strong emotional bond and mana complementarity rather than a master-servant contract,” while vaguely citing some Dragon legends of questionable authenticity.
Although these descriptions seemed a bit far-fetched, they gave her some ideas.
She decided to record them first.
Returning to the reading table with the book, Villanelle pulled out the pre-prepared Frost Paper, a quill, and a small bottle of ink from her robe pocket to quickly jot down the main points.
While she was immersed in transcribing the fragment, an extremely faint rustling sound came from behind a bookshelf not far away.
The surroundings were so quiet that the noise was incredibly distinct.
Villanelle looked up, straining her ears to listen.
‘Could there be others here?’
From the spiral staircase to the corridor, she hadn’t seen a single soul; the place had been empty.
Before she could hear clearly, the sound vanished.
Was it an illusion, or a mouse? In a place protected by ancient magic, there probably shouldn’t be any mice.
Villanelle shook her head and continued reading, assuming her mind was playing tricks on her.
A few minutes later, the sound echoed again.
This time it was closer — a rustling of fabric rubbing against the edge of a bookshelf, followed by… a very low, rapid conversation in a dialect with strange pronunciations. She couldn’t understand a single word.
They likely weren’t library staff.
Staff wouldn’t be talking here, and they certainly wouldn’t use a dialect.
The academy had clear regulations stating that the Imperial Official Common Tongue must be used in all campus locations, and “rustic and vulgar” pronunciations like dialects were forbidden.
Villanelle closed the book softly and held her breath. She slid slowly from her chair and crouched behind the massive black stone reading table, peeking out with half her head shielded by the stone.
In the shadows between two bookshelves diagonally across from her, there were two figures draped in dark gray cloaks. The fabric looked ordinary, but it covered them completely from head to toe.
Currently, the two were standing in front of a shelf labeled “Heresy Theories.” One of them quickly pulled out an ancient-looking parchment scroll, while the other looked around warily.
The light was too dim to see their faces.
However, Villanelle noticed that when one of them turned, the hem of their cloak lifted slightly, revealing a pair of boots.
They weren’t academy-issue boots, nor were they the style worn by palace guards. They were thick-soled field boots stained with bits of dried mud. The color of that mud… didn’t look like the soil from the palace gardens or the academy paths.
She immediately became alert.
*Outsiders?*
Suddenly, within the strange dialect the two figures were speaking, Villanelle heard a word she knew all too well.
“… Adrian…”
Her blood seemed to freeze instantly.
Why did they mention the surname of the Imperial family? Which member were they talking about?
The two seemed to have found what they wanted. They tucked the parchment scroll into their robes and began moving quickly and silently toward another part of the archive room, their footsteps light.
The sense of unease in Villanelle’s heart grew stronger.
She didn’t dare stay here any longer.
Only after the two figures had long disappeared did Villanelle tremulously crawl out from under the reading table. She returned the books to their places with the lightest, quickest movements possible, packed her paper and pen, and retraced her steps.
She wasn’t sure if it was an illusion, but she felt as if eyes were boring into her back the whole way.
Hurrying up the spiral stairs, Villanelle finally returned to the familiar door, feeling a surge of relief as if she had just escaped death.
Standing before the administration desk again, she returned the keys to Mr. Casper.
“Um… Mr. Administrator, did anyone else apply to enter the Forbidden Books Area this morning?” After some hesitation, Villanelle finally asked.
The library cleared everyone out by 9:00 PM every night. Those two couldn’t have been there since last night; they must have arrived this morning.
“Anyone else?” Mr. Casper didn’t even look up as he spoke casually. “Other than you, no one.”
A chill seeped into her spine.
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