Section 18: The Pinglin Town Horror Incident

Annan's life settled into a quiet routine.

By day, he worked as a librarian at the Library. By night, he waited tables at the Dawn Tavern.

The syllables he learned from the bard each evening turned into words the next day, searing themselves into his memory. He even managed to shed the thick accent he had picked up from Aunt Susan's family.

Now, when Annan said, "Oh, my dear Aunt Susan," he no longer sounded as though he were speaking in strange local slang.

The Library job was easy enough. Victor never stopped anyone from borrowing books, but just as Annan had once lingered outside the Library several times before he could read, the townspeople would rather go home and beat their children than set foot inside.

Most of the visitors Annan saw these days were middle-class or wealthy townspeople. They understood the value of knowledge better than commoners did, and some hoped to get close to Victor. They soon noticed the Library had gained a pale-skinned, black-haired librarian, but once they learned he was only a commoner, they lost interest in making his acquaintance.

The girl in the robe was one of the few visitors who still spoke to Annan. She seemed to regard him as a rival, though: she had not given up on making Victor her teacher, nor had she told Annan her name.

It took Annan three days to get through a little less than half of the "Common Phonetic Alphabet" Victor had chosen. He thought he might be ready to try some children's literature.

Annan went around the desk to Victor's chair, where his gray hair gleamed in the sunlight. "Mr. Victor, I'd like to try reading a fairy tale for young children..."

Victor was reading a book far too complicated for Annan at his current level. Without looking up, he picked up his cane and pointed it toward a row of bookcases in the sunlight.

"Which one?"

"That one."

The cane jabbed impatiently at the air.

Annan wisely closed his mouth and searched the shelves. The girl in the robe watched him. He stood in the sunlight as dust motes drifted through the slanting rays filtering into the Library and settled on his cheeks, lending them a soft glow.

Were the books in this Library not organized?

Annan actually found a copy of "○○'s Night of Passion" beside "Mailin's Fairy Tales," with a "Geography of the Duchy of ○○○" on the other side.

Passing over the obscure poetry and affected aristocratic literature, Annan picked up "Mailin's Fairy Tales," which fit what he was looking for. He returned to Mr. Victor and asked why the books were not sorted.

"Did you read about that in a book?"

"Something like that."

Just not in a book from this world.

"How many characters do you know now?" Victor asked out of nowhere.

"Two or three hundred, roughly..."

"Not enough."

Annan more or less understood what Victor meant: once he knew more characters, Victor would have him organize the books himself.

Having made more work for himself, Annan took "Mailin's Fairy Tales" back behind the desk.

Its contents resembled "Grimm's Fairy Tales" as much as its title did. After all, its author, like the bard, had traveled around collecting stories and writing them down. But because supernatural powers truly existed in this world, the tales gave Annan the feeling that they had actually happened.

In the first story, for instance, a metal dragon slaughtered a village. The sole surviving child trained himself, found the dragon that had killed the villagers and his family, and demanded answers. The dragon burned him to death with its breath. Yes... the story was called "The Survivor of the Greenblood Tribe."

That evening, Annan asked the bard about it at the tavern. The bard told him that metal dragons belonged to the forces of good, while the Greenblood Tribe consisted of evil Orcs. So the story was really about good destroying evil.

The next day, Annan again arrived at the Library ten minutes early. Today was different, though: Mr. Victor was waiting outside with the girl in the robe and a carriage.

"You're late," Victor said, his aged face stern.

"It isn't time to open yet."

Annan took out the Library key. His gaze fell on two stacks of books wrapped in kraft paper beside the carriage.

From what Annan knew of Mr. Victor, the old man followed order and rules almost to a fault. As long as Annan had done nothing wrong, Victor would not truly be angry. The girl in the robe did not know that. She stared at Annan in surprise, unable to understand how he dared speak to Victor in that tone without making him angry.

Click.

After unlocking the Library doors, Annan took the initiative to carry the books inside and set them on the desk for the moment.

"Mr. Victor, should I put these on the shelves?"

"You can take them home, if you like."

Once he had set down the books, Annan registered the girl in the robe as the rules required, then unwrapped the kraft paper.

"○ God"

The very first title contained a character he did not recognize.

Annan gave up on checking the books one by one and tore the kraft paper off the other stack. He was just about to put them on an empty shelf when Mr. Victor approached with several separately wrapped books. "Come with me."

After making sure no visitors were likely to arrive just yet, Annan followed Mr. Victor to a door leading to the basement. Victor took an oil lamp from the wall and lit it, then entered the basement with their shadows wavering around them.

The basement lacked the usual chill and damp. Annan saw a bookcase against the wall. Victor handed him the oil lamp, and Annan took it, watching as Victor removed the kraft paper and placed three old books on the shelf. They were no longer new; they were worn, and parts were even missing.

"Don't let anyone in here without permission. That includes you."

"Why?"

As for why Victor had brought him in only to forbid him from entering again, Annan took this as some kind of test from the old man: tell him a secret, then make him keep it.

"Because of these books."

"Are they forbidden books?"

"They contain knowledge... terrible knowledge."

It sounded as though the books were about to be stolen and a horrifying incident would then strike the town.

Perhaps the basement made Victor feel at ease, because he said more than usual. "Knowledge has power. The knowledge and insights described and recorded by legends, evil gods, divine descendants, void creatures... beings of great power can carry power themselves. Even a single sentence can."

"Is that what these books are?"

"No. They're just nonsense with traces of power left in them... Enough. Let's go back up."

Annan believed him. Otherwise, the books would not have been sealed away in the basement.

After leaving the basement with Mr. Victor, Annan went back to "Mailin's Fairy Tales." Today, however, an unexpected visitor arrived.

A figure in a magenta dress entered the Library, the fabric hugging her voluptuous figure. A rich fragrance spread through the room as she stepped inside.

Lady Fine Wine had come to the Library.

"What are you doing here?" Lady Fine Wine asked Annan with a smile.

"I work here," Annan said helplessly. "At least we're not in a bedroom."

"A bedroom?"

The old man came over with a cold snort.

"She's someone I met at the tavern—no, a customer I met while working as a waiter... We've only met a few times..."

"Mr. Victor, I've come to see my niece," Lady Fine Wine said in greeting.

"She's over there." Victor was no more pleasant to Lady Fine Wine. He turned to Annan. "I believe you were just about to sweep the floor."

Annan sighed at the trouble that had landed on him for no reason.

"Yes, Mr. Victor."