The sunlight in the study lay as still as a pool of motionless water.
Zhiyan leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on the armrests, his fingers slightly curled. His fingertips lightly touched the wood, worn smooth and glossy by the years. His eyes were closed, his lashes casting faint shadows beneath them.
He had finished handling all of today's files.
Today had been much like any other day. No, things had gone even more smoothly than usual.
But unlike most days, today he had felt something rare.
Boredom.
When that word surfaced from the depths of his mind, even he found it strange. It had been a long time since he had felt "bored."
But today, the feeling had simply arrived.
Nothing to do.
Zhiyan opened his eyes.
Sunlight streamed through the window and fell across his face, a little too bright. He narrowed his eyes slightly, then turned his face away from the beam shining directly into them. His gaze settled on the silent objects in his study.
The bookshelves covered an entire wall, stretching from floor to ceiling, every shelf packed full. In the sunlight, the book spines showed an assortment of colors-dark brown, deep red, forest green, navy blue. Some bore gold-stamped lettering that reflected tiny, starlike glints of light. Others bore nothing at all, only marks worn into them by time, like the growth rings of an old tree.
Zhiyan scanned them row by row.
Jujutsu Society texts. Secret volumes of the Zenin Clan. Manuscripts by ancient jujutsu sorcerers. Family genealogies. Cursed spirit encyclopedias. Cursed technique analyses. He had read most of those books, some more than once.
His gaze continued downward.
It stopped at the seventh shelf.
Among a row of dark, solemn volumes whose titles alone were enough to give someone a