CH 153

Beyond the now wide-open door, Cecile saw nothing but darkness. However, a gust of wind that blew out from within carried a familiar scent—the smell of books. It was unmistakably redolent of paper and aromatic ink, like what you’d smell when you stood close to a bookshelf.

Surprised, the empress took a step forward, and immediately spheres of light flickered on all over the space. The darkness that even the blue phoenix’s flames could not illuminate was quickly chased away. Cecile had to close her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness.

When she opened her eyes again, her mouth dropped open. For as far as she could see, there were piles and piles of books. Books, books, and nothing but more books. They were stacked so high they seemed to reach the top of this immeasurably vast space. There was no gold or jewels—only books.

“Wh-what is all this? What… is this place?” she whispered. Is this what a mountain of books would look like? Cecile was frozen in place by the sight of piles of books that exceeded her wildest imagination. She’d once glimpsed the imperial palace’s library from outside, and though she hadn’t gone in yet, was surprised that the building had been filled to the brim with books. But this place was likely on a scale of hundreds of times larger than that.

‘This can’t be possible.’ Though she obviously didn’t know the number of books that existed in the world, it was abundantly clear that there was no place in the continent that could’ve amassed a collection as incredible as this. She got goosebumps as she regarded the view with awe.

Picking up a book in front of her with trembling hands, she wondered what kind of knowledge these tomes might contain. Fortunately, the book in her hand appeared to be written in the common language of the continent, which seemed unfitting for a book in a dungeon. Opening the page, she began to read aloud.

“Cecile was standing in front of the fountain when she was suddenly splashed with water. She’d been careless, thinking that the fountain would not work properly after being abandoned for decades…”

She stopped and bit her trembling lips, stammering, “This, this is…” It was the story of her past. A story from many years back, when her maids in Navitan had just entered the royal villa. She’d been tinkering for days trying to fix that fountain, insisting that a fountain must spout water. On the day the repairs were finished, Cecile had stood before the spout of the fountain to test it, although she only halfheartedly believed it would work. The young princess had ended up drenched by the ensuing blast of water, and she was bedridden after catching a cold.

Cecile quickly flipped back to the book cover, which was marked in haphazard scribbles, ‘11731.’ Returning the book to its pile, she picked up another one. It had a completely different colored cover, decorations, and paper. Flipping it open, she began reading that book aloud too.

“Thus, Cecile died, without any warning at all. Her death…” The empress hurled the book away from her, and the blue phoenix perched on her shoulder let out a cry of surprise.

“How ominous. Don’t go killing me off without permission!” she yelled. In her heart, she knew books should be cherished, but sometimes there were exceptions. She was disturbed at reading about the death of someone with her shared name. It was like she’d read about her own death. Trying her luck for a third time, she picked up another book and began to read, but quickly tossed that one away too. “Ack! This time His Majesty died!” The third book ended with Estian taking his own life.

Continuing in the manner, Cecile began reading through all the books she could grab. The endings to each and every one of them were the same—either she or Estian would be mentioned, and in each book, at least one of them would meet their death.

* * *

“What is up with this place? Is this a museum of ominous records? Is this actually a garbage dump in the imperial palace?” she shouted. Cecile knew in her heart that neither was the case, but what were the chances of all these books having her or Estian’s name recorded in them? Her teeth were chattering, and despite her shouting in an attempt to gain courage, the fear did not leave her.

What were these books, and why did she or Estian seem to die in every one of them? And… why were none of them titled? There were so many books, but not one had a title. Occasionally, some were numbered with what seemed like arbitrary digits, such as ‘383279’, ‘1423’, and ’29.’

After staring blankly at the books for a while, Cecile turned her head to the blue phoenix, and asked, “Could you make a fire? Let’s burn all of it.” The phoenix, which had nodded its head as if understanding her, turned hesitant at the suggestion of arson. “It’s fine. We’ll keep it a secret between us,” she coaxed.

Despite knowing what she was doing was wrong, she couldn’t get rid of the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach unless she knew these ominous books were burned. She prodded the bird until the reluctant blue phoenix flew up, circling above her head, before opening its beak and unleashed blue flames at the books.

The heat made Cecile retreat in surprise. She gazed at the stacks, thinking to herself good riddance, but then gasped in surprise. The books didn’t catch fire; there weren’t even any burn marks. The absurdity of the situation even made the blue phoenix let out a cry in disbelief. “It won’t burn?” Cecile brooded. Were books not flammable? It didn’t make any sense.

Suddenly, a voice interrupted her thoughts. “Do they appear like simple books to you?”