They’re Back

Allen hugged a large stack of books and slowly moved beneath the bookshelves.

There were many books.

Most of them had never been organized.

Old Boo had not sorted them before.

They were piled messily on the floor, stacks to the left and right.

A casual flip through revealed many books already slightly damaged.

Yet none of them had been repaired.

They were simply heaped together in disorder.

Books were extremely precious items.

Their only source was slow, painstaking transcription.

As a result, most books were exceedingly rare.

These slightly damaged old books were especially valuable.

Because of frequent page turning, their covers had developed small cracks.

They had never been repaired.

Over time, these small issues grew into bigger problems.

Pages fell out.

Bindings broke.

All such issues began from these minor neglects.

Perhaps it was because Old Boo was already very old and could no longer do strenuous work.

This might have been the indirect reason he resigned and returned home.

Before leaving, he did not leave anything else behind.

Only a long letter.

It lay on the desk in the archive room.

It was sealed with red wax, bearing Old Boo’s personal seal.

On the seal was a single large letter in elegant continental script—

B.

Other servants said that Bradley was already seventy-four years old.

For an ordinary person, that was more than a full life.

In peaceful times, someone without awakened frenzy aura living past seventy could already be called long-lived.

He had stayed here for thirty years.

He had left nearly half his life in this library.

Naturally, he felt reluctant to part with it.

But he was a firm believer in natural cycles.

In the end, he left the library that had consumed most of his life to build.

Although he loved everything here, he still had to let go.

His long letter contained no meaningless words.

It detailed only how to repair the books and how to classify them.

There were more than ten sheets in total.

Each page was densely filled with elegant handwriting.

He seemed to remember every single book here.

He wrote clearly where each category should be placed.

Only the very last page was left for personal words.

To the Esteemed Librarian:

I am Bradley, the former administrator of this library.

I am very glad that you are willing to take over my position.

I wish to express my heartfelt thanks.

I have left behind too many messes.

I am truly ashamed.

That is why I can only write this long letter to atone for my irresponsibility.

I have worked in this position for thirty years.

Although the job was comfortable—usually just organizing books—

as these thirty years passed, I realized my body was steadily declining.

Though I refused to admit old age, with time I discovered that I no longer even had the strength to climb ladders to place books.

Only then did I understand that I was truly old.

Looking back on my life over these past thirty years,

I realized I had achieved nothing of note.

I wanted to leave, but I could not let go of this library.

Nor could I let go of this stable life.

So I stayed here, year after year.

At last, I grew old.

By coincidence, my son—who had wandered outside for many years—

and this aging body of mine gave me a reason to retire.

Now that you are about to take my place, I remain deeply concerned about these books.

So I can only leave you a stack of classification charts.

Thank you for coming.

Once again, I apologize for the mess I have left you.

With my deepest gratitude,

—Old Boo

Continental Calendar 1763, July 6

This was everything the old librarian left behind.

Allen used glue and paper paste, gently brushing over a crack with a small brush.

Once it dried naturally, the repair was complete.

This was something she had repeated again and again over the past three days.

By now, her hands were very practiced.

These were the last batch of damaged books.

“Sister Lian~ you’re still repairing books?”

A crisp female voice came from the doorway.

That was Karianna.

This library was open to everyone.

Servants could freely borrow books as well.

They only needed to greet the librarian and record it in the ledger.

Karianna was one of the servants in this estate.

Unlike most servants who only rested and chatted, she loved learning and literature.

She often came to the library to borrow books.

Although more than one person had borrowed books in these three days,

she was the one Allen saw most often.

From unfamiliar to familiar, she became Allen’s first friend in the estate.

When she asked Allen’s name,

Allen told her a casually made-up name—

Lian.

Karianna knew nothing more than that.

Though she felt the name was strange—

too short when spoken aloud.

When Karianna asked Allen’s age,

Allen answered honestly.

Counting from childhood and adding the period of lost memories, she said she was twenty-three.

She told Karianna without reservation.

Karianna did not believe it at first.

But after Allen repeatedly assured her, she had no choice but to accept it.

Although Allen looked no older than sixteen,

this could be considered one of Allen’s mischievous habits.

Karianna was already eighteen.

She looked far more mature than Allen.

Yet she still had to call her “older sister.”

It was awkward at first.

But as she came to know Allen better, she gradually accepted it.

Judging by Allen’s speech and demeanor,

she resembled a penitent monk from the 1600s.

Whether in dress or manner of speaking, she was wooden and humble.

Like someone who had comprehended life and chosen seclusion.

It felt as though everything in the world was cut off from her.

Yet when Karianna helped her,

Allen would always say thank you very seriously.

When Karianna asked her questions,

Allen would patiently explain, like a teacher.

This made her seem strangely lacking in vitality.

But in some aspects, Allen would suddenly act completely differently.

For example, when Karianna mentioned the novel “Snail,”

Allen suddenly became very animated.

She discussed the plot at length.

She critiqued it passionately.

Her eyes sparkled as she spoke nonstop.

At such moments, Karianna always felt that Allen’s spirit had returned to her true age.

Like a neighbor’s little sister excitedly talking about something she loved.

However, such moments were rare.

Most of the time, Allen remained the quiet, monk-like figure.

This left Karianna both intrigued and helpless.

“You finally came.

Quick, help me out.”

Allen lowered her head, stacking the books into neat rectangular piles.

“This is Snail.

The one you were reading yesterday.

I happened to see it and repaired it.”

“Come help me put it back.

Phi row, sixth shelf, third slot.”

“I’m too short to reach it.”

“I’ll have the carpenter make a new ladder another day.”

Allen spoke with her head lowered, continuing to organize the books Bradley had left behind.

Allen was noticeably shorter than Karianna.

Naturally, these high places were handled by Karianna instead.

She was more than happy to help.

In truth, whenever Karianna had free time, she would wander into the library.

Three days ago, she discovered Allen.

Since then, she had stuck to her constantly.

The main reason was simple—

Allen was fascinating.

Of course, her appearance helped as well.

When Old Boo was still here, Karianna never pestered him with endless questions.

She only consulted him when encountering obscure material.

Old Boo was always willing to explain.

But Allen was different.

She was like a doll—

pale, delicate, and adorable.

If placed motionless on the ground,

she might genuinely be mistaken for a large doll.

Of course, ordinary dolls did not wear ascetic shirts and trousers.

Karianna wanted to understand Allen better.

Why she was so wooden yet so interesting.

It was as if she had read every book in the library.

She could recall many books instantly.

She even remembered the authors’ names.

What fascinated Karianna the most was Allen’s understanding of books.

It felt as though they were on entirely different levels.

To Karianna, Snail was merely about the protagonist’s dissatisfaction with the world and resistance to it.

A reflection of the author’s dissatisfaction with the era.

But Allen’s interpretation made Karianna realize what the book truly conveyed.

The snail had resisted.

It had compromised.

Its wavering reflected its true nature.

The heavy shell on its back was a disguise.

A facade of strength.

Inside, it was fragile.

It could not escape death in the end.

Yet its sacrifice allowed its companions to live happier lives.

Facing oppression, it exhausted every possibility.

In the final pressure from its natural enemy,

it bade farewell to its companions in a joking tone.

The snail departed freely.

Like a sage.

Leaving humanity—enslaved by demons—a space to recover and breathe.

Karianna had never noticed this.

She never imagined that a seemingly motivational novel carried such meaning.

This made her even more eager to understand Allen.

Yet she could not.

“Thank you, Karianna.

That was a huge help.”

Allen said with a smile.

“I told you, Sister Lian, don’t say thank you!”

“It makes us sound so distant!”

Karianna said with a hint of irritation.

“Ah, sorry!”

Allen replied.

“And don’t say sorry either!”

Karianna said, exasperated.

“By the way, Karianna, did you come to the library for something?”

“It doesn’t seem like your break time yet.”

Allen quickly changed the topic.

“Ah!

I got so caught up carrying books that I forgot why I came!”

“Tonight, the master and the two young masters are coming back.”

“We’ll all have to line up at the entrance to welcome them.”

“Don’t forget to dress properly!”

Karianna said.

Over these three days, Allen’s clothing had barely changed.

Strict, yes.

But she really did look like a penitent monk.

Even the butler could not bear it anymore.

So someone was sent to remind her.

Karianna volunteered.

“What?!

They’re coming back?!”

Allen exclaimed in shock.

“Do you know the master and the young masters?”

Karianna asked.

“…No.”

Allen replied.