Chapter 1 : The Library and the Rumor

—Three years later—

Time passed quickly.
The boy called Lucias had grown tall, already standing at 175 centimeters. 

Three years ago, he had followed the golden-haired stranger who saved his life in the Forgotten Forest. That path led him to a remote village far from Trum City. A quiet place known as Tarkev, lying within the domain of Count August. 

Lucias had lived in Tarkev ever since. His focus during those years had been simple: to survive, and to gather information about this foreign world. It was not easy—life here was utterly unlike the world he came from. Yet somehow, fortune seemed to smile on him. 

For on the very day he stepped into Tarkev, fate had arranged a meeting.

An elderly man in a black suit, neatly dressed despite the village’s roughness, approached him. His name was John Miller, the keeper of the Saint Chapel Rhodes Library.

What Lucias never knew—what even John himself barely understood—was that this meeting had been prepared long before, in the shape of a dream.

That morning, John Miller had fallen into a vision.

He found himself standing at the edge of a lake, its waters green and blue, shining like crystal. A white dove circled above him before landing nearby. Without a sound, the bird dipped its beak into the lake, drinking deeply.

Compelled by thirst, John knelt and scooped the water with his own hands. The taste was unlike anything he had ever known—fresh, cool, alive. Strength coursed through his body, and for a fleeting moment he felt as young as he had been in his prime.

When he lifted his gaze, the dove was already flying away. His eyes followed its path, and there, beneath a blooming apple tree, he saw him.

A youth with hair white as snow. Eyes red as ancient wine.

The boy sat with his back against the tree, smiling at John with a sweetness that unsettled him.

What kind of dream is this…? John wondered as he began walking closer, carried by an invisible pull.

The air was crisp, a gentle wind blowing from the east. How rare such freshness was, in an age when smoke from steam engines darkened the skies of Imperion. In this place, though, the heavens were clear and endlessly blue.

As John reached the tree, the boy’s voice rang softly.“Do you like this place?”

John blinked. He had not expected the dream-figure to speak to him.

The boy chuckled, as though amused by his silence.“Are you surprised?” He tilted his head. “This place is called Eden. Have you heard of it?”

Eden. John’s heart skipped. Wasn’t that the paradise of the gods?

“You’re not wrong,” the boy said, reading his thoughts with ease. “This is indeed the paradise of the gods.”

John’s breath caught, but before he could respond, the boy continued.

“Eden is real. And if you’ve come here… it must mean you are close to death. Am I right?”

John froze. His lips trembled. The words cut too close to truth. His body was failing—his liver and kidneys long destroyed by years of drink. No healer, no priest, no medicine could save him.

“…Do you still wish to live?”

“Of course,” John answered at once. There were still things he wished to do. Still time he longed for.

The boy’s eyes glimmered, half-playful, half-knowing.“What if I told you there was a way to live longer? Would you accept it?”

John hesitated. His mind screamed that this was absurd—no such knowledge existed, not even among the elves of the Far East. It was a dream, nothing more.

“Believe or don’t. It’s up to you,” the boy said, smiling faintly. “But for us—descendants of the goddess Lilith—long life is natural. Do you believe me if I say I have lived since the First Era of the gods?”

John’s chest tightened. Madness. That was the only word for it. He almost laughed at himself for listening.

The boy laughed instead, light and carefree.“You don’t believe me, of course. That makes you… very entertaining.”

John could only stare in confusion. He couldn’t understand what the boy found amusing.

“You’re only the second to ever come here,” the boy went on. “I was the first. Amazing, isn’t it?”

Then the sky cracked. A great fracture tore across the blue, and the boy lifted his head.

“It seems you’ll wake soon. Let me give you a gift before you go. Believe me or don’t—it’s your choice.”

His crimson eyes gleamed like fire.“Soon, a child much like me will come to your village. Black hair, crimson eyes. He may arrive wounded. If you wish to live a little longer… stay close to him. He is blessed.”

And with that, the dream shattered.

John awoke, drenched in sweat, heart pounding with the weight of prophecy.

---

At the Saint Chapel Rhodes Library, Lucias sat back in his chair with a book open on his lap. Its title read: When the Darkness Lurks, written by an author named William Scheinzer.

The story followed a man trapped in a mysterious village where the sun never rose. A place drowned in endless night, with no dawn, no warmth, no reprieve.

Lucias had read it three times already. Something about it troubled him, though he couldn’t name what.

Leaning against the shelves, he muttered, “That protagonist’s fate isn’t so different from mine.”

Still, compared to the cursed hero of the novel, Lucias’s life was far kinder.

He thought back to the golden-haired man who had saved him three years ago, and to John Miller, the elderly keeper of this library, who had given him shelter. Against all odds, Lucias had found stability here.

“I searched everywhere for him,” he whispered. “But I couldn’t find a single trace.”

The nameless hunter remained a ghost, a promise Lucias couldn’t yet fulfill.

When he wasn’t scouring bookshelves, Lucias often wandered into the Black Rose Inn, a tavern owned by the Flins family. There, mercenaries and adventurers drank themselves numb, trading rumors of beasts and border skirmishes.

It was also where he met Fiona, the innkeeper’s daughter.

A bright-eyed girl with curly brown hair, Fiona had crossed paths with Lucias in the library months ago. Their bond had grown quickly—she was fascinated by magic, and Lucias shared the same obsession. On Saturday evenings, they often met to trade ideas and dreams.

That afternoon, the tavern roared with drunken laughter and the thud of mugs on wood. From the entrance, Lucias spotted Fiona weaving through the crowd, her arms full of frothing tankards.

She caught his eye, lifted one hand in a quick gesture: Wait for me upstairs.

Lucias gave a small nod and slipped up to the second floor, away from the noise below.

Moments later, Fiona arrived. Her face was pale from exhaustion, but she carried a tray with blueberry biscuits and warm milk.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting, Lucias. There were so many travelers today, I was swamped.” She gave him a weary smile.

Lucias took the milk without complaint and drank.

Fiona set the tray down and sat opposite him, her expression suddenly grave.“Lucias… I heard something strange today. From the adventurers downstairs.”

Lucias looked at her calmly.

“They say there’s been a spirit. Seen near the village graveyard.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A spirit?”

“That’s not the strange part.” She leaned closer. “Every witness who saw it fell ill the next day. Their eyes went black… and then they went blind.”

Lucias stayed silent, waiting.

“I first heard about it three days ago,” Fiona continued. “The sick were taken out of the village last night.”

Lucias leaned back in his chair. At first, he wasn’t interested in tavern rumors. But if the haunting was tied to the graveyard behind John Miller’s library, then it was something he couldn’t ignore.

“So,” he asked, “what do you plan to do?”

The truth was, their meetings were never just for small talk. Both Lucias and Fiona shared a fascination for the arcane and the supernatural.

Fiona bit her lip, then said softly, “I want to investigate it. Personally.” She gave a nervous laugh. “And… I was hoping you’d come with me.”

She added quickly, “Of course, you can say no. It could be dangerous. But I want to know what really happened to those people. Spirits aren’t supposed to harm the living—not according to any book I’ve read.”

Lucias frowned in thought. The real problem wasn’t danger. It was how to keep John from finding out.

At last, he spoke.“…Alright. I’ll go with you.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? You’re sure?”

“Why ask again?” His tone was flat, almost teasing.

She laughed with relief. “I’m just glad. I didn’t think you’d actually agree.”

Lucias shrugged. “If something happens to you, I’ll be the first one interrogated. You don’t exactly have other friends.”

The words pierced her chest, but not cruelly—only with truth. She had always been the odd one, shunned for her unusual interests. No one else wanted to share her fascination with magic and the uncanny.

But Lucias did.

“Hehe…” She chuckled softly. Since meeting him, her lonely life had become brighter.

The two of them set their plan: to meet again that night, at eleven, at the graveyard.