The two are essentially mutualistic friends. They don't know each other, only Jones.
As he got inside, the entire building was familiar to him. At the entrance, a three-step staircase reached a platform, which housed the library itself. On the platform, at Area A, there were several wooden tables designed for readers to settle in and chat with others. Instead of plain linoleum, the green carpet added warmth, encouraging people to relax.
Across the wooden tables were bookshelves containing numerous books—Area B. It has many kinds of books, including action, thriller, romance, and much more. Considering there weren't any boards to distinguish each genre, many people had to guess which section was which genre.
It is the librarian's tactic.
The lack of boards was intentional—to make people search a certain section of where they want to be. The titles of each book describe what kind of book they are, so they would have to walk for minutes to find a fitting title for them.
As soon as they reach their preferred section, an eye-catching book title might surprise them and pique their interest.
That way, more and more people come in and relax here.
Everyone knows about the librarian's trick—but somehow, it still works. Having no boards can be irritating, but they still fall for it because, ultimately, you will still find a book to enjoy.
Area B was also where the front desk resided and a place for the librarian and the staff members. Behind the door is a hallway that connects each staff and librarian's room.
Area C is where the couches are. Its role is nearly the same as the wooden tables, but for comfort. The downside of it is that there are a few long couches, while the other couches are mainly for a single person. Friends and families can still talk to each other.
With a glance toward familiar rows of books, Rein made his way past the readers and into Area C's storage room, where he had found Jones crouching beside a small, singular cardboard box.
Inside, the storage was dim. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with various items including boxes, books, pots, and even some plushies. It contained grey concrete walls and flooring, yet there wasn't a speck of dust lurking around.
Would it perhaps be wrong to assume the shattered crown remnants were inside that small box? Or did he throw them in the garbage?
It wasn't long before Rein finally asked, "What happened to the crown?"
Jones glanced over his shoulders and spotted Rein by the door before looking back at the box again.
"It's in here." A small pause. "What, did you think I wasn't going to clean up the storage room?" He raised a half-smirk, slightly chuckling at Rein's remark.
"Knowing you, I thought so." Jones raised an eyebrow. Right before he was about to say something, he dismissed it.
So instead, he stated, "Forget it, where's Teo?"
"He's coming," Rein replied, closing the door behind him with a gentle thud.
"Alright, in the meantime, I'll let you know what's going on." He grabbed a cardboard box on a shelf that had a sticker on it and gestured for Rein to come closer. He gave the box to Rein and stated, "Some shelves are becoming empty; I want you to restock them."
"I don't work here… How come?"
"Usually I would do it myself, but it takes too long." Rein looked at him for a while before sighing and turning to the door. "That box goes to the far right."
Rein gave a nod before opening the door.
It took both—soon to be all three—nearly an hour and 30 minutes to restock the shelves. There were still as many people as when he first arrived here.
When he stood up, after replenishing his last shelf, he stretched. The soreness wasn't helping at all—it felt worse.
He rubbed his shoulders with a sigh, regretting that he could've denied it. Though based on Jones' responses, the way he's been behaving has been different lately. I guess that small crown must've meant so dearly to him.
He turned as he got a sudden call from someone, "Rein! Just one more favour! Please!"
As annoyed as he was, he blurted. "This is too much; I just want to relax."
Jones held a small box as he hurried to Rein. "You're going back home, right? Put this in the delivering mail."
"If I say no?"
"I'll stop bothering you for a few weeks."
Rein shakes his head. "Don't bother; there's no need." Still, he reached out and took the box. "See you soon."
After saying goodbye, it took a few or many steps before he left the building.
Rein stepped out of the library, the small box tucked under his arm. The ache in his muscles was irritating, and he couldn't help but groan. He believed his decision to train differently had been a mistake, hoping the pain would end right there and then.
As he made his way down the path, he noticed something strange.
At the entrance to the village's center, a singular figure stood tall. Alone.
They wore a dark purple coat, pristine and pressed. The hood of their cloak hid most of their hair, a sheathed sword hung around their waist, and a familiar mask that Rein had just seen concealed their face. Their presence was overwhelming—an abnormal interruption to the village's peaceful rhythm.
It didn't take long for everyone to notice one by one. Slowly, their eyes widen as they recognize a symbol on the figure's chest associated with discomfort.
The wind grew stronger for a brief moment, but when it had stopped, the figure spoke. Their voices weren't loud, but they were commanding enough for everyone to hear.
"In less than 2 hours. Anyone who has treasured this land will die."