Date: 2742-08-22
Time: 07:06 PM
Location: The Timeless Bindery → Ren's Apartment
The bell above the door didn't ring.
There should have been a bell. Any normal stationary-slash-bookshop has a bell. But this wasn't a shop — this was a vibe. It smelled like parchment, black tea, and quiet judgment.
Ren stepped inside.
No customers. No background music. Just shelves packed with books wrapped in leather, cloth, bark… and maybe something that once had scales.
Behind the counter sat her.
An older woman. Silver hair in a tight braid. Dressed in black with gold embroidery in the shape of hourglasses and constellations. She didn't speak. Just… stared at him.
And smiled. Barely.
Uhhh... Ren? This place has some serious unlicensed Chrono-magic bullshit going on. I recommend buying a paperclip and running.
Ren ignored the Optics and walked toward a stack of books near the back. One practically vibrated in his hands.
Old. Bound in cracked dark red leather. No title.
He slowly walked to the counter.
The woman nodded once. Then wordlessly took his payment via a tiny, brass pinprick to his fingertip that definitely wasn't on any approved banking method.
She handed him the book.
Then leaned forward, lips brushing his ear.
"Read the Last Light letter."
Her voice was like whispers through a keyhole.
Ren spun around.
She was gone.
The counter, the walls, the entire fucking shop? Gone. He was standing alone in the alley.
With the book still in his hands.
WHAT THE ABSOLUTE TIME-FUCK JUST HAPPENED?!
Where is the store?! I didn't even get a receipt! Or a coffee punch card!
Ren stared blankly. "You saw her, right? And why this book didn't disappear"
Hell yes, I saw her! AND HOW THE HELL I SUPPOSE TO KNOW THAT? She whispered through space-time like she knew me personally and then NOPED out of reality!
"Could she be... Kael's ally? Someone from before?"
Either that, or we just got seduced by a librarian banshee. Which, honestly, I'm not against.
Ren clutched the book and bolted for home.
Time: 07:39 PM
Location: Ren's Apartment
The letter from Kael — The Last Light — lay untouched on the desk.
Until now.
Ren took it out. Unfolded it.
The writing had changed. Again.
Gone was the poetic, desperate farewell. This time, it looked like a goddamn math professor and a cryptologist had a baby and spilled ink on it.
Lines. Arrows. Inverted text. A strange compass drawn in the corner. The "message" wasn't a message — it was a puzzle. A riddle wrapped in spatial coordinates and cursed metaphors.
Okay. That's new.
"You're telling me this wasn't here before?!"
Bro, I have 8 layers of visual memory and a flawless data log. I would remember if Kael sent us a sudoku from dimension hell.
Ren pointed to the page. "This... this looks like an address."
If addresses were written by a drunk god on Adderall.
They stared at the paper.
Then back at each other. (Metaphorically. It's hard to stare at your own eyeball.)
Ren said, "You're supposed to be a superintelligent AI interface for dimensional phenomena. Can't you translate this?!"
Excuse me?! I'm an Optics-based Resonance Interpretation. Not fucking Sherlock Holmes with a time kink!
"Oh, so you're just decorative now?"
I'm attached to your goddamn retina, Ren. If I was decorative, you'd be deadly allergic to mirrors.
They bickered over symbols, rotated the compass sketch, tilted the letter upside down, even held it under a lamp like they were checking for hidden treasure maps.
Nothing made sense.
Ren threw his hands up. "Alright! We're missing something."
Yeah. Intelligence. We're missing raw brainpower, champ. This is a big-brain mission. You? You're running on ramen and trauma.
Ren flopped onto the couch. "Maybe the woman from the store was trying to wake something up."
Yeah, like your last functioning neuron.
"You think Kael is still alive?"
...I don't know. But that letter shouldn't be changing after death. It's like he's still editing it. Like it's… syncing. Or evolving.
Ren looked at the book from the shop.
Unmarked. Locked tight.
He sighed. "Well. Guess we're not getting any sleep tonight."
Welcome to the destiny club, bitch. Bring snacks.