Chapter 5 – Whispers Among Pages
The air inside the library was unlike any Haruto had ever breathed.
It wasn't musty or stale. It was quiet — deeply quiet — like the silence itself had weight, aged into stillness over centuries. The towering shelves stretched upward into darkness, spiraling into shadow. Between them, floating lanterns pulsed with soft golden light. They didn't burn. They breathed. Just like the glow inside his chest.
He took another step forward.
Behind him, the great doors dissolved into the wall without a sound. There was no exit now. No path backward.
This place is alive.
The floor shifted beneath his boots — not enough to startle, but just enough to confirm the truth: the library was listening.
He wandered between shelves thick with dustless volumes. Some books were bound in leather so old it looked fossilized. Others shimmered faintly and rearranged their titles when he stared too long. Scrolls floated gently just above their slots. Glass jars held glowing threads that pulsed like the breath of sleeping memories.
And all the while, something unseen moved above.
High along the rafters, nestled between beams and lantern light, a bird sat watching him. Its body was made not of feathers, but of faint, woven light — strands of spirit, folded into a small, elegant shape. Its eyes glowed golden-blue. It never blinked.
It moved as Haruto moved. Silent. Patient.
When he turned down a narrower aisle, it followed — gliding silently between lanterns before settling on a small silver-leaved tree growing impossibly from a shelf.
Haruto didn't notice.
He reached toward a book, fingertips brushing an unmarked spine.
Then—
A voice.
Soft. Clear. Not heard, but felt.
"Who are you?"
Haruto turned, startled.
The tree. The bird.
It sat among the branches, glowing faintly, staring straight at him.
"What…?"
The bird's beak moved again — but the voice came from nowhere and everywhere.
"You are not him."
He froze.
Its head tilted — not curious, but knowing.
"You wear his face. But you are not Leonhart Elgrave."
His heart pounded.
It knows.
He took a slow step back. "What are you?"
The bird shimmered — and then unfolded.
Feathers became light. Wings became mist. The form unraveled upward, gathering into the shape of a woman.
She floated above the floor — tall, luminous, ethereal. Her hair drifted like smoke in water. Her eyes glowed the same golden-blue as the bird's.
"I am one of the Ten Great Spirits," she said, voice like echoes across time. "Keeper of Memory. Patron of Thought."
She bowed her head slightly, not in respect, but in formality.
"You may call me Elaris — the Spirit of Knowledge."
Haruto stood speechless.
She moved closer, drifting just above the floor, the hem of her cloak never touching stone.
"The real question," she said, "is not who I am."
She floated a little nearer.
"The question is — who are you?"
Haruto lowered his eyes.
His throat tightened. The truth had sat in him like a weight since the moment he awoke in this body. And now, for the first time, someone had pulled it to the surface.
"I… I don't know."
He looked back up at her slowly.
"I wasn't born here. Not in this world."
Elaris didn't move.
"In my world… I was nothing special. I had no power. No title. I lived in a crowded city, full of lights, full of noise. And I ruined everything I touched."
The words came slowly now. Raw. Unpolished.
"I argued with my parents. I ran away. I didn't care what happened to me. And then… I died."
His fists clenched at his sides.
"One second I was on the road… the next, I was here. In Leonhart's body. With a family. A name. A past I don't deserve."
Still, Elaris didn't move. She simply floated there — silent.
"I don't know why I was brought here. Or who did it. Or what I'm supposed to do."
"But I know I'm not him."
He looked her in the eye.
"I'm Haruto. And I want to do better."
She remained quiet for a long moment. Her glowing expression unreadable — neither judgmental nor kind.
Then she spoke again, calm and deliberate.
"So that's the case…"
She drifted back a little, arms folding loosely across her chest.
"Leonhart… or rather, Haruto."
Her glowing eyes narrowed.
"Have you told anyone about this?"
He shook his head. "No. Not a soul."
She nodded once — firm.
"Good. Do not. Not yet. This world has rules… and memories. Souls from beyond it are not easily accepted."
She circled him slowly, gaze never leaving his.
"Now tell me, Haruto. Why are you here? What is it you seek?"
Haruto stood his ground.
He didn't hesitate.
"Knowledge. About this world. About what I am now. About… everything."
For the first time, Elaris smiled.
It was faint — not warm, not cold. Just the smallest curve of understanding.
"So that's it…"
She extended one hand.
The air shimmered.
A quiet gust stirred the shelves around them. And then — like arrows summoned by name — four books rose from distant places in the library, weaving between shelves, between lanterns.
They hovered around Haruto briefly.
Then lowered themselves into his arms.
He barely had time to steady them.
When he looked up again—
Elaris was gone.
No sound. No light.
Just silence and the hum of the library.
Haruto stood still, clutching the books.
He looked down.
The titles were written in a language he didn't know — and yet, he could read them now.
Something had changed.
This is where it begins.
Later that night, in the quiet of his chamber, Haruto sat alone at his desk.
The candles burned low.
The books were open.
And his eyes scanned each word like they were answers to a question he hadn't yet learned how to ask.
I don't know why I was brought here…
But I'm going to learn everything this world tried to hide.