The library was a cathedral of dust and light — tall arched windows fractured sunlight into quiet, slanting beams, and the smell of paper felt ancient. The yellow afternoon light pressed through the tall windows, illuminating floating motes that drifted like tiny ghosts between the shelves. Tina pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped in quietly. Tina adjusted her grip on the book pressed to her chest — The Forgotten Soldier. Its cover was worn, its corners soft and frayed, as though it had passed through countless hands that no longer existed.

  

  Her reflection flickered briefly in the glass case of returned books — tired eyes, olive skin, messy brown bangs, fingers clenching the frayed cover of that strange volume as if it might answer her. She crossed the library, heels clicking softly against the tiled floor, until she found an open computer station near the back. The machine hummed with the slow effort of the era — a dull beige box and flickering CRT monitor that took nearly a minute to come alive.

  She set the book down beside the keyboard and stared at its spine. The title had begun to fade, the letters ghosted by time.

  “I'll try again. I’ll figure you out,” she murmured under her breath. “Where you came from… and why.”

  She typed the title into the early web directory — Altavista, primitive and clunky — and waited as the modem wheezed and clicked, connecting her to the world.

  Then, faint footsteps echoed behind her.

  Tina glanced back instinctively. A girl had just entered the library — medium height, soft-featured, with a quiet composure that seemed almost too deliberate. Her hair was long blonde curtain bangs, and her coat looked one size too big, as if she had borrowed it from someone else.

  “Is this seat taken?” the girl asked, her voice gentle but firm, gesturing to the computer beside Tina’s.

  Tina blinked. “Oh — no, not at all. Go ahead.”

  The girl smiled faintly and sat down, setting her bag at her feet. The faint smell of rain and soap followed her, and the soft sound of keys clicking soon filled the silence between them.

  For a few moments, Tina tried to focus on her search, but her eyes drifted toward the stranger’s screen. She wasn’t browsing the web — she was staring at the screen in deep thought.

  Tina hesitated, then spoke. “Do you, um… come here often?”

  The girl looked up from her screen, blinking as if she had just returned from somewhere far away.

  “No,” she said after a pause. “Not really. Just passing through.”

  Her tone was light, but her eyes — a pretty blue — carried a sadness that didn’t belong to her age.

  “Oh,” Tina said softly, unsure what to add. She turned slightly in her chair, trying to hide her curiosity, but found herself glancing again at the girl’s face. There was something unnervingly familiar about her. The tilt of her head. The faint, haunted stillness behind her smile.

  It hit Tina suddenly — the resemblance.

  Casimir.

  Her chest tightened.

  It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough — the same calm expression, the same beautiful features.

  She blinked, shaken. Of course, it couldn’t be him. But something about this girl’s presence made her curiosity spark.

  The girl turned to her again, noticing her stare.

  “Are you all right?”

  Tina nodded quickly, forcing a smile.

  “Yeah. Sorry, I just thought I’d seen you before.”

  The girl tilted her head, as if weighing whether to believe her. Then she smiled faintly.

  “Oh. No worries.”

  Outside, a wind passed through the courtyard, stirring the leaves against the windows.

  Inside, the two girls worked in silence — strangers, yet tethered by a quiet thread neither of them could see. The silence between them softened into something almost friendly — two quiet people sharing a space.

  Tina was the first to speak. She leaned slightly toward the other girl, her curiosity outweighing her shyness.

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  “Hey,” Tina said gently. “What’s your name?”

  The girl paused, fingers hovering above the keyboard. Then she turned, that same delicate, polite smile flickering across her lips.

  “Natalie,” she said. “Natalie Chmiel.”

  “Tina,” she replied, placing her hand confidently on her chest. “Tina Fernsby. It's a pleasure!”

  They shared a brief, hesitant smile — the kind that sits on the edge of new acquaintance.

  “What are you working on?” Natalie asked after a moment, her voice quiet but genuinely interested.

  Tina’s eyes lit up.

  “A book,” she said. “It’s… strange. An unknown author, no publisher, no real information anywhere. I got it from Anna's bag after—” She stopped herself. “Well. It just showed up.”

  Natalie leaned closer to look.

  "Anna?" Natalie muttered.

  ***

  “Anna Smirnov.”

  Natalie’s head turned toward the television. “Wait—”

  The café grew quieter as the reporter’s voice grew sharper.

  “—found last night on the grounds of the university. Looking as if she had jumped off the philosophy building's roof. Authorities are investigating whether her death was suicide or foul play. Police are considering a connection between this incident and a string of unusual disappearances across the region…”

  ***

  Tina grabbed the book beside her and held it out, a little too eagerly, toward Natalie.

  Natalie leaned closer to look.

  The spine creaked softly as Tina tilted the book toward her, the dim light catching the embossed, fading letters. The cover was worn, almost scorched in one corner. For a moment, Natalie only stared at it, her expression neutral — and then something shifted.

  Her eyes widened, just slightly, and her mouth parted as though a breath had caught somewhere deep in her chest.

  The Forgotten Soldier. By Berend Vos

  Natalie froze.

  ***

  Natalie had remembered the time back at the lab when Dr Kuroda bent over and glanced at the book's cover. A name stood out. The author’s name.

  The Forgotten Soldier.

  By: Berend Vos

  Ten blinked, his gaze flickering down to the page once more.

  “Because...It’s what I am. A soldier forgotten by everyone. A soldier no one will ever remember.”

  ***

  BAM!

  Her hand shot out to clutch the edge of the bed, her small feet brushing the cold floor. The nightgown fluttered against her skin as she stood, bare and vulnerable in the dark. Slowly, carefully, she crept toward the door. She whispered, her voice barely audible.

  “The demon, the demon, the demon… kill… demon.”

  She clutched the nightgown to her body, her hands trembling as she forced herself to move out of the bedroom, gently opening the door. The hallway was as dark as it had been before, but now it felt different. Darker.

  Her heart pounded as she crept down the corridor, the silence now so thick it felt suffocating. Each footstep felt heavier than the last, like she was wading through the dark with the weight of some horrible truth hanging over her. The Demon. The Demon. The… Soldier… The… Soldier… The Polish… The Polish soldier! A Polish soldier. Where had Nine heard this before? A Polish soldier… How did this have anything to do with a demon?

  Suddenly, Nine saw the memories of the woman—her mother? No, not her. But whose? The images continued to churn in her mind, a storm of fragmented faces, of blurred figures and distant voices.

  “Remember my name? If I don’t return, okay?”

  Her voice was small, fragile, barely above a whisper.

  “You killed.”

  "Do you feel it, Nine?" Ten’s voice was a whisper, low and deliberate. "The weight of the world is shifting. It’s happening, and we’re right here at the center of it all."

  Nine could barely bring herself to look at him, but she did. She wanted to scream, to run, but her body refused to obey.

  "Isn't it beautiful?" Ten continued, his gaze never leaving hers. "Everything that’s happening, it’s like... a symphony, and we’re the only ones who truly understand the music. The Polish soldier... You know he came here to see us, right?" He stepped forward, "It’s simple. We just have to watch. We’ll be the only ones left. The only ones who get to see it. You, me, and the end. The end of everything. The beautiful end." You, me, and the end…. What did that mean? Little Nine had no idea…

  Nine’s hands were shaking uncontrollably, her legs weak beneath her, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. This isn’t real. But it was. The gun was real. His voice was real. And then, slowly, she realized—he wasn’t playing. He wasn’t joking. He wanted her to do it. She was the one who had to pull the trigger. She glanced down at the gun in her hands, her fingers twitching, not sure if she could even hold it steady. Ten was watching her, his gaze unwavering.

  "Don’t be scared," he whispered. "Once the demon is killed, the soldier can see the end. Run for him. Run away from here. Take the gun, and run.”

  "No..."

  “Good girl,” Ten whispered, his voice like a dark lullaby. “Now pull the trigger.”

  BAM!

  ***

  Natalie's hand lifted instinctively — both hands — pressing against her temples, fingers curling into her hair as she looked down. Her breathing turned uneven, quiet but sharp, like someone fighting off a sudden, impossible memory.

  Tina’s stomach tightened. “Hey—hey, are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft but urgent.

  Natalie didn’t answer at first. She kept her head lowered, shoulders trembling just slightly. Then she exhaled — one long, deliberate breath — and lifted her gaze again.

  Her eyes were glassy, but her expression was composed. Too composed.

  “Yeah,” she said finally, forcing a small smile. “Sorry. It’s nothing. Just… a headache.”

  Tina frowned, unconvinced. “You sure? You looked like you—”

  “I’m fine.” Natalie’s voice was kind, but final.

  Tina hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”

  The two girls sat in silence again — but the air had changed. Tina’s curiosity was now mixed with unease, a quiet awareness that she had stumbled into something far deeper than a simple conversation. Next to her, Natalie stared at the flickering library monitor, her reflection faintly trembling in the screen’s glass.

  And beneath her breath — so soft Tina didn’t hear — she whispered a single word.

  “Casimir… He had that book when he was ten..."

  Natalie knew she had to ask Tina about it.

  Ask her where she found it and why she looked into it. Could Anna be the girl on the news? Is this all really Casimir's doing?

  Did Casimir kill Anna? If so, everyone at this school is in danger.