News of a particular building was suddenly making rounds in the city.

  Rumors of a vast interior unlike the drab outside.

  Filled with books of all sorts. Beyond the very imagination a human could conceive.

  Yet very few are able to enter such a place.

  As if a restriction were emplaced.

  Such a restriction randomizes; the point when the moon reaches it’s highest.

  A dulling moor visage. Imagined as a plot of land, with a single door leading to the mysterious place.

  Rumors cannot be trusted as my once old father said.

  The window sills were thick with weathered grime. The peering glass undiscernible with bland reflected light.

  Chiseled brick stacked upon each other, creating a wall. Decaying with holes and cracks. Once illuminated brightly, left withering in the world. A prodding dull in every sense.

  The very look of such a place screamed old and worn by time.

  Next to other buildings much newer, kept in their prime by carving hands.

  The only thing out of place was the grand doors leading inside. Yet even that was far worse to a quick look down the street to another.

  Stilted and crudely made.

  Preemptively a sigh came out.

  Rumors are rumors.

  Still people cling onto hope.

  A sneer rose to my lips.

  Great desperation for fallacies.

  Washing ashore was self mockery and a pitch black heart.

  Slowly I took steps. Carefully maneuvering around the broken tiles taken over by nature.

  Reaching the little steps.

  For a building like this, the little steps were pristine. If not squeezed out of colour.

  Placing my feet at the top, the door waited.

  It’s bronze handle darkened yet still gleaming for a hand.

  Grasping it, the cool feeling of rotting metal stuck to my palm. The unpleasant urge to let go filled me.

  I pulled.

  It yielded no results.

  Pushing, it opened. A haze blocking any clear sight to the inside. Yet the light was bright enough to see something.

  Crossing the threshold and fully entering, the haze cleared up.

  A grand welcome in the form of a red carpet embroidered with yellow; above chandeliers emitting soothing brightness no less than below.

  Shelves filled with books, lining it in various colours. An area next to it cleared with tables and chairs to enjoy the activity.

  Despite that, no sense of awe coursed through me.

  Left of my vision was an L shaped desk. Assorted with trinkets and objects sparking my interest.

  However,

  There sat the caretaker and watcher of this place.

  Shoes of white and blue, a lustrous streak of silver on the sides, crossed with each other on the desk.

  Deep blue of a faraway ocean. Pants of an unknown fabric shaded in that dark blue.

  A loosely put overall covering a white shirt. That overall was incomprehensibly strange.

  A dull grey with parts of it extremely darker than other areas.

  Dirty cuffed sleeves with a perpetual sheen all over the overall. It can be seen so thoroughly with eyesight alone.

  Small short teeth lining the edge on the longest straight open areas. Connecting to an area behind the head where the teeth stop, and a strange ball with thread goes inside the overall.

  Truly, a baffling attire.

  And such a caretaker who receives guests was perfectly leaning in their chair with their feet on the desk.

  With a book placed on their face.

  Arms loosely dangling, uncaring to my entrance. A state of rest and boredom perhaps.

  Silently I moved on.

  Filling myself in between shelves.

  What is inside them likely contains great mysteries of the past. Sought out by learners or those with curiosity.

  From what I have seen, there is a high probability of segregation of information.

  This place differs from other libraries due to it’s short existence and vague mystique.

  The large signs are in a language I can’t read.

  Grabbing a book, the cover was in the same language as the sign.

  Opening and turning the first page, the language was also written in it.

  Suddenly it started changing. Sizing and forming until I could read it. Now legible with shaking words.

  [Ura! Ura! Ura–!]

  ‘The heart of this army cannot be broken.’

  As if this were a living retelling.

  The book showed a hazy background from the view of someone. Watching another live and fight in a war so massive it encapsulated the world.

  Wielding weapons unlike anything. Capable of grinding men into nothing.

  Yet victory was achieved.

  The one next to it was similar.

  However the outfits and places were different.

  Mud and the fearful, rage and the end, suspicion encompassing two nations.

  It was history.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  History of a place far advanced.

  History not useful to me.

  Placing them back, I moved on.

  Entering another section. He books much lighter in colour of text and the cover itself.

  Selecting one randomly, the act of opening it resulted in a myriad of vivid creations.

  [A wondrous process. The very essence of life.]

  ‘From a rock which birthed life. A long time for that.’

  This one told a simplistic summary of life and geography. In the form of someone's thoughts on ‘watching’ something.

  It was basic and crude. Full of dragged on thoughts and repeated sentences questioning it’s own repetition.

  Eventually making it’s shoddy point across.

  Curiosity.

  ‘In this eternal and vast space’.

  It was not shown as a vision of a past or future. But merely words. Does it require a certain filling?

  Slotting it back in, and leaving the section, there was an intersection. Separating areas into chunks with their own unknown sections of books.

  However, the left led to the empty area of tables.

  The right to a grand staircase leading to the second floor barely viewable from the entrance of this building.

  Looking up, the spiral does not seem to have a definite end.

  It would take much time to find what I want.

  Then there's only a single option left.

  Turning left, the soft carpet muffled any sound created by the shoewear.

  The tables were elegant yet bland. The legs with carved and shaved skin. But it’s face lacks any of the sort.

  The chairs are the same. Albeit with a red similar to the carpet shaped to preciseness for the hind.

  Such preciseness was not there in placement. The symmetry of each chair is off.

  Others… moved.

  Likely by the hands of the previous wanderers.

  Or the caretaker of this place.

  But a slow glance showed them in the same position I saw them previously.

  Regardless they are of the only explanation and information for this place.

  I slowly eased over.

  From their front, the white shirt was more prominent. Their other side I could not see was the same as the other in colour. But the thick thread and ball was not as firmly going into the overall. There was also a black strip at the chest. A trinket dangling on that black strip.

  Above was unguarded skin.

  The contours of their chin stayed in shadow. Their neck nigh clean besides certain areas.

  There's something on their wrist.

  Fading red string tied to their wrist. Knotted neatly yet loose. The ends sticking out with their own knots.

  …The book on their face had a picture.

  Strange objects littered that cover. It’s spine where the words are sideways were in the same language as the other books.

  Looking away from that cover was hard. Bubbling questions rose.

  Suppressing it, I looked at the desk.

  A longer and closer look had a ‘toy’ of some kind on it. That ‘toy’ was in a mock battle against paper.

  Holding a writing instrument.

  The ‘toy’ was an abomination for the eyes. It looked like it was melting and was disgustingly green.

  As if it came from some kind of witch swamp.

  Everything was strewn about.

  Nothing organized without a care for cleanliness.

  On an extremely fair paper something…

  Messily something was written but scribbled over with lines. A question mark at the end of the new words.

  The angle keeps it hard to understand.

  I began leaning just a bit.

  “What do you want.”

  Quickly I looked up.

  “Makes me think you're gonna slit my throat.” the caretaker listlessly put their hand over their neck.

  Nonetheless the book stayed still on their face.

  “What do you want.” the caretaker said again.

  “A book.” I spoke.

  “Mhm.”

  Their fingers slowly moved as I said nothing. Rhythmically scratching their neck while loosening their grip on their neck.

  A huff of air vibrated the book on their face.

  “Do I have to ask?”

  “No.”

  “....”

  A fleeting image of those eyes staring coldly returned.

  Hah.

  Belatedly the pressure sensed in my hand made me focus on it.

  I let out a silent short sigh.

  “A book about commerce.”

  The caretaker’s fingers stiffened. Some fingers lightly twitch at halted movement.

  My attention on their fingers returned when they raised their arm high, single finger pointing above.

  “Around the fifth floor or so.”

  Up to five floors.

  The spiral ceaselessly went farther than that. The stained glass in the center was far yet close.

  A rather benign illusion.

  “How long would that take to get there?” I asked.

  “I dunno… five to ten minutes? Depends.” They responded in turn.

  Raising my head just a bit again, and the height didn’t seem to match that estimate. Even behind me seems to be a deep forest of books despite my rather small exploration.

  Tilting my head slightly, there was the other issue.

  “How am I supposed to know which is which?”

  “Great question. I dunno.” they sarcastically said.

  “How helpful.”

  “Doin my best. Whooooo.”

  The caretaker's arms barely made any effort to be happy.

  My eyes narrowed.

  A deafening silence entered again. Only the whispers of breath heard.

  Timewise, there's plenty.

  But the inevitability will happen.

  Then the choice is to painstakingly go through several to find it.

  “.......it.”

  The caretaker mumbled something under their breath.

  Reaching out to an area near them and below what my sight could see from this side of the desk.

  They fumbled trying to grab something while straining their arm.

  Eventually the caretaker pulled out a compartment. Grabbing a book.

  “Just take it.” The caretaker shoved the book forward.

  “What is this about?”

  “Something similar to the keyword. Take it. My arm hurts.”

  Slowly I grabbed it. Their arm flopped back into the same position from before.

  Dangling in the air.

  Inspecting the book, it had a plainer cover compared to the one on the caretakers face. The language is still the same.

  “There. You got what you needed.”

  “...I suppose.” I surmised with an empty feeling.

  “Theres a part two for this one.”

  The casual speech of the caretaker lifted my head.

  “You can find that one later. Read the first part.”

  “Fine.”

  I headed for the entrance now that I have something.

  Though likely not exact it should give a direction.

  Even if it was small.

  Grasping the handle, I opened the door.

  And started crossing the threshold.

  “Come back next time, auditor Catherine.”

  “What?”

  The door closed as I let go of it.

  Immediately I tried pulling it.

  Forgetting it was push. Then I did that.

  I tried ripping the door off, throwing something at it, to damage it I hit it. Even throwing the book.

  Anything.

  I tried everything.

  Nothing worked.

  Eventually I left due to the prying eyes and the lack of ideas.

  The book I had was indeed something ‘similar’ to what I wanted. Told in the format of a story.

  It certainly granted what I wanted.

  I have this book I realized that I never signed anything to have. Let alone borrow.

  Now it sits there. Waiting to be opened. Yet I know everything I could learn from it.

  That particular building was now regarded as a famous mystery. Many are trying to get in.

  Uncovering golden secrets if they can. Perhaps there was merit. I have a book giving curiosity. And it gnaws.

  The restriction is a curse to everything.

  I was never again able to enter that library.