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The page Serenity opened wasn’t cloth like the maid’s body but old, yellowed parchment. No letters had yet appeared, but it reeked faintly of must and something fishy, like stale water.
She held her breath.
Then, the red ink that had pulsed from the cover seeped across the page, shifting and reforming until it posed a question.
[“‘I’ is only born when it dies. I am an end and the beginning of something new. Some things cannot enter the world without passing through me. Who am I?“]
Serenity stared, struck speechless.
‘So that’s why the maid couldn’t answer.’
True to its Philosophy section, the question was abstract, more like a paradox than a riddle.
She tested the waters. “How many chances do I have?”
[One.]
Her heart thumped painfully.
If she was wrong, she would meet the maid’s fate, swallowed whole, shredded apart. Unlike the apprentice, her body was flesh and blood. There would be no piecing her back together.
It was grim in every sense.
She stared at the question, and then memory flickered. A movie, half-forgotten. An adventurer in a tomb had been asked a question like this by a statue. The answer had been unexpected, not obvious, and yet it had worked.
So it wasn’t about logic alone. This was about persuasion. She had to convince the book.
[Think thoroughly. Answer carefully.]
‘At least there’s no time limit…’
That was something.
Serenity drew in a steadying breath. “The answer is… an egg.”
[Why?]
“Because life is only born when the egg breaks. It’s the death of the egg and the beginning of life. Hatchlings can’t enter the world without passing through that state. So the egg is a gateway. It fits.”
Her words came out calm, but her heart was pounding so hard it hurt. If the book refused her reasoning, she’d be gone.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Seconds stretched into eternity.
Then the ink dissolved. New words appeared.
[You are correct.]
Relief crashed through her so strong her knees nearly buckled. She exhaled shakily, forcing strength back into her legs.
But the book didn’t release the maid.
“…Philosopher? Won’t you return the little one?”
She waited. Silence. Finally, the letters returned.
[One question per life.]
Her eyes widened.
‘Wait… does that mean my answer just bought my life?’
The book’s stance was cold, merciless.
“Then… if I solve another, will you release the girl?”
[One life weighs the same as one question.]
So that was it. Another riddle, another gamble.
Serenity closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again. “All right. Give me the second question.”
The ink bled into new shapes.
[Clearly exists yet does not exist. Anyone can see it, but its substance cannot be found. What is its name?]
Her brow furrowed. A paradox again, sharper this time.
‘Exists but does not exist… visible yet without substance.’
Words drifted through her mind… god, faith, illusion. None fit perfectly. Something was off.
Minutes passed. Then the answer struck her like lightning.
“The answer is… nothing.”
*The ink quivered. *[Nothing?]
Before it could twist against her, Serenity pressed on quickly.
“To be precise, the word itself. ‘Nothing’ exists, as a word, while referring to something that doesn’t exist. Anyone can read the letters, but no one can find substance in what it describes. The answer is the word itself.”
Her throat was dry. She swallowed. If the book rejected her reasoning now…
The ink stilled.
[You are correct.]
She let out a shaky laugh of relief.
The words dissolved. Then the book swelled, pages flipping violently, and began to heave.
“…What… ?”
It retched.
Cloth scraps spilled out, wet and heavy. First a maid’s skirt hem, then a sleeve, a half-shoe, buttons, ribbons, dozens of soggy fragments of uniform. Far more than the slim book should have been able to contain.
The sight made her stomach lurch.
‘This is insane.’
And worse, a piece of cloth with eyes, a nose, and a mouth plopped onto the floor, sobbing.
When it finished disgorging, the book thinned to normal again, as if it had never changed. Serenity, queasy, shoved it deep into the shelf and turned her focus on the pile.
The cloth scrap with the maid’s face trembled. “M-miss. Sob.”
Serenity winced. “Enough. Be quiet.”
She couldn’t bear the sight of rags with a face, crying, speaking. But she bit her tongue and gathered every last piece. However ragged they looked, the laundry maid would be able to stitch them together.
‘Now I just need to put these books back and*… **’*
She turned with the bundle in her arms.
Thud. Crash.
“…Huh?”
She hadn’t even seen it happen. The bundle blocked her view, her skirt brushed a stacked pile of books, and they toppled in a loud cascade.
She froze. Her blood drained cold.
‘No… if that happens*… **’*
She didn’t even have time to finish the thought.
Rumble.
The tremor this time was far worse than when the library doors had closed. The entire floor shook. She toppled to her knees as shelves groaned and shifted.
Before her eyes, the towering cases began to rearrange themselves. Like a living maze, they opened new corridors, slammed others shut.
Her thread pulled taut, yanked by the shifting structure.
‘No!’
Without the skein, she would never escape.
Serenity scrambled up, clutching the bundle of cloth, and sprinted toward the pulling thread.
Thud.
A shelf collapsed in front of her, blocking her path.
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