"The Grand Cordial."
I heard someone whisper the words in my ear as I paced through a crowded subway station. I looked around, unaware of where or who it came from. People were walking in all sorts of directions that whoever said it must have already been gone by then.
The Grand Cordial.
It was the third time this week I'd had those words whispered into my ear as I walked through a crowded area of some sort. It was the name of the largest library in downtown Melysia.
Why do I keep hearing it? Is it meant for me?
Each time I'd encountered the saying I'd always been struck paranoid. Paranoid because I tried my best to stay hidden in plain sight. I always wore a hood over my head that could overshadow the makeshift eyepatch I'd made for my blind left eye. I didn't want to be recognized as Klyson Rainer anymore, not after what I'd done a week ago back at that café.
[ 22 DEAD IN LOCAL CAFÉ — POTENTIAL KILLER ON THE LOOSE ]
The event of my horrid doing made headlines across Melysia. It wasn't long before A.X.A. made a statement that Overseer Azrael's task force would commit to finding the one responsible for the massacre. One week ago I was working alongside those at A.X.A. By now, they were set out on a hunt for me.
The thing is, there was no proof that I was responsible.
In fact, there were no leads on who could have done it at all. They didn't know I did it, because as Ian promised, the camera footage was corrupted. But I was sure that what would get me caught were my fingerprints on nearly every item in that store.
Fortunately, the café was burned down.
Soon after I finished off my last victim, the Fractal-Activated barista, he unleashed a final discharge of pent-up electricity that fried everything. In mere seconds, as I was escaping by a margin, the whole store caught on fire and eventually everything within was turned to ash. By then, I was long gone from the scene. And ever since then, I haven't returned to my place at A.X.A. I knew I didn't belong there anymore. After what I'd done, I belonged more at Heathen than I did with the military of Melysia.
I need to conceal myself, away from the public.
I was paranoid beyond measure. I didn't want to know what would happen to me if I got caught. If General Michael was willing to cross me off while I worked for A.X.A., it wasn't hard to tell what he'd do if I was caught responsible for the café incident. I stayed out in the public and attempted to stay hidden from the authorities, even if it meant never seeing my comrades at A.X.A. again.
I'm sorry, Garren, Cynthia, Sav, Celeste.
But when I began to hear words being spoken directly towards me, clearly meant for me, I suddenly felt exposed.
Am I compromised?
After the first time I heard the words, I thought it was random. The second time, I thought it was a coincidence. The third time, now, I knew I couldn't deny the notion anymore.
Someone was delivering the message to me directly.
But why? Why the Grand Cordial? What does it mean? And who are they? Do they know who I am?
There was only one way I could find out, and it was to seek out my curiosity directly by going to the Grand Cordial myself. But it might have been too late to decide on that. I was already standing inside the subway that would take me north, the opposite direction of downtown Melysia.
Fuck it.
I stepped off the subway just before the doors closed and made my way towards the southbound rail, where a tram would take me towards downtown Melysia instead. I was planning to reach for my interests again, even if the last time I'd done that got me into this mess in the first place.
I'm on my own. I have no choice but to keep going.
"Southbound express to downtown Melysia," the subway speakers spoke. I hadn't been back ever since the day I vacated as a murderer. I've been constantly moving ever since then, with no place to stay.
When I arrived to the downtown station, I could already tell there was tension in the air. The atmosphere felt different and the space felt heavier. Now feeling on edge, I paced through the directions I recalled to get to the Grand Cordial from the subway station. When I resurfaced to the streets, I remembered that it was only about two blocks down, just past a bank and a food court center. I decided to take a detour that went around instead, shying away from the potential to be noticed in another large crowd near the food court.
{ THE GRAND CORDIAL }
I'd finally reached it. It was astonishing in its glory. The library's architecture was akin to that of a cathedral. It towered over the other structures in the blocks surrounding it, besides a few skyscrapers of course. There were giant panes of intricately designed stained glass windows displaying historical events in the history of Melysia. A long and steep flight of stairs lead to the eight-foot tall front doors for the building, through which opened grandly, yet silently with consideration for the quietness inside.
The Grand Cordial.
I'd been left with just those three words, the name to this location, with only vague intention. Like always, I knew I was going to need to uncover things on my own. I entered and beheld the sight of four floors of bookshelves. Symmetrical flights of stairs connected every story of the library, and every story of the library was tucked away within thousands of dusty hardcover books.
What am I looking for exactly?
I knew I was being led here, but I didn't know what for. I looked around and saw that there were dozens of people seated at desks, couches, benches, and the floor. As you'd expect in a library as large as this one, all of them were reading in silence. The entire library was eerily quiet. Every footstep I made was heard, echoing throughout the building from the bottom floor all the way to the top.
I have to be quiet.
I began to produce my own deductions. If someone wanted me to come to a library filled with nothing but books, what would they expect of me other than to find something to read? That was my starting point.
Thinking back on a field trip I took here when I was still in school, I recalled that each of the four floors represented divided categories for the library's catalog. The first floor was meant to be casual, consisting of children's picture books, graphic novels, short stories, and even magazines. With a variety of seating areas, it accommodated the majority of people who came here. The second floor was dedicated to fictional novels and long stories. It was known as the floor perfect for bookworms and the like, where people with a passion for detailed storytelling came to read their fantasies in the serenity of the library. The third floor was meant for non-fiction entries. Books of the literary world that abided by research, findings, and truth alone. Then lastly was the fourth, top floor. With fewer bookshelves than every other floor, it held a smaller catalog to make space for cubicles where students, professors, and other curious individuals came to study. The floor was dedicated to academia, filtering out any and all fictional literature. There were a variety of textbooks, journals, articles, and even Talitems to choose and learn from. Being the floor the furthest away from the bottom, it was also the quietest. When I was still a student, I remember visiting the top out of curiosity. Upon reaching the floor, I could only hear the breathing of those who sat there and studied.
It felt like they could sense my presence without even needing to see me. That's how quiet it was.
Caution.
That idea was all I could think of in the moment. The need to be cautious, as cautious as I've been out in the public these days avoiding recognition. I realized I had to convey that same thing here at the Grand Cordial—to remain cautious and aware of my surroundings, ensuring I wouldn't be detected in the process, while finding the purpose to my being here. The first and second floors seemed off the mark for an unknown invitation to the Grand Cordial, so I immediately began making my way to the third floor.
Non-fiction. Only truth can be found on this floor.
Truth, just like the cold revelations Ian made to me the week before. The truth about Kyra and Emmanuel's deaths, the truth about Heathen, the truth about Fractal Activations, and the truth of a Fractless' potential, such as Enzo.
What is there for me to find here if I already know the truths that I need to know?
I skipped the third floor entirely, leaving me now with only the fourth. As my steps got closer to the top, my noise began to dilute. I was entering the domain in which sound could not enter nor escape. A zone of complete silence. As I planted the final step that would place me on the fourth floor, I used all my being to seclude myself within its tranquility. I made sure to bring myself into the area seamlessly, undetected, and unnoticed, unwavering even under the immense pressure of the academia aura.
Calm, relaxed state.
I was flowing through the isles of bookshelves, much lesser than that of the first floor. To requite the lack of quantity, the books were thicker, larger, and more plentiful in pages full of information used to adapt and apply. Surrounding me, situated along the circular perimeter of the floor, were desk cubicles each presumably containing an academic individual of some sort. Considering that my deductions brought me here, I made a key assumption.
The one who's been leading me on must be here.
But I knew I couldn't just call out to them in hopes of finding out who it was. This was a library, and I was on the quietest floor of the Grand Cordial. I couldn't bring attention to myself like that. If I did, I'd expose myself and my intentions entirely.
Is it someone from A.X.A.?
I got nervous all of a sudden. I knew that there was no upfront proof that I was responsible for the murders at the café, but what if someone had found out by now? What if the one who'd been leading me here all this time was someone from Overseer Azrael's task force?
No, impossible.
I was hooded, disheveled, and dirty. Even without the covers, no one would recognize my grown-out hair, uneven stubble, and eyepatch made from newspaper that covered my left eye. I did not look like the Klyson Rainer that A.X.A. knew. I was unrecognizable, even to myself.
I crossed them off the list.
If not A.X.A., then who else would approach me like this?
The hairs on the back of my neck stood-up, as if aware I'd found myself in a familiar scenario. After what happened at the apartment and the café, I couldn't trust any public location anymore. The Grand Cordial was no exception.
Heathen.
I'd left Ian hanging ever since then. Not like I could have contacted him anyways. I'd cut myself off from the public completely, so maybe this was his way of contacting me.
Pat! Pat!
Footsteps suddenly echoed across the floor. At this level of silence, they sounded much louder than usual. I noticed it from far away. It came from an individual who placed a book on a shelf before returning to their cubicle and sitting back down.
Do they not know about the stigma of silence up here?
I was surprised by the careless act, considering how intensely the quietness was maintained on this floor. Out of curiosity, I moved forward, silent with my steps, and tracked the book that the individual had placed back.
{ THE TALITEM - MONA }
It was a Talitem, specifically a hardcover one with an intricate design. I could tell it was a high-end edition of the religious tome, probably exclusive to the Grand Cordial.
As expected of this floor. There must be hundreds of these.
I walked along the shelf passing by even more hardcover Talitems, all bearing a similar choice of color—maroon. Then I stopped, halted in place. It was quick, and I barely noticed it, but at the corner of my remaining magnified eye, I saw a vague distinction.
One of the covers was not as reddened as all the other maroon ones. It instead had a purple tone to it.
Burgundy.
Maroon or burgundy—the two colors were nearly indistinguishable. I don't think I would have caught the difference if my right eye hadn't become so keen in the absence of the left. I paced over, quietly, and picked up what blended-in with the rest all too well.
{ Fire in the Sky - Edward Thompson }
It was a fictional book.
What is this doing here? Shouldn't this be on the second floor?
I looked around to make sure that no one saw what I was doing, then took the book. I was planning to make my way down to the second floor without notice and return the book to where it came from.
Pat! Pat!
It was those footsteps again. Frantic that I held a book that didn't belong on this floor, I quickly retreated to a cubicle that just so happened to be empty. I didn't want to be seen with a fictional book on the academia floor. I placed the book on the table and held my breath.
Who is that? Why do they walk so loud?
I peered past my desk towards the noise to see who it was. It was a girl wearing a cap, a loose hoodie, and some noticeably oversized shoes. She began walking back down the stairs.
No wonder her footsteps are so loud. Her shoes are way too big.
As the sounds echoed off towards the lower floors, I was left alone again in the silence of the fourth floor's domain. It was the first time I'd found myself at one of these cubicles so I decided to take advantage of it. It wasn't often that there was a free spot on this floor.
'Fire in the Sky.' Never read this book before.
Upon opening to the first page, I was surprised to find a sheet of crumpled paper scrunched into the pages' crevice. I pulled it out and unwrinkled it, shocked by what words were written on it.
{ For the Fractless one, 2575 Rhodian St. }
I'd found what I was looking for.