Despite the immense difficulty Sollivan faced in maintaining his composure every time his eyes fell upon the old woman's face, he stood beside the reception desk, watching her intently, driven by sheer curiosity. In the five years he had worked here, this woman had never once set foot in the shop.
'That wretched old hag... What could she possibly want? I doubt someone like her has any interest in reading...' He swallowed his words, grumbling sarcastically to himself, trying his best to keep his calm.
Over the past five years, Sollivan had never felt such conflicting emotions as he did today. Just seeing the old woman stirred painful memories he had long buried in the depths of his heart.
Quietly, he muttered as he stared with foggy eyes, filled with suppressed memories and emotions, "I hate winter."
Six years ago, as winter approached, his family had been completely wiped out.
He himself had been gravely injured, his life hanging by a thread. In the moment he was on the brink of death, drowning in despair, his sworn uncle, Leonard Winglet, had made the decision to sell all of the deceased family's belongings. He used every bit of the money to purchase expensive medicines to save Sollivan's life.
Yet all he could do was barely keep him alive, leaving Sollivan paralyzed and significantly weakened. His uncle had told him he wouldn't live past the age of thirty.
During that period, Leonard had fallen into a deep depression and indescribable sorrow, accompanied by an ever-present fear that the killers of his sworn brother would return to finish what they started by taking the life of his nephew.
After much deliberation, Leonard decided to sever ties with Sollivan to ensure his safety. Yet his conscience wouldn't allow him to abandon him entirely. Instead, he entrusted him to the care of the family's oldest servant and her grandson.
He handed them 200 gold coins and gave Sollivan 50 coins from what remained of the family's wealth, instructing them to leave the city, purchase a house, and start a new life.
Whenever Sollivan recalled the long journey he had endured in the biting cold of winter, burdened by his injuries and the weight of his shattered heart, he felt an indescribable bitterness and humiliation that refused to fade.
Sigh...
He slowly raised his head, his gaze landing on the face of the old woman—a face that bore the marks of a life of prosperity and comfort.
'That cursed old hag… She took all the money my uncle gave her to help me and used it to build a residential complex in the slums and a hotel in the city. She earns hundreds of silver coins annually and only gives me two silver coins at the start of each month.
I don't know if it's out of pity or fear that my uncle might find out she abandoned me. But whatever her motives are, it doesn't change the truth. She broke her promise and left me to rot and freeze in a decrepit room in the slums.
And worse, she made me endure her endless complaints about how she had to spend a single gold coin to buy that crumbling house.'
The deeper Sollivan sank into his bitter memories, the tighter his chest felt, leaving him unable to calm himself. Finally, he exhaled deeply, trying to banish the unsettling thoughts from his mind, and a faintly vacant expression spread across his face.
He glanced at Ellis and the old woman, neither of whom noticed the rapid shifts in his expression during those brief moments.
At that moment, the old woman's voice abruptly interrupted his thoughts.
"Do you buy books?"
Her tone lacked any warmth or respect, as if her mere presence in the shop was a favor.
"Hmph." 'Miserable old hag…' he muttered under his breath, his tone tinged with anger. He turned his gaze to Ellis, whose brows furrowed slightly but who refrained from showing any extreme reaction. Ellis decided to handle the situation professionally, responding in a tone laced with mild sarcasm.
"Yes, ma'am. We buy books. But not everything with pages and a cover deserves to be called a book."
"Fine."
The old woman placed a rectangular object wrapped in cloth on the counter. She then removed the wrapping, revealing a thick book with hundreds of pages. Its cover was pitch black and incredibly thick, almost resembling a thin metal plate.
Sollivan's curiosity was piqued, but he couldn't make out the book's details clearly due to his lower position and relative distance. Even Ellis appeared intrigued as he picked up the book to examine it. At that moment, the old woman began to speak, trying to emphasize the book's value.
"This book belonged to an Arcane Master who stayed at my inn. That scoundrel paid for a whole year but disappeared for six months. He must have died in the war. In the end, we had to open his room, and all we found was this book. It's clearly something valuable."
"Its value will be determined after inspection."
Ellis said as he opened the book. However, the moment he did, his brows knitted together, and a strange expression spread across his face. This change didn't escape Sollivan, who grew even more curious and puzzled. After a moment of tense silence, Sollivan heard Ellis addressing the old woman in a dissatisfied tone.
"This book is written in a strange language."
Sollivan quickly pushed his chair toward the counter, approaching the old woman, who shot him a displeased look and stepped aside. She quickly responded, attempting to justify herself.
"The language doesn't matter. It's still incredibly valuable! It belonged to an Arcane Master.
Surely, it's an Arcane Masters manual. Do you know that even the cheapest one of these books, is worth over ten silver coins?"
The look of displeasure on Ellis's face deepened, and he replied with an audible complaint.
"Even if it is an Arcane Masters book, which I highly doubt, it's useless to anyone if it's written in an unknown language like this."
"Let me see."
Sollivan's voice, filled with curiosity, cut through the discussion. Ellis glanced at him briefly before handing him the book.
The moment Sollivan took hold of the book, he was surprised by its weight, his hands dipping slightly under the unexpected heaviness. His eyes widened slightly as his curiosity deepened, especially when a faint, peculiar scent emanated from the book. He began examining it intently.
The cover was pitch black, just as Sollivan had seen earlier, but upon closer inspection, he noticed raised decorations framing the edges.
At the center of the cover was a strange symbol protruding from the surface, its texture rough like stone.
Sollivan extended a finger to feel the unfamiliar texture, studying its details with intrigue.
He opened the book slowly, his eyes falling on the first page, which was filled with strange writings in a deep blood-red color. The sight made him mutter in astonishment.
"What is this?"
His voice rose slightly in surprise, unaware of himself, as his gaze remained fixed on the book.
Ellis looked over at him.
"You're surprised too? It's just a bunch of random scribbles I've never seen before."
Sollivan didn't reply, remaining focused on the collection of ancient characters.
Unlike Ellis, his shock wasn't merely due to the strangeness of the symbols; he felt a vague familiarity with them. A nervous expression crossed his face. 'I've seen symbols like these before.' His eyes locked onto one character, and after a brief moment of thought, he recalled its meaning. 'This represents the letter B.' However, he couldn't decipher the rest of the symbols.
Though Sollivan knew the vastness of the world, he was also aware of how few languages truly existed. Most people spoke the Common Tongue, while the remaining languages were either ancient or exceedingly rare. Despite the age and experience gap between him and Ellis, Sollivan's knowledge in this particular field was broader.
While Ellis focused on literature, poetry, and history, Sollivan's interests revolved around the strange and extraordinary—particularly in the fields of medicine, languages, myths, and lost relics.
His fascination stemmed from two primary reasons: the hope of finding a recipe or ingredient that could heal him, and his quest to reconstruct his damaged vein.
After browsing through the book for nearly three minutes, Sollivan shook his head in disappointment and said to the old woman, "This book is worthless. The only notable thing about it is its cover. It's impossible for it to be an Arcane Master manual; it's far too thick and filled with writing without any illustrations."
Hearing Sollivan's assessment, Ellis turned to the old woman and said politely,
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but it seems your book isn't of much value. However, we can offer you one silver coin for it, solely because of its unique leather cover."
A deep scowl formed on the old woman's face, and she complained in an irritatingly loud voice, "One silver coin? This is a valuable book owned by an Arcane Master , and you're offering me pocket change? It seems your shop's reputation is hardly deserved!"
Despite her words, the old woman knew perfectly well that the book was worthless.
Before bringing it to Ellis's shop, she had shown it to her grandson, a skilled Arcane Master who served in the city's joint guard force. After examining it, he told her it was just junk that no one would buy. Still, she was determined to sell it for a slightly higher price.
The old woman's words sparked quiet anger in Ellis. A cold glint appeared in his eyes as he took the book from Sollivan's hands and handed it back to her, saying icily.
"Here, take your book and find somewhere else to sell it. Our shop has high standards and doesn't deal in trash."
The old woman's lips twisted in arrogance, and a grim look appeared in her eyes. She snatched the book and cursed loudly, "Miserable wretch!" Then she turned and stormed out in angry strides. But after taking a few steps past the door, she heard a calm voice call out to her.
"Wait a moment, I'll buy the book for two silver coins."
The old woman slowly turned back, her eyes filled with suspicion and scorn as she stared at the young man in the wheelchair.
Ellis, too, cast a look of irritation and confusion at Sollivan.
He was well aware of Sollivan's peculiar hobby of collecting rare and strange books and manuscripts, but he was deeply annoyed by the old woman's behavior.
He said skeptically, "What are you saying, Sollivan? Why would you want to buy a worthless book like that?"
Before Sollivan could reply, the old woman stepped closer and spoke in a brash tone, "I want three silver coins."
Sollivan raised an eyebrow slightly, and despite everyone's varying looks directed at him, he replied coldly, "Two silver coins is all I'll offer. Take it or leave it; no one else is going to buy this trash for a higher price."
Hmph! The old woman placed the book on the reception desk under Ellis's helpless gaze and flashed a mocking smile that made her features appear even uglier.
She extended her hand, pointing toward Sollivan, and said, "Pay up!"
Without looking at her, Sollivan turned his wheelchair and spoke in a cool tone, "You don't need to pay this month's dues. Consider them the payment for the book."
At those words, Ellis's eyebrows arched in astonishment as he stared at Sollivan's back with bewildered eyes. Several questions flooded his mind. 'Dues? Do they know each other? But…' His confusion deepened as he recalled how both of them had acted like strangers upon meeting.
Ellis quickly glanced at the old woman, who snorted in disdain before turning and leaving in a huff.
Sigh!
Ellis froze for a moment, then picked up the book and set it aside for Sollivan to collect later. But suddenly, something dawned on him, and he murmured softly, "Who exactly is Sollivan?"
Though he had worked with Sollivan for many years, he had never heard anything about his family or origins. Even Sollivan's last name was a mystery, adding to his enigmatic nature.
As Ellis pondered further, he decided to push the thoughts aside, his face returning to its usual calm and polite expression.
He muttered quietly, "Everyone has their secrets, and there's no need to pry into them."
These words weren't merely an attempt to reassure himself; they reflected his genuine belief.
He understood all too well the complexities of relationships and the strangeness of people in this world. After all, he himself carried secrets he would never dare share with anyone, not even his closest acquaintances or friends.
...
In a quiet corner of the library, behind a shelf crowded with books, Sollivan sat back, relaxing as he closed his eyes peacefully.
He was unaware that his previous action, seemingly simple on the surface, had sent Ellis into a whirlwind of deep thought, making him reevaluate his stance toward him.
"Where have I seen you before?" he murmured in a low, puzzled voice.
He opened his eyes and looked at the library ceiling with a complex expression.
I'm sure I've seen this writing before, but where? Was there something similar to it in his home? His confusion deepened, and the questions began to burn in his mind.
He felt an intense urge to return home and examine the pile of books and manuscripts he had collected over the years in search of answers. But the thought of worrying Ellis or making him suspicious of his intentions stopped him.
This is really frustrating. He sighed in exhaustion and closed his eyes again, trying to calm himself.
His body relaxed, and he drifted into a peaceful nap.
Time passed quietly, and the number of customers in the library gradually increased. However, despite his growing workload, Ellis didn't disturb Sollivan or ask for his help. He handled everything on his own.
After an hour of comfortable sleep, Sollivan finally opened his eyes, gazing at the corridor between the bookshelves. He heard the footsteps of customers and realized he had been asleep for quite some time.
I bet Ellis regrets his suggestion now, he thought with a faint smile, chuckling quietly.
He raised his hands, adjusted his hair, and wiped his face to shake off the traces of sleep. He then calmly wheeled himself toward the corridor, where he noticed a man in his early thirties. The man had a noble appearance, dressed in elegant clothing, and stood before a bookshelf, carefully inspecting the books.
Sollivan turned his head toward the reception desk, where Ellis was busy assisting customers, then approached the man in his wheelchair and spoke in a respectful tone.
"Are you interested in the history of the Golden Lion Empire?"
The man slowly turned around, his eyes slightly surprised. After a brief moment of hesitation, he replied, "Not exactly, but I'm looking for historical books that discuss the era before the empire."
Sollivan was surprised by the man's request and asked in a skeptical tone, "Do you mean the Great Empire?"
"Yes."
Sollivan wheeled himself toward a nearby bookshelf and carefully examined the titles. After a moment, he picked up a thick book with a faded cover and handed it to the man.
"The period you're asking about was rarely documented. This book contains all the remaining recorded information about that era."
The man's eyes widened slightly, and a doubtful expression appeared on his face.
"Really?"
Sollivan chuckled lightly before smiling and adding, "You could say that, but most of what's in this book consists of mysterious legends, and the dates aren't very accurate. So, I wouldn't recommend relying on it as a scientific or historical reference."
Hearing his response, the nobleman's concern eased.
Sollivan had understood the reason behind his worry.
Historical books and records were not something easily obtained or readily available.
The few accurate books that existed were owned by ancient and powerful families whose histories spanned hundreds of years or were kept in the Imperial Library, which only a select few could access.
So when he heard that the book was comprehensive and contained various historical information, he became deeply skeptical of its credibility. If what he had heard was false, it meant the shop owner was lying to him.
But if it was true, then this book was of immense value and shouldn't belong to a place like this.
After the strange tension between the two had settled, the nobleman asked again,
"Do you have more books like this?"
Sollivan replied, "Yes, we have a few more books and some simple manuscripts."
"Show them to me."
Sollivan led the nobleman to the bookshelves and pointed out a selected collection. After much examination and searching, the man left the library carrying three books and four old manuscripts, looking quite satisfied with his purchases.
Without taking a moment to rest, Sollivan immediately approached another customer to offer assistance, guiding them to the appropriate books and fulfilling their requests.
The day continued at a slow yet exhausting pace. As autumn neared its end, people began preparing for winter by purchasing their essential needs, including books as a source of entertainment.
The shop filled with the voices of customers and unfamiliar faces, increasing the pressure on Sollivan and Ellis, who focused on serving customers while also keeping an eye on the store to prevent any theft amid the chaos.
After long hours of grueling work, Sollivan finally paused in the middle of the shop, closing his eyes for a brief moment to take a short rest, while Ellis remained occupied with reviewing the day's accounts and organizing sales records.
"I'm heading out now," Sollivan said as he wheeled himself toward the reception desk.
He glanced at Ellis, who was still buried in calculations, and smirked.
"Looks like you'll be here for a while."
Ellis scoffed sarcastically, then grabbed two books—one incredibly old and the other completely new and pristine—and pushed them toward Sollivan with a teasing smile.
"Looks like you have a long night of copying ahead of you. As for me, I'll be asleep the moment I get home."
Sollivan raised an eyebrow with a resigned smile, "You win this round."
He wheeled himself away from the desk toward the door, but Ellis's voice suddenly stopped him.
"Wait a moment."
Sollivan turned around to find Ellis holding the black book that had concerned him earlier that morning. Ellis smirked lightly.
"It was a really tiring day, wasn't it?"
Sollivan responded calmly, "I know."
He placed the black book into his bag alongside the books that he will need to copy, then slowly left the shop. As soon as he stepped outside, a cold breeze greeted him, making him shiver.
He lifted his head and looked at the sky, which was darkening as sunset approached, while thick clouds gathered over the horizon.
'The weather is getting colder '.
He guided his wheelchair through the familiar alleys, where shadows gradually spread, covering the narrow paths.
After half an hour of moving through the quiet streets, he finally arrived at his humble neighborhood, which seemed less lively than usual. The passersby had disappeared, the chickens had returned to their nests, and stray dogs roamed here and there.
His eyes wandered across the neighborhood until they finally settled on his doorstep, where a mysterious figure stood, their features obscured by the dim light.
His brows furrowed slightly with concern, but the tension quickly faded as he moved closer to the door and recognized the person waiting for him.