The library stood quietly at the edge of campus; a tall, three-story building with bones older than most of the students who passed it every day without a second glance. It used to be a textile factory, long before Lina's time donated to the college more than fifty years ago. One of the oldest buildings in the district; it carried its age with a sort of weathered dignity. They'd updated it in recent years; new drywall, rewired electrics, safer staircases but the original worn wood floors remained, creaking under each step like a quiet, familiar voice. It still smelled of varnish and dust; the kind of place stories settled into like ghosts in the walls.
Lina walked in and crossed the quiet foyer to the front desk, where Mrs. Chen sat hunched over a computer, eyes flicking between the screen and a steaming mug beside her.
"Hello, Lina. I heard you finally got roped into independent study," Mrs. Chen said without looking up. "Took those kooks up in the English department long enough, heh?"
"You're telling me. I didn't know how many more of those idiots I could take without therapy." Lina paused, realizing how that might come off. "The students, I mean, Mrs. Chen. Not the teachers."
Mrs. Chen finally looked up; a glint of amusement in her sharp, coffee-colored eyes. "Sure, sure. Your class time doesn't start until tomorrow, so I assume you're here for your book."
Lina's eyes lit up. "It finally came in?!"
Mrs. Chen smiled thinly, knowing. She reached beneath the desk and pulled out a wrapped package.
"Just this morning. Blood by GRAY." She handed it over, her fingers brushing Lina's a little too long. "Sometimes I wonder if I should be worried about you."
Lina laughed. "You're not the only one."
The book and her game were similar in spirit, if not in execution. Both obsessed over alchemy and potions ingredients, rituals, outcomes. But Blood leaned darker; more practical. It blurred the line between fantasy and real-world application. The author didn't just spin tales;he claimed to teach. Lists. Guides. Methods for monetizing potions in real life. If you had blood, your own or someone else's; the book suggested that was enough to start.
"Shoo, now," Mrs. Chen said, waving her off with a slight frown. "You're terrible."
Lina grinned and hugged the book to her chest as she walked toward the wide, solid oak staircase that curled up toward the second floor. Her fingers grazed the polished banister; the wood cool and silky under her touch. The library had always been her refuge; her sanctuary. Ever since she first came to the college three years ago, it had been the one place that never whispered about her behind her back, never gave her a sideways look.
Upstairs, the second floor was deserted as usual. Most students didn't bother climbing up to where the good books lived; romance, mystery, fantasy, sci-fi. Too busy chasing degrees to chase stories.
She moved through the maze of shelves like a practiced ghost; past rows of paperbacks and thick hardcovers until she reached the dim corner she had claimed as her own. Hidden from sight unless someone knew exactly where to look, the little nook held a big beige armchair nestled between the shelves and a tall standing lamp with a soft yellow bulb.
No one ever came up here. That's what made it perfect.
Lina dropped her bag beside the chair, kicked off her shoes, and curled up into the seat, legs tucked underneath her. The lamp wasn't needed yet; golden hour light still leaked through the old factory windows. She opened the book and let the world fall away.
Mrs. Chen didn't go back to her computer right away. The librarian sat frozen for a few seconds, staring at the spot where Lina had just been. Then, she pulled a small notepad from beneath the desk, tore out a page, and slipped it into a file marked Special Access - GRAY Program. She locked the drawer and finally took a long sip of her tea.