Books.
Glorious, quiet, page-turning, imagination-feeding books.
After becoming the kingdom's unofficial love letter ghostwriter, my brain was mush. I needed something relaxing. Something that didn't involve cucumbers, divine calendars, or metaphorical turnips.
So I gathered a few victo- ah friends—Lila, Marius, Elen the shy alchemist, and Hobi the baker's apprentice—and proposed something radical:
"Let's read a book. Together. For fun."
They blinked. "...You mean like... chanting?"
"No, no summoning. Just sitting in a circle and discussing the story. With snacks."
Naturally, I provided the book—imported from Earth, translated by yours truly.
It was a fantasy novel.
A simple tale of a girl who saves a kingdom using kindness, cleverness, and a suspiciously convenient talking dog.
I titled it:
"Whispers of the Moon-Woven Path"
Sounds poetic, right? Maybe too poetic.
We sat in a circle at Reika's Rest with warm cider and muffins. I passed out handmade copies with cute little leaf bookmarks. Everyone seemed excited.
The first chapter went smoothly.
The second chapter?
"Wait," Elen whispered. "The girl has a silver necklace shaped like a spiral... like the moon pendant worn by the Oracle of Liora in our old legends."
"That's a coincidence," I said.
"But she also wears blue... like the robes of the Dream Seers."
"Oh no."
By chapter three, Marius was leaning forward with wide eyes.
"This isn't a story," he breathed. "This is a coded prophecy."
"No, it's a Young Adult novel."
"Exactly! Hidden wisdom passed down through time!"
Lila raised a hand. "So when she opens the garden gate and finds the dog, that's symbolic of—?"
"Companionship," I said quickly.
"Or the Guardian of the Forgotten Lands," she countered, eyes sparkling.
I sighed.
By chapter five, someone had painted the cover art onto a tapestry and hung it in the café. The line "she walked barefoot through starlight and silence" was being used as a wedding vow. Someone asked if I was the Moon-Woven Girl in disguise.
Kuro the cat stared at me with his usual judgment, now upgraded to "I told you this would happen."
It got worse when someone misread a sentence about a "coming storm of emotions" as a literal weather prophecy. Suddenly the village was stockpiling tea and cleaning their roofs.
I clarified:
"It's metaphorical! A personal journey of growth and awkward confessions!"
The mayor nodded gravely. "Yes, yes. Emotional storms. That's what the first flood always is."
They started translating the book into runes.
There was a midnight moon gathering to "discuss the third paragraph of chapter seven."
Someone carved a quote into a rock and prayed to it.
One man said he dreamed of the Talking Dog and now refuses to eat anything that doesn't bark first.
Eventually, I stood on a bench and yelled:
"It's just a book!"
Everyone went quiet.
Then a child whispered:
"Is that part of the story?"
The next day, I found a note in the bakery:
> When the Prophet denies the tale, the truth begins to unfold.
I give up.
On the bright side, the book club technically worked. People came together. They read. They ate muffins. And no one summoned an actual weather demon, so… progress?
Also, the phrase "walk barefoot through starlight" is now trending as a fashion slogan. Someone made boots with that engraved on the soles.
And me?
I'm now the unofficial:
Keeper of Tales
Interpreter of Hidden Pages
Moon-Woven Archivist of the Realm
All because I wanted a chill evening with snacks.