Jonathan Heinrich, a man who remembered a thousand worlds, sat bored in his chair, surrounded by books stacked on his desk and lining the walls, the black cat curled in his lap as he lingered in the quiet that followed the Eternal Library.
Years of careful planning, diplomacy, and gaining the emperor's support had turned his dream into reality. He didn't need to study—every book, every scroll, every secret of this world, and even the knowledge he had carried from his previous life, was already etched into his mind.
A walking archive, he held in his thoughts the sum of all the worlds he had known, yet none of it stirred even the tiniest thrill within him.
He sighed, voice flat. "If it didn't happen… I might still enjoy being a librarian in a small library outside this chaotic world…"
The black cat in his lap tilted its head, eyes bright and tail flicking. "Master, you look way too serious! Haven't you learned how to enjoy yourself yet? Even a walking archive deserves some fun!"
Jonathan's gaze didn't change, cold and indifferent, but he reached down to pat the cat gently, almost as if acknowledging its presence out of habit rather than feeling.
The cat let out a soft, satisfied purr. "See? That wasn't so hard. One day, you might even smile properly."
Jonathan didn't respond. Instead, his eyes drifted toward the towering doors of the academy.
A light knock echoed. Moments later, a young elf student stepped out, her long ears twitching slightly as she bowed. "Master Heinrich… it's time. The students are ready, and the preparations in the forest are complete."
Jonathan rose to his feet without a word. The black cat leapt onto his shoulder, settling there comfortably. "Oh? Something interesting again?" it said, clearly excited.
He walked past the elf and into the open forest beyond the academy grounds. The air was different there—heavy, tense, as if the world itself were holding its breath.
Jonathan stopped at the center of a wide clearing. From within his coat, a thick, ancient book floated into the air, its pages slowly turning on their own, runes faintly glowing across the parchment.
Far in the distance, magic stirred—deep, foreign, and wrong. An outside force, pressing against the edge of the world, testing its boundaries.
For a brief moment, the pressure in the air faded, replaced by something quieter—older. A memory.
Before the academy.
Before the Eternal Library.
Before magic and empires.
A time when his world had been smaller, slower, and far more fragile.
A millennium ago…
Jonathan Heinrich tugged his coat tighter against the morning chill as he stood at the bus stop, unaware that this ordinary moment marked the beginning of everything.
He slid into his usual window seat as the bus rumbled forward, watching the city wake. Sunlight splashed across glass and asphalt, and for a moment, a small, almost shy smile touched his lips.
I'm finally doing it…
His gaze flicked to the old library by the roadside, its narrow windows and faded sign stirring something deep in him. He had walked past this place for years, yet somehow it had always felt like it belonged to him. Not the old man inside, not the neighborhood—just him.
The owner's son didn't care about books. Didn't care about the place. Jonathan, though, had spent decades saving every coin, every extra hour of work, for a dream only he could see.
The bus slowed. He stepped off, letting the morning air wrap around him like a cool blanket, and made his way into the office building. Greetings came automatically, a rehearsed politeness for coworkers who barely noticed him.
"Good morning, Jonathan," they said.
"Good morning," he returned, the words smooth and even, masking the quick heartbeat under his ribs.
At his desk, reports were filed, emails answered, resignation letter drafted with precise care. Every motion practiced. Every thought contained. Until noon, when the company threw him a farewell lunch.
Glasses clinked. Hands clapped. "We hope you find your true self!" someone shouted.
The director leaned close, voice low, beer in hand. "Kindness, Jonathan… I hope it helps in your… venture, tch."
Jonathan smiled. Polite. Hollow.
From across the table, Marie, who had always lingered a little longer to ask how his weekend went, caught his eye. She raised her glass softly. "Really, Jonathan… I hope you find what makes you happy. You deserve it."
Jonathan smiled sincerely this time, the tightness around his eyes loosening for the first time all day.
Finally, free of the fluorescent office, he made his way to the library.
Inside, the air smelled of old paper and dust—the comfort of a home he had never owned. Sunlight spilled across the worn floor, and he settled in his favorite corner, where the books seemed to welcome him back like old friends. Hours slipped by in quiet immersion.
At last, he approached the counter. The old man looked up, eyes wary but softening.
"Sir," Jonathan began, words careful, almost trembling, "I… I saw the sign. Could I buy the library this Friday?"
A faint smile curved the old man's lips. He placed a gentle hand on Jonathan's shoulder. "Of course, young man. You love these books. You'll take care of it, won't you?"
Jonathan nodded, heart pounding. "I will. I promise."
The old man's gaze lingered, shadowed with quiet loneliness. "It's strange… that only a stranger cares for what I've cherished all my life."
Jonathan bowed, voice soft but steady. "I'll keep my promise."
Stepping outside, he felt the city's rhythm around him, the hum of life matching the beat of his own heart. On the bus home, he watched the streets pass, imagining shelves lined with stories he would protect, worlds he would keep alive.
That night, a simple omelette for dinner. A book in hand. Sleep, finally, but dreams full of stories waiting, a life finally his.
Tomorrow, an ordinary day for everyone else. But for Jonathan Heinrich, it was a quiet step toward everything he had ever wanted.
…Or so he thought. Somewhere, far away, the earth shifted in ways he could not yet imagine.