Chapter 4
2296words
This had been his routine for three days straight. And the Library of Legends? At this point, it felt like home… if home had thousands of dusty scrolls and one overpowered librarian boss NPC.
“You again?” came a soft voice from the side.
Leoran froze like he’d been caught shoplifting books.
“Hehe… morning, Miss,” he said, awkwardly adjusting his collar.
Voina raised an eyebrow.
“Still haven’t found the information you’re looking for?”
Leoran hesitated. Steam practically puffed out of his ears like a broken kettle.
“Not yet. Probably today, though! I’ve got a good feeling.”
“Want any help?” she offered, gliding past him with her usual quiet grace.
“Uhh—no, no, Miss. I-I’m good! I mean, I don’t wanna disturb you! I’m fine!” he blurted, waving his arms too dramatically.
Voina gave him a three-second librarian stare.
Then simply said, “If you need anything, just ask,” and floated away like a mysterious anime sensei.
Leoran stood there sweating for no reason.
“Why am I like this…” he whispered.
His eyes landed on the massive stacks ahead. He sighed.
Reality check: 99 books down. 99,000 more to go.
Dramatic music played in his mind.
“If I die here… tell Kenren I fought bravely,” he whispered to no one.
He squared his shoulders, clenched his fist, and took a bold step forward.
And tripped.
Face-first into a tower of books.
Time stopped.
1… 2… “AAAAAAAAAAAA—WHO PUT A TRIP TRAP ON A FLAT FLOOR?!”
A wild laugh burst out from a nearby row.
“BHU-HAHAHAHA! OH MY GOD. Are you okay? Actually, no, stay down, I’m not done laughing!”
Leoran peeled his face off a scroll labeled ‘Ancient Cursed Runes: Now With Extra Doom’, muttering under his breath.
The stranger kept laughing. “Bro, did you try to summon a demon with your forehead?!”
Leoran glared sideways while slowly rising like a disappointed cat.
“Oh, ignoring me? I see. I see how it is.”
The stranger stepped closer and extended a hand.
“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to laugh that hard. Okay, maybe I did. But still — let me help you up.”
Leoran stared at the hand. His pride screamed. But his dignity had already been sacrificed to the book gods.
He took it.
The stranger grinned.
“Thanks—” Leoran started.
“I mean… what’s your name?”
“Mosu,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear.
“I’m Leoran.”
Their eyes met. A pause. Then Mosu mock-whispered to the fallen bookshelf:
“Don’t worry, brave shelf. He’ll never hurt you again.”
Leoran sighed like a man who realized he wasn’t the protagonist of this scene.
Just then—
“Oh my god… what is happening here?” Voina’s voice lowered into a dramatic whisper as she spotted the mess of books on the ground.
“What happened here?” she asked, walking closer.
“Miss! Bookshelf suddenly got attacked… by a 5-foot-4 monster!” Mosu announced, dramatically gesturing to Leoran.
“The hell you mean 5'4?! I’m nearly 5’5!” Leoran flailed his arms like an offended eel.
Voina gave a soft pfft but quickly turned her head, swallowing her laugh.
(“It’s just one inch,” she said in her mind.)
For a brief moment, the atmosphere felt lighter. Outside the library, the world was gloom. Fear and shadows filled the lands. But in here—inside this old stone archive—there was laughter. Laughter that echoed through the shelves.
Their giggles floated like wind through the room. A tiny spark of energy danced in the air and boop—bopped Leoran gently on the nose like a bedtime kiss from the universe.
He blinked. Then glanced at Mosu and Voina.
They were reenacting the entire “trip scene” with dramatic flair—Mosu acting like a dying hero, and Voina barely holding back tears of laughter.
Leoran opened his mouth to say something… then stopped. His heart felt warm. He didn’t know why. He just smiled.
They both turned to look at him. Held their stare for exactly five seconds.
And burst into a fresh round of laughter.
“Stop it now! Geez!” Leoran huffed, face red.
“Hehe—okay, okay,” Voina giggled. She turned away and waved a hand.
“I’m going back to my desk. You two, please organize these before they bury another poor soul.”
As they picked up the fallen books and tucked scrolls back into place, Leoran noticed something unusual sticking out from between the pages of an oversized volume.
A slip. A fragile page, yellowed with age, edges curled and cracked.
It was titled in bold ink:
“WORLD LULLABY.”
The moment his eyes landed on the words, something inside him froze. A strange chill crawled across the back of his neck.
The warmth of laughter was gone. Replaced by the faint echo of something distant—something cold, familiar.
His breath caught. His heart kicked. His mind jerked back to that moment in his nightmare. That song. That voice.
Only now, in the safety of daylight, he didn’t feel fear first. He felt confusion. Shock. Like his brain was trying to rearrange the moment logically… and failing.
No way. Not random. Not a coincidence.
He held the slip tighter.
A small twitch ran through his arm.
“Did you find a ghost or something?” Mosu asked playfully, peeking over his shoulder while gently tugging at his own sleeve.
Leoran didn’t look at him. “No… worse than a ghost.”
“Ohh… does that ghost go into people’s minds and sing them lullabies?”
The line landed like a punch.
Leoran’s entire body stilled. Eyes wide. The paper crinkled in his palm.
His voice barely surfaced.
“How the he—” he mumbled, but it never finished. Just a look. A haunted one.
Mosu raised an eyebrow. Then slowly looked at the paper.
“…What is that?”
And the room, for a moment, went completely silent. Even the books seemed to hush.
When Mosu got Leoran’s attention with that sentence, Leoran didn’t show any emotion. He stood still, calm like the wind.
“You’ve definitely read that book before,” Leoran said.
“Huh?” Mosu peeked over his shoulder and replied, “Oh… this one? I didn’t even touch that raw yet,” he said, casually brushing off the fact that he had just blurted something that directly connected to Leoran’s experience.
Leoran stared at him as if he were judging him. He definitely felt something off, even though Mosu seemed like a total goofball.
“What?”“I really don’t know what you’re referring to! You think I’m lying?”
Leoran squinted his eyes playfully. It was more of a cute doubtful look than a seriously concerned one.
He doesn’t believe me… or does he? Mosu thought to himself.
“Then how do you know about dreams… and that stuff?” Leoran asked.
Sigh — Mosu let out a deep breath.“You ever hear that story about the masked child? The one where a kid in a clown mask appears in your dreams and eats your soul? He carries a bag of leftover dreams, where he collects those half-eaten souls and devours them while they cry in—paaaiiiinnnnnnn…”His eyes met Leoran’s blank expression.
Mosu jumped like a startled squirrel. “What now?! Didn’t you say you wanted to know? Now you’re looking at me like I’m some freak!”
“It’s a really popular bedtime horror story in the East Region,” Mosu added quickly.
Leoran gave a half-assed smirk. It was kind of ridiculous. Like—how the hell could anyone read such a horrifying tale to children?
“Wait a second... did you say East Region? I thought you were from Western Bailey.”
“Nope,” Mosu replied proudly. “I’m from the East Region.”
“So why are you here in Bailey?” Leoran asked.
“Oh, I got a letter from the Officials to join the Wanderers. I’m on the participation list.”
Upon hearing that, Leoran rolled his eyes back. Another hero-coded idiot, he thought.
“Hey, what did you just say…?”
Leoran casually cleaned his ear with a pinky. “Nothing. You misheard,” he said blankly.
“You said I’m an idiot!” Mosu said, half-shouting.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Leoran grabbed his answer book and headed toward the table on the left side. Mosu followed him, still complaining that Leoran had called him stupid.
Stoneveil-
The air shifted.
Stoneveil wasn’t far from the Hill District… but it didn’t feel close either.Maybe three or four days’ walk for a normal person.Not much if you say it out loud — but long enough that your knees start questioning your life choices halfway through.
“It’s not that far,” Leoran once said. “But if your legs are made of regret, it’s basically another country.”
The place sat high in the mountains.Always foggy. Always quiet.The kind of quiet that didn’t just mean silence — it meant something was listening.
No birds. No echoes.Just stone... and stillness.
Elunir’s stitched smile didn’t widen.
It cracked.
Like porcelain bending just before it breaks.
His head tilted—no, twisted—slowly to one side, dragging his shoulders with it, as if his spine had forgotten how to move like a person’s.
The entire motion was quiet. Wrong.
The mist didn’t stir, but the air grew heavy, like something ancient just took a breath beneath the earth.
Kenren sat still.
He didn’t flinch.
No emotion surfaced. No fear. Only the stillness of someone who had seen enough to stop reacting.
“What are you?” Kenren asked, his voice low, unmoved, as though speaking to a curious child rather than a nightmare with a mask.
Elunir’s neck twitched—just once.
Then came the voice.
A whisper, soft and papery:
“Don’t you know my name already…?”
His body swayed as he spoke, like a puppet pulled by invisible strings.
He leaned closer, the mask smiling without lips.
“M…a…s…t…e…r…”
Then slower:
“k…e…n…r…e…n.”
“K…e…n…r…e…n.”“Are you leveling up now—from kids to teenagers?”
The mockery hung in the air like a hook. Soft, but sharp.
Elunir froze.
Then came something unexpected.A smile.Not twisted. Not forced.But strangely... genuine.
Though Kenren hadn’t said it as a joke—he had meant every word—Elunir twisted the tone into something else entirely. As if reality itself bent to how he wanted to hear it.
And somehow, it triggered something deeper.
Something darker.
Elunir tilted his head, leaning toward Kenren, body slightly floating as if gravity forgot him again.
“Nope,” he whispered slowly.
Kenren didn’t move. “Then why?”
A counter-question. Immediate. Cold.
Elunir’s smile twitched.
“Hehehe… why do you want to know, Master Kenren?”
He drew out the name again—Maa…steerrr... Ken…renn…His voice dropped into a sing-song whisper, like a lullaby written on broken teeth.
> (“What a corrupted creature,” Kenren thought.“Every time he says my name… it’s like a dark breeze slips under my skin.”)
Kenren’s voice hardened.
“Then why are you lingering here? Tormenting that child? What would you gain from him?”
For a flicker of time—Elunir stopped smiling.
Not out of offense.But confusion.As if no one had ever asked him why.
“Umm… what I gain, you say?”
He tilted his head the other way, lips parting.
Suddenly—a jolt.A fast, crooked jump forward—jumpscare close—face inches from Kenren.
He giggled.
Got it! Here’s your original scene with only the name change: we’ve replaced “Seo Woo’s world” with “Wonwoo’s world”, keeping the rest of your dialogue and pacing untouched.
[Mortal Official Hall – Western Bailey, Later That Evening]
The hall was quieter than usual.Candles flickered like they were nervous.Outside, the wind howled low across the stone courtyard, but inside, the air felt heavier.
Gru stood by the wide map-table, eyes scanning reports inked with red.
Rikiya slammed a scroll down.
“You knew, didn’t you?”
Gru didn’t answer right away.
“You are ignoring the fact the timeline already entangled with other worlds before opening the void dimension. Do you even know the meaning of T-I-M-E realism?” Rikiya said, mocking Gru’s intelligence.“You knew the consequences of playing with time, as if time is your uncle’s son playing hide and seek.”
The insult was immersive.Gru didn’t say anything.Of course—he knew her very well.
“I did suspect it,” he admitted, “but I didn’t know that reversing the timeline would crash it with other universes.”
“You suspected?” Her voice broke.“You suspected we were slipping into other universes? That someone was tampering with time? That these… demons aren’t even from here?! And you still did it?”
He met her eyes calmly.“It started with the overlap. One of the older loops. A residual echo from a world with a broken system.”
“Which one?” she asked coldly.
Gru didn’t blink.“Wonwoo’s world.”
Rikiya froze.A beat passed before she whispered, “The obsession timeline…”
Gru nodded. “It created a ripple. A doorway that never shut.”
She backed up. Her face trembled between shock and disgust.
“This is what happens when you play god.”
If shame and pride had a face, this is what it looked like—Rikiya’s glare drilled straight through Gru.
The silence dragged.
Then Rikiya laughed bitterly.“You want another generation to bleed? You’d send them into this madness, knowing what happened to the last?”Let’s for sure make team then sent them to clean the mess we created,right.that’s what u mean.(He become speechless of course it hurts him to core.)
“We don’t have a choice.”
“You always had a choice,” she snapped.“You just never considered that someone else’s opinion might matter more than your ego.”
Gru flinched—for the first time.
“You couldn’t even save your daughter…” she said, voice low.“And now you’ll sacrifice her son.”
The words hit like knives dipped in ash.
But Gru didn’t lash out.He closed the scroll, hands trembling slightly.
“If we do nothing,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “he’ll die anyway.And this time, no one will be left to open the gate.”
Rikiya turned her back.
“Just remember,” she said over her shoulder,“When that boy learns the truth—you won’t be the one he forgives.”
Gru stayed.
The candles kept flickering.
The silence deepened….
