Chapter 23 – The Outside World (2)

Ｒｅａｄ ｏｎ ＫａｔＲｅａｄｉｎ​ｇ​Ｃａ​ｆｅ

Three butterflies with red wings flew in through the window.  

Their wings were red, as if soaked in fresh blood, and they looked fragile, like fluttering Petals of flesh.  

I watched their dance, as if entranced.  

“They’re beautiful. Just like the ones in the library… no, even redder.”  

A cool breeze seeped into my lungs, and I felt my body tense up momentarily.  

“Sigh…”  

The room was still dark, so I let out a sigh for no reason.  

Soon, silence filled the space, and dust floated even in the absence of light.  

I thought the darkness resembled my inner self.  

A man full of shame, wanting to hide himself from the world.  

That’s who I was.  

I had always lived in the dark, deceiving myself.  

I longed for light, yet at the same time, I feared it.  

In this world, I was born.  

Just born.  

Somewhere in this world, regardless of my will.  

I existed, I lived, and I had to keep living.  

And it was always suffocating.  

I couldn’t breathe.  

In the prison of a life given without choice, I flailed desperately, trying to become the person my father wanted.  

I don’t know why.  

Perhaps because I had no goal, and the person I saw and learned from the most was my father.  

And the most painful thing was my father’s disappointment.  

“If you can’t even do this, I’ll be truly disappointed.”  

“Ah, Father! I can do better! Please believe in me!”  

“You’ve been saying that for nearly 20 years! Enough! It’s my fault for raising a failure like you as my only son!”  

I couldn’t respond.  

My throat tightened, and the anger and emotions boiling inside me eventually made me scream in the room.  

By morning, my voice was hoarse, and I learned to agree in silence.  

I ground myself down to fit my father’s expectations, to become the person he wanted.  

But even then, it wasn’t enough.  

It was never enough.  

What kind of person was I supposed to become?  

What did I want to be?  

No matter how many books I read, no matter how much I agonized over it.  

I learned how to love, so why do people hate each other?  

Aren’t we all the same?  

I liked the nurse who cared for me, the mother who hugged me warmly, and the father who smiled at me when I was young.  

So, what is it about humans that makes them tear each other apart?  

What makes people love, and what makes them hate?  

Perhaps I didn’t learn how to love humans but instead realized I didn’t know how to trust them.  

At some point, I stopped trusting others, yet paradoxically, I still loved people.  

Maybe it was because I realized how meaningless trust was amidst unbearable expectations and disappointments.  

Even if you trust, you’ll eventually be betrayed, hurt, and broken.  

And yet, I still love humans.  

That’s why I couldn’t trust them even more.  

“Hey, Albert. You look damn depressed.”  

“Tsk. You’re going to end up like Hitler, shooting yourself in the head before you even put your ideals into practice.”  

“Open the window! Instead of just looking, feel the cool breeze.”  

Following that advice, I silently approached the window and opened it.  

*Creak—!*  

*Whoosh~!*  

A cold breeze seeped into the room.  

The butterflies with red wings were still fluttering outside the window, undisturbed by the wind.  

It was fascinating how these tiny creatures barely held themselves together as they hovered in the air.  

So, I carefully reached out my hand.  

One butterfly hesitantly landed on my finger.  

*Tap!*  

It stung slightly.  

Probably because of the tiny spines on its legs.  

“Strange. You look like a Romanov, but you act like half a saint.”  

Trotsky muttered as if mocking me from somewhere.  

“I don’t believe in royals. Damn deceivers. If you’re going to do something, do it properly. Tsk tsk.”  

Stalin’s words stabbed me like a sharp blade.  

“Hey— Ah, um…”  

I didn’t respond.  

“A man with nothing but pride.”  

“That’s how royals are.”  

“Predictable fools.”  

Lenin, Trotsky, and Stalin took turns mocking me.  

A royal discussing revolution was foolish in itself.  

I was nothing but a weak hypocrite who, despite living a life of luxury, deluded myself into thinking I understood the world’s suffering.  

And what they said was true.  

“Fine. I’ll admit it. You’re right. I’m a deceiver. A hypocrite.”  

That’s who I was.  

A cowardly, weak human being, even by my own admission.  

But then, what is right?  

“The world is like this.”  

What should I believe in?  

“I believe in people. I don’t understand them, but… I still believe. I have my own thoughts. I love humans. I love the lives they live.”  

So, I stepped into this mess that seemed destined to be stained red.  

And as if in response, the butterfly quietly folded its wings on my hand.  

It was light and warm.  

As if life itself could be this fragile and delicate.  

I swallowed hard.  

Then, I slowly closed my eyes.  

A memory I hated most came to mind, as if it was ruining my head.  

‘Get up.’  

At that voice, I slowly opened my eyes.  

The butterfly with red wings was still perched on my hand.  

Its tiny, trembling wings seemed to whisper to me.  

‘What do you want?’  

“I…”  

‘Tell me what you desire most.’  

“…What I desire most?”  

‘Yes.’  

The butterfly smiled at me.  

“I… want to be understood. I need someone who understands my heart and thinks about me. I’m… exhausted.”  

At that, the butterfly smiled.  

‘I understand. I’ll help you achieve what you want.’  

After the butterfly’s words, it carefully climbed onto the desk.  

And then it exploded.  

*Pop—!*  

*Crash!*  

In an instant, the butterfly’s blood-soaked wings and body burst apart.  

Blood splattered everywhere, and in the center of the explosion, instead of butterfly remains, there was a book.  

 

*****

 

[Library]  

I reevaluated the library.  

And the conclusion wasn’t pleasant.  

“A power that manifests anything simply by imagining it. In short, it’s a terrifying power. It’s hard to even call it a controllable power…”  

It’s difficult.  

Too difficult.  

Every time I try to understand it, I feel like I’m falling into a labyrinth.  

I use the library’s power better than anyone, yet I don’t understand it myself.  

It’s absurd.  

But now, I’ve grown so accustomed to using the library’s power without hesitation that it feels natural.  

Perhaps I’ve just gotten used to it.  

Or maybe I’ve accepted it as something so natural that it’s become second nature.  

It’s not that I’ve mastered the power, but I’ve adapted to it.  

This library isn’t just a repository of knowledge.  

It’s a place where endless fiction and truth intertwine, and books are the evidence of that.  

And deep within the stacks, it felt as if a giant hand was pulling me forward.  

Through the butterflies, we saw the outside world again.  

The red-winged butterflies flew, and we began to see countless people.  

We shared their vision and watched together.  

“What’s a mercenary?”  

“Exactly what it sounds like.”  

A world different from the Earth I knew.  

But at the same time, familiar things were visible.  

For example, buildings.  

Apartments and various skyscrapers stood out.  

And the suits they wore, along with the weapons they used.  

I occasionally saw guns, but most used modern melee weapons.  

“So the butterflies have this ability too…”  

While Shuji was speaking, I was focused on something else.  

I was too busy saving a guest in despair to pay attention to her words.  

“Huh? What did you say?”  

I turned to Shuji and asked.  

“Ah, it’s nothing!”  

Shuji pouted and turned her head away.  

Was it just me, or did she look kind of cute?  

“She asked if the butterflies had this ability too, Witch.”  

Yu Hae explained.  

“Thank you, Yu Hae.”  

I immediately responded to her.  

“Since we expect more guests, the library decided to release the butterflies. It’s a kind of procedure to check what kind of guest is coming before welcoming them.”  

“A procedure to check… You’re not going to kill them, are you?”  

“Of course not.”  

At my reassurance, Shuji sighed in relief.  

At that moment, I noticed her fingertips trembling slightly.  

Was she scared?  

Or was it just nervousness?  

But she tried to maintain her usual calm expression.  

I thought her fragile strength was sometimes dangerous.  

“However.”  

The moment my words paused, Shuji tensed up again.  

Like the sound of a glass shattering right in front of her.  

“If they interfere with the library’s work, we’ll have to prepare to fight back.”  

“I see.”  

She didn’t seem surprised, which ironically made me a little flustered.  

Thinking she needed a bit of tension, I smiled brightly and made a half-joking, half-serious remark.  

“And… that’s right. Shuji, you belong to the library now.”  

“…What!?”  

Shuji asked in shock.  

Her expression looked like it might shatter like transparent glass.  

But amidst her surprise, there was a subtle emotion mixed in.  

She looked at me.  

Confusion and something indescribable swirled in her deep eyes.  

What did I want to see in them?  

No, it’s strange to even think about what I wanted to see.  

That’s just how reality is.  

“And prepare for battle. Bad guests are coming.”  

“B-bad guests? What do you mean—”  

*Boom—!*  

With a loud noise, the library’s main door shook.  

“Is this it!? The so-called library!”  

A massive, burly man appeared with an imposing presence.  

At that moment, I instinctively stepped in front of Shuji.  

“Wh-what!?”  

“…Welcome to the Butterfly Library.”  

She stood there, looking at my back, and I, protecting her, gathered my small body and greeted him firmly.  

Then, sentences began to appear before my eyes.  

 

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[Value: Highest Grade – Original]  

[Worthy of being turned into a book.]  

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Translator Note

I am very Cool person also hope you had a good day today