The morning sun rose gently, brushing Jonathan awake as the sound of his alarm clock rang.
Today was the promised day—the day he would finally acquire the library.
The day he would fulfill his lifelong dream of becoming a librarian.
Jonathan slowly got out of bed. On most mornings, he would brew his usual cup of coffee and feel slightly out of place in the world. But today… today was different. This was the beginning of something new—a new chapter, a new adventure.
He went straight to the bathroom, took a bath, and dressed carefully. Excitement shimmered in his emerald-green eyes, impossible to hide.
By seven in the morning, he was standing in front of the library. Too early.
"Ugh… idiot," he muttered, shaking his head. "It opens at eight sharp."
He laughed quietly—a sound rare enough to surprise even him. Perhaps the only times he had ever laughed like this were when he was lost in a book.
Jonathan sat down on a nearby bench, letting himself breathe and letting his thoughts wander.
I've never felt this happy before… he thought, a warmth spreading through his chest.
And yet… why does it feel incomplete, as if something I've always longed for is still just out of reach?
The smile slowly faded from his face.
As the library's opening hour approached, the park nearby began to fill with life. Children ran across the grass, their laughter echoing in the cool morning air.
Jonathan stood and wandered toward the park—and suddenly, a small figure collided with him.
"Ouch!" the child cried, tumbling to the ground.
"Oh—hey, I'm sorry!" Jonathan bent down quickly. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm okay, mister!" the child said, brushing dirt off her clothes and smiling softly.
A familiar voice called out sharply:
"Kate! I told you not to run like that! See? You bumped into someone!"
Jonathan froze. The voice… it was unmistakable.
An elderly nun hurried over, her steps careful, her posture bent with age, her kind eyes full of worry for the child. Jonathan's heart skipped. He knew her instantly.
She reached the girl and gently brushed her shoulder. "Are you alright, Kate?"
"I'm fine, Sister!" the child replied cheerfully.
The nun turned to Jonathan, her gaze lingering on his face. Tears suddenly welled in her eyes.
"I… I'm sorry… you look so familiar… Are… you perhaps… Nathan?"
Jonathan's eyes widened as if seeing a ghost. His body trembled, his heart gripped by something he could not name.
"In a trembling voice, he whispered, "Is that… you? Sister Hannah?"
Before he could stop himself, he found himself hugging her. She gasped, then clutched him tightly.
"Is that really you?! Jonathan?!"
After a long moment, they finally sat on the bench in the park, catching up. Jonathan shared what he had been doing, and she listened quietly, smiling warmly, her eyes full of affection.
"You were different from the others," she said. "You were always tucked away in the library at the orphanage… so I'm not surprised at all that you're going to become a librarian."
As they spoke, a few children in the park noticed him. One by one, curious, they began to inch closer, their small footsteps soft on the grass.
"Hey, mister! Are you going to read us a story?" a little boy asked, holding a well-worn picture book.
Jonathan blinked, slightly startled, but smiled. "Well… I suppose I could," he said gently, crouching down to meet their eager eyes.
The children quickly settled around him in a loose semi-circle, whispering excitedly.
Jonathan opened the boy's book and began reading aloud. His voice was calm and soothing, yet carried the rhythm of the story so vividly that dragons seemed to soar and forests seemed to sway with every word.
Occasionally, one of the children gasped or laughed, and Jonathan couldn't help smiling. He pointed to illustrations, adding little gestures to bring the story alive: dragons flapping wings, trees bending in the wind, ships slicing through imaginary seas
.
Sister Hannah watched quietly from the bench, her hands folded in front of her. Her eyes softened, and a faint smile tugged at her lips.
This kid… he really grew up into a man, she thought. Once he was just a boy, curious for books, always hiding in the library corners. And now… look at him. Sharing stories. Making children laugh. He's become exactly the person I hoped he would.
Jonathan finished the story with a gentle flourish, closing the book. The children clapped and thanked him, some asking eagerly if he could read another.
"I… I'll try to read again another time. I'll visit the church too," he said warmly, straightening up. "But you all have to keep reading too, alright?"
"Bye, mister!!" the kids shouted cheerfully.
"Bye, kids! I'll see you soon," he replied, smiling gently.
Sister Hannah stood nearby, teasing gently as she prepared to leave:
"I hope to see you again soon, Jonathan… you must visit the orphanage! Or I'll find you myself."
"I will, Sister," he replied solemnly, a strange mix of joy and unease filling him.
As the church bell rang, the clock struck eight in the morning
Jonathan returned to the library just as the old man arrived. They discussed the price, and unexpectedly, the old man said:
"I trust you to carry on my collection… so I'll take just half of the original price."
The deal was done. Jonathan bought the library for $100,000—half of the original $200,000.
Finally, he stepped inside the library—not as a customer, but as its owner and librarian. He quickly set to work, cleaning, piling books, and arranging new shelves. Over the next few days, he renovated the place, making it both beautiful and functional.
"All the years of living a frugal life finally paid off," he said quietly, a small smile on his face.
Jonathan's routine became simple but satisfying: cleaning shelves, reading books, arranging the volumes, and making the library truly his own.
Then, one quiet afternoon, after placing the last book on the highest shelf, Jonathan stepped back and admired his work. The library gleamed—clean, orderly, perfect.
"Yes!! Finally! I'm done," he exclaimed.
Almost immediately, the lights flickered and went out. A moment later, they returned. Jonathan frowned, stepping back instinctively.
"Power outage?" he muttered, confused.
Then—a low tremor ran through the floor. A few books toppled, sliding across the polished wood. His heart skipped a beat.
He bent down to pick up the fallen volumes, a strange sensation gnawing at the edge of his mind.
"Earthquake?" he muttered to himself, straightening up. Ishould check the news later…
The tremor deepened, the floor quivering beneath him. Dust floated in the air. The library, his sanctuary, was no longer safe—or ordinary.