Nobody touched the paper.
Not immediately.
The folded note rested in Haruto's hand.
Small.
Ordinary.
Impossible.
The bookseller stared at it.
Belial stared at it.
Haruto stared at it.
The note remained completely unhelpful.
"...well?" Belial finally said.
Haruto looked at the goat.
"What?"
"OPEN IT."
"Why don't you?"
"BECAUSE YOU'RE HOLDING IT."
A fair point.
Annoying.
But fair.
The bookseller stepped closer.
His expression hadn't changed.
Yet Haruto could tell something was wrong.
The old man wasn't curious.
He was concerned.
Deeply concerned.
That alone made Haruto nervous.
Slowly—
he unfolded the note.
The paper crackled softly.
Fresh ink greeted him.
Fresh.
Not faded.
Not ancient.
Fresh.
The realization sent a chill down his spine.
Then he read.
---
**If you're reading this, then something has gone wrong.**
**Again.**
---
Haruto blinked.
Belial groaned immediately.
"YEP."
The bookseller pinched the bridge of his nose.
"That sounds like him."
Haruto continued.
---
**Before anything else, no, I am not alive.**
**Probably.**
---
"PROBABLY?"
Belial shouted.
"WHO WRITES THAT?"
The note, unfortunately, had no answer.
Haruto continued.
---
**If Belial is complaining, tell him he still owes me three silver pieces.**
---
The goat nearly exploded.
"THAT IS A LIE."
The bookseller laughed.
Actually laughed.
For nearly a full minute.
Haruto hid a smile and kept reading.
---
**Now that the important matters are out of the way—**
**Listen carefully.**
---
The humor vanished.
Immediately.
The handwriting looked different.
More controlled.
More deliberate.
Every word felt chosen.
---
**The sketchbook should not have opened to this page.**
**If it did, then the pattern is repeating faster than expected.**
---
Haruto frowned.
Pattern?
What pattern?
The note continued.
---
**You're not the first.**
---
The room became silent.
Haruto's eyes narrowed.
Not the first?
The bookseller stopped smiling.
Belial's ears twitched.
Haruto kept reading.
---
**There were others before me.**
**And there will be others after you.**
---
A strange feeling settled into Haruto's chest.
The words felt wrong.
Not because they were confusing.
Because they felt true.
In the worst possible way.
---
**Most fail.**
---
Short.
Simple.
Brutal.
---
**A few survive longer than expected.**
**Nobody wins.**
---
The handwriting became slightly messier.
As though Arthur had written faster.
Trying to record something before it vanished.
---
**The world forgets differently than people do.**
---
Haruto paused.
That sentence felt important.
Dangerously important.
The bookseller noticed.
"Read it again."
Haruto did.
Slowly.
The world forgets differently than people do.
The old man's expression darkened.
As if he'd heard those words before.
Perhaps he had.
The note continued.
---
**People forget names.**
**The world forgets evidence.**
---
The room suddenly felt colder.
Haruto's fingers tightened around the page.
---
**A person disappears from memory.**
**A forgotten person disappears from history.**
---
Nobody spoke.
Not even Belial.
---
**That is the difference.**
---
Haruto stared.
Arthur had spent years studying this.
Years.
And somehow—
those few lines explained more than dozens of clues ever had.
The curse wasn't simply erasing memories.
It was erasing proof.
Records.
Evidence.
History itself.
The implications were terrifying.
Haruto continued reading.
---
**Which brings us to the important problem.**
---
A pause.
Then:
---
**Someone has started searching for me.**
---
The bookseller froze.
Completely.
Haruto noticed immediately.
The old man's face had gone pale.
Not frightened.
Shocked.
Genuinely shocked.
Haruto's pulse quickened.
The note continued.
---
**If that someone is you, ignore this message.**
---
Haruto blinked.
"What?"
Belial blinked.
"What?"
Even the bookseller blinked.
"What?"
Haruto reread it.
The sentence remained equally stupid.
---
**If you're searching for me, stop.**
---
Haruto lowered the paper.
"...Arthur."
Belial groaned.
"OH, NOW HE'S DOING THE MYSTERIOUS THING."
The bookseller looked exhausted.
"As expected."
Haruto continued.
---
**Seriously.**
**Stop.**
---
Another pause.
Then:
---
**You won't listen.**
---
Silence.
Complete silence.
Because Arthur was absolutely correct.
Haruto wasn't going to stop.
Not even slightly.
The note apparently knew this.
---
**You remind me of myself.**
---
Haruto didn't like that sentence.
Not one bit.
---
**That's why I'm worried.**
---
For a moment—
the handwriting looked shaky.
Almost uncertain.
Human.
---
**There are places even curiosity shouldn't go.**
---
Haruto immediately wanted to go there.
The irony was painful.
The note continued.
---
**If you still insist on searching, then start here:**
---
Beneath the sentence was a rough sketch.
Not a city.
Not a ruin.
A tower.
A single black tower rising from a sea of sand.
Jagged.
Impossible.
Unnatural.
At the bottom of the drawing were three words.
Three simple words.
Words that made Belial immediately stand up.
Words that made the bookseller swear for the first time.
Words that made Haruto's heart pound.
---
**The Grave of Pages**
---
The room fell silent.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Because every instinct told Haruto one thing.
Whatever waited there—
it wasn't meant to be found.