"Welcome… to my inverted world!"
Faiser froze in place, but not like someone afraid—rather like a machine that had suddenly paused, trying to recalculate everything at once. His eyes remained fixed on that empty shelf, as if his gaze were trying to force the truth out of it. He didn't move, didn't speak—he let the silence stretch, because the first mistake in front of the unknown… is rushing.
A moment passed.
Then he exhaled slowly, tilting his head slightly to the side, as if testing a new angle of perception.
"Well…" he said in a dry, calm tone, "either I've lost my mind… or this place is a bit too enthusiastic with its welcome."
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
The laughter came suddenly—closer this time, and unsettling… yet at the same time carrying a strange sense of amusement, as if its owner were watching an entertaining show.
Faiser narrowed his eyes immediately and turned toward the shelf—but—
nothing.
Complete emptiness.
"…"
A second of silence.
Then he said coldly:
"If you're trying to scare me… you chose a poor method."
"Poor?!" the voice came quickly, almost offended, "I'm giving you a free show, and you complain? Humans truly have no taste."
Faiser paused.
Blink.
Then looked again at one of the shelves—this time with sharper focus.
"You…" he began slowly, "you're not far."
Silence.
Then—
"Oh?"
The tone shifted slightly, lighter now—curious.
"Noticeable progress… continue."
Faiser stepped closer, then extended his hand toward the emptiness—but instead of touching just air—
his fingers suddenly stopped.
There was nothing visible, yet a faint sensation—like the slightest friction—passed across his fingertips.
He raised an eyebrow.
"…"
Then—
very slowly, as if deliberately provoking whatever was in front of him, he began moving his hand through the air, from top to bottom… until—
"Ah!"
A sudden sound, like someone whose foot had been stepped on unexpectedly.
Faiser stopped, looked at his hand, then at the empty space.
Then—
"…did I touch you?"
"No! You didn't touch me!" the voice replied quickly, then paused for a fraction of a second, "I mean—maybe a little, but that doesn't count!"
Silence.
Then Faiser said calmly:
"So you're here."
"I've been here from the start!" "You're just… impressively slow."
Faiser remained silent for a moment.
Then said:
"Hmm."
Then—
he extended his hand again, more directly this time, until—
"Wait! Don't tou—"
Tap.
A faint sound, like something finally falling into place.
And suddenly—
a book appeared.
Just like that.
No spectacle.
No light.
It simply… was there.
Faiser looked at it.
Then at his hand.
Then back at it.
"…"
Two seconds.
Three.
Then he said:
"Hah… a book."
"Oh, excellent!" the voice replied instantly, "the greatest detective of his era has discovered that I'm a book. What's next? Will you summon an entire sect to confirm it?"
Faiser blinked once.
Then said:
"I expected… something less sarcastic."
"And I expected… someone faster at understanding."
Silence.
Then—
"A draw?"
"No."
"Strict…"
Faiser exhaled lightly, then leaned down slightly, picking up the book, flipping it slowly in his hand. His eyes moved across the cover, the edges, every detail that could be observed.
"Since when… do books talk?"
"Since humans started pretending they read them." the voice answered immediately, with an invisible smirk in its tone.
Faiser's hand paused for a moment.
Then he continued flipping through the pages.
But—
"Don't try."
The voice spoke suddenly, this time calm.
"You won't understand anything like that."
Faiser's hand stopped.
"Oh?"
"Yes, 'oh'." "Staring won't help, flipping won't help, and trying to look smart… doesn't help either."
Faiser lifted his gaze slightly—something in the tone… had changed.
"Then… what does?"
Silence.
Then—
"Survival."
The word came calmly.
A brief silence followed—but this time, it wasn't amusing.
The atmosphere shifted, subtly.
"Your name." Faiser said suddenly.
"…" "Huh?"
"Your name." he repeated calmly, "if you speak… you have an identity."
Silence.
Then—
"Haaah… jumping straight into heavy questions… annoying."
"You can ignore it."
"And you can stop asking."
"No."
"…"
A short silence.
Then—
"I don't have a name."
Faiser's breath paused for a brief moment.
"Or rather…" the voice continued more slowly, "I no longer have one."
Faiser closed the book slowly.
"Alright then… 'the nameless book.'"
"That's a terrible title."
"I'll improve it later."
"Rude."
Silence.
Then—
"And you?" the voice asked.
"Faiser."
"Faiser… hmm…"
The name was repeated this time slowly, as if the voice wasn't just hearing it, but reshaping it within its awareness—testing it rather than merely saying it. The tone was no longer sarcastic, but quieter… more attentive.
Faiser's hand paused over the pages.
Then he raised his eyes calmly.
"You repeat my name as if you're trying to understand it… or understand me."
Silence.
But not empty.
Then the book spoke again—slower, less playful:
"The name itself doesn't interest me… what matters is what's tied to it, and what its owner carries without realizing… hahaha, just a foolish human."
Faiser narrowed his eyes slightly, but didn't break eye contact with the book.
"You speak as if you can see what isn't meant to be seen."
He said it calmly—but beneath that calm was a test.
The response didn't come immediately.
A moment passed.
Then the book replied, softly—but no longer fully sarcastic:
"And you ask… as if you're beginning to realize that what you see isn't everything."
Faiser lowered his gaze slightly, then began flipping through the pages again, slowly—one after another—without urgency.
He stopped at a certain page, running his finger across it.
"Hmm… why didn't I think of this before… why are your pages… completely blank?"
He said it in a clearly analytical tone.
The book answered calmly—this time with something hidden in its voice:
"They only seem that way… because you're looking the wrong way."
Faiser's hand stopped—not out of surprise, but because he grasped the idea immediately.
He raised his eyes slightly.
"So the problem isn't the book… but the reader."
"And finally… you said something of value, you idiot."
The book replied lightly—some sarcasm returning, but softer than before.
Faiser closed the book slowly, but didn't put it away.
"I'll ask again—more clearly this time."
He said, fixing his gaze on it.
"What exactly are you? And why are you in a place like this, inside a sect library that's supposed to monitor everything?"
Silence.
But not avoidance.
Choice.
Then the book answered—calmer, deeper:
"You humans tend to classify everything quickly… either something belongs, or it's an intruder—as if the world were simple enough to fit into two options."
A pause.
Then—
"But what you don't understand… is that some things neither belong… nor intrude. They simply… existed before the idea of belonging itself."
Faiser's gaze shifted slightly—not shock, but genuine interest.
"You speak as if you're… older than this place."
He said calmly—more deduction than question.
This time the book responded faster, but differently—less mockery, more edge:
"And you stand before me… as if you've reached a place you were never meant to reach."
Faiser's breath paused—just slightly.
"Reached…?"
he repeated softly.
"If you mean my presence here isn't a coincidence… then I want a better explanation than a single word."
Silence.
Longer this time.
As if choosing words carefully.
Then—
"I won't give you a full explanation… because you wouldn't understand it yet. But I can tell you this—"
A brief pause.
"I don't appear to those who search for me… but to those who reach a certain point without realizing they've reached it."
Faiser's focus sharpened.
"A point…? What do you mean? And by what standard is it measured?"
The reply came slower.
"As I said… it's not a place, nor a single moment. It's a state… accumulation, a way of thinking, an amount of doubt that doesn't stop, and an unconscious refusal to accept the surface."
A brief silence.
"Once all of that comes together… 'arrival' happens. Even if you don't realize it."
Faiser didn't respond immediately.
This silence was deeper.
But—
on the other side…
another silence.
The book wasn't just answering.
It was… observing.
"This doesn't make sense…"
The thought passed through it.
"This kind of alignment… doesn't happen with just anyone…"
A pause.
"…could it be—"
The thought cut off.
Deliberately.
Then its tone returned—lighter on the surface:
"You ask a lot, Faiser… that's not bad. But it might lead you somewhere you can't easily return from."
Faiser lifted his gaze slightly.
"Stopping questions… leads to the same result. Just slower."
Silence.
Then the book said calmly:
"Perhaps… that's why you arrived."
Faiser looked down at the pages again, running his finger slowly across them.
"One last question… for now."
A pause.
"If these pages aren't empty… then what's preventing me from seeing them?"
The answer came instantly this time—but with something different in its tone… something like the true beginning of something bigger:
"There's nothing preventing you…"
A soft pause.
"…there's something you lack."
Faiser raised his eyes slowly.
"And what is it?"
Silence.
Then—
"The right way… to read."