As the lunch break alarm sounded, teachers and students filed out of the cafeteria in orderly queues. I had been hiding in the tree, and once the area had quietened down, I dashed straight into the library.
The library spans three floors, its layout and interior décor exuding a distinctly classical, Western-style elegance. The space is remarkably quiet and deserted. Once you approach the entrance counter, a notice detailing the library rules comes into clear view.
Rules are everywhere. If only my SAN[mfn]Sanity Value[/mfn] was endless, I could just use my skills to tear this whole school apart.
Library Rules:
- Please refrain from visiting the library unless absolutely necessary.
- Students entering the library are encouraged to maintain quiet. Staff will be patrolling the library, and those who violate the rules will be subject to disciplinary action.
- The library is a place for study; please refrain from engaging in unrelated activities. You must strive to improve your academic performance. As a student, learning must take precedence. Even when ill or tired, do not neglect your studies.
- Please refrain from visiting the third floor of the library, as it is a designated staff rest area. Should you encounter inexplicable occurrences on the first or second floors, please proceed promptly to the storeroom on the second floor and maintain the appearance of being engaged in study.
- During study periods, the library will monitor students’ attention levels. Should you wish to move about, please keep your eyes fixed on your feet.
The fifth rule had been scrawled in by hand. I ran my fingers over it and found the ink still damp – clearly written only recently. Yet the library was utterly deserted. Who could have written this rule? The Headmaster, perhaps?
The Headmaster’s new rule regarding attendance rates – has this policy already been extended to the entire school zone?
As for the patrol officer mentioned in the rules, I have no idea what it might be — surely another creature of some sort. Following the rules, I advanced cautiously, eyes fixed on my toes, moving with utmost silence. Then, passing before a bookshelf, I pretended to be studying and casually picked up a book.
“Hmm?” I frowned at the book’s cover, puzzled. It was actually a dictionary. According to Wang Meng’er’s description, people in this world selectively learn certain Underworld scripts from childhood, hence the existence of dictionaries for such scripts. The comprehensive dictionary I held in my hands was precisely an Underworld dictionary.
I began to leaf through it carefully. Each word had a corresponding Chinese translation. I took out the small notebook from my pocket, then, holding the dictionary, quietly found a seat and began translating it word by word.
The moment I sat down, the once-empty library instantly filled with all sorts of people. They looked no different from ordinary people, either bent over books like me or browsing the shelves. I tried to stand up to strike up a conversation with someone, but upon standing, those figures vanished once more.
I see. So these so-called library patrol officers are actually those entities from earlier — some type of otherworldly creatures that only appear when one sits down to study.
I settled back into my seat and leafed through the dictionary, then found myself glancing around at the people nearby. They formed a stark contrast to the motionless humanoid creatures engrossed in their books.
After all, I wasn’t here to study properly; it was just a convenient opportunity to translate the clues I had on hand. At that moment, a librarian in an apron tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see a middle-aged woman with short brown hair. Her apron bore a name badge, but apart from her profile picture, I couldn’t make out her name or position.
Those are characters from the Underworld.
“My dear student, your enthusiasm for learning is truly remarkable — so much so that you’ve forgotten to collect your alert device for checking your head-tilting[mfn]Basically, it measures how often you look around and how often your attention drifts when you’re supposed to be studying.[/mfn] rate.”
I froze, about to speak but immediately bit my tongue. It was best to keep quiet in the library. I pretended to be mute, gesturing that I had no idea what it was.
The staff member chuckled: “It’s an alert system that tracks your head-up rate in the library. When your head-tilting rate exceeds 0.5, it sounds an alarm, prompting you to mind your behaviour and focus on your studies.”
This is bloody ridiculous. The library rules clearly state that no noise is permitted whatsoever, especially loud noises which are strictly forbidden. If an alarm were to go off, the entire library would hear it. If your head-tilting rate exceeds 0.5, you’d be as dead as a doornail.
I didn’t want it, but the librarian forced it into my hands. I stared at the thing in my grasp with disgust, then casually tossed it into the drawer beneath the library desk.
Afterwards, I fought off the drowsiness caused by my SAN plummeting and spent some time deciphering the broadcast room notebook. Eventually, I managed to semi-understand the information I wanted from the notebook.
That little notebook served as a memo pad, containing notes someone had jotted down for another person. It held computer passwords, daily medication reminders, warnings to control one’s temper, along with existential doubts, worries, and everyday trifles. On the final page, all these entries coalesced into a single sentence.
“Father, am I your enemy? I wish to talk with you.” Signed, Wu Liang.
These are Wu Liang’s notes!
【Decipher Wu Liang’s notes to uncover clues about him, unlock the library scene, and decipher the patterns governing the Library World’s and the Outer World’s appearances. A new side quest has now emerged: Seek out the treasure hidden within the library.】
【Side Quest: Discover the Library’s Hidden Treasure】
I chuckled, tucked away my notebook, and prepared to head upstairs to the library. No sooner had I taken two steps than I felt a vibration emanating from my pocket. Finding this odd, I reached inside to feel around, only to discover the very attention-tracking device I had discarded.
What on earth? I put that thing in the drawer, didn’t I? How on earth did it end up in my pocket?
The little gadget buzzed to alert me because my head-tilting rate has reached 0.45. If I don’t take care, I’ll face a rather sinister outcome.
Clutching my weary head, I followed the instructions to the letter, keeping my eyes fixed on my toes as I made my way upstairs. Upon reaching the second floor, I located the storeroom described in the rules. Here, that icy pressure and the watchful gaze vanished. I couldn’t hold on any longer. After finding a spot beside a pile of books, I collapsed onto the floor and slept soundly.
It was less than ten minutes before I heard people cursing me in my half-sleep — calling me a f*cking moron and suchlike. My sleep disturbed, I was furious. Opening my eyes, I saw a monstrosity standing in the storeroom. The thing had over a dozen hands all over its body. Its entire face lacked eyes or a nose, only a multitude of mouths the size of palms. Each mouth took turns hurling abuse as if in a relay race.
‘Why aren’t you studying? What were your midterm results?’ That thing gradually approached me. I flipped through my notebook to check the currently known rules. The library regulations did indeed state that if you reached the relatively safe storage room, you should pretend to be studying.
I’m so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open, so how could I possibly put on an act? All I could do was lie there silently, watching that monster go mad. The eyeless creature couldn’t see me, forced to hunt by instinct and sound alone. When I held my breath, the multiple-mouthed monster stopped moving towards me. Confused, it began to spin around the room in circles.
At that moment, my stomach emitted an untimely rumble of hunger — a very loud one at that. The creature, which had been prowling about, instantly lunged towards where I lay. I could no longer feign death. If that rule in the library was meant to guard against this thing, then surely if I dealt with it, I would be able to sleep peacefully.
In the blink of an eye, the creature lunged at me, its gaping maw expelling wisps of smoke. Without hesitation, I shed my disguise and charged headlong into a fierce collision with the beast.
With a loud thud, the creature berated me like a teacher monitoring pupils’ grades, as though I were truly a student.
“What mind do you have for play, what mind for sleep?” No sooner had the monster spoken than, lacking SAN points, I fell victim to its spell, plunging into some bizarre dreamscape.
It was in a school classroom, where the teacher at the front was about to distribute exam papers. Only then did I realise I had suddenly become an examinee myself. Yet I had no idea what was being tested, and I hadn’t brought an eraser or a 2B pencil. It felt as though I had become one with this world, truly experiencing the anxiety and tension within it.
When the teacher handed out the papers, she became aware of my situation. She publicly criticised me in front of the entire class, stating, “A girl like you, with such poor academic performance, will only end up selling herself once you leave school.”
Some students in the class were sniggering behind my back, leaving me utterly mortified and ashamed. Yet it wasn’t my fault I had no pencil or eraser – where on earth was I supposed to get them at such short notice?
After the exam papers were handed out, I could only stare blankly at the questions. They were as incomprehensible to me as hieroglyphics. These weren’t standard subjects like Chinese, Maths, English or Physics, but far more abstract topics – similar to asking students to explain the meaning of life.
How could I possibly answer? Without any tools to help me solve problems, I came last in this midterm exam. It seems that in the teacher’s eyes, a girl performing poorly and coming last is even more shameful than a boy doing so. Every day in class, the first thing she does is berate me and hurl insults at me. I suffer terribly every day, but the teacher has spoken to my parents, and they are utterly disappointed in me. At school, I’m berated by my teachers; at home, I’m scolded by my own family. I’m no longer human. In their eyes, I’ve become a beast to be beaten, cursed, and humiliated at will.
Quite right, I am a beast, an animal.
The teacher, seeing my calm demeanour, grew even more brazen. Just as she reached out to grab my hair and force me to kneel before the entire class and apologise, I suddenly felt, for a moment, that none of this was real.
“Your poor academic performance has held the whole class back. Our class could have topped the entire year group, but students like you have dragged down our average marks. You should immediately kneel and kowtow to me and your classmates to apologise, then crouch beside the lectern to listen to the lesson.”
Why on earth should I come to class? I graduated ages ago.
That’s right. I’m not a schoolgirl at all — I’m a grown woman. And I certainly wouldn’t be as weak as I’ve been through all this.
“Speak up,” the teacher patted my cheek. It came back to me: I’d been in the Library’s storeroom when a monster appeared. After it unleashed its powers on me, I suddenly found myself here.
Time jumped so quickly that it probably wasn’t the real world.
“This is a dream,” I concluded, fixing the teacher who had humiliated me in my sleep with a savage, beastly glare.
The teacher took two startled steps back, “What sort of expression is that? Children like you will surely become murderers, a cancer to society. Let everyone see you! Let them all state whether you’re a wretch!”
‘‘Let’s be honest, isn’t this sort of girl who lacks any sense of collective honour just a b*tch?’’
Below, a few scattered voices replied, “Yes!”
This dream filled me with revulsion, and I instantly gouged out the teacher’s eyeballs with both hands.
“Teachers like you are the scum of the earth, and have no place in this world. And as for those of you who stand by and watch while teachers humiliate their students, even if this is a dream world, I won’t let you off the hook.” In that instant, as my memories returned, so did my strength. I tore out the teacher’s tongue and hung her out the window to dry like cured meat. Then I turned my attention to the bystanders in the classroom and began a massacre.
“Whose dream is this? I’m not this weak. Anyone who bullies or insults me — even my own parents — will die.”
Not a single one of the classmates I killed could be identified. Within the tightly sealed classroom, I slaughtered every student I could recall who had mocked me, leaving only those relatively kinder souls to cower in the distance, trembling.
The classroom had become a river of blood, my entire body drenched in crimson. My school uniform had vanished without a trace, replaced by the disguise of human skin and my original clothes.
Translator’s Corner: Imagine how terrifying it must be to see this crazy chick wearing human skin as clothes running around killing people… If you see any grammar/spelling errors, please let me know ~
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