Chapter 8 — The Library's Window

Leo splashed water over his face, watching the ripples shimmer in the porcelain basin. The fatigue from the road still clung to him, but the mansion's quiet had begun to settle over his nerves. He took a deep breath, grabbed a towel from the stand, and dried off.

Changing into fresh clothes felt like shedding the dust and weariness of the journey. The fabric of the shirt was softer than anything he'd worn in weeks. It was tailored cotton with faint silver stitching along the cuffs. It smelled faintly of lavender, and for a moment, he simply sat on the edge of the bed, rolling back onto the pillows, staring at the fancy ceiling with its swirls of carved wood and painted flowers.

His thoughts drifted through the capital, the Draxler family, and how tomorrow's exam might change everything.

I have to find out more information about this world and about this city. If I remember correctly, Mira said the capital's population exceeded three to four million. I have to ask if they have libbrary in here.

Then, suddenly, a polite knock came at the door.

"Dinner is ready, sir," a voice came from the other side

Leo took his legs off the bed and opened the door. The servant gave a small bow.

"Thank you," Leo replied, with an awkward gesture. The servant's bow was smooth. Leo looked more like he'd bent halfway to tie a shoe.

Closing the door behind him, he crossed the hall to the next room and knocked his knuckles against the wood. Jack's voice answered.

"What? Did we fail the exam already?"

"It's dinner," Leo said flatly. "You should eat now before you start complaining in the middle of the night."

Jack opened the door, grinning, with Ralph behind him adjusting his sleeves.

They started toward the dining room together, but halfway down the corridor, Leo slowed.

Before eating, I have to look around a bit. This place feels interesting. If something catches my eye, I can ask Lyra about it . He thought.

"I'll come a little later," he said, waving them on. "I'm not that hungry yet. Go ahead without me."

Jack eyed him suspiciously. "You're going to get lost and then blame me, aren't you?"

"Just go," Leo said, rolling his eyes.

Ralph smirked. "Fine, but if you wander into the kitchen, bring some dessert with you."

They headed off, their footsteps fading down the hall.

okey lets see what I can find now. Leo turned in the opposite direction.

The corridor here was wide and faintly lit by wall gas lamps. The soft red carpet beneath his foot silenced the sound of footsteps. As he passes a series of framed paintings, each one capturing a different scene—a sweeping field at dawn, a ship at sea in a storm, a hawk frozen mid-flight.

Then he stopped in front of a massive framed portrait.

The portrait covered nearly the entire wall, and it was painted with such skill that it felt as if the figures might step down from the frame.

At the center stood a man and woman poised, with a subtle air of command. I think this is Mr. Draxler. His hair was dark, brushed back from a stern brow, and his tailored coat was adorned with a deep crimson sash. Beside him, Mrs. Draxler radiated elegance, her golden hair pinned high with jewels, her gown shimmering like sunlight on water.

To the left stood Lyra, every bit as striking in paint as she was in person. And to the right...

Leo's gaze caught.

Another young woman, her hair the color of gold, her eyes a piercing blue even in the painting. Her beauty was different from Lyra's—it wasn't just elegance its kind of cool and untouchable grace, like moonlight water.

"Eliza..." Leo murmured under his breath.

It wasn't a surprise that she was beautiful—if she shared the Draxler bloodline, it was practically guaranteed. But still, there was something about her that held his gaze longer than he meant to.

And its along side, there was an image captured by the camera.

When he saw that, he nearly jumped in fright.

Then he remembered he read about this in an old newspaper.

Ohh, I really forgot they invented cameras a few years ago. But they didn't say who invented this in any paper.

He took his eyes away and continued walking, though the image lingered in his mind.

The corridor ended at a single door. Its polished brass handle gleamed under the soft light.

He pushed it open and froze.

It was a library.

Not just any library, but the largest he had ever seen. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, each stacked with books, leather-bound volumes in colors from deep burgundy to faded tan. A grand chandelier hung above, its glass crystals scattering light across the room.

The air smelled faintly of old paper and polished wood.

He steps inside, hesitating.

It didn't feel right to just wander here without asking.

 With a sigh, he turned back toward the door. Maybe after dinner, I could ask Lyra.

Then his intuition alarmed him.

Someone was watching him.

The feeling was subtle at first, then sharpened, like the quiet focus of a hawk before it dives. His pulse quickened. He didn't look around—just stepped into the hallway and shut the door, and walked faster toward the dining room.

He finally entered the dining room, the warm light and scent of roasted meat washed over him. The room was large, designed to feel inviting, although the marble floors and tall windows were covered in velvet. A polished oak table stretched down the center, set with fine crystal goblets.

Jack and Ralph were already seated, their eyes sparkling like children at a festival.

"Leo, you're missing out," Jack said with his mouth half full.

Leo took a seat, scanning the spread—roasted turkey glazed with honey, platters of buttered vegetables, fresh bread still steaming from the oven, and a thick, fragrant soup that smelled like it had simmered for hours.

A moment later, Mira entered with Lyra at her side.

Lyra's gaze swept the table before settling on them. "Did you all walk around?" she asked.

Jack perked up immediately. "Oh, yeah. We took a look at hallway paintings."

Lyra laughed softly, then continued, "You should. There's much to see. and there's a library upstairs... though I think Eliza is in there right now. Don't mind her if you see her. She's also the same age as yours—and she's also taking the exam tomorrow."

Leo's mind clicked. 

ohh then she's the one who was watching me.

"Can I read the books from the library?" Leo asked before he could stop himself.

Lyra turned her head toward him, a smile curving her lips. "Of course. read whatever you like."

Dinner passed with light conversation and the clink of silverware. When they were done, they all headed toward their rooms.

"I'm full," Jack groaned, stretching. "I need to sleep now."

"I'm thinking of going to the library," Leo said, hoping one of them might join him.

Ralph shook his head. "Too tired. You go play scholar on your own."

They reached their rooms, and Leo was left standing alone in the hallway.

He made his way back to the library.

Inside, the chandelier's light had been turned lower, bathing the shelves in a soft golden glow.

He drifted between rows, running his fingers over book spines, searching for histories of the empire, of the wider world.

That's when he saw her.

Seated on the window veranda, framed by the silver glow of the moon, was the girl from the portrait.

Eliza.

Her golden hair spilled over her shoulders like silk, catching the light. Her eyes—blue as cut sapphires—were fixed on the open book in her lap. The moonlight seemed to cling to her, outlining the curve of her cheek, the delicate shape of her hands.

For a moment, he forgot to move.

That's when he realized he was staring at her . he took his gaze away, pretending to study a nearby shelf.

But then her voice came—cool and clear.

"What are you looking for?"

Leo froze. Is she catching me when I'm staring at her? Calm down leo…calm down,

then turned halfway toward her, words catching in his throat. "I... I'm not looking at you."

Her lips curved into the faintest smirk. "I meant—what books are you looking for?"

Heat crept into his face. "Oh. Uh... the history of the empire and the world."

Her expression softened into mild curiosity. "You'll find that in the eastern shelves. Second row from the back."

He nodded quickly, muttering a thanks, but his heart was still thudding in his ears.

Leo moved toward the eastern shelves, his footsteps quiet against his rug. His hand brushed the spines of the books as he walked, their gilded titles catching the dim light.

Every movement felt strangely intensified, as if the silence between them weighed more than the air itself. Why is she still looking at me? He could sense her gaze following him, even though he didn't dare to check.

The histories were easy enough to find, a row of heavy volumes bound in dark leather. He slid one by one to find a suitable book for him to find out about the empire and its structure.

Then he saw her come towards him.

"If you tell me what you're looking for specifically, I can find a book that suits you," she said.

"The history of the empire, its inner workings, and the cultures of the continent," then he added after a moment's thought. "And also a map would be helpful,"

She thought for a moment, and she took a book from the bottom shelf and handed it to the leo 

"I think this book is suitable for that, it contains maps also, " she says with a polite smile 

"Thank you," Leo said 

Without a word, they walked side by side to where she had been sitting, and she back into her seat.

He glanced at her. still holding her book, one leg tucked beneath her, moonlight painting her hair in silver. But now her head was tilted slightly, as though she were measuring him.

"Do you always stare at people before speaking?" she asked without looking up from her page.

Leo's ears burned. "No. I wasn't."

"You were," she said simply, turning another page.

There was no cruelty in her tone, no sharp edge—just a quiet certainty that left him with nothing to argue.

He set the book under his arm and walked a little closer to the window. "I didn't mean to stare. I... thought I'd saw you earlier. In the hallway."

This time, she direcly look in to his eyes. Her eyes, up close, were even more stunning—a pale, crystalline blue, as if they'd been sculpted from ice.

"You probably did," she said. "You looked lost."

"I wasn't lost," Leo replied, though the denial came too quickly.

Her lips twitched in amusement. "Then what were you doing?"

"Looking around."

She closed her book slowly, resting it on her lap. "Most guests don't look at the library first."

"I like books," he said.

That small, almost-smile deepened. "Then you'll definitely like that book." 

He looked at the title. The age of the First Dawn.

"I've never heard of it."

"Not many have," Eliza said, leaning back into the cushion. "That only has two or three books, and that is the third one. The thing is, this is the second volume of that book; no one knows about the first volume of this book ."

"How do you know about it?"

Her eyes held his again, and for a moment the room seemed to shrink around them. "It's a secret."

Leo set the book on the table. "Are you... Ready for the exam tomorrow?"

"I've been ready for months," she said. It was more like she was stating the weather. "What about you?"

He gave a short, awkward laugh. "I think so."

The chandelier's dim light caught in her hair when she turned back toward the window. Outside, the gardens stretched into shadows, with faint lanterns marking the pathways.

Leo's grip on the borrowed book tightened. Something about her presence pulled at him—half challenge, half invitation. He couldn't tell yet if she wanted him to stay or leave.

He took a slow breath. "Maybe I'll start with this one," he said, nodding to the book.

"You should," she replied, opening her volume again. "But don't read too fast. Read it slowly, then you find out what im say earli."

He paused, still holding the book. "...You're Eliza, right?"

Her head tilted slightly, a faint smile curling her lips. "And you're Leo."

"Right," he said, almost under his breath. "Just... wanted to make sure."

"That makes two of us," she murmured, her gaze flicking back to her page.

He glanced once more at her profile in the moonlight, then stepped back toward the shelves. The scent of paper and ink felt sharper now, as though the entire library had shifted to match her mood.

When he finally left, the hallway seemed colder than before. But in his hands, the age of the First Dawn felt warm—like it carried something more than old words.

Somewhere behind him, he could almost hear the quiet turning of a page.