There was something inside that constantly bothered me, a feeling of emptiness that felt like it was consuming me. I couldn’t recall the cause of this feeling. If anything, I had always been here; for as long as I could remember – a pen was always in my hands, and blank pages of the book lay open. I continued to write as I had always done.

I couldn’t recall when, how, or why I ended up in this situation, all I knew was that I had been here for what seemed like an eternity, constantly filling empty pages with words. The purpose behind my compulsive writing remained a mystery to me, but I held onto the hope that by continuing to write, the answer would eventually come.

Perhaps I am just one of the haunting spirits from stories told by the book, lingering around this old place for eternity, but even if that’s the case, it still doesn’t explain why I was writing.

As I carried on transcribing the books with useless thoughts, the pen’s ink suddenly weakened, drawing my focus back.

Seriously? Again? No more ink?

I quickly picked up the pen and inspected the traces of the ink closely. Oh no, I stopped writing in the middle stroke of the letters. If I proceed now, I might make mistakes. But then again, that was always the case. Who would even despise me for it.

As I shifted my gaze from the edge of the table to the small indent, I realized the pen I had left there was missing. That’s what I initially thought before my eyes landed on the one I was currently holding - the last one from the stockpile.

I felt a tinge of irritation as I stood up from my chair and floated above tables and chairs, looking at the small indents on the tables.

Things didn’t look good because after a few minutes of searching, I couldn’t find a pen. I stopped moving as I recalled that the tables had hidden compartments under small indents that opened up to fill the indents when only a few were left.

Did something break again? I recalled that several tables no longer worked as they used to, but now, it seems like none of the tables are functioning properly. Now that I think about it, I feel like many things haven’t been functioning lately.

Approaching the tables, I rested my palm on the surface. I always had the ability to phase through objects, but strangely enough, I used that familiar ‘intent’, or so to say ability, to instinctively avoid phasing through walls or objects. I suppressed my thoughts as I allowed my hands to phase through the table an inch in. Before I knew it, my hands began to tremble uncontrollably.

Is this fear?

Why? I can’t even remember what caused this feeling, but there was something inside me, a warning at the back of my head telling me not to do it. Not to do it. Yet, I am the only one in this place. Who would even harm me?

As I pondered on that, I pressed on, phasing my hands even further. Nothing happened – a relief came to me as I convinced myself it was safe, and I ventured my head inside for a closer look.

There were several familiar letters itched, metallic-looking devices, and a collection of pens piled under the small indents. A shock of surprise coursed through me; this was my first time experiencing something like this.

As I suspected, there was no actual danger, so I wondered what had caused my fear. The fear that gripped me earlier now felt like an illusion as excitement rushed in. I took several pens using my ability and exited out from the table.

However, much to my surprise, the pen didn’t seem to phase with me. When I turned to look inside, the pens were in the exact same place.

Well, the pens are not clearly not the same as me, which is why they didn’t phase through the walls?

Huh. Now I’m quite stuck on how I could get the pen out from the table. I thought for a moment, unconsciously rolling my body through the objects as I looked intently at the pens.

Maybe break the table?

As that thought crossed my mind, I shook my head. Memories flooded back from long ago when I wanted to try something different, leading me to attempt to break down the tables, even just leaving a dent or scratch. But, unfortunately, I was unable to.

Well, there are scribbles on it though.

If I think about it, besides the books and pens, there don’t seem to be any breakable objects in this place. This is quite hard… I persisted in contemplating various solutions before reaching the decision to forcefully pry open the indent.

I phased through the objects and hovered above the table. Using my ability, I attempted to pry open the indent in its usual opening. However, despite all-out power, it remained firmly in place. I felt unsettled, and quite frustrated at it.

If this continues, I may not be able to continue writing.

That thought alone, for some reason, makes me sad. It feels so empty, as if the remaining hope I had held for so long has been taken from me. No, I can’t stop here just because I can’t find a pen to write.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

I have been writing for a long time, I can’t stop here. I must continue forward. This will not be the end!

My goal was clear, I needed to find new sources where I could get more pens or attempt to break the tables to retrieve the pens inside. The choice was obvious – I would go exploring for new sources!

The idea of exploring unfamiliar areas fills me with a hint of unease, as this marks the first experience beyond the familiar surroundings. There wasn't really a reason to leave this area, so that thought for some reason never came to mind.

As I floated around, every passing second brought a growing sense of anticipation and excitement. I couldn’t help but wonder about the new experiences waiting ahead. As I navigated above to decide which aisle of shelves to go through, my eyes landed on the giant crystal floating at the central podium.

Every time I lay my eyes on that floating crystal, my entire being feels like tightening, burdened by an inexplicable weight. That floating crystal seemed to be important to me… No, it's definitely important, I can feel it. But for some reason, I just can’t remember why it is important to me.

It has been a long time since I forgot the reason. I regret not writing the things that meant so much to me. If only I had, I wonder if I wouldn’t be suffering as much now.

I saw thousands of books piling up underneath the floating crystals, many were even placed beneath the podium, some even filled the tables and chairs. Those were my works, those were my books that I had placed.

Even though I was the one who did it, I never quite understood the reason why I transcribed the books and placed them under the crystal. Upon closer inspection, doesn’t this resemble some kind of sacrificial ritual I had read from the books? Or perhaps my interpretations, and it could be seen as an offering instead?

I shook my head. That’s a silly thought.Why would it be a sacrificial ritual of all things? Judging by the surroundings, it seems like a place where people - like those inanimate humanoid bodies - would come to learn. At least, that’s what the books indicated.

I glided down from the podium and phased through the towers of books I had arranged. As I floated, my gaze fell upon the hovering crystal. What was this thing called, again?

Cu… Ko… Corn.. Core!

Right, that’s the name of the floating Crystal –I remember many books referred to it as a Core. It is used to seal entities inside, protect the people nearby against psychic attacks, and ensure information stability. Although I don’t fully understand what it means, that’s what the books have stated.

Maybe if I take the time to explore and search for the Books regarding this Core, I might be able to find the answers I am seeking.

I nodded to myself. That’s right! If I can’t remember the reason why I am doing this, I should try to seek out more about them. Maybe then, I might remember my reason for doing this.

I sounded very convincing and unconsciously nodded once more. As I did, I noticed I was at the center of the podium. Looking up, I saw the floating Core.

Oh, right. I can phase through objects. I couldn’t help but wonder what they sealed inside. Perhaps my reason for continuing writing is actually inside the Core.

As I floated towards the Core with eager anticipation, curiosity coursed through me. With a sense of wonder, I reached my hands inside first. A strange sensation greeted me, unlike anything I had ever felt before. It was a tingling, pickling feeling that both puzzled and scared me.

Wait, prickling?

I quickly pulled my hand back - it was the first time something had touched me. After all, I was the only one who could touch myself. I examined my hand closely, noticing strange black markings that seemed to wriggle and move.

I shivered involuntarily at the sight, panic taking over as I hastily waved my hands. The black, wriggling things seemed to splash into the air, only to disappear before they could hit the ground.

Upon noticing such, I tried to calm myself before returning my gaze to my hands. However, something was amiss. Half of my arm had disappeared. The black scribble seemed to create a bubbling effect on my hands, almost as if they were slowly growing on me.

No way…

The horrifying sight made me feel as if my entire being had been wiped out. I felt weightless, as if I were disappearing into nothingness.

“Containment breach of an infohazardous entity detected. Warning: You have been infected with Pollution. Initiating neutralization procedures for infohazard Pollution.“

A voice… No, distant voices emerged from somewhere. One felt close and clear, while the others were muffled whispers, incomprehensible noises, eerily echoing around.

I tried to look around for the voices, but found my missing arm more fascinating. Those black things… They are fascinating. They are good. They are wonderful. They are good. They are wonderful. So fascinating.

I wondered why I found them fascinating. Something felt incomplete, something felt wrong, incredibly wrong. Something inside me was warning my entire being, something was preventing me from liking them. But the voices flooded my senses, I could barely discern any words, and I still couldn’t move my body.

“The Infohazardous entity has been contained. Neutralization of pollution is 55% completed.”

That voice again, so clear compared to the noise all around. I tried to use my ability to change my visions, hoping to alter my surroundings, but they remained the same. There was no change, yet the voices I heard felt so near, almost as if they were inside me.

I gazed at my frozen, translucent body floating at the center podium, unable to comprehend my actions or why I was immobilized. My body remained motionless, fixated on the black scribble marks covering my hand, which seemed to stop.

Before I realized it, my body began to float towards the central core.

As if my senses finally caught up to me, my insides screamed. Oh no, that’s bad! I don’t want to see what’s inside! I don’t like it! I'm sorry! Please, make it stop! I don’t want to keep going!

No way! Why did my vision change!? I don’t want to enter the Core! Please stop! I can’t control my body! I don’t want to feel that thing! That’s not me! I don’t want to experience it!

Before I knew it, my head entered the Core. Immediately, I was greeted by a bright, blinding light. I have never experienced anything like this before, with hundreds of voices speaking all around me and vibrant, colorful flashes that hurt my vision.

“Warning… Yo… ente… core… Warni… warn… ”

“S̵̨̢̧̠͚̰̱̦̝̗̤̐̏ą̸̧͔̤̪̣̜͕͉̪̼̙͚̥̖̝͇̠̣̰̗̹̝̼͓̲̎͗͌͛͛́͌͗̌̂͋̍͑̃̈̏̄̊̔̃̒̀̒̒͛̀̓͋̎̕͘v̸̢̨̺̖̳̳͓̺͖̺̯͇͙͓̩̗̱͈̯͍̠͔̳̝̪̻͎̙͖̯̥̭̒̄́͆̈́ȩ̸̨̧̡̡͕̝̮͙̮͔͔̹̹̪̥̝̣̣͙́̏̎̇̆́͋̽̃̅͊̈̃̂̀̿̓̆͛̑̆͒̚͜͜ ̴̨͕͇͇̻̟̖̬͚̠̱̜͉̤̜̺̪̥̙̠̞̜͖͌͛͐̀͐̆̓̿͊͑̏̈́͗̎̈́̆͊͋̇͘͝m̷̡̛͖̥̭̥͓̯̭̮̩͖͇͕͖̼̜̪̦̭̖̗̑̍̉͋͐͗̉̊̚͝ͅe̶̢̡̤͔̠͈̣͍̺̩̫͚͕͚̩̯̪̠͖̤͖͔͔̠̙̿̓̄̈́̓̃̃͑̋͜͝͝.”