My eyes blinked and moisturized themselves thrice to confirm that the entire page was blank. Indeed, it was! This wasn’t how I remember it. From my memories, every page of this book should be congested with words. As I flipped through each page slowly, each with a slight tinge of yellow, all there was was the thin sheet of paper itself.

My fingers eventually gave up flipping the pages and closed the book, revealing the full-scale hardcover. Even the title had vanished as if it were redundant. The lower half of the book, formerly where the author’s name should’ve been, was now empty. The author’s name… from my memory, it doesn’t seem to ring a bell.

What was I getting dramatic over, anyway? Didn’t I dislike the writing despite reading it all the way through? But, it was unusual for every trace within this book to be suddenly erased from existence.

I looked behind me and focused my attention on my bed before walking towards it, intending to reach out for something. My hips leaned forward as I reached out my hand to lift the white pillow before taking out a sharp piece of stick and solidified ink trapped inside a tiny wooden spherical container.

With my teeth, I gnawed out a small portion of the wooden stick's tip, which resulted in a slightly curved diagonal line at the tip of the stick. My finger poked at the end of the diagonal to ensure that it was indeed sharp enough for usage.

As for melting the solidified chunks of ink, I made my way toward the fireplace and held out the ink container with the lid opened. In just a few seconds, the once-solid substance was now bubbling about, and the lid was eventually sealed on top. The ink was made from low-quality soot from Nacht Leaves, so heating it even briefly too long will cause an unexpected explosion.

Following that, I went back to the dining table and organized the supplies on it. The ink swished around from the motion and nearly spilled onto the table. I picked up the lid with my left hand before settling it nearby. The pointy end of the stick was dipped inside the dark paste before coming back out with black liquid attached.

The book, now laid flat before me, was turned to its first page. Indeed, everything had been erased. I held the stick in my right hand and positioned it evenly just below the margin on the top of the page. Drip… A small droplet of ink had already fallen onto the page and casted a shape similar to that of a veil.

Recognizing the starting point, my hands cautiously wrote the first word in mediocrely legible handwriting, “Je.” (Author’s Note: The characters do not use modernized languages like those in our world, although I intend for them to be similar to Latin and French. For now, words written by characters will be purposely untranslated. This will be further explained and elaborated upon in future chapters. For now, “je” means ‘he,’ which can be confusing since other modern languages have different interpretations of the word.)

The tangible ink dried out instantaneously as it reacted with the cold air before it could fully soak into the page. I clicked my tongue before I scrawled the next words, “tenas de seluim umide en jer jestro.” Continuing the first line, my hands holding the stick moved a space below the first line and wrote, “Je se, nuors. Nuors.”

I nodded my head perfunctorily and closed the book before placing the stick inside the ink and leaving it there. The line fragments that I wrote were only a portion of the introduction of the story.

My head drooped down slightly before turning towards the window outside the cabin. Pure whiteness of snow painted the floor, basking in the fragile light. My eyes watched a few more particles of snow descend onto the ground. Some stacking layers of snow crumbled on contact while others were acquiescing the newly minted snow onto their structure.

Just as my mind was trailing off, a group of bearded men passed by the windows, each carrying partially rusted axes, chatting heartily to their hearts' content. I counted their numbers, and there were exactly five of them. Since Klara was supposed to be assisting in hauling the logs, I wondered if she was among that group.

The men trodded through the snow and eventually couldn’t be seen from the windows anymore. I felt envious at that sight and sighed before returning my gaze to the book. Were the words I wrote earlier erased from this book?

My hands felt the right edge of the book cover and flipped it to the first page. The ink was still intact on the page, but some of the words had intertwined and were barely comprehensible. Indeed… a nasty sight and a waste of ink due to my impatience.

After that, I pondered a reason why the book's content would disappear. Maybe… I am in the premise of a novel? Ah, for that to be true is fantastical enough. Although that theory made me feel quite exhilarated, I shook my head and thought of another reason, one that made more sense.

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Perhaps the author used a special type of ink? One that would mysteriously erase everything within a book without a trace after a specified period of time? That theory was even more fantastical! Maybe I am contradicting myself over here, unable to determine which theory of the first two was more fantastical like a fool.

With a loud thump, my hands glided its way and closed the book. My fingers rubbed on the cover to feel the thick texture of the grainy leather before standing up and placing it back on the top shelf.

My body slumped down onto my bed, and I rubbed my temples to figure out what I should do next. After all, I was bored out of my mind. My birthday is next season, and the winter solstice felt surprisingly long compared to the rest of the seasons this year. Wasn’t it supposed to be short?

Maybe… I should find a way to head outside furtively. Abiding by this law is too restrictive, any child would be rebellious. Klara could go outside since she was willing to work, but not me! I may be a refugee, but I find labor excruciating, and I hate dirt, soot, mud, and insects more than anything else.

With a sly plan in mind and a cheeky grin on my face, I stood up and walked towards Klara’s room. Just as I was about to walk through her door, I realized that I should probably leave a note out in case Klara returned home early. Fun should be one of my rights, too! But I shouldn’t leave her worried if she doesn’t find me around here.

I returned to the bookshelf and picked out the now-titleless red book from the top shelf. Turning to the first page, with the ink still ingrained, I forcefully ripped out the page to use as a note. The edge of the paper where it had been ripped from was detestably spiky and non-aligned. It would probably irritate Klara much, but not me.

Following that, I headed back to the kitchen table and slapped the ripped page beside the ink container, with the thin wooden stick’s pointy tip still inside. Picking the stick out, I hastily turned the paper around and hastily scrawled on the page.

“Der Klara,

I desair yu venaio buno froest ent joi! Quahis, je musi venaio buno plasenti, tuo. O’ je wuli regruas foyar; sic, nai larinos.

Fra, Mathis”

Satisfied with my short work, I stood up and left the stick inside the ink again before heading inside Klara’s room. On the right side of her room is a mattress with white blankets on top, nearly touching the floor. Behind the mattress is a curtained window; however, the damage in the curtain can easily be noticed.

My gaze was focused on the stack of clothes on a matted floor towards the room's left. While the number of clothes in the stack was few, it was adequate for what I needed. I hurriedly tossed the unnecessary clothes in arbitrary directions until I reached the last clothe of the stack and picked out a large, unhooded black cloak slightly larger than my size.

I lifted the cloak over my shoulders and fastened the brown ribbon snugly near my neck. The fabric fully enveloped my entire body while the area over my shoulders and neck appeared as if I was wearing a double scarf. The cloak obscured my body from the neck down while the ends of the cloak reached all the way to the floor and settled, casting a circular trail around me.

As I dusted the cloak, I remembered that Klara once wore something like this last winter but deemed it too hideous for her appearance. She eventually tossed this piece of garment at the end of her stack, already considering it redundant. It was a gift given by one of the now-deceased neighbor, Luisen, who had a preference for her. I chuckled slightly before my face fell flat realizing that his feelings were never noticed.

After my transient empathy, I walked towards the door and returned to the dining table. Sure enough, the ink was still soiled into the paper. After a brief nod, I made my way to the front door before rotating the knob. Click! My hands pushed into the door, and cold air whooshed through the entrance.

The breeze receded my hairline as my cloak flapped in the wind. My right hand instinctively cupped the top of my eyelids until the wind gradually stopped surging. With my left hand, I grabbed the knob and slammed the door shut. The edge of my cloak reflected a faint glow from the light bluish rays.

I looked behind me at the wooden door that I closed before peering at my surroundings. The row of wooden cabins lined up imperfectly in the distance, each roofed with thick piles of snow. In front of me stood a former path that went from left to right, and in the far horizon stood the Valley of Northern Avasthe. However, here, the valley has a distinctly different name: “The Valley of Frozen Corpses.”

My foot made five steps in the snow and left behind curvy-shaped footprints from my sole. I glanced to my left and right to ensure that no person was in sight. If they saw a child, and a non-working one out here, I would be exempt from my residency and would be replaced by someone else.

It was absurd, but the philosophy is that a person who’s present should have a purpose to flourish the community; otherwise, it is in their favor that they have no place in their community. This was why the outside during winter would be isolated, as the demand for resources is at its peak during this time. People would do anything to survive, and those unnecessary will always be excluded first.

I already had a set destination in mind with the routes charted mentally. My eyes glanced towards the left and found a hoisted sign on a half-opened boarded wooden gate.

I smiled, looked back, and said, “Oh, tend to my troubles for me if I get caught, will you?”