They were looking for the half-vampire girl that frequented his store, John thought. The description matched, and she was indeed here a few days prior. The two hunters he just saw were hunting one of his few customers, and John didn't know how to feel about that.

Did John have the responsibility to defend the girl? He could, it would be simple. He could stop these two from hunting her, but it's not as though they were the only danger the girl faced. She was at present either preparing for or actually fighting in a dungeon taking on creatures far above her level.

But John knew of this danger, he knew their plans, he knew where she was. It was different when she was facing danger she chose to be a part of, that John wasn't aware of. But now? He felt something, and he didn't understand it. And that bothered him.

The thoughts distracted him as he went about his day, adding his blurb about the cost of books to his door once more. He realized he forgot it when the people were asking how much the books cost. He tidied up his store, removing all of the dust that accumulated, and taking the books off the bookshelf next to his desk. It wasn't a big deal, but he realized people might not want others to know what they were looking for.

And the entire time, John was thinking about the vampire girl. He barely knew her, but she made a lasting impression. His first customer, the first time he learned of other universes, the first person he spoke with.

But stopping the two hunters wouldn't change anything. They would send more hunters. Perhaps even more powerful ones, as the last ones were stopped. Could John talk to the leaders and have them rescind their request? He could force it, but would he do that every time he noticed something wrong?

He forced the thoughts aside. The girl would live, or she would be hunted to her death. It wasn't John's problem, she had her own life and would face her own consequences. John was a silent observer in this world, not an active piece of the game.

There were more important things to do than worry about a human's life. Such as helping the customers he saw approaching his door outside.

A girl rolled into his store in a chair with wheels, she had short brown hair with a freckled face, wearing loose-fitting clothes. A woman pushed her from behind, looking much the same but a little taller, even if the girl in the chair were to stand up.

"Hello." The girl looked at John, her brown eyes soft and timid. "Do you have any books of adventure? Just people going out and exploring the world and writing what they saw?"

John waved his hand, filling the bookshelf near his desk with books of adventure and danger. Some were fictional tales written by overzealous authors wishing they could be something they weren't, others bardic tales passed down through the ages. And the rest were journals written and kept by adventurers with a penchant for documenting their journeys.

He returned to his desk and sat down, watching as the woman pushed the girl over to the bookshelf and pulled the books down, handing them to the girl. The girl glanced through them and handed them back.

They came up to John's desk and the girl placed the book she chose in front of him. A fictional tale of a girl living in another world and inventing modern medicine.

"This one please!" Her eyes lit up, as a smile beamed on her face.

"You need to share a story with the..." The woman paused, looking at John for a moment, "John?"

"Oh yeah. I used to be able to walk around but then an accident happened and now I can't. I don't really wanna talk about that though, but afterward, I got really sad and started reading a lot. I got a new class I've never heard about, it lets me read things better. I dunno how to explain it but when I'm reading I feel like I'm in the book, almost like I get pulled into another world. I get to be a character in the world, but not like one of the ones that exist. Another one, I get to be me just in the book?

"Does that make any sense? But that's what happens. It's really cool and I get to walk around and fight monsters and stuff. But if I die the book gets destroyed and even if I find another copy of it I can't go back in." The sadness permeated the room, as she remembered a book she lost access to.

"But that's okay! Mom always gets me another book and then I can read again." The girl turned to the woman behind her and smiled.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

"Is that really all you need for the book?" The woman asked John.

John nodded his head, curious as to why people always seemed to wonder. Their stories were interesting, so of course it was enough. A thought to work through later.

"Thank you so much, we will definitely be back in the future for more then."

The two left John's store, leaving him alone with his thoughts. A curious tale, exploring the world of a book. He wondered whether the act of writing created an entire world with predefined events, or if her class enhanced her imagination and let her explore what she thought to be true, in the rules put forth by the author.

If she were entering a world that already existed, then that was further evidence of John's worrying simulation theory. He could be in a video game in the other girl's world. Or he could be in a book being read by somebody in yet another world. Perhaps merely a side character in some hero's journey of power, or maybe he's destined to be the villain. Or perhaps he's the main character, his bookstore the primary focus.

Did it matter, he wondered? Would he be more powerful if he were the main character? More intelligent, with deeper worries and stronger emotions? Something for the readers to grasp and relate to? If he were a side character, would his life be less fleshed out, with holes and gaps littering his history?

He thought about himself, about where he came from, and who he was. And he couldn't identify any obvious holes, any patterns indicating that some author never filled in the gaps. But could the author not just write that he felt that way? And would he be happier if he knew he was the main character, anyway?

More and more, John was realizing that he may have less free will than he thought he did. It didn't feel like he was forced into choices, everything he did was because he wanted to. But he could just be in a video game, or in a book, or a song a drunk bard wrote one night. Or who knows what other forms of story are created in other worlds. Maybe he's just a memory, shared amongst people and when the memory is finally forgotten, he'll cease to exist.

The possibilities were endless, and few of them made John happy.

Perhaps there were an endless number of universes, all next to each other, equal in their realness. That would make John pleased, being able to explore any number of places and meet people with entirely different histories starting from the beginning of time. Himself being as real in each as he was here.

But perhaps they were layered, each universe being one step above, one step closer to being real. And only at the end of it all, would John truly have free will. But even then he supposed it could just be what he was made to do.

He wondered when he could truly consider himself real. At what point would John know that this world was true, and his will his own?

John was glad he started this bookstore. The dread that he found himself filled with at the moment was terrifying, the thought that he may be lines on a paper or just a bunch of lamps squished up next to each other was unpleasant. But that he was aware of the possibility made it worth it.

There was nothing John could do, he would either have free will or feel like he did while he danced to another's tune. But regardless of what happened, to John himself, it felt like he made his own choices. And he knew that he would accept that in time. Perhaps he would bump up traveling between universes a little higher on his to-do list, just in case he would gain some insights through it.

At the very least, he needed to calm down and accept that the world isn't as set in stone as he thought it was. The thought of not being as real as he is would be something he needed to accept more freely if these revelations were going to keep coming as often as they were.

His thoughts shifted to more pleasant thoughts. How can he make people feel more confident when sharing their stories? As long as they didn't lie, John would be satisfied with anything his customers thought to be interesting, even if he himself didn't see it as such. But how could he communicate that?

He had an idea, and stood up from his chair, turning around to face the wall that was normally behind him. In large lettering, he wrote on his wall, 'One interesting story for one book. Do not lie. Your story is enough.'

John sat back down, nodding at his work. This would surely clear up the confusion some of his customers felt, and he was excited to find out as another customer walked in his door.

A younger human, or not quite human, John noticed. Her body was lithe, with tufts of fur on her wrists, with her ears protruding from her head much like a cat's. Her eyes were fierce, a thin black pupil cutting through the yellow iris.

"Any books on classes that change the body? I, uhh, made a wrong choice and want to undo it if possible." The girl said.

The bookshelf next to John was filled with books on classes with more tangible effects. With studies done on corrupting effects, the potential dangers and precautions one can take.

The girl took her time browsing through the books, reading through a couple of pages of each one she pulled off the bookshelf. Then she turned around and walked back towards the door. "Thanks, have a nice day!"

Curious, John thought. She didn't take anything, but still thanked him. He was hoping to give his new sign he made a test run, see if she would understand that her story was good enough without having to ask. He didn't mind the question, but the same question being asked over and over made him feel like he did a bad job of communicating with them.

But instead, she just took a look at a few books and then left. Perhaps he didn't have anything to help her, but he could have switched them out for different books if she had asked for something more specific. Whichever the case, it didn't matter. He already had quite an interesting day.