"Your father died from his illness two days after you went missing. He must have known his time was reaching its end because he contacted me for the first time in nineteen years."

"What did he say to you?"

"He asked me to find you. Told me you were a bit of a troublemaker, but otherwise a good kid. It was his way of asking me to watch over you for a year."

"And my mother?"

…

"I've never met her. I hadn't even known about your birth."

"I see."

"I went back to your house to pack a few things after I discovered you were taken to a hospital. The place looked ransacked, you didn't have a single piece of clothing. Only this… broken locket" Jiang Hao handed him a thin silver chain with an oval piece that dangled from it.

Hoku cupped it with both of his hands.

The chain from the locket fell over the tips of his fingers.

"Is it broken?"

"The hinges are deformed, and there is a crack on the glass inside of it. Seemed valuable so I figured I could bring it to you."

Hoku solemnly gazed at the locket.

He picked it up from the palm of his hand and soothed his thumb over the rusty metal.

"Twenty-three."

"Pardon?"

"The number twenty-three is engraved in Roman numerals inside."

Hoku nodded his head, continuing the conversation.

"Did the hospital tell you anything about her?"

"The doctor who was in your care told me her name was Hokori. Your mother was a foreigner from Japan."

"China?"

Jiang Hao nods, standing in the doorway of the library. Hoku had never seen such an abundance of books in one room.

"How old am I?"

"Seventeen as of today. I'm not sure how your father celebrated your birthday… I'm sure it must be strange. I wasn't going to tell you unless you had asked."

The quiet lingers with Hoku's silence.

"Do you like reading?"

Hoku peers toward his uncle, observing him as he patiently waits for a response.

He wasn't entirely sure what he liked. He knew what his uncle told him, and that he had been missing for a week. Jiang Hao was the person to have filed a report after his brother's call.

"Yes."

Jiang Hao felt so formal, Hoku thought. It would be smarter to fabricate a creative impression rather than go along with the ignorance he holds for his own hobbies.

"Then I suppose as a welcoming gift you can have this room. Sleep in it, play in it, do whatever you want. Just try not to touch the books on the highest shelf, those are vulnerable from age, and even cost me a pretty penny."

"That isn't necessary! I appreciate the offer but truthfully, they all look expensive… I don't want to ruin them."

Jiang Hao smiles warmly at his nephew.

"Then don't. This is also my gift to you for your birthday. My last girlfriend liked to call this room the eternal library. You can call it whatever you'd like of course. Think of it as a safe space. That's all it is, I only come in here when I need a break from my student's papers."

Hoku's eyes wander between the walls of bookcases. Not a single gap could be found, each hardcover book was neatly appointed on a shelf.

A room laden with ample amounts of stories, it's no wonder anyone would call it the eternal library.

Chapter 5

"The fire that burnt down this manor was a mistake. The manor should have been preserved after the town folk realized Francis Barret was a swindler. During the initial timeline, his study was plundered by authorities, and all of his files were burnt after his sentencing."

"Is the fire what instigated my universe into some sort of time anarchy?"

"Time anarchy? I haven't heard that one before, you're quite creative aren't you?"

"Yes, and you're quite slow-witted."

Polaris frowns at my impudence, refusing to say anything in return.

I saunter near the fire warming the parlor with a crate that I hampered with catalogs from the study.

If burning a few dozen stacks of paper would get me out of this manor, then I would do so without intentionally faltering.

"Just these will do?" I thrust my abdomen into the crate to lift it higher so that he could see the yield of materials I was hoisting.

Polaris squints his eyes, passingly planting a finger under his jaw.

"About as much, yes," he says.

"Good! Then do you mind grabbing the rest from the study?"

"Technically, this is part of your responsibility," he exclaims, veering in the direction of the spandrel stairs.

I drop the crate in front of the hearth. A few orange glowing embers react to the gust of the crate's force, floating up and outward in a dazzling frolic.

The fire had weakened significantly inside the hearth.

By good luck, however, there was a chalky wooden bellow resting atop the mantle of the hearth.

I reach for it and aim the nozzle at the base of what was left from the kindling embers.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

The bellow expands as I lift the handle to open the valve and draw in air.

As I contract both of the wooden handles air expels into the ash and lumber.

Pieces of ember glow brighter around the log inside the hearth, after a few reverberating cracks, the flames roar back to life.

"You figured out how to use the bellow I see."

Polaris' chuffed tone startles me.

How can he be so covert? He's like a ninja.

He heaves a weary sigh, plunking a tower of paper next to me.

I feel a sudden loss of pride as I grasp the single crate I struggled to lug into the parlor.

Polaris uses his leg to shift the pile closer to me.

He vigorously slapped his hand on top of the stack, coaxing the base to slightly tremble.

"They don't need to burn until ash, just ensure that the flames don't go out as you're tossing everything. Wait until a single stack burns before tossing in another."

Polaris slowly approached the main staircase as I threw in a slew of notes that were relatively thick in width.

I watched as a few sparks spiraled around the mass.

The small flames began to trickle around the edges, masking the paper in a dark ink-ish color, before crumbling apart.

The ash lay thickly like a first winter's snow, though instead of luminous white, it was a tainted pale gray.

I used a metal rod hanging from a rusty hook above the hearth to push the other files into the sea of flames.

Crackle! Pop! Crackle! Pop! Pop!

I looked behind me to see if Polaris was still quietly observing me.

"He must've gone upstairs… I wonder what's up there." I mumble under the turmoil of burning material.

Suppose I were to guess, presumably just a bunch of needlessly decorated bedrooms.

Polaris had spoken of the master bedroom when he left to search for the pocket watch.

Five hours had approached as I tossed the last pile into the hearth.

The ashes had begun spilling onto the stone mantel, and my arms ached from using the bellow every time the fire grew lethargically slow.

The blonde man still hadn't returned or acknowledged that he was even still inside.

I nervously ponder calling out for him.

The files have all been burned, but nothing has happened.

Suspicion drapes over me like a cold current.

Should I just go upstairs and find him? If I leave right now will something happen?

My eyes pace the room in a disquiet habit.

The latter consideration is cleansed from my mind upon a personal realization… I don't like being alone.

I cautiously move about the room, nearing the large curved staircase. My boot subtly slips in front of me, and I realize I've mistakenly stepped on something.

As I glance down, I notice a piece of paper in front of the door beneath the staircase.

One of us must have dropped this. Most likely it was Polaris since she had carried them up the stairs with merely his hands.

I crouch down to pick it up, curiously flipping it over after straightening my posture again.

Messy calligraphy was written on the entire page. I squinted my eyes at the text. I could barely make out sentences, the paper mirrored someone who was gradually falling into madness.

I raise my idle hand, crumpling the paper into a compacted ball.

Taking a few steps back toward the hearth, I underhand throw it into the flames.

The paper ball rolls off the center of the unburned paper, collapsing into a pile of bright embers.

I stared over a chair I was standing between, waiting to see if I had to push it further inside.

A flame both the shape and size of a seed sprouts from the embers.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

A dull but loud reverberation comes clamors from the third floor, and a familiar black creature comes racing down the staircase.

"Cheshire?" The cat sprints in my direction, slowing down once he sweeps behind my legs.

"Damn it cat! Now you come out!? Little shit! You wanna leave so desperately?"

Polaris hollers, his voice intensifying with the hasty strikes of his heels against the ground.

He appears at the top of the staircase wearing foreign attire, along with the wooden box from before tucked beneath his right arm.

He wore a simple flaxen shirt with sleeves and close-fitting trousers. He was dressed much less excessively.

"You changed??"

…Is what I wanted to ask, but seemingly, there were much more current matters to consider.

"Happy belated birthday—take this!"

Polaris drifts around the spiral at the end of the railing, abruptly shoving the open case into my grasp.

"How do you—"

"Grab your creature and let's go before the final bell strikes." His tone harbored urgency as he tapped his finger on the solid side.

I glimpse from the box to the cat, then return my gaze to the box.

A small golden device is placed atop a white cloth with an asterisk embroidered into each of the corners.

The circumference is small enough for it to be either a compass or a pocket watch.

Unfortunately, admiring the device lacked ample time.

Polaris lightly bumps my shoulders, pushing me toward the room from the illustration.

"Why are we going in here? There's nowhere to leave from that room," I ask puzzled, recalling that there wasn't even a window in it.

"There wasn't before…"

I pursue in the direction of the room myself, to avoid the pressure of Polaris shoving me forward.

"Now there is." He continues.

My jaw nearly falls open at the sight of light pouring in through the glass frames of a white door.

"How many damn doors are going to appear in this place?"

Polaris chuckles. Although my question is rhetorical, he answers anyway.

"Hopefully this is the last one for a while."

Dong! Dong! Dong!

My pupils dilated as the sound of what resembled Church bells pealed through my ears.

Whenever a Church bell rang three times it was to summon the faithful to recite the Lord's Prayer.

I remember reading that this was an especially common practice among people from the 1800s to the Victorian era.

Great. Nothing unusual I suppose... for them.

I felt another pressure on my body, but this time it was much lower.

Swiftly glimpsing down I caught sight of the little black cat called Cheshire.

"This is similar to what happened before I woke up here," I say in a deep voice.

"Is it?" Polaris' expression shifts to one of sympathy, but I distinguish the undertones of suspicion in it.

"Care to partake in a second trial?"

"You have no limits on sarcasm do you?"

"Hasn't that been obvious? I'm a very unserious individual! Though truthfully I think it may be my way of coping. I haven't always been so witless."

I glanced at him from the side before remitting my focus toward the white passage.

Dong! Dong! Dong!

"Beyond here is the 'garden.' " Polaris replaces the subject, drawing for the handle of the door as I step aside.

A Splendid light engulfs a luxuriant portion of the space, as he twists the handle and opens the door.

Cheshire curls his tail around my ankle as he exits past me into the light.

I hesitate, and for some reason, I look toward Polaris.

He smiles for possibly the thousandth time since we've met.

Dong! Dong! Dong!

He retracts from the doorway and I curve around the door, placing both of my feet onto a path construed by some type of sandy terrain.

"White… tulips?" I glance at the field on the far side of the bare path.

White tulips overlaid a plain of grass that appeared as though it would impose past even the height of my boots.

"I hope we meet less soon than last time." I simultaneously turn around as Polaris closes the door, and a fierce billow of air blows from the north, inevitably provoking my eyelids to squeeze shut.

When the field goes still, and the roaring of the atmosphere is interrupted with calmness, I open my eyes.

The lavishly extravagant manor had vanished entirely.

Merely a boy with a broken compass stood alongside his guide in a garden of white tulips.

The Memoir Chapter 3

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