That evening I at long last got to spend the night at the Great Library in the Scarlet Devil Mansion. A plate of cold bread and cheese was left out. A dimmable, enchanted oil lamp cast dark light on the walls and somehow perfectly lit every page in its presence regardless of angle. A cot was set up for me amongst the shelves.

I was reading a book about extinct fish species. I sat at a table without projections, talk of a mission, or distractions like Nazrin or my allies. I had everything I needed for quiet uninterrupted studying, and no distractions whatsoever, not even from Patchouli Knowledge herself.

Things weren’t going according to plan. I’d wanted to at least talk to her in private.

“This sucks,” I muttered.

“If you are lonely, I can find you some company,” said a koakuma. I knew she was the wrathful kind because she sounded mocking, instead of teasing.

“I imagine the company would be a fairy,” I replied.

“Very astute.”

“No, thank you.” I was on a quest to save Maroon, but the other fairies were insufferable. They could probably help if I got too bored, I supposed, because trying to deal with their antics would be very interesting indeed.

On the other hand, if I could rile one up and cause a scene, then maybe Patchouli would intervene. I rubbed my chin. I might have been imagining it, but the koakuma next to me seemed to be waiting in eager anticipation.

That was the problem with demons that had only the most minute aspects of self expression. You paid entirely too much attention to them. I’d better try the more direct solution first.

“Tell me where Patchouli went,” I told the demon.

“The whereabouts of Scarlet Devil Mansion personnel constitute controlled information,” she replied. “Your access attempt will be reported.”

I shrugged. I doubted Patchouli would be mad at my inquiry. I planned to tell her that I had a question about youkai, which happened to be true. I had a few questions in mind, in fact. It was also true that I wanted to ask her things more-or-less constantly, but that was beside the point.

“List the places that Patchouli Knowledge isn’t,” I said on impulse. The purple witch might be less enthused with this attempt to circumvent her security. “In the Scarlet Devil Mansion,” I added. It was a wide, not-containing-Patchouli-Knowledge world out there.

The demon gave me the smallest smile, turned, and strode out the room.

“Huh,” I said.

“She isn’t in her bedroom,” whispered a demon in my ear. I jerked around in my chair, but the koakuma was already walking away. I watched until she disappeared around a stack in the library. When I turned back I flinched; another demon was sitting in the chair opposite me.

“She isn’t in the hallway between her bedroom and the kitchens,” said the new demon. She bent over to look under the table. When she didn’t resurface I leaned over myself, but she was no longer there. I sat back up, and a koakuma was standing on the table, looking down at me and making me flinch again.

“She isn’t in the kitchens.” The demon leapt over my head, but I didn’t hear her land on the floor behind me. Instead I screwed my eyes shut, and just listened, but they managed to surprise me all the same.

“She isn’t just outside the kitchens, in the hallway to the larder,” said one (or two) demons in perfect stereoscopy, to make the sound seem to originate within my own head.

My eyes flew open to an empty library.

I was done with that shit. I ran to the nearest wall and put my back to it. When I spun around, a demon had followed me over from who-knows-where.

“Now she’s not in the staircase to the Great Hall!” said the demon with a very sweet smile. She exited the library through the door to my left.

“That’s a very specific place for her to not be,” I told no-one. “And what do you mean ‘now’?”

There was silence. I couldn’t see the entire library, but I could see enough. If a demon came out from behind the stacks, or a pillar, or a potted plant (not that there were any), or even straight up out of the floor, I’d at least see them coming. I blinked, and was relieved when a demon didn’t materialize for the quarter-second that my eyes were closed.

A demon, flying upside-down, dropped into my vision and made me bump my head against the wall when I failed to leap back.

“Patchouli isn’t in the Great Hall,” she informed me.

“Are you sure you guys aren’t fucking fairies after all?” I asked, rubbing my head. They were definitely pranking me like a fairy would.

“Fairies would not reciprocate our affection,” said the demon, “so we don’t fuck with them, no.”

“Wise, honestly,” I said, but the demon had flown back up and disappeared like a shadow in the corner of one’s eye. I stared up to the high ceiling for a few seconds.

When I looked down I involuntarily jumped. A new demon was on the floor in front of me. She was kneeling and looking up at me, just a few inches away, with her hands on the wall to either side of my thighs. This position made me feel particularly vulnerable.

“Patchouli Knowledge is not…” she started, her voice just a little husky.

The koakuma stared up at me, her mouth slack.

“Um. Are you okay?” I asked. “You didn’t forget your bindings, did you?”

The door to my left opened. Remilia Scarlet and Patchouli Knowledge walked in. It was notable, because the short Remilia was carrying the librarian over her shoulder like a limp bundle of laundry. She deposited Patchouli into a chair, and spun another to sit down herself.

“...in the hallway connecting the Great Hall to the library,” finished the demon. She didn’t move from where she had me cornered against the wall at waist-height. “I’m doing well, Mister Thorne. Thank you for asking. And no, our bindings are never forgotten.”

“That was undignified,” said Patchouli as she smoothed her pajamas, which happened to be her regular clothes.

“Not as undignified as what Mister Thorne was doing with the demons,” said Remilia, jerking her thumb over her shoulder toward me.

“Demon, please move,” I said. My face was burning.

“Saying ‘please’ now, are we?” called back Remilia. The demon began to move, but not in the way I wanted. She was moving back and forth.

“Not like that,” I said as my discomfort grew.

Patchouli looked toward us and in one smooth motion the demon stood up and stiffly walked away. The librarian turned her attention back toward her book.

“I would have walked if you’d asked,” she told Remilia.

“No you wouldn’t have.” Remilia was right: Patchouli flew everywhere. “Every once and awhile I like to do something nice for you, Patchy. Be gracious.” Remilia snapped her fingers and a demon walked out from behind a shelf to pour her some red tea.

“That didn’t seem very nice,” said Patchouli.

“Oh, I’ll let you know when I’ve done it,” said Remilia.

“You never fail to.” They each took a sip of their tea.

“Care to join us, Mister Thorne?” asked the vampire. “I’ve already done you a favor this evening.”

“Thank you, Lady Scarlet.” She’d brought Patchouli Knowledge, and she’d invited me to the table. That might even count as two favors.

I went to sit at the table with them. Patchouli being there was a bonus for me and my plans, but Remilia was an awful interruption. I said some polite words to Lady Scarlet, and she nodded approvingly.

The conversation died. Remilia pulled a paperback book out from the folds of her dress. It was a romance novel. Patchouli was reading a literal textbook wrapped in brown paper.

There were a few awkward minutes of silent reading. I wondered what the vampire hoped to obtain by being there, or by forcing Patchouli to be there. I knew what I hoped to obtain, but the vampire being there made it beyond impossible.

“This is nice,” said Remilia. “I hate always having to run everywhere.”

“Fly, you mean?” asked Patchouli idly.

“Yeah, that too. So it’s good to spend some time just relaxing.” She stretched an arm over her head. “I’ve been working hard recently. It’s past time for a break.”

“I take it you haven’t located Miss Izayoi yet, My Lady,” I said.

“Nope. Do you want your job back?” I sat up straight. “If not, why do you keep using honorifics?” I was no longer her employee, but I hadn’t broken the habit.

“You are a deadly vampire with preferences,” I said. If she had been offering me Sakuya’s job and the associated power… I would have run away screaming and crying. “It’s easy enough to follow them.”

“You’re right, Patchy,” said Remilia. “He is the most capable human.”

“If I can help with your search for Miss Izayoi in any way, please let me know.” She could probably detect the genuine willingness in my voice. Sakuya and Yukari were missing, and were sorely needed by Human Town in addition to the Scarlet Devil Mansion.

“You can, but I’m not going to tell you too much about it.” My hair stood on end. I could help her but she wouldn’t tell me how. Remilia Scarlet was manipulating fate–that was the only time she refused to explain things, other than every other time.

We lapsed into another awkward silence. The vampire rubbed the back of her head with a hand that could crush steel.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Chill out, you two.”

“Pardon?” asked Patchouli.

“Chill. Out. You’re both so stiff and nervous. It’s not like you, Patchouli. Pretend I’m not even here.”

“If you weren’t here, I’d still be in bed,” said Patchouli with a yawn.

“We can pretend ‘I’m not here’ there instead, if you prefer,” replied Remilia. She grinned and glanced at me before returning her gaze to her book.

“No we can’t, Lady Scarlet,” I responded. “Your presence is unignorable.” That was as close to asking her to leave as I thought I could get away with.

“Thank you,” she replied. “Now ask Patchouli a question or five.”

“Five?”

“I said ask Patchouli questions…” said the vampire, her voice getting hard.

“Very well.” I turned to the librarian. “I wasn’t sure if youkai slept. It sounds like you do?”

“Sometimes,” she said. “I enjoy reading in bed, mostly. I only sleep a few hours per month.”

“Ah. I guess your bed’s just more comfortable than the library.” She could read anywhere, and she didn’t want to spend extra time with me, it would seem.

“It is warded against demons. So yes.” She turned a page. “What were you actually doing with them when we entered, by the way?”

Before I could answer, a koakuma interjected. “Mister Thorne tried to ascertain your location. When we refused to answer, he sought a work-around.”

“Looked more ‘direct’ and less ‘around’ to me,” said Remilia.

“And you pushed him into uncomfortable circumstances for your own amusement,” said Patchouli. I was so relieved that she knew that immediately. “Unacceptable. As punishment, all demons involved shall review The Book.”

The demon left angrily–that is, she stepped very slightly harder than normal. It was subtle, but as obvious to me as a computer’s fans straining against an unfair load.

“What is… The Book?” I asked. I knew a bible would de-manifest a demon instantly. It wouldn’t destroy them–that was all but impossible–but it would probably be extremely painful. Not only would a demon burn, but she would be banished back to Hell. “It’s not the bible, right?”

“No,” she said. “More like ‘bible-lite’.”

“We make them read the Chronicles of Narnia,” clarified Remilia. “Or Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul.”

“They’re allergic to that one,” said Patchouli.

“Funny,” said the vampire. “I enjoy both.”

“Chicken Soup is a level three punishment. I wouldn’t assign it until one actually undid a human’s pants.”

“Wait, you have a whole classification of what homework to assign demons?” I asked. “Are any books a reward, rather than a punishment?”

“The Prince,” said Patchouli.

“Isn’t that one about a child that lives on an asteroid?”

“No, that’s The Little Prince,” said Patchouli, “And I cannot recommend it highly enough, despite it not being at all like the book I was talking about.”

“That he hasn’t read The Prince explains a lot,” said Remilia.

“Is it good, Lady Scarlet?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m already a Princess, so I don’t need to read it. But you probably do.”

“Ah,” I said.

“Anyway, keep asking Patchouli questions. This is fun.”

“Okay.” I flipped through my notebook. “Why isn’t Hatsune Miku a youkai?” Patchouli considered this for several seconds.

“I hate philosophical questions,” said Remilia, with the tone of someone who hated vanilla ice cream.

“I don’t think instantaneous and ill-defined events basically ever form youkai,” said the librarian. “A supernatural belief can’t form around something that people essentially never imagine.”

“Huh? Lots of people imagine Hatsune Miku.”

“One moment,” said Patchouli, “Demon! Explain our miscommunication.” A demon came to smoothly refill their teacups and tell the vampire and the witch about Hatsune Miku.

All things considered, my timeline could be worse.

“Hatsune Miku is an artificial voice, a software with thousands of producers and hundreds of millions of fans,” said the koakuma. “The name means ‘first sound of the future,’ which is what you heard, but Mister Thorne was referring to the software and anime-style character rather than a nebulous concept.”

“I see,” said Patchouli. “I’ve wondered about popular culture like that, myself. My best theory is that relatively-new concepts that don’t relate strongly enough to the mysterious and unexplained don’t become youkai, and technology itself is antithetical to youkai. ‘Hatsune Miku’ … a female?”

I nodded.

“I’m sorry to say it, Mister Thorne, but Hatsune Miku herself will never become a youkai.”

“Darn,” I said. It also meant that my favorite character from the mainline Touhou games, the one based upon AI, was right out. On the other hand, she wasn’t my favorite character any more.

“It’s probably better this way,” said Remilia. “Never meet your heroes, kid.” She was four feet tall.

“It’s funny that Miku’s name means ‘first sound of the future’,” I said. “Whoever named her probably couldn’t imagine hyper-divas.” I’d seen pictures of them, mostly in public services announcements that warned about interacting with one. The tiered AI personal assistants/online pornstars were illegal, so most of them ‘lived’ in the third world.

“Actually, I’m certain they could,” said a koakuma as she gave me a level stare. “Succubi happen to occupy the niche already, as far as youkai are concerned.”

“Tell me where demons get information about hyper-divas and the creators of Hatsune Miku,” I said.

“The same place lonely men do,” responded the koakuma.

“Begone, demon,” said Patchouli. The koakuma left. “She was trying to tempt you.”

“Thanks for saving me,” I said.

“Next question,” said Remilia.

“Ummm… why is technology antithetical to youkai?”

“Youkai form where human beings are powerless,” said Patchouli. “Where death or disease or suffering are unexplained. Technology is more-or-less diametrically opposed to that concept.” I wrote this simple and complete explanation down.

“As long as we are on the subject of youkai formation, why are so many youkai Japanese?”

Naively, one might expect it to correlate with population, in which case there should be more Indian youkai, or cultural power, in which case most youkai would be American. Only if it was cultural power per population would Japan be the best, at least according to Wiki.

“Ooh, I can answer this one!” said Remilia. “It’s because Gensokyo is in Japan.”

“That’s it?” I said. “Lady Scarlet.”

“Yep. It’s harder for non-Japanese youkai to find their way here.” She tapped her forehead. “Especially when they can’t manipulate fate.”

“I… see,” I said.

That implied a holocaust of youkai going on worldwide, which… well, I’d already inferred that, but the fact that Remilia chose to come here suggested that there weren’t other youkai preserves in the world. I decided to change the subject.

“This one’s a bit more personal, and just occurred to me a moment ago.” Patchouli’s face was neutral, but Remilia was smiling eagerly. “How is ‘reading’ a place where people feel powerless?”

I was asking the youkai of ‘reading things’ more about her aspects. Patchouli smiled a little bit.

“Are you asking about me, specifically?”

“Yes. Knowledge seems like a domain where humans have unusually little superstition or uncertainty.”

“Jake, I’m a witch, a very specific kind of youkai. A symbol of forbidden knowledge and possibilities that are beyond human ability to withstand. A manifestation of the idea that humans could achieve whatever they want, if only they weren't too squeamish to pursue it.”

“Oh.” I scratched my head. “You’re pretty nice for a youkai of power-seeking.”

She laughed, a quiet sound like a polite cough. “Thank you. Even so, I can’t think of anything more common for humans than the feeling of being powerless in one’s own ignorance. So maybe that’s the ‘unknown’ that manifests me. I can only theorize, but that’s my best theory.”

It hadn’t occurred to me that youkai might not be certain about their own aspects.

“Wow, way to lay your heart bare,” said Remilia. “You should feel honored, Mister Thorne! Patchy doesn’t reveal her nature to just anyone.”

“To the bedroom, then?” asked a koakuma, but she was shooed away.

“Nope, let’s stay here for now,” said Remilia. I’d be disappointed, if I hadn’t expected the exact same answer from the librarian herself. “One more question ought to do it. Maybe two.”

“Alright,” I said, as I flipped to a more recent part of my notebook. “This one is a bit, well, it could be a bit tough.”

“I’m ready,” said Patchouli.

“Do you want to teach fairies to read so that you don’t have to support them anymore?” I asked Patchouli. Her head tilted. “Once they can read, the Bunbunmaru might be enough for them to survive without your help. I recently learned that it was for feeding starving youkai, although I’m not sure how that works.”

She stopped reading. I could tell because her eyes had stopped moving. Then she looked away from her book and right at me. “No. That’s not it.”

Remilia nodded. “We actually like them, even if they are petulant and bratty.”

“Ah,” I said. “I’m glad.” I didn’t ask for the real reason. If Patchouli wanted to tell me, she would have told me.

“I did not know the newspaper had that function,” said the librarian.

“I only discovered it recently, myself,” I said. “It would seem that the tengu have taken steps to protect, well, as many youkai as possible. Also, I’m not supposed to talk about this, but I figure if anybody can keep a secret, it’s you two.”

“Hmph,” said Remilia. “That’s super nice of them, isn’t it?”

“I agree,” I said.

“No wonder they’re hiding it.”

“Once they can read, the fairies might very well choose to leave,” said Patchouli. “I suppose I should plan for the possibility.”

The awkward silence resumed. Patchouli turned a page. She seemed upset, or maybe I was reading too much into it. Patchouli wasn’t a demon. A ‘witch’ was so close to human that humans sometimes became them.

“I think the fairies like you too,” I said. “Most if not all will stay, right? You give them human food, and care for them, and you… you know their names and powers, and everything about them.”

“They stay here because to leave is death,” said Patchouli.

“I don’t think that’s true,” I said. “Maroon adored you, and will once again when we get her to remanifest.” Patchouli kept her face buried in her book. I wrung my hands–that might have been the wrong thing to bring up. “If a few fairies leave, the ones who stay will be all-the-more important to the Mansion. And even then they might still come back from time to time!”

“Perhaps.”

“Is that why you stay here?” Remilia asked Patchouli. “Because you’d die, otherwise?”

“No,” said the librarian, but she said it very quietly. All of us knew it was true that Patchouli could not leave the library for long.

“We could probably put a few stacks on a bus, or something,” said Remilia. She looked at each of the walls–or through them, it would seem. “We aren’t missing anything you want, right? I know we talked about putting in a gym…”

Patchouli gently touched Remilia’s hand without looking up from her book. “No, Remi. I stay here for you and… for the others. Thank you for reminding me.”

Remilia nodded and squeezed.

“And Mister Thorne, even if the fairies will one day decide to leave, I’ll still teach them to read. I think their lives will be improved by it either way.”

“I’m glad,” I said.

Patchouli and Remilia had been working to protect Maroon and the other fairies for decades at least. I exhaled. Some youkai were filled with compassion. More than ever, I felt certain I was doing the right thing, and that we would save Maroon, the humans, and Gensokyo itself (probably).

Remilia glanced at me and pointedly flicked her eyes toward my notebook. I flipped backward to look for a question that wasn’t so charged with emotion, but something was wrong with it. The handwriting wasn’t my own, and part of it had been overwritten by mysterious text.

“Oh–oh–it’s doing the thing again!” I said. “Quick, Patchouli, look!”

She quickly took the book and began writing down what she saw with a superhuman speed. Patchouli could write almost as fast as she could read. She paused for a moment.

“All demons are banished from the library,” she said. A sigil activated on the ground and I heard screeching as the demons were expelled. “That’s only going to last a few minutes…” she mumbled as she continued to write. “This is a bigger issue than I realized.”

Remilia stood to read over her shoulder. I went to do the same. Immediately I knew the handwriting was from Sakuya, because it talked about stopping time.