Portal Express

Calliope's pale hand remained extended, his long, thin fingers motionless in the dusty air. Leo, still reeling from the librarian's sudden appearance, hesitated for only a second. His life was already a pit of questionable decisions; what was one more? He reached out and shook Calliope's hand.

The touch was cold and dry, like old paper. The instant their fingers met, the world unraveled. It wasn't a smooth transition; it was as if reality were a page in a book being roughly turned. The sound of his own footsteps echoed and vanished. The smell of dust and old paper intensified a thousand times over, becoming a physical, almost suffocating presence. The wooden shelves of the public library stretched, groaning like ancient trees, transforming into a forest of shelves that reached up to an impossible sky made of floating text.

Leo was in a place that defied logic and physics. Bookshelves, miles high, rose in every direction, disappearing into a luminous haze. The only sound was a constant whisper, the rustling of millions of pages turning in unison. Books with leather spines, glowing scrolls, and even pulsating orbs of light flew slowly through the air like birds, occasionally finding an empty spot on a shelf and slotting themselves in perfectly. He saw other figures in the distance, silhouettes of other 'librarians' moving silently between the shelves, their faces obscured by the soft light.

"Welcome to The Library That Isn't There," Calliope said, his whispering voice echoing in the monumental silence. "The repository of every story ever told, dreamed, or lived."

Leo looked up, awestruck and terrified. "This is... impossible."

"Reality is merely the most popular story," Calliope replied with a faint smile. "The Master believes all narratives deserve to be preserved. Yours, in particular, has a... unique flavor. A conflict between the mundane and the mythic that we haven't seen in some time."

He started walking, and Leo followed him hurriedly. "So, the price... my story. What does that mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," Calliope said, stopping before an empty marble pedestal. "To acquire a story from our collection, you must donate one of equivalent value. We do not take your memory. We copy it. We transcribe the experience from your soul onto the page. Your story becomes a part of the library, immortalized. An echo of you will live here forever."

He gestured to the pedestal. "The book your client desires is a simple, mass-produced novel, though rare. Your story of facing an Elder Dragon for a marinated egg is worth far more. It is a fair trade. Do you agree to the terms?"

Leo thought of Sephie-chan's desperate message and the Charon's Obol in his inventory. He hadn't come this far to back down. "I agree."

"Excellent." Calliope placed a hand on Leo's shoulder. "Please, do not resist. Just remember."

The librarian placed his cool fingertips on Leo's forehead. The world vanished in a blinding white light.

Leo was no longer in the library. He was back in Ignis's cavern. He felt the heat on his skin, the fear chilling his stomach, the weight of the ramen container. He relived every second of the encounter. But this time, it was different. He felt a passive presence in his mind, a silent observer recording every thought, every heartbeat, every drop of sweat. It was a profoundly intimate and violating sensation, like having his soul stripped bare and read aloud to an unseen audience. He felt his own narrative being pulled from him, thread by thread, a tapestry of emotion and experience being copied.

As the memory unfolded, the marble pedestal before him glowed. A blank book materialized upon it. Black ink began to flow from Calliope's fingertips, forming words in the air before settling onto the pages, writing Leo's story in real-time. The words weren't just text; they glowed with the same emotion Leo felt—fear in a deep red, relief in a soft gold.

When the memory ended with Ignis closing its eyes for its century-long slumber, the transcription was complete. The cover of the newly-created book shimmered and an image formed: a terrified delivery boy offering an egg to a colossal dragon. The book closed with a soft thud and floated to an empty shelf, finding its place in the vastness of the library. Leo felt a strange sense of loss, as if a part of him now belonged to that place forever.

Leo staggered back, feeling exhausted, but whole. The memory was still his, but a copy now existed here.

"A splendid addition to our collection," Calliope said, his eyes gleaming behind his glasses. "Now, for our part of the bargain."

He led Leo down an aisle where the shelves held only books with colorful covers and Japanese titles. He stopped and, with an elegant gesture, pulled out a small book. It had a glossy cover featuring an angry-looking anime girl. 'My Rival is the Hero King's Tsundere Sister Vol. 3'.

He handed the book to Leo. "A story for a story. Fair, wouldn't you say?"

Leo took the book, his ticket to another bizarre reward from Sephie-chan. As he was about to thank him, Calliope added, his dry voice lowering to a cautionary tone.

"Be careful, courier. Once a story enters the Library, it develops echoes. Others can now... become aware of your narrative. Bounty hunters looking for rising heroes. Rivals who wish to steal the spotlight. Entities that feed on potent narratives. Your deeds will no longer go unnoticed. Stories attract attention."

Before Leo could ask what that meant, Calliope snapped his fingers.

The sensation was like waking from a vivid dream. Leo was back in the Rare Books section of the public library, the smell of dust filling his nostrils. The light novel felt heavy in his hand. It was real.

His smartphone buzzed in his pocket. It was a message from Yuki.

Yuki: Get out of there. Now. You are no longer alone.

Leo looked around. The library hall was empty, except for a lone figure at the far end, partially obscured by a bookshelf. It wasn't a librarian or a visitor. The figure was tall and wore a long leather coat, even inside the stuffy building. Their face was in shadow, but Leo could feel an intense, calculating gaze fixed on him. It wasn't passive curiosity. It was the look of a predator that had just found interesting new prey.