CHAPTER 18: LIBRARY

Richard tried to calm the old man down, but he was truly furious, chasing him relentlessly.

In the end, Richard had no choice but to use light force, knocking him down and tying him up with a rope he found under the bed. He even shoved a rag into Mr. Joe’s mouth to stop the shouting.

"Old man Joe, I didn’t trick you because I wanted to, but because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Who could have guessed you’d actually show up?" Richard explained.

Of course, those words alone weren’t enough to pacify Mr. Joe. The old man still glared daggers at him.

Richard couldn’t be bothered to explain further.

He grabbed the torch and went back to the living room, leaving Mr. Joe in the dark. He figured the old man needed one night to cool off.

To his surprise, the living room floor was covered in spilled grapes from Mr. Joe’s sack.

It seemed the old man had returned with his wine grapes, only to scatter them across the floor.

Richard picked one up and ate it, finding it refreshingly sweet.

’Mr. Joe’s grapes really are top quality. No wonder he keeps making so much money. Too bad the woman of his dreams doesn’t want to swallow even a single grape of his,’ Richard thought.

Placing the torch nearby for light, he began reading the black book. It detailed the process of transforming his soul into a Black Heart Soul.

The text was written in plain language, so Richard had no trouble understanding it—though of course, he couldn’t memorize every word.

The method wasn’t as complicated as he had imagined; it didn’t require gathering rare ingredients.

It was more of a mental act to alter one’s soul.

Though, it did require a few materials—not overly rare, but obtaining them might demand some cruel actions.

The primary condition, however, was having a ninety-percent affinity with the Darkness Element—which Richard indeed possessed.

If one had that, the next step was a rather intricate ritual.

Richard mulled it over in his mind as he absentmindedly munched on grapes from the floor.

Then, he remembered the library just across the street.

’I need to learn more,’ he told himself, before leaving. He hung the torch on the wall to keep the room lit.

He left his horse, Athena, in Mr. Joe’s yard and walked to the library, which seemed to remain open no matter the hour.

Perhaps the people of this world believed that book lovers never stole, and thieves never stole books.

Upon entering, Richard saw more people than he expected.

The light inside wasn’t too bright, but enough for peaceful reading.

Men and women, young and old alike, were seated in corners with books in hand.

As a seven-year-old boy, Richard naturally drew curious glances.

His eyes wandered upward, marveling at the second, third, fourth, and fifth floors—all clearly visible from below because each level was made of glass.

Even on Earth, he had never seen such a thing.

And the sheer number of books here far exceeded what he imagined.

Some looked ancient beyond measure.

"Little brother, can you already read? Or can you, but not fluently? If you don’t want to struggle, why not just ask me what you want to know, and I’ll tell you?" a pleasant female voice suddenly spoke beside him.

Richard almost stumbled as he turned, startled to find a woman who seemed to appear out of nowhere.

But once the surprise faded, another struck him.

She was young, perhaps twenty, with long, glossy pink hair so smooth it seemed even insects would slide off.

Her skin was white as snow with a faint redness, wearing a white leisure dress that was simple but did not look simple as it was made of silk.

On each ear dangled long golden earrings, with small moon-and-star-shaped diamonds at their tips.

Richard couldn’t help but be slightly captivated by her beauty.

At the same time, he remained wary—this woman was clearly no ordinary human.

"Are you sure you can answer everything I ask?" Richard replied innocently.

"Everyone who frequents this library knows that since childhood, I’ve read here almost every day. If your questions have answers in these books, I’ll likely know them, saving you the trouble of picking a book and starting from scratch."

"Really?" Richard’s expression was skeptical.

"You don’t need to doubt me. Many people have already paid me for this work."

Richard, "..."

"I thought you were a volunteer, helping people for free," he said, not hiding his disappointment.

A few bystanders chuckled at his words.

A scruffy-looking youth even added, "Kid, you must be from the countryside. But here, you pay even just to take a piss."

Laughter grew louder around them.

"I don’t have any money," Richard said irritably, turning to leave.

"Don’t worry, I don’t only accept money. You can pay with other things—anything of value. Since you’re from a village, you might have vegetables or something similar. Of course, they need to be fresh, something easy to sell," the pink-haired woman answered earnestly.

Richard was taken aback. He turned back to her and asked, "What about grapes?"

"Those will do," she nodded.

"Wait here!"

Richard bolted back to Mr. Joe’s house, returning in less than a minute.

He gathered the grapes scattered on the floor, stuffing them back into the sack.

Though he only managed to fill half of it, he figured that would be enough. After all, grapes weren’t rare—especially high-quality ones like these.

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