My finger hovered just above the cluttered board, tracing along the edges of old flyers. My eyes flickered from one to the next, hoping something that would suit me would appear. Anything really.

    Something that wouldn’t gut what little time I had left between study sessions, hospital visits, and whatever scraps of sleep I could still cling to.

    A hard shoulder bumped into me from behind, shoving me forward. My hand slapped the board with a dull thud, and I barely caught myself before my forehead followed.

    “Watch it,” a voice muttered behind me, already walking off like I didn’t exist.

    I could’ve picked a fight, but I didn’t have the energy or the interest to pursue it. My focus was broken, as my attention snapped back to my surroundings as the noisy tide of students surged behind me.

    Laughter burst in waves, jokes tossed back and forth like careless currency, conversations spilling over with the mundane dramas of their lives. My palm stayed pressed flat against the board for a moment longer. I slowly peeled it back, watching a few old papers flutter.

    I stared at it all like it might have answers, enough so I could will it into reality, that something would fall into place.

    I just needed one thing. Something simple. Something quiet.

    My eyes finally landed on something tucked between two gaudy, overlapping club posters. A plain white flyer, almost invisible under all the chaos.

    “Library Assistant Needed – Evenings & Weekends.”

    I leaned in, scanning the details. Four-hour shifts, just twice a week. Mostly shelving, cataloging, maybe the occasional help at the office. Quiet, structured, even simple. The hours fit perfectly between school and hospital visits. And the pay… It was better than I expected for something this easy.

    A real job. My first job. I took it down, smoothing out the creased edges. As I went about it, I almost felt a little giddy inside.

    I wouldn’t have to ask Wryn again. Wouldn’t have to watch her face twist into that complicated look, half concern, half emotions I couldn’t come to describe, all buried under that tight smile she gave when she didn’t want me to see how worked up she was.

    She’d told me just a few days ago, in the most reluctant voice, that she might not be around as much for a short while.

    I nodded. Told her it was okay. That I’d manage.

    I folded the flyer carefully and slipped it into my notebook, like it was a lifeline I couldn’t risk losing. I felt lighter, just for a second. This was a step forward, however small, however late.

    But just as I turned to leave, a flicker of motion caught in the corner of my eye.

    Blue. Sharp, bright blue.

    I turned my head slightly, instinctively, even though I already knew who it was. That bobbed hair. The twitch of those rat ears poking through it. The long tail swaying with a casual rhythm.

    She was standing near the vending machines, half turned away from me. Just… there. Laughing with someone whom I didn’t recognise.

    I watched them, Kael, for a second too long.

    The way her eyes sparkled when she gestured excitedly with her hands, just like she used to when we’d talk after class. When she’d be there to offer her comfort, or just make things seem not as serious as they were.

    When she still spoke to me like I mattered.

    Now she didn’t even look my way. I felt that maybe, just a second, she stared at me, but it didn’t seem like the case.

    Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks. Maybe I just wanted her to notice me. Or maybe… some old part of me was still waiting for her to say something. Anything.

    But nothing came. Just a laugh that didn’t include me.

    My throat tightened as I forced myself to turn away, clutching my notebook so hard the flyer inside crinkled.

    I didn’t have time to chase that mystery. Not now. Not when my grades were barely beginning to get steady, when I was left counting change for bills, and barely catching any sleep. I couldn’t afford to chase loose ends with all these new responsibilities that followed.

    Even as I left, I could feel that cold, itchy sensation, like someone was watching me, even if no one was.

    ~~~

    I followed the campus map with one hand still gripping my notebook with the flyer pressed firmly within my hand.

    The library was tucked into a quieter wing of the main building, a place I’d never had much reason to visit. Most of my classes didn’t require it, and even if they had, I barely had the time.

    I turned the final corner and stopped in front of the massive double doors. They were made of deep, dark wood, polished smooth, with faint carvings curling around the edges. Far more embellished than I expected it to be.

    I pushed the door open. The silence hit me first, then came the sheer scale of it.

    Rows and rows of shelves stretched on farther than I expected, lined with books of every size and age. Some aisles ran along clean white stone tiles, others faded into plush carpeted walkways that felt older than most buildings on campus.

    I stepped forward, a little slower now. This wasn’t just a library, rather a monumental archive, and the thought that I could be shelving books here soon left me contorted with worry.

    This wasn’t some dusty backroom storage job. This place felt... alive. Intimidating. Vast in a way that made me feel too small.

    What if I knocked over something I wasn’t supposed to touch? What if I mishelved some books and left them forever lost within this labyrinth?

    No, I thought. It’s just a job. I can manage this. I reassured myself.

    I glanced around, wondering where I was even supposed to apply. There was no clear reception desk, no obvious “Help Wanted” sign. Just more hallways leading deeper into the belly of the building, and a handful of students scattered in with stacks of textbooks.

    I scanned the front desk, expecting someone who could help me behind it. A staff member hunched over a monitor, a sleepy assistant pretending to organise something. But no.

    Just a sleek glass panel of a kiosk humming faintly, with glowing options for check-ins, reservations, and “assisted catalogue access.”

    I stood there for a second, awkwardly trying to pretend like I knew what I was doing, then gave up and glanced around the room. Eventually, I ended up resorting to just asking one of the busy students for some guidance.

    I approached the nearest one, and he pointed casually toward the far-left wing without looking up again.

    “Back hallway, behind the restricted archives. Left of the old globe thing.”

    He didn’t even look as I said my thanks, he was already back to sinking into his book.

    I adjusted my bag and made my way past shelves taller than I could reach, winding through polished stone corridors and velvet ropes guarding rows of books I wasn’t allowed to touch.

    I found the globe first. Massive, faded, with half the continents shaped vaguely familiar. Just beside it was a wooden door, darker than the others, marked only by a brass plaque that simply read: Librarian.

    I paused in front of it. Straightened my posture. Rolled my shoulders. Tried not to look like I was debating running the other way.

    Then I knocked. A voice answered, smooth, composed, hanging with an air of maturity.

    “Come in.”

    I pushed the door open slowly.

    The office was... elegant. Warm lighting spilled over rows of antique shelves, and a tall arched window bathed the room in gold.

    Behind a heavy oak desk sat a tanned woman, poised in mannerisms. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine. She couldn’t have been much older than me, possibly mid-twenties at most, but there was a demeanour to the way she carried herself.

    Her emerald eyes were striking, but it wasn’t what drew my attention. My gaze lingered, then slowly climbed upward, drawn almost against my will to the two obsidian horns that sheened with a turquoise crackle, protruding gently from her silken black hair.

    Behind her, a tail curled with slow precision around the leg of her chair, scaled with a faint shimmer.

    Draconic lineage.

    Not just any monster, one of them. The kind with lineage. The kind whose families had power written into their names.

    I suddenly felt like I’d walked into the wrong office. Like I didn’t belong in the same room, let alone asking for a job.

    Then it clicked.

    Maybe it was why the library looked like a palace. Why it felt more like a sacred hall than a study space. It wasn’t about the school, it was about her.

    Someone with a draconic lineage didn’t just work at a place like this. She was the reason it existed like this.

    If she were from a proper draconic house, and everything about her screamed that she was, then her family probably donated more to the academy than the construction of the entire west wing had cost.

    This wasn’t just a job anymore. It was hers. I was walking into her domain.

    And there I was, standing in her doorway with a wrinkled flyer in hand, like some lost kid trying to land his first part-time job.

    My throat felt dry. I had to clear it before I could speak.

    "Hello, I saw the posting for the assistant position.”

    She studied me for a second, then leaned back slightly in her chair, folding her hands atop the desk. Her eyes were sharp, but not unfriendly, like she was used to cutting through things, and was still deciding whether I was worth the effort.

    “Where did you find the flyer?” she asked, her voice level but edged with curiosity.

    “Bulletin board near the west stairwell,” I said. “It was kind of buried under a few others.”

    She hummed, almost to herself. “I’d forgotten we even posted that. No one’s applied in... months. Perhaps longer.”

    That made me blink. “Really?”

    She gave a small nod, her gaze drifting past me briefly. “You’re the first one to ask in a while.”

    That didn’t make sense. Not with her sitting behind this desk. Anyone with half a brain would’ve leapt at the opportunity. Especially when it could potentially lead to forming ties with someone from a draconic house. That kind of door didn’t open twice in a lifetime.

    Then her eyes landed on the flyer still half-pressed in my hand. The edge of her mouth tugged upward. Barely a smile, but enough to change the shape of the room for a second. Sear?h the Novёl?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

    “Alright,” she said softly, extending a hand. “Let me see your documents.”

    I pulled papers that spelt everything about me carefully, trying not to fumble, and handed them over.

    My eyes settled down to the nameplate resting neatly on her desk as she held my documents. Black marble with gold inlay, pristine like everything else in this place.

    Anissa Blightscale.

    She began flipping through them at a relaxed pace, skimming line after line with idle precision. Her expression was unreadable at first.

    Then I noticed the shift.

    Her brows creased slightly. Her gaze narrowed. One page paused longer than the rest.

    By the time she reached the end, the air in the room had changed. Not loud. Not angry. Just… heavier.

    She placed the papers down on the desk with a quiet finality.

    Then looked up at me, her voice no longer casual.

    “These documents,” she said, slowly, “are fake.”

    ~~~

    More chapters are on their way! On a sidenote, I am really happy to announce I''ve received my first official character art for Wryn, made by GudaGudaman!

    If you wanna see more of his artwork, do check out his twitter below!

    https://x.com/g_gudaman