That day, I didn’t have the desire to read a book. So I was about to pass straight by the bookshelf and head to the window seat at the end of the library, but a sense of incongruity caught in the corner of my vision stopped me.
I slowly turned my head to examine the bookshelf. A tall bookshelf where countless books were neatly arranged according to set rules. Among them, at about shoulder height, there was a gap. It was a gap just thick enough to fit one book perfectly.
Had someone borrowed the book? But when books were borrowed, they put up a “checked out” sign, and there was no such sign.
Then had someone stolen the book? But who would steal a book from the school library when they weren’t so poor they couldn’t afford to buy one book, and it wasn’t like they could borrow it anyway? As the saying goes, it wasn’t like that book was a historical ancient text or an award-winning literary work.
I stood there dumbly and blankly stared at the empty gap. I moved my dry gaze to aimlessly scan the bookshelf, then turned around casually and sat down in my usual spot.
There was nothing strange about someone taking one book. Hanul High didn’t have a librarian constantly stationed in the library, and although surveillance cameras were installed, there were many blind spots, so if someone was determined to steal, it wasn’t impossible.
So I spent one day, two days, three days, and then four days, forgetting about the book. That day too, as I was crossing the library as usual, I stopped in front of that same bookshelf as before.
A book with a familiar title and cover was stuck in the gap that had been empty for four whole days. It was that book that had finally found its way back to its place.
I didn’t know who, for what reason, had stolen the book and then returned it, but I thought, what did it matter anyway? With that mindset, I calmly pulled out the book as if it had always been there in that spot and headed to what was practically my regular seat.
I sat down in the chair and flipped through the book to check if there were any damaged parts. Then I stopped, holding onto the page at one part.
Around the middle of the book, something stuck in the center caught my attention. A common yellow Post-it note was folded small and snugly. The last time I’d read this book was last month, and no one had borrowed this book during that time, so the person who left this Post-it was probably the one who had disappeared with the book.
I quietly looked down at the Post-it, then slowly fiddled with it. When I unfolded the yellow paper that was pressed and folded, I saw neat 11-digit numbers that seemed to be written with a ballpoint pen. Judging by the “-” symbols between the numbers, it appeared to be a phone number.
I stared intently at the Post-it and turned my head. I was still alone in the library, and I couldn’t tell who had left the Post-it in this book. Of course, if I called this phone number, I might be able to find out the identity of the person in question, but…
‘I don’t have a phone.’
In today’s world, it would be difficult to find a public phone booth. At least I’d never seen a payphone around here, so to make a call, I’d have to go to another area.
There was also the option of borrowing a cell phone from someone else, but I didn’t want to put in that much effort to dig into the owner of this phone number and their intentions and purpose. It was true that I was briefly interested, but I only wanted to remain a thorough spectator, an observer.
I refolded the yellow Post-it back to its original form and inserted it into the page where it had been. There wasn’t a trace of lingering attachment or hesitation in my movements as I closed the book, got up from my seat, and put the book back on the shelf.
Just then, the bell rang to announce the end of lunch time. I rolled my dry gaze one last time to scan the book settled on the shelf, then turned around.
I emerged from between the layers of bookshelves. Since I was the only person entering or leaving the library at this time, instead of being considerate of a nonexistent person behind me, I closed the door all the way and headed to the classroom.
And as always, I didn’t know. The fact that about ten seconds after I left the library, there were two people who belatedly followed and left the library.
***
The twins and I had been away from Hanul High for one night and two days—a bit more than one day and a bit less than two days. So I’d had the complacent thought that surely nothing would happen in that brief time we were away.
Not knowing I’d be faced with this scene.
First of all, the main building hallway where I stood wide-eyed and dumbfounded for the first time in a very long while gave me a strangely unfamiliar and new sensation. It was one of the conditions Ponytail had set for me—she’d said she would control the main building so I could move freely within the school, and she’d kept her word.
Now that I looked, blue padlock shapes were floating and bobbing on all the windows and doors leading outdoors. It seemed Lee Geonwoo had also contributed to Ponytail’s plan.
But the brief satisfaction quickly faded. What particularly caught my attention was something else.
“…What is that?”
Cha Jeoh asked with a grimace before I could. Then Ponytail, standing about three steps away, smiled awkwardly.
“Ah, haha….”
Ponytail subtly rolled her eyes to avoid mine. Then she fidgeted with the pure white cloak she was wearing.
Right, a cloak. The white cloth cloak that until the day before yesterday only Lee Gojun had been wearing. But why, for what reason on earth.
‘Is it faster to count the people not wearing that cloak than those wearing it?’
At least currently in this hallway, the only ones not dressed in white cloaks—that is, the ceremonial robes of the Church of Hayoung—were me and the twins. Ponytail, and the few survivors standing by her side, were all wearing cloaks and subtly avoiding my gaze.
Seeing how they were acting like they were reading the room, it seemed they hadn’t sincerely joined the Church of Hayoung. There didn’t seem to be anyone yet who had fallen into the Church of Hayoung and was acting like a fanatic either.
‘Then why…’
Today was the second day since I’d decided to take on the role of Hanul High’s representative, so Ponytail had probably announced and proclaimed that fact early on.
‘Is she promoting the Church of Hayoung as part of a marketing strategy?’
But there was no way she could gain the survivors’ trust through the Church of Hayoung, which at best was a pseudo-religion and at worst was just a pseudo-religion. Moreover, the number of survivors currently remaining at Hanul High didn’t exceed 30, so I wondered if there was really any need to use such a futile method to control them.
Ponytail, reading my unenthusiastic gaze, let out another awkward laugh.
“I was worried they’d ostracize me as a heretic….”
“…What? Heretic?”
“Setting that story aside, how was it? Did you find out anything new?”
The atmosphere felt like she was blatantly changing the subject. Of course, the question Ponytail immediately brought up was originally our purpose and the main point, but I couldn’t focus at all on Ponytail’s expression as she kept acting like she’d achieved enlightenment.
I was silently swallowing a sigh when Cha Woodan gently pushed my back.
“Go up to the art room first and rest. We’ll take care of explaining to these guys.”
I stared up at Cha Woodan intently, then shifted my gaze to look at Cha Jeoh. He too nodded belatedly.
‘…Both twins?’
How unusual to leave me alone?
It was a bit unenthusiastic, but it wasn’t a problem. Since it was an outing after a while, even though I’d eaten well and slept soundly yesterday, I felt like I’d accumulated a full load of fatigue. In the midst of this, the twins said they’d take care of the annoying work, so there was no reason to refuse.
I turned my back on the twins’ greeting and slowly moved my steps.
While crossing the first floor hallway, I repeatedly encountered quite a few survivors. What could change in just two days, but even though they must have known I’d become Hanul High’s representative, as soon as they spotted me, they were busy turning around sharply and running away.
If I had to point out something strange about them, it was that they were all wearing cloaks made of pure white cloth. It was quite contradictory—wearing the Church of Hayoung cloaks and then running away as if they’d seen a bug upon seeing me, who was called the Messiah of the Church of Hayoung.
‘…Though I don’t acknowledge being the Messiah of the Church of Hayoung.’
Was there some other reason? But it wasn’t a particularly curious point, so I quickly extinguished my interest. Whether they were horrified at the sight of me or turned away and avoided me, I didn’t care and went my way.
Soon the stairs leading to the second floor that I reached were blocked. The fire door between the first and second floors was firmly closed, concealing the stairs leading upward.
I silently stared at the massive fire door. On that door too, a blue padlock shape floated as if proving that Lee Geonwoo’s touch had reached it.
Should I go back and call the twins or Ponytail? Thinking that, I unconsciously reached out my hand. When I placed my hand on the cool metal door, a brilliant light spread, and the blue padlock swelled up large and floated.
Soon, with a pleasant clicking sound of engagement, the lock opened. Accordingly, the fire door in front of me also smoothly slid open without much force.
