If not all change was so bad, perhaps Elliot was making the right decision, transferring from the most prestigious university in the entire Pokémon world to a lesser known one, or whatever she was doing. In the end, Quince didn't really care. He tolerated Elliot, but he knew all too well that people came and went, even when one commanded the attention of millions. As she'd told him in Viridian, she'd be fine with her behemoth to keep her company, if it wasn't currently back at the Pokémon Center. They'd probably be long gone by the time she checked out of the room.
What Casey was looking to check out right now were a few books from the library. He'd descended the hiking trail from Pewter University without getting dirty and walked the distance to the museum, turning left to reach a less-ancient-looking building. Several stories tall with even more stories to fill its shelves, the modern bibliotheca kept all the knowledge of Kanto in one place. This late at night, however, there were only a few people inside, most of them in the café sipping lattes between turning pages or typing at their laptops. So Casey was free to stand in the aisles, pick out books from the environmental science section and give the first page a perfunctory read, without inconveniencing anyone.
And no one would inconvenience him. The space between these shelves was more solitary than his boat cabin, and he could disappear here more easily than out on the lulling sea. The small windows at the end of each row were far away, and the only massive window, with muntins as thick as bars, overlooked the library from well above the upper level. So there was hardly any glimpse of the outside world. The library instead drew attention to its inners, the second floor built in such a way that returned Casey's eyes to the first, peering over the railing, looking down rather than out. Or, if he should look up, his gaze would float to the dome roof and its many curved faces.
But he didn't come here to admire the architecture. He was on the lower level, and in the environmental science section, after all. His index finger rested on the spine of a particularly thick book, and its title—
The Natural History of Calico Island—reminded him that he didn't come here to disappear, either.
Calico Island? That's the uninhabited rock off the coast of Vermillion. Now that would be the perfect place to get lost, once this is all over. But I'd have to come back here and return this book first... so fuck it. I'm checking it out for educational reasons, anyway. Research and shit.
As Casey skimmed the first few pages, he found himself mired in esoteric language and uninspired prose, but his quick walk to the librarian's desk belied the mental impasse.
"Excuse me, miss," cooed the gentleman. "I'd like to borrow this book. Here's my card."
Unlike Nurse Joy, this bespectacled brunette must have been used to the fancily dressed, intellectual crowd and simply smiled back. She was young—probably a student at the university—so she dealt with professors on a daily basis, or if she didn't, any other natty bookworm who came here.
"Of course," responded the woman, in as hushed a voice. "The return date is three months from now."
Casey was listening, but for a moment his attention was somewhere else. Perhaps those gray-blue eyes in the shade of his fedora naturally drifted to objects that were similarly obscured, but a lone door on the upper level, partially blocked by a shelf, piqued his curiosity. So when the librarian handed back the text, the gentleman accepted it rather absently.
"Right. Thank you," he muttered. "And, one more thing. If you don't mind me asking, what's beyond that door upstairs?"
"Oh, that..." the girl answered, trailing off as if she was retrieving a useless piece of information from the depths of her mind. "I haven't been here that long, but they say the books in that room are cursed. It's probably just an urban legend."
"Cursed? What could that mean?"
"Well, people who have checked out those books reported strange things happening all around them, from strokes of bad luck, to strings of fortunate events, to completely unexpected occurrences. And some say that the books write themselves. You look inside one day, and tomorrow, you find another page added to the last," she elaborated. "But life throws us all kinds of curveballs, and sometimes we think there's a supernatural force behind them. As for pages that weren't there before, they often get stuck together, and we simply don't see them. There's a reasonable explanation for everything."
"If that's true, why go so far as to hide the door?"
"Well, it's not like we believe the rumors. But they were drawing a lot of negative attention to the library, so we closed it off. I think that's why, though I wasn't around back then."
"Would you mind," inquired the gentleman, "if I had a look?"
"I'm sorry. If you go in there, ghosts will haunt you for the rest of your life, and I can't let that happen to you..." answered a sad librarian. But mischief peeked through her frown, and soon she was flashing him a sly smile. "Just kidding! Take as long as you need. You'll be fine!"
~~~
How old was the library? Ten years?
Casey hadn't seen a dustier room in his life, and he'd have thought it was a hundred, had he entered from here. Some shelves were missing a few books, others were empty, and more were tipped entirely. The texts that they were supposed to be holding were strewn all over the floor, their authors' names faded. The state of the place spelled neglect, the only clear word.
If it was the living, breathing, haunted kind of room, maybe it was self-conscious of that fact, hiding its imperfections in the dim lighting and distracting with a view of the moon through a large window. If the lights were completely off, beams would fall directly onto a central shelf, the only thing that stood out among the junk.
At first glance, there was nothing special about it. Like the other standing shelves, it was missing books. But there weren't any lying immediately around it. The texts it still contained were spaced far apart from one another, and strangely enough, the arrangement seemed deliberate. In fact, it bore an eerie resemblance to a map of Pewter City, a book where each building would be.
Hyper Zero Fantasy World: The Sirius Crusaders, Casey read the title from a distance, the thinnest on the shelf. A fine coat of dust had begun to form on the cover. It was a good read, if not a little raunchy. That much he'd discerned from skimming its few pages.
New Beginnings.
This second title was thicker, dustier, and rather upsetting. It must have been a hit at one point, but the story came to an abrupt end, as if one of its writers had suddenly vanished. He didn't wonder whether it would pick up where it left off and live up to its name. His only question was what these two works were doing on the same shelf.
The spotless spine of a third book then drew his attention.
Neo Kanto.
When Casey opened the freshly dusted read, all that stared back at him from those glossy, wordless pages was his own reflection. Could this be called a book? Why was it here? Why, unlike the others, did it not inspire any kind of emotion in him?
Because it's thin and has no substance, a perfect mirror of myself.
Casey slid it back into place, and Quince looked up hopelessly. The man's stare was so dead that it didn't look like he'd bother reaching for the last title on the shelf, the one that sat by itself at the very top, where Pewter's museum would be on the map. He eyed it closely enough to recognize the infinite potential packed between its covers, the only story so far that demanded a conclusion.
The Strange Lights of Route 14
There was no way for Casey to know, since he hadn't flipped through. But he'd find out soon, for his hand was already touching the spine, taking the book off the shelf and pressing it to his chest. Smiling with renewed intensity, he left the ancient room, closed the door behind him, and descended the stairs to check it out at the librarian's desk.
So this accursed book writes itself, huh? Well, I look forward to reading it. Bring me all the misfortune in the world, because I've already been there and back.
