The rule in libraries is silence. At least outwardly. Whispers behind the bookshelves, hushed laughter to avoid being caught by the librarian—everyone pretends to keep their mouths shut. I was no different. Under the pretense of writing a report, I was now lurking between the bookshelves.
It wasn't completely hidden, but it wasn't completely exposed either. Chae Bong-gu was sitting right in front of me. More precisely, I could clearly see "Chae Bong-gu." In front of him was a book I didn't recognize. The title was long and stiff. It looked like something like "The Ethics of Magicians and the Responsibilities of Magic," a book that, to anyone, would look boring.
But strangely, the face reading it so intently caught my eye. Her gaze was fixed squarely on the center of the book, her fingertips paused just before turning the page. That brief pause felt somehow familiar. The same hands that held the tape measure during practice. The same hands that subdued the lizard. And that expression.
'Really, what is that guy?'
I took out a book without a second thought. The cover looked worn and slightly dusty. I flipped through the pages without even looking at the contents. My eyes kept drifting in that direction. Of course, just enough so I wouldn't be caught. That way, I wouldn't feel wronged.
But then he left. It was sudden. He closed his book without a bookmark and stood up. I couldn't tell where he was going, but judging by the fact he hadn't even packed a bag, I knew he'd be back soon. I looked away, then back at the book on the desk.
Strangely, my feet moved. I'm not sure why. Maybe I was just checking the book title. But before I knew it, I was sitting there. In the chair where Chae Bong-gu had been sitting.
When I opened the book, I was greeted by a more complex text than I'd anticipated. It covered the ethics of ancient magic, legal boundaries, the structure and legitimacy of restricted magic. It wasn't really interesting. But then, in the corner of the bookcase, I found a small note written in pencil.
'This also connects to media magic.'
The handwriting was neat and tidy, a habitual way of writing. "Your handwriting is beautiful," I thought to myself. Unsure of what I was thinking, I was about to quickly close the book.
“What are you doing now?”
I was startled. Chae Bong-gu was standing behind me. I froze. Just moments ago, he had been sitting there, his hand on the book. It was obvious he was peeking at the picture. I racked my brain. What should I say first? Should I explain, or just laugh it off?
“…Wait a minute, I was holding your seat.”
I said that. It was a ridiculous excuse, but my voice sounded more natural than I'd expected. Chae Bong-gu walked a little toward me. He glanced at the desk, then at me. Then, very slowly, he asked.
“You turned the page.”
I kept my mouth shut. I was caught. Obviously. And yet I added shamelessly.
“So? Well, if you’re curious, you can take a look.”
At those words, Chae Bong-gu furrowed his eyebrows ever so slightly, ever so subtly. Then he turned his head toward a bookshelf. As he walked toward it, he spoke briefly.
“Read it all and bring it back.”
That's what it sounded like. "You can look at it, so do whatever you want." Was it just my imagination? I opened the book without thinking. I traced the underlines I'd made in pencil and thought, "If I look at it next time, I might have something I want to ask. Should I be the first to talk to you then?" Why would I even think of that?
**
From that day on, that book kept catching my eye. "The Responsibility of Magic and the Ethics of Magicians." The title was stiff, the cover tattered, and to some, it looked like just another old book. But inside, someone's penciled notes, underlines, and the face of Chae Bong-gu reading the book strangely lingered in my mind. … Not that I cared about him, really.
So I went back to the library. After lingering around the same spot for a while, I stumbled upon a section with the same book: the magical law section. It was a section I would never have visited under normal circumstances. I glanced down the spines, glancing at each book. No simple books stood out, only complex titles and academic jargon. Still, I persisted and searched. That book.
The cover was slightly torn, and there was a faint pencil mark on it. The moment I pulled it out, my heart raced for no reason. Opening it again wouldn't make a difference, but I cautiously turned the pages.
however.
“That book is not available for general loan.”
The librarian's words startled me and I turned around. I instinctively clutched the book, but then she smiled awkwardly and held it out. The librarian carefully took the book and placed it somewhere beyond the circulation desk. A corner of my heart felt strangely empty.
“Can’t I make a reservation or something?”
"This book is under special management. It's difficult to even read it without the professor's permission."
At his firm tone, I nodded slightly and walked back into the library. Reopening the book wouldn't make a difference. But the memories of the notes left in the book and Chae Bong-gu's fingertips were completely unexpected.
I was just absentmindedly passing by the bookshelf when I heard familiar footsteps behind me. I knew it before I even turned around. It was Chae Bong-gu.
He walked straight to the librarian and spoke very briefly and neatly.
“I borrowed that book.”
The librarian raised his head. For a moment, I froze involuntarily. Chae Bong-gu, still without even glancing in my direction, held out a document with the professor's seal and conversed with the librarian.
“I got permission from the professor. I’ll return it in a week.”
The librarian nodded slightly, and Chae Bong-gu took the book. That brief moment passed in less than ten seconds, but I stood there for a long time.
He came towards me and spoke to me.
“I’ll put it in the locker for you.”
“…My locker?”
“Oh. I thought you’d come looking for me.”
I didn't know how to respond, so I just nodded. It was just a book, but something in my heart stirred quietly. He gave me a brief nod and walked away, and I followed his footsteps.
That night, a thin copy was in my locker. The cover was blank, but when I opened it, I was greeted by familiar handwriting and underlining. He had apparently photocopied and organized the front and back of the book, as well as key passages from the text. The neat, pencil-written notes were still there. The neat handwriting, the quiet notes, all these traces—they felt familiar.
I closed the book and sat still for a long time. I'm not sure if it was just the book itself or the way it was handed to me, but for that moment—something inexplicable settled quietly in my heart.