I have always been alone, and I have lived here alone since I was sensible, and I was contacted every day only by the servant who was in charge of delivering food, who was both my teacher and my servant, and she played all the roles I could imagine by herself. Including my name, that person gave it to me.

I learned from her, and since the death of that person I have been addicted to books, I don't know who I am and I never care, and the people of the Beonretta family arranged for me to come to this cemetery to guard the grave, so I came.

It's been ten years now, and I've forgotten what she looks like, and the only thing that remembers me is her long blond hair and warm palms.

They helped me build this house, which I had lived in for ten years, and the cemetery was almost horribly quiet except for certain days of the year, but I liked the feeling.

Squeak –

Reaching out and pushing open the wooden door in front of me, I walked down the dimly lit stairs step by step, and I turned on the switch of the magic lamp on the wall, and I was greeted by books—countless books. One by one, one by one, one by one, dozens of shelves with thousands of books.

Putting the book back on the shelf, I took out a new book, and by the way, wrote a new number on the top of the shelf, nine thousand eight hundred and sixty-seven. That's the total number of books I've read so far, and for me books are the only sustenance I can rely on.

I took the book back to the room above, it was already dark outside, but the darkness was reassuring to me. I don't yearn for the sun, because the darkness is more reassuring to me. This must be an incomprehensible quirk in the eyes of others, right?

His honey is my poison, his sunshine is my white night. I am such a person who is not fit to live in this world. I opened the book casually and read the text on it, and it seemed that the book had been turned out of the stack and transported to me, and the one below contained nearly half of the books that had been transported here from the huge, almost cumbersome stack of the Beonrieta family, and many of them were ancient and solitary books that were difficult to decipher.

It's not the first time I've seen such a worthless book, this time it seems to be a book written by a guy with mental problems, although it's not my turn to criticize others like this, but the content in this book is really strange, it looks like the delusion of a madman, even if I'm not interested in the book, as long as I open it, I will insist on reading it.

Just as I was about to finish the book with a sense of pleasure, a line of text marked at the footer of the book caught my attention, and it seemed that I was not the only one who had read the book.

[This is a boring book, wasting my tea&*]

The latter part was crossed out, replaced by a scribbled sentence of his own.

[There is a problem with this book, I take back my previous words, if anyone else sees it, please be patient and read this book, maybe it will change your life. 】

I inadvertently read the text out there.

[Does it change your life...... My life is already a rock thrown into the ocean, and it probably won't change anything unless the sky falls apart. 】

As if traveling through an unknown time to speak to the owner of this line, I spoke in a mocking tone.

All in all, this line really piqued my interest, and I began to read the book that seemed to be a madman's delusion, and the more I read it, the more shocked I became, and the scribbled text inadvertently left my thoughts between the lines of the page.

The book tells the story of a man who has lost his wife in desperation and is summoned in a dream by a mysterious voice that leads him to a world of madness.

The world was full of deformed and terrifying monsters, and this book describes the monsters in detail from a man's point of view, and the description is so detailed that the image of the monster almost jumps on the page, and I looked up at the darkness outside the window, almost projecting the monster's appearance onto the dark window.

I lowered my head and continued to read the words on the book, and I became more and more interested in the book.

————

The man used his ability to be a warrior and used the sword and shield in his hand to sneak forward all the way, and only when he had to fight those monsters would he fight, and the deeper he went into that world, the more creepy the man felt.

He saw the remains of towering buildings and dwellings in that world, and even occasionally encountered enemies with weapons, these enemies sometimes used tricks that dazzled the man's eyes, and the more he advanced, the man was frightened, and in the end he had to admit his absurd conjecture that this world was once inhabited by people, and judging from the fact that those monsters occasionally appeared in human form and armed enemies, the aborigines of this world probably had a race similar to humans.

But I don't know why this world has fallen, everything here has begun to change, the inhabitants here have become those monsters, and there is no longer their own consciousness, and at first glance this world seems to be ushering in the end. But the man knows that it is not so simple, because the voice that summoned him into this world undoubtedly has a consciousness of its own.

The man found that he didn't even feel hungry and thirsty in this world, but as time went on, he discovered something that frightened him, who had given up his life, and that was that he was unconsciously transforming like those monsters, first with a blister on his arm, and then with a sudden urge to fight, and the man often found himself unconscious in battle, and by the time he came back to his senses, he was surrounded by corpses.

He knew that he couldn't go on like this, he wasn't afraid of death but couldn't accept turning himself into a monster in this way, the man decided to find the voice that brought him into the world, and strangely enough, as the man's body transformed, he could feel something in the world that attracted him.

[If that thing can be in my hands, my body and soul are longing for that thing, what is it?] Like a flame that attracts a moth to kill itself...... My fire! 】

——————

I yawned when I saw this, and I was halfway through the book, and I wonder if he or she was also attracted by the content of the book, and the scribbled handwriting never appeared, if he/she had given up on the book? Or is that person already attracted by the contents of the book and have no time to take notes?

I closed the book, took off my coat and lay down on the bed, ready to continue reading it tomorrow.

During the night I had a dream—I dreamed that a voice was calling to me, and I dreamed that the man was walking down a rough road, heading towards the fire in his heart.