“Why am I not dead?”

  The words escaped me before I could think, shaky and uneven. I sat upright on a velvet sofa that felt far too comfortable for someone who had just been, as far as I remembered, electrocuted. The last clear image burned into my mind was a blinding flash, lightning licking down from a blackened sky and striking me square in the chest as I stood on my apartment balcony reading. Then nothing.

  I blinked hard, taking in the room around me. It resembled a reception lounge from some old mansion, mahogany shelves stretched toward a vaulted ceiling, lined with countless books whose spines bore symbols instead of titles. A soft golden glow radiated from floating lanterns that moved lazily through the air like fireflies. The scent of aged paper and lavender drifted faintly around me.

  “Good to see you’re still with us.”

  I turned sharply. A man entered the room with the measured confidence of someone who expected everything around him to behave perfectly. His three-piece suit was immaculate: dark charcoal fabric, silver pocket watch, and polished shoes that tapped softly against the marble floor. His hair was slicked back, not a strand out of place.

  “Where am I?” I asked, my voice rising as confusion grew into panic.

  “Welcome to the Cross-World Library,” the man replied, offering a polite bow. “Edwin. A Three-Diamond Star Bookkeeper.” He said the title with pride, as if it should mean something to me.

  “Okay…” I raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Still have no idea what that means. Or how I got here.”

  “You died,” Edwin said plainly.

  I stared at him. “…What?! Then... is this the afterlife or something?”

  “In a way,” he hummed thoughtfully. “But more accurately… this is the world outside of your story.”

  “My story?” I repeated, as if the words were poisonous. “What do you mean, my story?”

  Edwin didn’t answer directly. Instead, he placed a book, thick, bound in a lifeless gray cover, onto the coffee table before me. The title gleamed in silver letters:

  November Storm

  Curiosity overpowered fear. I reached out, fingers brushing its surface. The moment I touched it, knowledge crashed into my skull like a tidal wave.

  Entire days, months, the fate of a whole city, its fall beneath a monstrous storm, its people struggling for survival, every page flashing through my mind in a blur too fast to comprehend. But there was something missing, or rather, someone.

  Me.

  I dropped the book with a gasp, clutching my temples as the sudden weight of it all pulsed painfully behind my eyes.

  “What you just learned,” Edwin said, folding his hands behind his back, “was the summary of how your story was supposed to go.”

  Supposed to.

  “So… the city I lived in is doomed,” I muttered shakily, the fragments still buzzing inside my mind. “No rescue. Nothing but devastation. But… I wasn’t even in the story.” My throat tightened. “So I’m just destined to die? A footnote? A nobody?”

  Edwin didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The silence itself was a verdict.

  Guilt curled in my chest. I hadn’t exactly lived a good life, selfish choices, burned bridges, quiet cruelty when I thought no one was looking. Maybe this was the most I ever deserved.

  But then another thought hit me like a slap.

  “Wait... why am I believing all this?” I shot to my feet, adrenaline fueling my denial. I rushed toward the only door in sight and pushed it open.

  Nothing.

  No hallway, no exit, just an endless void of darkness stretching in all directions. Cold and absolute.

  “What the…” I stumbled back, heart pounding.

  “You do not have access to the other sections of the library,” Edwin said calmly, as though this was the most ordinary thing in the world.

  I turned back to him, frustration biting at my nerves. “Why am I here then? Why bring me to this… library outside reality if I’m not even meant to exist?”

  Edwin finally smiled. Not cruelly, but with a hint of intrigue, like a scholar discovering a unique misprint in a priceless text.

  “That,” he said, walking toward a doorway that hadn’t been there a moment ago, its frame carved with constellations, “is what I intend to show you.”

  Despite every instinct screaming at me to stay put, I followed. Because dead or not… I desperately needed an answer.

  With a sharp snap, the world twisted.

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  The reception room vanished, replaced by something vastly larger, an atrium so immense the ceiling dissolved into a twilight sky. People lounged on plush sofas or leaned over balcony rails, speaking in hushed tones while their attention remained fixed on floating screens suspended mid-air. Hundreds of them, each playing scenes like fragments of movies: dragons razing kingdoms, starships locked in battle, a lone swordswoman facing a demon in a burning forest.

  But the strange part? The scenes felt real. Too real.

  “This is the Viewing Room,” Edwin announced, hands clasped behind his back as he guided me through the bustling space. “Here, bookkeepers observe as others like us alter stories, or handle nuisances that disrupt them.”

  “Nuisances?” I echoed warily. “You mean… characters? People?”

  “Sometimes characters,” he replied without hesitation. “Sometimes… outsiders. Variables that threaten narrative stability.”

  I swallowed hard. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what happened to those variables.

  “What exactly do you guys do?”

  Edwin didn’t slow his stride. “It will be easier for you to experience it.”

  Only then did I notice we were standing on a raised circular platform inscribed with glowing runes. My pulse quickened.

  “What-”

  Light swallowed me whole.

  I gasped, suddenly lying on a soft bed. A ceiling fan spun lazily overhead. Posters of knights, mages, and mythical beasts plastered the walls. The scent of old wood and ink lingered in the air.

  I stumbled upright.

  A bedroom. Someone’s bedroom.

  No-my bedroom.

  A torrent of memories surged into my skull. Childhood laughter. A wooden sword and dreams of adventure. A mother’s voice calling me for dinner. Days training in secret behind the house. A name whispered again and again-

  Jayden Brise.

  The life wasn’t mine, but it clung to me as though it always had been. Familiar yet impossibly foreign.

  Heat tingled in my palm. I raised my hand instinctively, and particles of light gathered there, swirling and pulsing like a tiny star waiting to explode.

  Magic.

  I could feel it, warm, alive, eager.

  For a heartbeat, wonder filled me.

  Then everything was ripped away.

  I crashed back onto the cold marble platform in the Viewing Room, gasping as the last blurry fragments of that other life slipped from my grasp. My knees buckled.

  “What… what was that?” I panted, dazed.

  Edwin stood over me, his expression measured, almost proud.

  “As bookkeepers,” he said, “we can enter worlds, stories, and live as if we were always part of them. We can reshape destinies. Save worlds… or shatter them beyond repair.”

  He extended his gloved hand toward me, eyes glinting like polished obsidian.

  “And you, Jayden Brise, have been chosen.”

  My real name. My false name. Both ringing true.

  “Chosen for what?” I whispered, even as some part of me feared the answer.

  Edwin smiled, sharp and full of possibilities.

  “To become a bookkeeper… or perhaps something even greater.”

  I didn’t know why I was chosen, but refusing a second chance would’ve been the dumbest thing I’d ever done. My old life? Nothing to miss there. Parents who only ever praised my siblings. A job that drained me more than it paid me. No friends worth remembering. No one to mourn me.

  Yup.

  I wasn’t leaving anything behind worth crying over.

  “So… how does this work?” I asked as Edwin escorted me back into the quiet reception hall. The floating lanterns gently bobbed above us, as if eavesdropping on my question. “Do I learn magic or something?”

  “Yes and no,” Edwin replied with that ever-mysterious half-smile of his.

  He reached out, and an orange book materialized in his hand. Flames danced along its cover, shifting like living embers. A majestic bird, wreathed in fire, was etched into the center. Three brilliant diamond stars and two vibrant emerald stars gleamed from the spine like gemstones set in a royal crown.

  I whistled low. “So we can… summon books?”

  “We are bookkeepers,” Edwin clarified. “And all bookkeepers have the power to record anything.”

  His voice deepened with emphasis as he snapped his fingers.

  Magic.

  A blazing flame whirled into existence above his palm.

  Items.

  A ruby-inlaid staff shimmered into being in his other hand.

  Creatures.

  A fiery bird burst forth, spreading wings made of pure heat and light.

  “All of it,” Edwin said, watching the creature soar above us, “can be captured and stored within our books, and summoned again whenever we desire.”

  With a soft hum, he offered me my own book.

  It was blank. Utterly blank. Just a smooth white cover, no symbols, no decoration, nothing.

  “I can record anything in this?” I asked, though excitement made the question shake.

  “Yes,” Edwin nodded, but before hope could fully bloom, my book shimmered and changed.

  The cover shifted to a muted purple. One single star, gray-metallic and dull, appeared at the bottom corner.

  “That star represents your rank,” Edwin explained. “One Iron Star. The lowest tier. Each star level is worth ten.”

  I traced the mark with my thumb, feeling very small.

  “Everything you record is assigned a value,” Edwin continued. “A simple Fireball spell? Ten. Summoning a dragon? Over a hundred.”

  “So…” I scoffed, “right now I’m practically worthless.”

  He didn’t deny it.

  Ouch.

  “How do I get more stars?” I asked instead.

  “By entering stories and completing achievements. You grow by shaping the narrative. Influence the world, and you will be rewarded.” He straightened his sleeves with casual elegance. “Rank-ups can happen while you’re inside the story, so even your first mission will offer the chance to rise.”

  “Okay… but am I going to get trained?” I pressed. “Like an orientation, or-”

  Edwin laughed. Not kindly.

  “We believe in practical lessons.”

  Before I could protest, his hand shot out, and shoved me backward.

  The floor vanished.

  The world split open into a swirling vortex of light and ink.

  “Huh-WAIT-!”

  I fell, screaming, as the portal swallowed me whole.