SYMDF 3

Chapter 3

The food he had crammed down finally brought trouble. After vomiting on the spot and being supported by the butler to the washroom, Ion returned to his room, his face pale and drawn.

For a long while, he lay alone. When the ache in his back made even sleep difficult, he staggered to rise and began walking slowly. Like a toddler taking his very first steps, his gait was unsteady. Eventually, he found himself standing before a mirror.

The butler had discreetly opened the window earlier, suggesting that cool, fresh air might ease his condition. Through that gap, a breeze now stirred Ion’s fine, thread-like hair. His platinum-blond locks shimmered faintly in the sunlight reflected in the small mirror, and seeing the sight, the child gasped.

“Wow…”

Ion widened his eyes in amazement. Although embarrassed to think he was praising his own face, he nonetheless had to admit that, aside from looking sickly, his features were rather pretty.

But the sickliness—that was the problem.

His face and body were gaunt, frail like a starved dog, with hollowed eyes. No wonder there’s no strength in me, he thought.

So this body has always been sickly?

He could sense, faint though his past-life memories were, that he was not the same soul who had originally inhabited this body named Ion.

Maybe the original child died in that room.

Given his condition, it wouldn’t be strange to imagine that the boy had already perished in the dark chamber where Ion had awakened. Perhaps crossing through that “door” had led his own soul to slide unknowingly into this empty shell.

The thought brought a faint cloud of gloom, and Ion’s lips jutted out sulkily just as—

[For players newly arrived in the open-world game “Eternal Empire,” the tutorial system will now activate.]
[Upon completion of the tutorial, the penalty “Mute” (失語) shall be lifted.]
[Would you like to begin?]

“…?”

Blinking rapidly at the sudden message, Ion soon noticed a glimmering light beneath him. Lowering his gaze, he saw the message hovering near a drawer under the mirror.

[If you wish to begin the tutorial, open the drawer and obtain the item inside.]
[Acquiring the item may influence the player’s survival.]

Following the message’s instruction, Ion opened the drawer and drew out an old book. In his hands, when opened, lines of text appeared in the local language—but fortunately their meaning was perfectly intelligible to him. At first glance, it seemed like an ordinary novel.

Or perhaps…

The One-Hundred-Year Chronicle of the O’Brien Empire

Glancing at its cover, Ion realized it was a history book.

He flipped a few pages but then hesitated. Raising his eyes to the floating message window, he saw no further guidance. Evidently, what to do next was left to his own discernment.

What am I supposed to do with this book?

Simply turning pages changed nothing—clearly, something more was required. Looking around the room, Ion finally noticed the door. What he wanted most of all was to open that closed door and step outside.

The mansion was vast and luxurious, but to Ion the space felt barren and stifling. Clutching the book with his small hands, he quietly crept to the door. Pressing his ear against it, he gently eased it open—just like that little girl named Emily had done.

Either no one suspected a sick child would wander about, or no one cared. In any case, there were no guards nearby. Letting out a relieved breath, Ion realized his action had been the “correct” move.

For instantly—

[Follow the corridor to the Grand Library.]

—appeared before him, a directive from the world’s guiding system.

It was what this world’s “god” wanted of him.

Ahead, a floating arrow pointed the way. Ion stepped out, his light body pressing the floor lightly with a faint sound. His chest thumped nervously as he drew himself taut and followed.

His frail body wavered restlessly. Having vomited earlier, even this short walk quickly parched his mouth and sent waves of dizziness through him. But Ion pressed on.

Since the corridor stretched northward, it was darker and cooler than the bright rooms near his chamber. Fear gnawed at him—what if he encountered his father? But thankfully, nobody came.

He steadied himself against the cold stone walls, choking back rising nausea, until at last he reached the Grand Library. There, standing where the arrow had pointed, he saw it dissolve with a last faint pulse of light.

Though it was daytime, and some sunlight entered, the library was so dimly lit that it felt like standing alone in a desolate field beneath a sky about to pour rain. The air too felt damp, pressing down with a chill.

Swallowing in tension, Ion gazed cautiously around. Then another message appeared:

[Find the place where the book originally belonged, and return it there.]

Where it originally belonged…? How should I know?

He frowned at the glowing message window, then back down at the chronicle in his hand. Surveying the vast wall of shelves, he realized the task was daunting.

The shelves towered at least twice his height, filled to bursting with tomes. So many—the sight alone overwhelmed him.

Where do I even start?

Ion passed along the rows, examining spines with care. All the words in unfamiliar script—yet somehow, mysteriously, their meaning unfolded clearly in his mind, as though they rested in instincts long learned.

Introduction to Magical Studies
Understanding Elemental Magic
Advanced Magical Theory

Magic…

Then this must be a fantasy world?

Well, given that it’s a “game,” it only makes sense.

He winced lightly at a chill creeping up his spine, recalling one of the system’s first warnings:

[To first-time players in this open world, the following penalties are imposed.]
[Status Effect: Mute—unable to speak.]
[Status Effect: Amnesia—previous memories lost.]

“Ah…”

Indeed—it was true. He had no memories. His mind was a blank page.

But knowledge, perhaps, remained—since he understood the text so effortlessly. So it was not knowledge itself but memory that was erased. Was it, then, his past life’s memories that were lost? Or those of the original Ion?

He assumed the latter—but strangely, his past life’s memories were blank as well.

What kind of being was I…?

He recalled only the memory of being chased, and then, opening a “door” into blinding light. Now even the door’s shape was gone from his mind. Still, he felt certain: it had been a boundary between worlds.

And he—had crossed in from beyond.

My age too… surely older than this body’s.

Biting his lip, Ion looked down at his small hand clutching the chronicle. Otherwise, why would he perceive himself as “small”? Moreover, his intellect lacked childishness; he could sense that much easily.

So… penalties, then.

Murmuring inwardly, Ion resumed searching for the place to restore the book.

That these penalties could be lifted upon fulfilling conditions was at least hopeful. Only the conditions themselves were unclear.

His green eyes roved through more titles. The Grand Library was true to its title—so immense that he found himself wandering for a long while. Perhaps the shelves were organized by subject; in any case, history might be his best direction. His weakened body strained with each step. The scent of paper alone turned his stomach, and he grimaced.

Maybe I should rest a bit…

Yet just as he thought this, he heard it.

Crunch, crunch.

“…?”

Crunch, crunch, crunch…

Not the sound of his own steps. His heart leapt, a chill racing down his spine. At once he recalled his father’s cold visage looming above him.

〈Have you reflected, while confined?〉

With that same iron expression, if his father found him wandering here, surely he’d be dragged away to punishment again.

Anxious, Ion gripped his book tightly. The sound continued.

Crunch, crunch. Snap, snap.

Now like something breaking.

Why such sounds in a library? You can’t break books…

Poking his head carefully around a shelf, Ion peered toward the noise.

It came from a desk by the window at the far corner, where dim light spilled faintly. He blinked several times, unsure if his eyes deceived him.

Again—crunch.

This time, he focused—and saw: crumbs of cookies breaking between tiny teeth. A creature.

“….”

It was shorter than his forearm, plump, squishy-looking. Its back shimmered with scaled plates which, bathed in sunlight, glistened blue.

The unknown creature was sprawled on the desk, devouring cookie after cookie with tiny clawed hands. Finally, perhaps sensing Ion’s gaze, it lifted its head.

Blink, blink.

Its disproportionately large eyes blinked several times—then it tilted its little head and uttered softly:

“Kku…?”

Not in the tongue of men.