Chapter 318: The Library and the Shadows

If that were not the case... once you used the key to enter that mysterious library, when you tried to leave, the place you returned to almost certainly wouldn’t be the original door. Even whether you could successfully get out at all might be in question.

As for creating a conceptual door that didn’t actually connect any rooms, like her mentor, Amanda did—it seemed to be possible as long as enough people acknowledged it as a door. But in Pandora’s eyes, that sort of approach was purely a case of “skill so high it breeds audacity.”

With Amanda’s Sixth-Rank power, even if some unpredictable accident or deviation occurred during the process, she had more than enough ability to handle it, even to brute-force a solution.

But Pandora wasn’t like that. She was only Rank-3. Caution was always the first commandment.

So she used a door that was perfectly standard and irreproachable, whether in physical structure, everyday function, or the perception of others.

In fact, to make the anchor concept of this door as solid as possible, she had even invited Poppy and Ophelia to visit her living room, so they could see this door with their own eyes, watch her open and close it before them.

Poppy and Ophelia had merely found the layout of her bedroom a bit odd—why put a door to the living room right next to the bed? They never realized that this door, seemingly designed for convenience, was actually being used as the anchor point for a mysterious key.

“Ah... indeed, a layout you design yourself suits you best.” Pandora casually tossed the towel aside, let herself fall backward, and sank softly into the plush, fluffy bedding with a satisfied sigh.

Above her head was not the ceiling, but a large, slanted skylight. To improve indoor lighting and the view while minimizing changes to the shabby exterior of the dormitory building, Pandora had deliberately chosen the top floor.

Then, through meticulous construction, she had cleverly modified the roof structure to give her this angled skylight, through which she could gaze directly at the night sky.

Now, through the spotless glass... the eternal scarlet eye hanging in the night sky silently overlooked the earth. The moonlight wasn’t harsh; it had a hazy texture, like the finest red gauze, softly spilling through the skylight glass onto the bed and onto Pandora.

She could clearly feel the Witch bloodline power flowing within her grow lively under the bath of this special moonlight. It was as if it had its own life, greedily and slowly absorbing the strange essence within the moonlight that ordinary people couldn’t perceive.

All of this had been meticulously designed by Pandora.

As long as she lay in bed like this, she could bask almost entirely in the red moonlight.

She could use the key to enter the “Library of the Fallen Laplace’s Demon” at any time, while her body remained outside, nourished by the moonlight that fed her bloodline. When she returned, she could immediately rest or meditate without taking a single extra step.

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A body carrying the Witch bloodline silently grew in the moonlight. Her spirit, meanwhile, learned the Wizardry knowledge she so desired within the library. If she grew tired of reading and wanted to rest, she could just lie back down the moment she returned.

This was simply perfect!

Gazing at the tranquil red moon through the skylight, Pandora’s lips curved into a satisfied smile. She was quite pleased with this little private sanctuary she had designed.

Someone else was equally pleased: Miss Anomaly.

Earlier, while Pandora had been bathing, Miss Anomaly had already eagerly changed into soft cotton pajamas and was quietly sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting. Her feet dangled, gently swinging. The moonlight from outside reflected in her eyes, and the light held very little fear—mostly boundless anticipation.

When Pandora walked into the bedroom in her nightgown, towel-drying her hair, the girl immediately stood up, like a student impatient for a field trip.

Then, step by step, she followed Pandora onto the bed, burrowed under the soft covers, and with practiced ease, reached out to hold the hand that Pandora wasn’t using to hold the towel.

Pandora said nothing. After putting the towel down, she took the meteorite-iron key with its strange texture from Elsa’s hand. She inserted it into the lock of the oak door beside the bed, the motion smooth and natural.

With a soft click. A strange, difficult-to-describe sensation of weightlessness rose within both of their bodies at the same time. It was as if their souls or consciousness momentarily detached from their heavy physical forms, lifted gently, then softly set back down.

Miss Anomaly instinctively tightened her grip on Pandora’s hand. Then, she felt herself pulled by that grip, following that warm, reliable figure as they rose from the soft bed together and stepped through the door at the bedside...

………………

What lay beyond the door was no longer the warm, brightly lit living room. What met their eyes was a landscape of frozen twilight.

The light was viscous, heavy, carrying the texture of an old oil painting, staining everything in sight with a dull golden-brown hue.

This was a grand hall of a style both classical and restrained.

Towering bookshelves, so high they seemed to have no end, were arranged at perfectly uniform intervals and angles, stretching out in one direction, extending to the very limit of sight, until the light was swallowed by endless darkness.

Those bookshelves were made of dark, nearly black wood, carved with intricate but worn patterns.

The ancient stone pillars that supported the magnificent dome were collapsing. The enormous bookshelves were toppling like dominoes. But all their motion was frozen at a single moment.

Fragments of shattered pillars hung in mid-air. The tilt of the bookshelves was precisely locked at forty-five degrees.

Countless books slid from their shelves, yet hung suspended by invisible strings, stationary at varying heights above the ground. Dust, tiny splinters of wood, shredded pieces of paper... everything was suspended.

This was... the Frozen Moment: Library of the Fallen Laplace’s Demon.

Unlike the unique quiet of an ordinary library, filled with the rustle of turning pages, the stillness here was absolute. Dead silence.

Yet, Miss Anomaly loved it here. She loved it deeply.

So much so that the moment she stepped into this frozen twilight, her tense body involuntarily relaxed.

Outside, in the real world, she lived every moment under an invisible pressure—a pressure from a gun-wielding phantom, a hunter that could appear at any time, in any place.

Even with Pandora’s patient guidance, by which she had barely learned to control her fear, to influence the timing of that Gunman’s appearance to some degree... that fear was something etched into the very marrow of her existence.

Like breathing. Like a heartbeat. It could never truly disappear.