In a dim records room, a young man was hunched over a desk under a lone lamp, copying something. Every time the administrator brought in new periodicals, he would see him there. The materials on the desk, both copied and waiting to be copied, were stacked high, seemingly endless.
With a creak, the door opened. The person who entered was neither the administrator nor someone looking to borrow materials. A figure in a crimson robe walked straight toward the copyist.
"Have you realized your mistake?"
"I was wrong. I shouldn't have kept it all for myself..." Pascal cried, tears streaming down his face.
"Hm?"
"Ah, no, no, that's not it. I was wrong to break the rules..."
