That evening, after changing into comfortable clothes and eating lunch, Ran went straight to his room and threw himself onto his bed.
The weight of his first day at the new school pressed down on him, suffocating, inescapable.
At dinner, he finally spoke, his voice low and tired.
"Dad… I don't feel like going to this new school at all."
His father's fork hit the plate with a sharp clatter.
When he spoke, his voice carried a hard edge.
"If I have to go, then you have to go. Understand? I won't hear this again. Your mother gave me a responsibility… and I already told you this morning—there will be no more discussion about it."
Ran said nothing. He just stared at his plate, the silence between them heavier than ever.
After dinner, he returned to his room, both his body and mind drained. He lay down, hoping sleep would take away the day… but even in sleep, the uneasiness followed him.
A few hours later, he woke up suddenly.
The room felt… off.
Quiet. Too quiet.
He couldn't stay there.
He needed air.
The Oxford Library was only a fifteen-minute walk from his house. It had always been one of his favorite places—rows of ancient wooden shelves stretching toward the ceiling, the faint smell of old pages lingering in the air.
It was peaceful. Safe.
Or at least… it used to be.
Ran walked slowly through the aisles, his fingers brushing against the spines of books as he searched for something—anything—that could distract him from the chaos in his mind.
And then…
In a forgotten corner of the library, on a shelf that looked like it hadn't been touched in years…
He found it.
The book had no title.
Its cover was dark—almost black—and at its center was a strange skull, faintly glowing with an unnatural green light.
It didn't look like something that belonged there.
It looked… wrong.
As if it was hiding.
Waiting.
Ran slowly pulled it from the shelf.
The moment his fingers touched it, a strange chill ran through his body.
He opened it.
Blank.
Every page—completely empty.
Not aged. Not worn.
Just… empty.
Except for the first page.
On that page, written in elegant, almost glowing script, was a single name:
Velcora Umbreth.
Below it, in smaller letters, were the words:
Say this name three times… and the book will reveal its secrets.
Ran's heartbeat quickened.
Something about the book was calling to him.
Pulling him in.
And before he could think twice…
He knew he had to take it.
At the counter, the librarian—Clerk, a thin middle-aged man with round white glasses—was stamping returned books.
"Excuse me, sir… I'd like to check out this book," Ran said.
Clerk looked up… and froze.
His eyes widened slightly as he took the book from Ran's hands, turning it over carefully.
"This book…" he said slowly,
"…is not from our library."
Ran blinked. "What?"
"I've worked here for thirty years," Clerk continued, his voice quieter now.
"And I have never seen this before. I don't know where it came from."
There was a brief silence.
"Can I still take it?" Ran asked.
Clerk looked at him for a long moment… then nodded.
"Yes. You can take it."
He handed the book back carefully.
"But be careful with it… understood?"
Ran nodded quickly, gripping the book tightly.
Something about it felt… important.
He almost ran all the way home.
That evening, his father suggested a walk.
"No, Dad… I'm going to my room," Ran said quickly, heading upstairs before anything else could be said.
Inside his room, he sat on his bed… the book resting in his hands.
The name on the first page seemed to shimmer faintly.
Almost like it was alive.
He took a deep breath.
"Velcora Umbreth…" he whispered.
Nothing happened.
The book remained still. Silent.
He tried again, a little louder.
"Velcora Umbreth."
Still nothing.
His heart started pounding.
One last time…
He spoke the name clearly—
"Velcora Umbreth!"
And then…
Something changed.
A voice filled the room.
Ancient. Echoing.
Not heard… but felt.
"You are welcome."
Ran froze.
Before he could react, the pages of the book began to glow with a strange, otherworldly light.
The walls of his room started to blur… fading… dissolving.
Colors swirled around him—deep purples, dark blues, streaks of silver light twisting through the air.
"No…"
He tried to pull back.
To close the book.
But his hands wouldn't listen.
The light was pulling him in.
Dragging him deeper… into the pages.
He opened his mouth to scream—
But no sound came out.
And then…
Everything went white.