Klein's breath came shallow, his fingers twitching slightly at his side.
The figure before him, the one holding the book, wasn't just familiar. It was him.
Not an illusion.
Not an imitation.
Him.
His own face, his own features—but with something wrong.
The reflection's expression was serene, almost knowing. His mismatched eyes, one deep black and the other the unsettling azure Klein had once glimpsed in the abyss of his own being, shimmered with an eerie amusement.
And in his hands—
The open book.
The forbidden book.
Klein could feel it.
The words inside were not mere records. They were not yet written.
Or rather—
They were being written now.
"Who are you?" Klein asked, his voice coming out steadier than he expected.
The reflection smiled, tilting his head slightly.
"Is that truly the question you want to ask?" he mused, his fingers gliding over the ink-stained pages.
Klein's stomach twisted.
Because in the depths of his soul, he knew—
This was not an enemy.
This was not a stranger.
This was him.
A version of himself that had already read ahead.
A version that had turned the page before he had the chance.
—
The Written and the Unwritten
The air in the Archive was heavy, thick with the weight of knowledge that shouldn't exist.
Klein took a slow step forward, his boots echoing softly against the endless stone floor. The shelves, towering and impossibly vast, seemed to watch in silence.
He studied his reflection carefully.
There were no signs of hostility.
No tension in the shoulders, no preparation for conflict.
Just patience.
Waiting.
Watching.
Why?
Klein's eyes drifted to the open book.
His own name was written on the page.
And just beneath it—
A sentence was forming.
Letter by letter, appearing as if the ink were seeping up from beneath the parchment rather than being written down.
"Klein took another step forward, knowing he would ask the question, but fearing the answer."
The ink dried instantly.
Klein's blood ran cold.
Because that was exactly what he had just done.
The reflection smiled wider.
"Fascinating, isn't it?" he murmured, turning the book around so Klein could see the next line forming beneath.
"He considered stopping. He knew he should. But the hunger for knowledge—his curse, his gift—pushed him onward."
Klein gritted his teeth.
This wasn't just recording him.
This was guiding him.
A script unfolding beneath his feet.
"I see it now," the reflection continued, glancing at the pages with something that almost resembled admiration. "This place... this Archive... It doesn't store what has been written."
He looked up, meeting Klein's gaze directly.
"It stores what will be."
—
The Choice That Was Never Meant to Be Given
A chill slithered down Klein's spine.
He didn't move.
He didn't speak.
Because for the first time in a long while, he was afraid of what would come next.
Not because of the reflection.
Not because of the Archive.
But because of himself.
Because he knew—
He wanted to read that book.
He wanted to see what was written next.
Would he die here?
Would he escape?
Would he lose himself entirely?
The answers were right there.
All he had to do was look.
The reflection chuckled softly, as if hearing his thoughts. "You feel it, don't you?"
Klein clenched his fists.
The hunger.
The forbidden need to know.
"If you read it," the reflection mused, tapping a finger against the page, "you will never again be uncertain. Every choice, every moment, already written. You would move forward with perfect clarity."
Klein swallowed.
And then the reflection's smile faded slightly.
"But if you read it," he continued, "you will never again be free."
The words hit like a knife.
Klein inhaled sharply.
His mind spun.
Would it truly be him making choices anymore, if he already knew what was coming?
Would he even be Klein, or just a puppet following a script he had already read?
The reflection gently closed the book, fingers lingering on its cover.
"You understand now, don't you?"
Klein stared at the book, his chest rising and falling in measured breaths.
He understood.
But that didn't make the choice any easier.
Because either way—
Something would be lost.
—
The Decision That Ends the Story
Silence stretched between them.
The Archive pulsed faintly, the shelves trembling as if whispering their own secrets.
Klein took a step back.
The reflection watched him carefully.
And then—
Klein turned away.
The moment he did, something inside the Archive shifted.
The weight of unseen eyes lifted.
The books, once frozen in their slow writing, ceased.
The reflection did not stop him.
Instead, he simply chuckled under his breath, setting the closed book down on the desk.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Klein didn't look back.
He kept walking.
And as he did, the words that had been forming beneath his name vanished.
Because for the first time since entering this place—
The next step was unwritten.
---
End of Chapter 73.
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