Klein walked forward.
The weight that had pressed down on him from the moment he entered the Archive began to lift, but the unease in his chest remained. The realization that the books here did not record the past, but the future, gnawed at the edges of his mind.
He had left the book behind.
He had refused to look.
But the temptation still lingered, a whisper at the back of his thoughts.
What would have happened if he had read further?
What truths had he turned his back on?
He clenched his fists and forced himself to focus on the present. The Archive stretched endlessly before him, the towering shelves reaching beyond sight. His own footsteps echoed, swallowed almost immediately by the oppressive silence.
But something was different now.
The presence of the books no longer felt like an overwhelming force pressing down on his existence.
Instead, it was as if they were waiting.
Waiting for him to make a choice.
—
A World Without a Script
Klein's hand twitched, a familiar motion born from years of instinct as a Seer. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a coin.
His lips parted to whisper the divination, to ask whether leaving this place was the right decision—
But he stopped.
He stared at the coin resting in his palm.
His ability as a Seer allowed him to divine fate, to grasp hints of what lay ahead. It was a power that had guided him through countless dangers.
But now, standing here, he hesitated.
Would the coin even answer him?
Or was this place beyond the reach of fate itself?
He turned the coin over between his fingers. The small, familiar weight of it felt suddenly foreign.
For the first time in a long while, Klein realized he was afraid not of what he might see—but of what he might not.
—
The Figure That Shouldn't Exist
The silence was broken.
A faint rustling, like pages turning, drifted through the Archive.
Klein tensed.
The sound came from behind him.
Slowly, cautiously, he turned his head.
The reflection was still there, standing where Klein had left him. The closed book remained on the desk, untouched.
But something was different.
The reflection was no longer looking at Klein.
Instead, he was staring at something beyond the bookshelves.
Klein followed his gaze—
And saw it.
A figure stood at the end of the corridor, barely visible in the dim light.
Its form was shrouded in a deep, ink-like darkness, its body flickering at the edges like an illusion struggling to maintain its shape. It had no face, no true features—
But it was watching.
A heavy, suffocating pressure filled the air, more intense than anything Klein had felt before.
This wasn't an ordinary entity.
This was something outside the Archive.
Something that wasn't meant to be here.
Klein's grip tightened around his revolver, but his instincts screamed at him that it wouldn't matter.
This was no ordinary opponent.
This was something that had no name.
No record.
No written existence.
The reflection, still calm, finally spoke.
"You see it too now, don't you?"
Klein swallowed, forcing his voice to remain steady.
"What is it?"
The reflection's expression darkened slightly.
"I don't know."
That answer sent an icy chill through Klein's spine.
If even he didn't know—
Then what was this thing?
—
The Space Between Reality and Fiction
The figure didn't move.
But the pressure grew heavier.
Klein could feel it now, like a tide rising around him. The weight of something unseen, something trying to pull him in.
He glanced at the reflection.
His counterpart was still staring at the entity, but his expression had shifted—
Not fear.
Not confusion.
But realization.
"…So that's how it is," the reflection murmured.
Klein took a step forward. "What?"
The reflection finally looked at him, his mismatched eyes gleaming in the dim light.
"This thing…" He gestured toward the entity. "It doesn't belong here."
Klein frowned. "Neither do we."
"No, it's different." The reflection's gaze returned to the figure. "It's not just unwritten." His voice was quiet, heavy with meaning. "It's something that was erased."
Klein's pulse quickened.
"Erased?"
"Something that once had a place in the story but was removed." The reflection exhaled. "And now… it's trying to return."
A creeping dread settled over Klein.
The figure hadn't moved.
But now, as he looked closer—
He could see something else.
A faint outline.
A shape that was not its own.
It was shifting. Changing.
Trying to take form.
Trying to become something—someone—that should exist.
Klein took a sharp breath.
Was it trying to replace him?
—
The Name That Was Never Spoken
A whisper filled the air.
Soft, indistinct.
A voice speaking a name—
A name Klein couldn't hear.
It was there, just beyond comprehension, slipping away the moment he tried to grasp it.
He turned to the reflection.
But his counterpart was already moving.
With one swift motion, he reached forward and grabbed the book on the desk.
The book burst into flames.
A deep, ink-black fire swallowed the pages, consuming the text within.
The moment the book burned—
The figure vanished.
The suffocating pressure lifted.
And the Archive was silent once more.
Klein's breath came fast, his mind racing to process what had just happened.
He turned to the reflection, who was watching the last embers of the book flicker into nothingness.
"…What did you do?" Klein asked.
The reflection exhaled softly.
"I burned its record."
Klein's fingers twitched. "But I thought you said it didn't have a record."
The reflection smiled faintly.
"All things leave traces," he said. "Even those that were erased."
Klein stared at the space where the figure had stood.
The sense of wrongness was gone.
But a new question had taken its place.
What was that thing?
And more importantly—
Who had erased it?
—
The Unfinished Ending
Klein turned away from the ashes.
He had no answers.
Only more questions.
But for now, he had to keep moving.
The Archive was vast.
And somewhere within it—
The final page was waiting.
---
End of Chapter 74.
---