He who isn't content with what he has, won't be content with what he wants either.
"That much, I agree," Liora yawned, her eyes watering as she leaned back in her office chair, eyeing the clock on the wall. Another day, another round of the usual: dealing with idiotic clients, nepotism babies, and the chronically brainless.
Everyone loved to blame the law, but never themselves.
How dare they show up this stupid and expect justice to do them favors?
What they need is a therapist instead.
As a lawyer, Liora follows a strict routine and handles her tasks with practiced ease.
For years, she's clocked in on time without fail, finding as much satisfaction in her orderly life as she does in her precisely scheduled moments of leisure like reading philosophy books purely for fun.
If she had one thing to say to the general public, it would be this: being a lawyer is basically being a therapist, except you charge more and get blamed for everything.
Scandals trending on social media? Shocking headline cases? Yeah, she's seen them all, up close and painfully unfiltered.
"9:00 PM," she noted as the clock struck the hour exactly. With a sigh, she grabbed her bag, tidied her desk with practiced efficiency, and exited the building, slipping into the rhythm of the city streets.
At 28, she had a stable job, a steady routine, and no interest in chaos.
Her life was perfectly ordinary, just the way she liked it.
She'd learn this the hard way as she spent years spent in the humanities field where it had taught her one universal truth.
Everyone's kind of an asshole.
Lacking self-awareness, flashing fake smiles for cameras, all while chasing glory like it's a limited-edition collectible.
Glory? Please. What even is that—something you can eat?
What's so special about being special, anyway?
People in this world are so obsessed with chasing what they lack, they forget how to function like actual humans.
How about trying decency for once?
How about just... living?
"Well, sometimes all you really need in life is a good book..."
She stood in front of her favorite neighborhood library, —the front desk barely looked up, already expecting her.
There was something sacred about libraries: quiet, undisturbed, blissfully devoid of idiots.
Just the faint scent of paper, the soft rustle of pages, and rows upon rows of worlds that didn't ask stupid questions.
She had read all kinds of books.
The ones with heroic but brain-dead male protagonists.
The ones with brainless heroines who fall head over heels for their kidnappers.
The edgelord fantasies trying to be deep but are really just badly disguised porn.
And of course, the classics: male protagonists who magically turn women into puddles with a single smirk.
Naturally, she had opinions. Lots of them.
"Let's see… am I about to land on stupidity or a life-changing masterpiece?" Liora mused, letting her finger drift along the shelves like she was spinning a literary roulette wheel.
"Five..."
"Four..."
"Three..."
"Two..."
"One..."
Her finger stopped on a worn, dust-covered spine.
She pulled the book out, revealing a brown leather cover etched with faded gold detailing.
The pages inside were yellowed with age, brittle at the edges—definitely old-school. The kind of book that looked cursed or, worse, pretentious.
"Huh? What's this?"
That was strange. In all the times she'd visited this library, she'd never seen this book in this section. It stuck out like a sore thumb. Curious, she ran her fingers over the cover—dust puffed up at her touch with an unimpressed little pfft.
"Gross…"
Still, curiosity won. She opened it, only to find the pages filled with odd scribbles, which were definitely not any language she recognized.
"What?" She squinted, flipping through a few more pages. Same strange symbols.
Just as she flipped to the middle of the book, something shifted.
A faint glow pulsed from the pages.
"AH—?!"
The light brightened, subtle at first, then became unnaturally sharp.
Startled, she yelped and dropped the book. It hit the ground with a thud, pages splaying open—then all at once, blinding light burst out from it in every direction, flooding the quiet library like a silent explosion.
She took a step back, shielding her eyes. "What is all these absurd nonsense?!"
Wasn't what she had to deal with already enough?!
But it was too late.
The light surged around her, warm and searing, wrapping her in a blizzard of gold and white. Her voice caught in her throat.
Once the light vanished, so had she—gone without a trace.
***
What just happened…?
…
There was light… and then…
…
God, I can't remember anything…
…
My head is killing me.
...
The ground beneath her felt rough, almost like stone. Her eyes fluttered open, met first by a haze of blurry shapes and dim light. Whatever had blinded her earlier had done a number on her head; it throbbed with dull, persistent pain.
"Stand up, resurrected one!" a voice thundered, rattling in her ears and jolting her fully awake.
Slowly, she sat up. Her vision sharpened—and what she saw definitely wasn't the library.
A crowd of strangers surrounded her, their faces stony, their clothing elaborate and unfamiliar. The room itself was cavernous and shadowed, its architecture reminiscent of a cathedral. Vaulted ceilings, and stained glasses windows.
She glanced down. Her office attire was gone. In its place was a plain, almost ceremonial robe, loosely draped over her.
At the far end of the hall stood a man wearing a jeweled crown, seated on an ornate throne. Beside him, another man leaned in to whisper something into his ear.
The king's brow furrowed.
"Tch… throw her away."
…What?
"SHE'S USELESS!"