Uncle Mart was a middle-aged man with a dark brown goatee. He wore a deep blue robe shirt paired with plain trousers.
As he raised his head, his brown eyes, visible behind a transparent pair of glasses, glinted with faint curiosity.
"Amon?" He raised a brow, nodded in acknowledgment of the greeting, then added silently to himself…
'The kid with the mask. Some call him a freak, others an anomaly. Interestingly enough, I only need a few words to describe him. Kind, reserved, and calm. He doesn't seem to care much for worldly pursuits.'
Uncle Mart recognized Amon immediately because this was not the first time he had visited his bookstore. Over the years, they had developed a quiet bond, rooted in a shared appreciation for stories and words.
He particularly enjoyed connecting with other passionate readers.
'Books are life,' he mused, chuckling faintly to himself.
Amon smiled lightly beneath his mask, though the expression remained hidden. "I came to ask for another set of recommendations. I need something to read for the next week."
Uncle Mart paused in thought for a moment, then nodded and gestured for Amon to follow him. He placed the sky-blue cloth in his hand on the counter and carefully returned the book he had been holding to its shelf.
The bookstore's interior was spacious, filled with a sense of quiet dignity. Books were arranged neatly on rows of wooden shelves, their covers clean and well-preserved.
'It's as though the books were freshly printed,' Amon observed internally, inhaling slightly. The air inside carried the faint scent of old parchment and polished wood.
Uncle Mart's expression turned focused as he browsed through a particular section, carefully sifting through the titles with practiced ease.
Amon waited patiently, letting his gaze wander across the other shelves. Many titles stood out to him—familiar ones he had read over the years, such as The Escapades of the Frost Winter King, Aleron's Battle with the Four Legendary Dragons, and several others.
'Novels are a truly great way to escape reality,' Amon commented inwardly with a slight trace of irony.
"Here," Uncle Mart's voice broke through his thoughts. In his hand was a moderately thick book, which he raised slightly before offering it to Amon.
Amon glanced at the title and read it silently. In Search of the Lost Palace of Axarel.
'This…' Amon's thoughts stirred as he skimmed the blurb. 'A fantasy story layered with mystery? With this size, it should keep me distracted from reality for roughly a week.'
Uncle Mart nodded thoughtfully. "This is one of the books I read early on in my reading journey. It's particularly immersive and rich in intrigue."
He chuckled softly, as though recalling a memorable scene from the story. "Just don't get too lost in the secrets buried within its pages. Some people claim the events in this book relate to actual incidents from the past. But I highly doubt that…"
His words carried an odd weight, a subtle undertone that Amon couldn't quite decipher. He thought for a moment before bowing slightly in gratitude.
"Thank you for the recommendation. I'll borrow it for the week."
Uncle Mart nodded once more, but his gaze lingered on the mask. He remained silent for a brief moment.
'I wonder why this kid still insists on keeping that mask on…'
Suppressing his thoughts, he turned and walked back to the counter. He picked up a thick registration ledger from beneath it.
"Record the necessary details. If more than a week passes and you haven't finished, you can return to register for an extension."
Although Uncle Mart trusted Amon to bring the book back, it was still part of the formal procedures required in his library.
Amon nodded, took the ledger, and quickly filled in the information. He thanked Uncle Mart once again, adjusted his black robe, and walked briskly out of the bookstore with the book held firmly under his arm.
As he stepped outside, he inhaled the fresh, earthy scent carried by the wind. With few locomotives present in this world, the air felt noticeably cleaner and more refreshing.
'Perhaps the reason lies elsewhere… still, this atmosphere is vastly different from that of the blue planet I once reincarnated into.'
Amon's eyes flicked toward a group of children nearby who were pointing and giggling at him.
'Children, always finding amusement in the most trivial things,' Amon thought indifferently. His pace remained steady as he turned his gaze away from them and took a nearby corner.
Just then, he collided with someone.
'It felt more like he bumped into me,' Amon thought as he raised his head.
It was a youth dressed in light green robes. The boy's hands were trembling slightly, and a look of hesitation flickered in his eyes. He froze the moment their shoulders touched.
'Is he frightened? Something seems off…' Amon observed the boy with quiet curiosity.
"A-Amon, Brad asked me to give you this…" the youth stammered. As soon as he finished speaking, he tossed a small envelope toward Amon and darted away.
Amon watched, startled, as the youth sprinted off like someone escaping danger.
He bent down and picked up the object the boy had thrown.
It was a letter.
Amon hesitated for a moment.
'Is this for Mother? He said it was from Brad. I've heard that name before… but I can't be sure. Was he a classmate? Someone I encountered in the past?'
Amon had briefly attended classes for a few years, absorbing only the essential knowledge he needed before withdrawing from formal education.
After a moment of indecision, he made up his mind.
With a flick of his fingers, he opened the envelope and unfolded the paper. The handwriting was untidy, but he could still make out the message scrawled across it.
Come to Harbor Street alone. We have your sister, and if you're not here before six, we don't know what might happen to her. Hehe. Don't involve anyone else or the police. Remember, we have your sister. Her body seems delicate and tender. In fact, as I write this, I'm trembling with excitement and can hardly control myself.
Hah…
Amon exhaled lightly. His silver eyes, devoid of pupils, seemed to glow with a terrifying chill as he crushed the letter in his hand.
"Brad, huh?" he muttered softly and continued walking at the same calm pace, as though nothing had occurred.
However, within, his thoughts were moving at lightning speed.
'From the letter's wording, it's obvious he has someone watching me…'
Amon's gaze flickered across the crowd as he scanned his surroundings with care.
An old man puffed on a tobacco pipe. A beautiful lady gently wiped her child's tear-streaked face with a handkerchief. A teenager tried to sell homemade sweets in exchange for a few copper coins.
There were others too, but Amon could not determine who among them might be the spy.
'This is troublesome. I should wait until five thirty before heading to Harbor Street,' Amon reasoned. The journey to Manor Street would take approximately fifteen minutes.
With that decision made, he sighed once more and resumed his steady walk.
Amon could never have expected that after sixteen years of peaceful existence in his hundredth reincarnation, everything was about to change—suddenly, and without warning.