Tuesday morning felt different.
Not exciting.
Just… intentional.
I arrived at Seytain Academy earlier than usual. The sky was still pale, sunlight barely touching the upper windows of the buildings. Orientation week meant freedom. No strict classes yet. Just introductions, club promotions, and wandering students pretending to be productive.
But I had a real plan.
8:03 a.m.
I stood in front of the library building.
Five floors.
Tall glass windows.
Quiet.
I walked inside.
The librarian looked up."Name and class."
I signed the attendance sheet casually.
No one questioned me.
No one ever does.
The elevator ride to the fifth floor was silent. When the doors opened, the familiar smell of old paper and wood greeted me.
Empty.
Only a few students scattered around tables.
Good.
I walked past the shelves like I belonged there.
Like I wasn't hiding something.
When I reached the narrow space between two large shelves, I slowed down.
There it was.
The slightly hidden door.
Still unnoticed.
Still secret.
I slipped inside and closed it carefully.
Click.
Silence.
The room looked worse in the morning light.
Dust floated everywhere.
The small window let in strong sunlight, exposing every layer of neglect. The table was covered in grey powder. The single chair looked unstable. The tall narrow shelf leaned slightly to one side.
I coughed.
"Wow… this is bad."
I walked toward the window first.
And then I stopped.
The view.
From the fifth floor, the entire sports field stretched out below. The soccer field, baseball diamond, running track. Students looked small from up here. The wind brushed lightly against the glass.
It was peaceful.
Isolated.
Perfect.
"If this place was clean…" I muttered, "it'd actually be amazing."
Decision made.
I took off my blazer and placed it on the table.
Step one: wipe the table.
I used tissues from my bag. Bad idea. They turned grey immediately.
"Okay… this might take longer than expected."
I cleaned the chair next.
Then the corners.
Then the floor near the window.
Dust kept flying everywhere. I sneezed twice.
After about fifteen minutes, the room already looked slightly better.
Still old.
Still abandoned.
But livable.
Then I looked at the shelf.
Tall.
Narrow.
Unstable.
"There's probably more junk on top…"
I stepped closer and tried to tiptoe to see above it.
Too short.
I dragged the chair over.
Bad decision number two.
I climbed carefully onto the chair.
The shelf creaked.
I froze.
"Don't move…"
I reached up anyway, brushing dust away from the top surface.
Something shifted.
The shelf leaned forward slightly.
My eyes widened.
"…Oh."
It happened fast.
The chair slipped a little.
The shelf tilted.
And then—
BOOM.
The entire shelf tipped forward.
I fell backward.
The shelf came down with me.
Dust exploded into the air.
Pain shot through my shoulder.
Not sharp.
Just shocking.
The shelf didn't fully crush me, but it pinned me awkwardly to the floor.
I stared at the ceiling.
Dust floating everywhere.
Silence returned.
Then—
Footsteps.
Outside.
Pause.
The door handle moved.
The door opened slowly.
Light flooded in.
And there she was.
Shine.
Standing at the doorway.
Perfect posture.
Calm expression.
But her eyes were slightly wider than usual.
She took in the scene.
Me on the floor.
Shelf on top of me.
Dust cloud around us.
We stared at each other.
Three seconds.
Four.
I blinked.
"…Help."
That's all I said.
She didn't panic.
She didn't scream.
She didn't overreact.
She stepped inside.
Closed the door behind her.
Walked over calmly.
"You shouldn't climb unstable furniture," she said evenly.
"Yeah," I replied, still pinned. "Noted."
She grabbed the side of the shelf.
"For someone who looks quiet," she said, "you're surprisingly reckless."
"Can we discuss my personality after I'm free?"
A small pause.
Then she lifted the shelf enough for me to slide out.
I pushed it away.
We both stood there, covered in dust.
She looked at my shoulder.
"Are you hurt?"
"I'll survive."
She brushed dust off her sleeve carefully.
Then she looked around the room.
Her expression returned to neutral perfection.
"What is this place?"
I hesitated.
Then answered honestly.
"I found it yesterday."
"You didn't report it?"
"Why would I?"
She stepped toward the window.
And stopped.
Even she couldn't ignore that view.
The field below looked almost cinematic in the morning sun.
"It's quiet," she said.
"Exactly."
She turned slowly, scanning the room again.
"It hasn't been used in years."
"Probably."
Silence.
Then she looked at the shelf.
"You were trying to clean it."
"Yeah."
"Alone?"
I shrugged.
She studied me for a moment.
"You could have gotten seriously injured."
"But I didn't."
Another pause.
She walked toward the table and ran a finger across the surface.
Dust coated her fingertip.
She frowned slightly.
Then she looked at me.
"What are you planning to do with this place?"
I answered simply.
"Use it."
"For what?"
"Studying. Quiet. Existing."
She considered that.
Then I added, casually:
"Do you want to clean it?"
The words hung between us.
She didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she walked toward the corner.
Looked at the chair.
Touched the wall.
Measured the space with her eyes.
"This room isn't on the official layout of the library," she said quietly.
"You memorized the layout?"
"I notice things."
Of course she does.
After a few seconds, she spoke again.
"If someone finds out, it could become restricted."
"Then don't tell anyone."
She looked at me.
Straight.
Serious.
"You're trusting me?"
"I don't think you'd tell."
"Why?"
"You don't look like someone who enjoys crowds."
A very small pause.
Her expression didn't change.
But she didn't deny it either.
She walked toward the fallen shelf.
"We should stabilize this first."
"So that's a yes?"
"…It's inefficient to leave it like this."
I smiled slightly.
"Great."
For the next hour, we cleaned.
Not dramatically.
Not chaotically.
Just quietly.
She organized the table.
I wiped the window.
She aligned the chair properly.
I adjusted the shelf against the wall.
Occasionally:
"Hand me that cloth."
"Here."
"Careful."
"Yeah."
Simple exchanges.
Natural.
No awkward romance.
Just cooperation.
At one point, she stood near the window again.
"You can see almost the entire campus from here," she said.
"Best spot in the academy."
"It's hidden."
"That's why it's good."
Silence again.
Comfortable this time.
After nearly two hours, the room looked different.
Still old.
But clean.
The sunlight now reflected clearly through the window.
The table no longer grey.
The air breathable.
I leaned against the wall.
"Well."
Shine looked around.
"It's usable."
High praise.
From her.
I walked toward the door.
"Listen."
She looked at me.
"Let's keep this between us."
"Why?"
"Because once people know… it won't be quiet anymore."
She thought about that.
Then nodded once.
"Agreed."
"And when we come in…"
"We shouldn't make it obvious," she finished.
"Right."
"Enter separately," she added.
"Pretend to look for books."
"Exactly."
A shared understanding formed.
No handshake.
No dramatic vow.
Just quiet agreement.
She walked to the door first.
Paused.
Then looked back at the room.
"This will require maintenance," she said.
"Yeah."
"I'll bring proper cleaning supplies tomorrow."
I blinked.
"You're coming back?"
She opened the door slightly.
"Obviously."
Then she left.
And just like that—
The hidden room was no longer just mine.
It was ours.
Not because we said it was.
But because we cleaned it together.
And somehow—
That made it different.