We didn't open it.
Neither Sera nor I touched any more books that night.
But the damage was already done.
One of the tomes—an unnamed binding resting on the lowest shelf—began to tremble. Not with violence. With anticipation.
As if it were waiting to be read… or perhaps was already being read by something else.
—
"Was that book always there?" I asked, pointing at the volume.
Sera frowned.
"No. I hadn't seen it before."
> [VARIANT: The Anomaly Meets Itself]
The title appeared slowly, letter by letter, as if the ink were manifesting out of shame.
Sera stepped back.
"That's not possible," she whispered.
"What does 'the Anomaly meets itself' mean?"
"It means something that shouldn't exist… has just become self-aware."
—
The page opened on its own.
And began to write itself—no hands required:
> "Extra #9,387 stares at the book.
The ex-priestess recoils.
The library shudders.
An unwritten choice approaches."
The room quaked. One of the shelves collapsed as if an earlier version of the story were unraveling.
The titles of the books began to distort.
Sera activated a magical containment seal, but the floor didn't obey.
The library no longer responded to spells…
It responded to decisions.
—
> "A figure emerges from the margin.
Its face is a mirror.
But it does not reflect Ryouhei.
It reflects… what he could have been."
From the shadow of the bookshelf, someone stepped out.
Same height.
Same voice.
But his eyes were empty of doubt.
He was a version of me who had chosen the book without hesitation.
An alternate Ryouhei… complete. Terrifying. Perfectly optimized for the system.
"See it?" Sera said. "The book doesn't want to be read… it wants to be finished."
And that…
that's the trap.