I was weary of the constant shocks, the endless surprises. I no longer knew what I truly wanted. Should I seek Joseph and understand his true nature? Or plan my escape? Or retrieve the book? Or what?
Every passing day brought a new event that shifted the course of my desires.
But in the end, I realized that all these desires converged on one goal: survival. Yet, I didn't even know who threatened my life. Every person in that palace terrified me, each one stranger than the last.
I began to consider escaping alone, abandoning my mother to her fate. Whoever captured me first, I would surrender to death. I only hoped it wasn't Joseph.
Since I've already begun to surrender to death, it's alright to risk breaking into that forbidden library. It's not curiosity that drives me; I no longer have that luxury. I'm compelled, driven there by a force I don't understand.
The day passed while I stayed in my room, locked away. I didn't go out, I didn't see anyone. I was simply waiting. Waiting for the right moment that would allow me to go to that library that both fascinated and terrified me. I thought about going during the day, but the library is always under the watchful eyes of the servants, their eyes never closed. At night, even the servants are forbidden from going out, and that would be my only chance.
Night fell. I stayed in my room and didn't go down for dinner, ignoring my rumbling stomach. I waited until midnight, until I was sure everyone was asleep. Then I took a small lamp that had once belonged to my father, the one that used to light my way when I hid under the covers to read comic books. I stepped out in my short pink nightgown that barely reached mid-thigh, slipping on soft, silent flip-flops.
I crept down the corridors like a shadow fleeing its body. I followed the corners, pressed myself against the walls, and stopped whenever I heard an imaginary sound. I crossed wing after wing with steps that were both steady and hesitant, until I finally reached the upper wing where the library lay.
There, at that moment, tension gripped me. No, not just any tension, but a fear that seeped into my very bones. Regret overwhelmed me, and I wished I could turn back, forget everything, return to my room, and pretend that this night had never happened. But going back would mean that everything I had done was in vain, that I would never dare to do anything again. I had arrived here unseen, a stroke of luck I hadn't deserved.
I approached the library door and opened it. I stepped inside, and a chill, unlike anything I had ever felt, washed over me. It wasn't just any cold; it was a biting chill that seeped into the skin, penetrated to the bone, and froze the marrow. It was like a morgue, one of those cold rooms where they keep bodies in the morgue. And to make matters worse, I was only wearing my thin pink nightgown, which offered no protection whatsoever.
I switched on the light, but it was dim. Just a faint yellow cast pale shadows on the backs of the regular books. I remembered that the library had two rooms at the front for regular books, and the last one, further back, was for prohibited books. I turned on the small lamp, searching for the door leading inside, but suddenly I heard a sound.
Footsteps. High heels clattering rapidly. Hurried footsteps approaching the library.
I switched off the lamp in an instant and hid behind the largest shelf I could find on the left. I remembered too late that the outside light was still on, but it was too late for anything.
The door opened. I expected to walk in the haughty old woman, but it was the same maid. That woman who had approached me on the street that fateful night. She was carrying the medication in her hand, just as I had seen her the first time. Her face bore the same expression: wide-open, unblinking eyes, a frozen expression of shock and terror, as if her soul had been ripped from her body, leaving her to move like a machine. In her hand, she held the open medicine box, or rather, the emergency kit.
She didn't notice the light on. She walked to the second door, opened it, and entered with measured steps, as if following a predetermined schedule.
I stayed where I was, not daring to move. My whole body froze; even my breathing almost stopped. I waited. The minutes dragged on like ages. Then, about fifteen minutes later, she emerged, closing the door behind her without turning off the light, and left as she had come in.
I breathed heavily and emerged from my hiding place. The questions pounded in my head like hammers. Had she been heading to this library with the medication the night I met her? I remember her telling me to "run." If she saw me now, she would say the same thing. The scent of danger permeated every corner, but I was compelled to continue; there was no turning back.
Without a second thought, I switched on my small flashlight and moved toward the second door. I opened it, but didn't go in. The flashlight trembled in my hand, almost falling over with fear. I shone the light inside before stepping in, and I saw that the bookcase was completely empty of shelves, making it easy to see that no one was there. But this didn't lessen my fear; it only intensified it.
Suddenly, the flashlight illuminated a third door at the far end of the room. Its very appearance was enough to instill terror. I remembered Caster's words to me: "Don't even think about going in there, don't even think about it, if you want to live." This meant that I was now walking straight toward death.
One step.
Two steps.
Three.
I reached for the handle of the cold door. It was strong, heavy, unlike any handle I had ever seen. I turned it, trying to open it, but my thin hand was no help. I put the lamp in my mouth so I could use both hands. I pressed the handle with all my might, but it wouldn't budge. The door wasn't locked, but held firmly by the handle itself.
Suddenly, as I struggled with the handle with all my strength, the door slowly opened backwards on its own.
I gasped for breath. Freezing air billowed out like white smoke. A chill unlike anything I'd ever felt. My legs trembled, refusing to move forward. My mind screamed, "Run! Run with all your might!" But I stretched forward, pushed the door further, and went inside.
It was dark. Suddenly, the door I'd just entered through slammed shut behind me, and my lamp went out instantly. I tried to turn it on again, pressing the switches, shaking it, but it was completely ruined, dead in my hand.
I felt dizzy. I couldn't move. I was standing in the middle of a room, unsure of where I was. I don't know if it was a library or not; the smell was definitely not of books. It was a foul odor, the smell of death, decay, a smell unlike anything I'd ever known. But amidst this putrid smell, there was something else: a heavy, masculine scent, a scent I'd smelled before, somewhere, but I couldn't remember where.
The biting cold gripped the place, stinging my skin and making my bones tremble. But suddenly, I began to feel warmth creeping towards my right side. It was like a fire slowly approaching me. The warmth turned to heat, then to a flame that nearly burned my feet. I started to move away from that heat, venturing deeper into the darkness, searching for the cold that had been hurting me moments before.
Suddenly, I bumped into something. I reached out my trembling hand in the darkness and touched a huge, heavy wooden chair. I stopped in front of it, staring into the gloom with my blind eyes, seeing nothing, only feeling. My whole body was shaking as if in an epileptic seizure.
Fear. This is true fear. Uncontrollable trembling, nerve-wracking tension, blood freezing in my veins, panic engulfing my soul. But the worst part was that with every inhale and exhale, my rapid breathing carried that masculine scent. It filled my chest, seeped into my lungs, clung to my memory.
And now I knew. That scent you've smelled before, that heavy, unforgettable fragrance.
The warmth that draws near, the perfume that fills the air...
It's Joseph...