The ride home was quiet.
Not because the roads were empty or because his mother had nothing to say. Adrian simply wasn't listening.
His mind remained in the library, trapped between dusty shelves and a worn book with strange rules.
"Did you hear me?"
Adrian blinked.
"What?"
His mother sighed. "I asked if you wanted rice or yam for dinner."
"Oh. Rice."
A few minutes later, he couldn't remember whether he had actually answered or merely thought about answering.
The rules kept returning.
Knowledge is power only for males.
He frowned.
How did that even work?
Knowledge was knowledge. It wasn't a chair or a house that someone could own.
And if only men were allowed to learn, then what happened to women who wanted to study?
The thought bothered him more than he expected.
Dinner came and went.
His father discussed work.
His mother complained about rising prices.
Adrian nodded whenever he thought a response was needed.
The truth was that he barely heard any of it.
That night, after brushing his teeth, he climbed into bed and pulled the blanket over himself.
He closed his eyes.
Nothing happened.
Usually, sleep came quickly.
Not tonight.
The rules continued marching through his head.
The words of an adult must be listened to, but not disagreed with.
That one almost sounded normal at first.
Then he thought about it again.
If nobody could disagree, how would anyone know when an adult was wrong?
Adults made mistakes all the time.
His math teacher once wrote the wrong answer on the board.
Even his father occasionally forgot things.
The more Adrian thought about the rule, the less sense it made.
He turned onto his side.
The clock ticked softly in the darkness.
Minutes passed.
Then another rule surfaced.
If you disrespect, it is either you are burned in fire or buried alive.
Adrian opened his eyes.
Buried alive?
For disrespect?
What exactly counted as disrespect?
Forgetting to greet someone?
Rolling your eyes?
Asking too many questions?
His stomach twisted slightly.
The punishment felt far too severe.
It was as though whoever created the rules wanted people to obey out of fear rather than understanding.
He rolled onto his back.
Moonlight spilled through the curtains and stretched across the ceiling.
Somewhere outside, a dog barked.
Adrian glanced at the clock.
One hour.
Then two.
Then three.
Still awake.
At some point, his thoughts stopped focusing on individual rules and drifted toward the place itself.
Eliz.
What kind of country had so many laws?
What kind of people had accepted them?
More importantly, what kind of person had written them down in a book?
The summary returned to him.
During the 31st century, there was a Country known as Eliz. Where every citizen, good or bad, abided by the rules.
The sentence made him smile despite himself.
The writer really did sound tired.
Maybe that was why he liked the book.
It didn't feel polished.
It felt real.
Like someone had sat down and written exactly what they thought.
Adrian yawned.
For the first time that night, his eyes felt heavy.
His thoughts slowed.
The rules became distant.
The library became distant.
Even Eliz itself began to fade.
Just before sleep finally claimed him, one final thought crossed his mind.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow he would return to the library and continue reading.
Then darkness swallowed the rest.