Part 1: The Librarian's Suspicion
Greg's heart raced as he stared at The Malediction Codex, its white cover seeming to pulse with malice under the library's soft glow. The ghostly teenagers, their tear-streaked faces visible only to him as a priest, hovered around the book, their silent sorrow screaming danger. Don't do anything dumb, Greg, he told himself, forcing calm. Touching the book could make things worse, no joke if it's tainted. He turned and scanned the library for help, spotting a librarian at a nearby desk, her nose buried in a stack of books.
"Excuse me, are you free?" Greg asked, approaching cautiously.
The woman, a striking noble with blue curls and a velvet dress, didn't look up. "No, I'm busy, and I've got someone I like, so please don't—" She glanced up, saw his priest robes, and flushed. "Oh! A priest. How can I help you?"
Greg blinked, thrown by her shift. "What was that about?" Greg wondered. "I… need you to see something. Follow me, please."
"O…Okay?" she said, confused but curious, trailing him as he led her to the shadowed corner where The Malediction Codex sat.
He pointed to the book. "Check if this is one of yours. The name of the book is The Malediction Codex. Don't touch it," he added quickly as she reached for it.
She froze, glancing at him, then leaned closer to inspect the book without touching it. "There's a code… and a sticker. It's likely ours. Let me double-check." She hurried back to her desk, flipping through a ledger. A minute later, she returned, her face grim while looking confused. "It's ours. It was registered last season."
Greg sighed, his hope crumbling. He'd wanted to believe someone had snuck the book in, but an official library tome meant darker intentions. Someone's killing kids. "Lady, I need your help to contact someone with authority. It's crucial."
"It's Charlotte, not 'lady,'" she corrected, crossing her arms. "I'm the head librarian here. That's enough authority. What's the problem?"
Greg lowered his voice. "That book, The Malediction Codex. It's tainted. It caused the deaths of eight students. And since it's an official book…" Greg was about to complete his sentence but Charlotte cut in.
Charlotte's eyes widened. "You're saying someone on the school staff is the culprit?"
Greg nodded. "Can you trace who recommended this book or approved it for the library? Or who's supposed to check its contents?"
Charlotte's lips tightened, her gaze darting to the book. "I can check the records. Every book goes through a review board, professors, mostly. But if it's tainted…" She hesitated, then nodded. "Follow me. We'll dig into this."
Greg followed.
Part 2: The Librarian's Lead
With the library being quiet in the early morning, no students roamed its aisles. Charlotte strode to the double doors, hanging a wooden sign that read "Closed" before locking them with a heavy click. "No interruptions," she muttered, motioning Greg to follow her to a small office tucked behind the main desk. Inside, she rifled through a drawer stuffed with neatly organized files.
"Alphabetical order, nice." Greg thought, watching her flip to the T section in seconds.
"Here it is," Charlotte said, pulling a thin folder labeled The Malediction Codex. She scanned the page, her brow furrowing. "Sir Evans… name rings a bell." She trailed off, lost in thought, her fingers tapping the desk as she began cross-referencing other records.
Greg didn't want to bug her. He plopped into a nearby chair, wishing he'd grabbed that Local Lore book to kill time. With nothing else to do, his eyes drifted to Charlotte, her blue curls catching the light, her focus intense. Her cheeks slowly reddened, and she glanced up, catching his stare.
"Erm… don't look at me so much. It's embarrassing," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Greg blinked, caught off guard. "Sorry, I didn't mean to put pressure on you or anything."
"N-No, it's not pressure, it's just…" Charlotte fumbled, then shook her head. "Never mind. Let me finish this." She turned to a cabinet, pulling out a glowing orb that pulsed softly. Holding it with both hands, she touched it, and the orb shifted from white to blue. A man's voice crackled through, clear but surprised.
"Charlotte? Didn't expect you to call this early." The man replied
"Urgent matter," Charlotte said, her tone sharp. "Need you to be at the library now."
"Sure, I'll be there in a bit," the man replied. "Did the priest cause trouble?"
Charlotte's eyes flicked to Greg, widening. "You know about him?"
"Yeah, he fed me some lines about doing 'investigating.' Sounded like bullshit," the man said, chuckling.
Charlotte shot Greg an awkward smile, clearly unsure how to respond.
Greg just shrugged, keeping his face neutral. "Ouch, called out", he thought, but inside, he was impressed. "That guy knew I was lying and still let me in? That's kind of him" Greg thought.
Part 3: Cleansing the Curse
Charlotte turned the key in the library's heavy doors, the lock clanking open. She stepped aside, letting a tall man in a tailored robe stride in, his crown-etched badge gleaming. "You've met, I assume? This is Sir Denver, our vice chairman," she said, then flushed. "Sorry, I never got your name."
"Greg," he replied, shrugging. "So, can I purify that tainted book now?"
Denver nodded, his sharp eyes scanning the shelves. "Go ahead. I'll cast a barrier to trap anything that tries to escape." He raised a hand, tracing glowing runes that formed a shimmering dome around the corner where The Malediction Codex loomed.
Greg approached, stopping a meter from the book's eerie white cover. Greg raises his hand up towards the book. To keep up his priest act, he muttered a fake chant "God, please grant me the power to strike down evil" before casting purify. A soft white glow bathed the book, but it erupted in a chilling scream, like a wounded beast clawing the air.
Charlotte yelped, stumbling back, her hand over her mouth. Denver's jaw tightened, his fingers sparking with ready magic, the barrier humming louder. Greg didn't waver.
"No way I'm letting this thing win." Greg thought to himself
He cast Purify three more times, each pulse brighter, until the scream faded to a low whine. After five tense minutes, the book's cover blackened, cracks splitting its surface. Red liquid oozed out, dripping down the shelf and pooling on the floor.
They stood frozen, waiting five more minutes to be sure. Greg checked once more, ensuring that no black spores appeared. "It's clean," he said, exhaling hard.
Denver crouched, inspecting the red puddle. He cast Appraise, his face darkening. "Not ink. It's blood. From eight people, mixed together."
"W-What?" Charlotte whispered, her voice shaking.
Greg glanced at the ghostly teenagers visible only to him, their tear-streaked faces glowing softly. As the taint faded, white light wrapped around them, their forms dissolving. Before vanishing, each turned to Greg, bowing slightly, their eyes grateful for release.
"Spirits are at peace," Greg said quietly, a lump in his throat.
Denver stood, his expression grim. "I'm not at peace. Charlotte, keep this low for now. I'll report to the chairman." He turned to Greg. "I doubted your story earlier, my apologies. You're welcome here anytime. Show this to the guards for access, and the cafeteria for free meals." He handed Greg a silver emblem etched with a crown.
"Thanks," Greg said, his face calm. Inside, he was buzzing. "Free food? Hell yeah, I'm hitting that cafeteria immediately after this."
As Denver and Charlotte prepared to secure the book, Greg pocketed the emblem before excusing himself out from the library. Charlotte seems to have the intention to talk to Greg but stops herself after Denver gives her additional tasks to do.
Part 4: A Taste of hope
Greg wandered through Crownshade Institute's polished halls, asking a few passing students for directions to the cafeteria. His silver crown emblem, tucked in his bag, felt like a golden ticket. When he pushed open the heavy oak doors, his jaw dropped. The cafeteria was massive, a sprawling hall buzzing with noble students, their chatter blending with the clink of plates and sizzling pans. Colorful food stalls lined the walls, their signs glowing with enchanted runes, wafting aromas of Eldoria's heartlands and beyond. This place is a food paradise, Greg thought, his stomach growling like a dungeon beast.
Twenty stalls stretched before him, each one tempting. He scanned them, eyes lingering on three that called his name. Silverflow Catch promised Eldorian seafood, its Moonpetal-Grilled River Snapper: tender fish with glowing herbs and tangy lemonroot sauce, looking divine. Ironhoof Roastery caught his eye next, offering Kharuun Tribe roasts. Kharuun? No clue who they are, Greg mused, but the Thundergoat Kebab: smoky goat skewers with stormherbs and flatbread, reminded him of his hometown's kebabs, his favorite comfort food. Finally, Marsh Mist Noodles pulled him in with its Border Marsh vibe, especially the Mist Noodle Soup: thin rice noodles in a herb broth with marsh shrimp and fogweed, promising a cool, savory kick.
So many choices, Greg thought, weaving through the crowd. The stalls screamed exotic, with glowing broths and sparkling fruits, but his heart tugged toward something familiar. Yesterday was meat overload at the tavern. Let's switch it up with noodles. He made a beeline for Marsh Mist Noodles, the scent of mist herbs already making his mouth water.
At the stall, Greg gawked at the menu. "Mist Noodle Soup, 5 gold? Spicy Marsh Shrimp Stir-Fry, 8 gold? The prices climbed to Crimson Reed Ramen at 6 gold, Fogweed Noodle Bowl at 7 gold, and Fire Reed Spicy Noodles at 6 gold. Nobles must be loaded," he thought. Without his silver emblem, he'd be stuck eating air. "Thank you, Denver."
An older woman ran the stall, her gray hair tied back, marsh reeds woven into her apron. She tilted her head, eyeing Greg's priest robes with a curious squint. "A priest? First one I've seen here," she said, her voice warm but surprised.
Greg grinned, flashing the emblem. "Yeah, just hungry. Can I get the Mist Noodle Soup?"
She nodded, ladling steaming broth into a bowl, the noodles shimmering faintly with mana. As she handed it over, a flicker caught Greg's eye, a ghostly student, barely visible, hovering near the stall. Its tear-streaked face stared at a tray of Fire Reed Spicy Noodles, then vanished. Greg forces himself to calm down. He thanked the woman, took his bowl, and found a table. Eat first, worry later, he told himself.
Part 5: A Royal Ruckus
Greg slurped the last of his Mist Noodle Soup, the cooling broth leaving a faint tingle on his tongue. The cafeteria was getting loud, students pouring in, their chatter rising over sizzling pans. Must be break time, he thought, scanning the crowded hall. He looked for a place to return his bowl, then stopped. Medieval world, right. No dish drop-off. He flagged down a passing staff member, a lanky boy in a stained apron. "Thanks for the meal," Greg said, handing over the bowl.
The boy froze, blinking like Greg did something wrong. Okay, thanking staff isn't a thing here, Greg realized, shrugging it off. The hall was packed now, probably for lunch, and he figured it was time to slip out before more eyes noticed the priest in cheap robes. But a shout cut through the noise, sharp and angry.
"You're my future wife, why are you so useless?" a teenage boy's voice boomed from outside the cafeteria doors.
Greg paused, mid-step, near the exit. Drama already? He slid onto a bench by the door, hoping the commotion would pass. The doors slammed open with a bang, like someone had kicked them in. A tall, broad-shouldered teenager stormed through, his gold-trimmed cloak screaming wealth. "Damn it, we're late! All these useless things got here first," he snarled, glaring at the students like they were furniture. "Stupid bitch, told you to rush ahead and get my food."
Greg's eyes flicked to the girl beside him. A gorgeous, long brown hair, sharp green eyes, her face a mask of calm. But her clenched fists, knuckles white, betrayed her anger. She's pissed but holding it together, Greg thought.
"My type, if only she is closer to my age. Wait, how old am I in this body? Eighteen? Nineteen?" He shook off the thought, but not before their eyes met. He flashed a quick smile, trying to lighten her mood.
She blinked, confused, clearly not expecting a priest in the cafeteria. Before Greg could look away, the rude boy, apparently caught the exchange and marched over, his face red. "Oi! Why're you smiling at my wife?" he barked, looming over Greg's bench.
Greg raised an eyebrow. "Can't I?"
Garrick's jaw dropped, his eyes bulging. "How dare you talk back? Don't you know me? I'm Prince Garrick!"
"So?" Greg shot back, leaning back on the bench. "Royalty huh? I'm from the modern world, buddy. I don't care about your crown." Greg thought to himself. He was stuck in this game world, and the sooner he found a way out, the better. Princes didn't scare him, especially not loudmouths like this.
Garrick sputtered, stunned by Greg's nerve. The girl's eyes widened, a flicker of amusement breaking her calm facade. The cafeteria hushed, students glancing over, sensing trouble.