The thick book placed on the table was titled "The Encyclopedia of World Mainstream Language Vocabulary Comparisons."
Just from the name alone, it was clear what kind of book this was—a massive dictionary that compared commonly used words across multiple major languages. It wasn't just limited to English; it also included translations and equivalents in French, Russian, Spanish, and several other languages.
In simpler terms, it was like a multilingual dictionary designed for serious learners, the kind of reference material that only language enthusiasts or scholars would willingly open. And even then, most people would only use it occasionally, not sit down and read it cover to cover like a novel.
The book itself was incredibly thick, yet Dean could tell it still only contained commonly used vocabulary. If it had included rare or specialized words, it would probably be twice as large.
Which made the situation in front of him even more puzzling.
Sitting across from him was a young girl—no more than fourteen or fifteen—quietly flipping through the enormous dictionary with intense focus. Her small fingers carefully traced each line as if every word held great importance.
Dean raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Do girls these days really read books like this?"
The thought slipped through his mind, though he quickly dismissed it.
Everyone had their own hobbies. It wasn't his place to judge.
With a slight shake of his head, Dean lowered his gaze and returned to his own reading, deciding not to interfere.
For a while, the library remained silent, filled only with the soft sound of pages turning.
But not long after, Dean suddenly felt something… unusual.
A gaze.
It was subtle, but unmistakable—someone was watching him from across the table.
Thanks to the Sensitive Reaction ability he had gained earlier, Dean's senses had sharpened beyond those of an average person. It wasn't just about faster reflexes; his awareness of his surroundings had also improved significantly.
He could now perceive attention directed at him—not as a vague instinct, but as something almost tangible.
So when he felt that gaze, he immediately looked up.
The girl froze.
For a split second, surprise flashed across her eyes. Then, as if caught doing something she shouldn't, she quickly lowered her head and pretended to focus on her dictionary again.
Dean blinked.
What was that about?
He stared at her for a moment, confused, before leaning back slightly in his chair.
At first, he didn't think much of it.
After all, Dean Thurston was no ordinary person. In Gotham, he had once been known as a genius magician, someone who attracted attention wherever he went. Combined with his natural charm and striking appearance, it wasn't uncommon for people—especially younger fans—to recognize him.
He had long grown used to being stopped on the street for autographs or photos. Sometimes, he even had to disguise himself just to move around unnoticed.
So, a shy girl secretly glancing at him?
Completely normal.
"She's probably just a fan," Dean thought. "Too nervous to approach."
That explanation made sense.
And with that in mind, he decided not to make things awkward. He simply returned to his book, pretending not to notice her attention.
But the situation didn't end there.
A few seconds later, he felt it again.
Another glance.
He looked up.
The girl immediately lowered her head.
Dean frowned slightly.
He looked back down.
Another glance followed.
This time, he didn't look up right away. Instead, he waited.
Sure enough, after a few seconds, curiosity got the better of him, and he raised his eyes again.
The girl jerked slightly and once again buried her face in the dictionary.
This repeated several times.
Back and forth.
Like a strange, silent game.
At this point, Dean was certain of one thing—this wasn't just admiration.
When their eyes briefly met, he didn't see the usual excitement or admiration of a fan. Instead, what he saw in her eyes was something else entirely.
A quiet plea for help.
There was hesitation there.
And beneath it… fear.
That made Dean pause.
A young girl being cautious around a stranger was completely understandable. But if she was afraid, why keep looking at him again and again?
If she needed something, why not just say it?
Dean rubbed his forehead slightly, feeling a bit helpless.
"I know I look good," he muttered inwardly, "but not to the point where people are too scared to speak, right?"
Finally, he sighed.
Enough was enough.
He closed his book gently and looked directly at her.
"What's wrong?" he asked calmly. "Do you need something?"
The girl's head shot up.
For the first time, her eyes lit up with clear anticipation.
She hesitated for a brief moment, then quickly raised her hands and began making gestures toward him.
But halfway through, she froze.
Her hands slowly lowered, as if she had suddenly lost the courage to continue.
Dean's expression changed slightly.
Those gestures…
They were sign language.
Everything clicked instantly.
The reason she hadn't spoken.
The reason she kept hesitating.
The reason for the mixture of hope and fear in her eyes.
She wasn't ignoring him.
She simply couldn't speak.
Dean straightened in his seat, his gaze softening.
He had learned some sign language in the past—not extensively, but enough to understand basic communication.
Carefully, he replayed her earlier gestures in his mind.
"May I ask you something…? There are a few words…"
That was roughly what she had tried to say before stopping.
Dean nodded slightly.
Instead of speaking, he raised his hands and slowly began responding in sign language. His movements were not fast, but they were clear.
"What do you want to ask?"
The moment she understood him, the girl's eyes widened.
Then, for the first time since he had noticed her, a genuine expression of joy appeared on her face.
It was the kind of expression that came from being understood.
She quickly moved from her seat and sat beside him, bringing the heavy dictionary along with her.
Flipping through the pages, she stopped at a few words and pointed at them.
Dean leaned in slightly to look.
His brows furrowed.
They were simple English words.
Nothing complicated.
Nothing rare.
In fact, they were words that even a primary school student should recognize.
Yet, she was asking about them.
Dean felt a small jolt of realization.
There were only two possibilities.
Either she had never paid attention in school…
Or—
She had never gone to school at all.
He didn't voice that thought.
Instead, he patiently began explaining each word to her using sign language, occasionally writing small notes to make things clearer.
His explanations were simple, broken down into basic concepts that she could easily understand.
The girl watched intently, absorbing every detail.
Every time she understood something, her eyes would light up slightly.
Every time she didn't, she would frown and think carefully before asking again.
Time passed quietly.
What started as a simple interaction gradually turned into something else entirely.
A lesson.
Dean found himself naturally taking on the role of a teacher.
And the girl…
She was an incredibly serious student.
After finishing the explanations, Dean paused for a moment.
Curiosity got the better of him.
Using sign language again, he asked:
"Do you come here often?"
The girl nodded immediately.
Then he asked,
"When you don't understand something… who helps you?"
This time, she hesitated.
Tilting her head slightly, she thought for a few seconds.
Then, she quickly flipped through the dictionary again.
Page after page turned rapidly under her fingers.
Finally, she stopped.
Her finger pointed to a word.
"Librarian."
Then she flipped again.
Another word.
She tapped it lightly.
"Barbara."
Dean's eyes narrowed slightly as he read the words.
Putting them together, the meaning was clear.
Librarian Barbara.
For a moment, he said nothing.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
In Gotham, there weren't many people who could inspire that kind of trust.
But Barbara Gordon…
She wasn't just a librarian.
She was someone who stood at the intersection of two worlds—one of knowledge, and one of justice.
Dean glanced at the girl beside him.
She sat quietly, waiting for his response, her hands resting lightly on the book.
There was still a trace of nervousness in her posture.
But compared to before, something had changed.
She wasn't just a silent observer anymore.
She had taken the first step.
Dean leaned back slightly and looked at her again.
Then, slowly, he raised his hands and signed:
"If you want… I can teach you."
The girl froze.
Her eyes widened once more.
For a second, it was as if she couldn't believe what she had just seen.
Then—
A small, bright smile appeared on her face.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't exaggerated.
But it carried a warmth that filled the quiet space between them.
And in that silent corner of the library, without a single spoken word—
A new connection was formed.
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