Sakura carefully placed the velvet pouch into her bag.
The two empty necklaces rested inside.
Waiting.
For a moment, she found herself staring at the pouch.
One necklace for her.
One for Haruto.
The thought felt childish.
Hopeful.
Dangerous.
Yet she couldn't bring herself to dismiss it.
The Archivist returned to her seat.
The room fell quiet once more.
Unlike before, however, the silence no longer felt oppressive.
It felt thoughtful.
As though both of them were considering the same question.
What came next?
Sakura decided to ask first.
"So now what?"
The Archivist tilted her head.
"A surprisingly difficult question."
"That's not reassuring."
"No."
The woman agreed.
"It isn't."
Sakura was beginning to understand why scholars irritated normal people.
The thought alone was enough to cause emotional damage.
The Archivist opened her notebook again.
"You came here seeking answers."
"Yes."
"And I have given you very few."
Sakura blinked.
The woman was surprisingly self-aware.
"At least you know."
"I always know."
That somehow sounded even worse.
The Archivist closed the notebook.
"Unfortunately, answers are expensive."
Sakura frowned.
"Expensive?"
"Not money."
The woman gestured toward the shelves.
"Information."
Thousands of books surrounded them.
Records.
Histories.
Accounts.
Lives.
Knowledge collected across centuries.
The Archivist rested a hand upon one of the nearby volumes.
"Every answer creates new questions."
She looked at Sakura.
"And every truth removes a comfortable lie."
The room became quiet.
Sakura couldn't argue with that.
Not after everything she had experienced.
"Then give me an uncomfortable truth."
For the first time, the Archivist looked genuinely surprised.
Only briefly.
Then she smiled.
A small smile.
A real one.
"Very well."
The woman stood.
Walking toward one of the shelves.
After searching for several moments, she removed a thin book.
Unlike the others, it looked relatively new.
The cover was plain.
No title.
No decoration.
Just leather and paper.
The Archivist returned and placed it on the desk.
"What is it?"
"A record."
"Of what?"
The woman opened the book.
Several pages were filled with neat handwriting.
Dates.
Locations.
Observations.
Notes.
The writing continued for dozens of pages.
Then abruptly stopped.
Halfway through the book.
The remaining pages were blank.
Sakura frowned.
"Why isn't it finished?"
The Archivist looked at her.
"Because the author disappeared."
The answer came calmly.
Matter-of-factly.
As though discussing the weather.
Yet the words lingered.
The author disappeared.
Not died.
Not retired.
Disappeared.
Sakura glanced back at the book.
The unfinished pages suddenly felt unsettling.
"Who was he?"
"A traveler."
The Archivist closed the book.
"Someone who arrived from another world."
Sakura froze.
The room seemed smaller.
The air heavier.
"What?"
The woman nodded.
"Like you."
For several moments, Sakura couldn't speak.
"Another one?"
"Yes."
The Archivist returned the book to the desk.
"He arrived over a century ago."
A pause.
"He asked many of the same questions."
Another pause.
"He searched for many of the same answers."
Sakura slowly looked down at the unfinished journal.
The blank pages felt different now.
Sad.
Almost lonely.
"What happened to him?"
The Archivist was silent.
Long enough for Sakura to understand the answer before it arrived.
"I don't know."
The words settled heavily between them.
"He vanished during his travels."
The woman folded her hands.
"No body."
"No witnesses."
"No explanation."
The room fell quiet.
Outside, evening continued to settle over Aurelis.
Inside, the Grand Archives felt very far away from the rest of the world.
Sakura stared at the unfinished journal.
Someone else had sat where she was sitting now.
Someone else had asked questions.
Someone else had searched for answers.
And then—
nothing.
The story simply ended.
The thought unsettled her.
Perhaps noticing this, the Archivist spoke again.
"Do not misunderstand."
Sakura looked up.
The woman met her gaze.
"You are not him."
The statement was simple.
Certain.
"And your story is not his."
For some reason, that helped.
Only a little.
But enough.
The Archivist stood and walked toward the window.
The last light of sunset reflected across the waters surrounding Crown Isle.
Ships drifted through the strait below.
The city glowed with countless lights.
Beautiful.
Distant.
Alive.
"You have something he never had."
Sakura frowned.
"What?"
The woman glanced toward the bag containing the velvet pouch.
Then toward the blue stone resting on the desk.
Finally, her gaze returned to Sakura.
"Someone worth finding."
The room became silent.
Sakura looked away first.
Because she knew exactly who the Archivist meant.
Haruto.
The person waiting at the end of every road.
The reason she had never stopped moving.
The reason she had crossed half a continent.
The reason she would keep going.
The Archivist nodded slightly, as though confirming something.
Then she returned to her chair.
"There are guest rooms within the archives."
Sakura blinked.
"What?"
"It is late."
The woman glanced toward the darkening sky beyond the window.
"You may stay the night."
A pause.
"Besides, I suspect tomorrow will be interesting."
That immediately sounded suspicious.
Sakura narrowed her eyes.
"What happens tomorrow?"
The Archivist opened her notebook.
The conversation, apparently, was over.
"Tomorrow," she said calmly, "you will meet someone."
"Who?"
The woman turned a page.
A faint smile touched her lips.
"You'll see."
Sakura groaned.
The Archivist really was a scholar.
And somehow, that was becoming everyone's problem.