When the girl came down from a ladder, there had been round objects like glass beads lying on the floor, and a scholar and staff member had even slipped on them and fallen with a shriek. What’s more, her attending maid seemed to have a strong aversion to insects and amphibians, and the boy’s pranks appeared to work only on her. The other day, she’d fainted without so much as a sound at the sight of a giant toad.
Even I was deeply impressed by that toad. Despite being dragged out of his comfortable abode, he’d looked nothing less than confident and imposing. Dignity and majesty had practically oozed from him. No doubt he was the king of all toads. I’d hoped to ask for his name, assuming he must be someone famous, but alas, he’d been mercilessly torn asunder by a member of the library staff.
His final croak had sounded like the promise of a reunion meant for me. See you again, I’d felt him say with a cynical smile.
What a refined performance and a lasting impression he’d made. He was nothing like your average dullard. Just thinking back on the encounter filled me with delight, but I soon snapped back to my senses. That wasn’t the point here.
The matter at hand was the complicated, bittersweet beginnings of a romance turning into a problem for everyone else around them.
At first the staff had dismissed the boy’s antics as a bit of childish mischief, but they grew increasingly uneasy, concerned that his conduct toward the regional lord’s daughter was inappropriate. His pranks were becoming more and more aimed at making the unfazed girl cry out of sheer spite. Not that I couldn’t understand the sentiment. No matter how much she was bullied, she was too fearless to look surprised or give so much as a single yelp. One could say it was admirable for a child her age...or just plain impertinent.
I’d tried all sorts of tricks in hopes of giving her a scare, so I understood why he was digging in his heels. Still, it was vexing to think that an opponent I was having trouble with might be forced to scream over a trifling prank.
With a conflicted groan, I watched the girl brave the pouring rain to release the frog into a pond outside. No matter how little emotion she showed on her face, surely she had to feel something about being the victim of so many pranks. I got the vague impression that she was in low spirits. The sight of her trudging her way back to the library and taking shelter under the eaves broke my heart. It made me feel like I was ganging up on an innocent child—and a little girl, at that.
Ah well. I suppose I’ll save my latest scare tactic for another day.
When I followed my archnemesis up the stairs, I was met by the sight of the little boys who had run away earlier dropping bags of water on the patrons below. All of a sudden, the girl’s eyes narrowed into a fierce glare. With a swiftness that surprised even me, she lunged forward and shoved one of the boys who was taking aim from the railing. It was a strikingly purposeful, decisive move.
“How dare you trample the books underfoot! There are plenty of other things you could have used as a pedestal!”
What? That’s her issue? I thought with a blink, and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one.
Standing on their stacks of books and leaning over the railing, the rest of the boys glanced back at her, startled, before the whole group began hurling insults. They called her the freaky Bibliophile Princess—a weirdo with no friends. Everyone else called her a creepy kid, by their account. She was supposed to be the regional lord’s daughter, but maybe her parents had just dumped her on the library doorstep.
Their jeers and taunts had me up in arms in an instant. There were some things no one had a right to say, children or not.
The girl’s dignified voice rang out faster than I could express my rage. “Why should anyone else be bothered if I’m a freak? If I’m so creepy, you’re free to keep your distance. This is a library. People come here to read in peace. It’s no place for those who would trample books underfoot. Get out!”
The boys were intimidated; her rebuke was both logically sound and carried enough authority to compete with a full-grown adult. One of them became defensive enough to argue back. “Wh-What’s your problem?! You think you’re better than us just ’cause you’re the lord’s daughter?!”
As soon as one spoke up, the others were quick to chime in. Only the boy who had initiated the pranks stayed silent, his expression torn between anger and shame.
I was outraged. Why, he was a disgrace of a man. He was the one who had escalated the conflict, so he ought to have shown the backbone to set things right.
At this point, another boy got so riled up that he raised his hand and shouted, “Who cares about a dumb book?!”
“Stop!” the girl screamed upon noting the water bag in his hand and the direction he was aiming it. She flung herself in front of the bookshelf, and the pouch hit her dead-on, exploding into pieces. A horrified silence fell over the children.
Heedless of their reaction, the girl took one look at the books she had failed to cover and burst into tears. She frantically pulled the drenched tomes from the shelves and began wiping them dry with the inside of her skirt. After a moment’s pause, the bullies went back on the defensive, insisting it was all her own fault.
“Hey!” the first boy began to protest, but I acted before he could finish that thought.
I donned my Anti-Archnemesis Face, the fruit of my tireless brainstorming that (I hoped) was certain to make a grown man turn white as a sheet and wet himself—a countenance that could put the gatekeepers of the underworld to shame. For the accompanying sound effect, I figured the cavernous croak of a trio of toads would do.
I stood in the boy’s path, with the girl behind me. The boy who’d been about to speak stared up at me, his mouth hanging open. The other children did the same. Soon enough, a resounding shriek spilled from their quivering lips.
Yes! Now that has a pleasant ring to it.
While I savored that sound for sore ears, the majority of the boys fled the scene. Only the original culprit stood his ground, hugging a friend of his who had been rooted to the spot in fear. He snapped at the little girl, much to my instant disapproval. Did he have even more cruel insults in store for her?
Instead, the words died on his tongue as he watched her sob. He bit down on his lip, his face contorting like he was about to burst into tears himself, and took his leave.
There! The bullies have been vanquished. No need for tears, little one.
Not a second after I had given myself a pat on the back, the girl’s brother and the library staff rushed to the scene in response to the children’s screams, crying, “Eli!”
Before us stood the heir to House Bernstein, whom I had seen in the company of my archnemesis countless times before. He was a boy of about thirteen or fourteen with a gentle countenance and an affable air about him. His brown hair and gray eyes didn’t bear much resemblance to his sister, but his habit of getting so absorbed in a book as to tune out his surroundings was proof enough of their blood relation.
As soon as he saw the state his little sister was in, he rushed to wipe her dry with a handkerchief and patted her head soothingly as she cried. He then murmured, “I’m so sorry, Eli.”
The girl scrubbed at her eyes and looked up, only to find guilt in her brother’s gaze.
“I stopped Jean from interfering. I thought it’d be nice if you could make a friend your own age. But anyone who would damage a book doesn’t deserve your company. From now on, I’ll instruct Jean to keep them far away from you.”
The brother looked distressed to see his sister in tears for once. I nodded to myself as I listened to their exchange. I too had suffered the boys’ shenanigans for so long out of an interest in seeing the girl make friends her own age, even if it meant allowing them to disturb the peace of my library domain.
I-It certainly wasn’t because I’d developed fatherly feelings for the girl, or that I was scheming to discover her weakness! Nothing of the sort!
“Alfred...” The girl blinked, then screwed up her face and said, “I believe this water came from Aogafuchi. And the soil in that area is acidic...”
“True. The hydrangeas there are blue, aren’t they? ...Wait a minute, Eli. Did the water get in your eyes?”
“Yes.”
By Jove!
Evidently, her rare show of tears had a simple explanation: she’d gotten acid water in her eyes.
I can’t believe this. So I acted out of character for nothing? Give me back all my righteous anger!
While I gnashed my teeth in frustration, the siblings left the staff to deal with the books and went elsewhere to wash out the girl’s eyes. Thus, I never heard the next part of their conversation.
“Say, Alfred. I already have a friend, so there’s no need to worry about me.”
“Do you mean that boy you met in the royal capital’s library?”
“The royal capital? No. I met him here.”
“Oh?” the brother prompted, a curious look on his face. His sister merely beamed back at him.
Later on, I overheard an outrageous piece of gossip. Would you believe it?! That girl had earned herself a new nickname: the Library Ghost!
But why? That’s my title! Why are they calling her that?! Grrr! I lamented, swearing an oath anew. That girl was my archnemesis. Not content with jeopardizing my raison d’être as a ghost, she had even stolen my rightful name after I rescued her from those bullies!
That little girl is going down! You’ll regret this, my archnemesis!
With that mantra as my guide, I threw myself back into my ghostly craft, hoping to one day reclaim my stolen title.