Academy Life

In the morning, though the academy’s dining hall claimed to offer a variety of dishes, a glance around revealed that aside from a few students—clearly suffering from mental exhaustion due to unknown sorcery, dancing naked in the hall with pale faces—the rest enjoyed breakfasts that looked like they would cost an average wage earner a month’s salary. Ji Ning considered this scene and decided he ought to blend in, despite the fact that these people ate their meals while bird-watching.

“I’d like two pork and scallion buns, two fried dough sticks, and a cup of soy milk,” Ji Ning said lazily to the blond, blue-eyed attendant, then added, “Make sure the soy milk is freshly pressed, don’t try to fool me with watered-down stuff.”

“Alright, just a moment,” the attendant replied in flawless Mandarin, prompting Ji Ning to glance at him with curiosity. The attendant’s accent sounded as if he’d just crawled out of a hutong in old Beijing.

Ji Ning mimicked his accent, pinching his throat, and prepared to ask if the attendant spoke any other dialects—ideally his own hometown’s. There’s nothing more comforting than a familiar accent, but as he thought about it, he felt a pang of disappointment. People only remember grand capitals; who would bother learning the dialect of a small city? He swallowed his question and pretended nothing had happened, his mood sinking.

No matter how nice it was here, it was still a foreign land.

The attendant didn’t take offense at Ji Ning’s mimicry; instead, he explained in fluent Mandarin, “The first requirement for Ambrose Restaurant staff is proficiency in at least six foreign languages. Chinese counts as two.” Ji Ning paused, then weakly asked, “How much do you make a month?”

“It’s probably ten times what you’re expecting right now.” The attendant smiled and walked away. Ji Ning smacked his lips in realization—what wealthy person would ask such a question? His own inquiry was impolite, and the attendant had responded in kind, subtly pricking him. Ji Ning suddenly found himself interested in the attendant; perhaps he could chat with him during future meals.

This was Ji Ning’s first time dining at Ambrose Restaurant. Normally, his heavy coursework meant he started his days at Deer Academy at 4 a.m., solving every meal at vending machines.

Ji Ning stuffed buns into his mouth while scanning the room—one of the rare chances to observe his elusive classmates.

His aimless gaze brightened as he spotted two familiar figures: Aphra and Catherine were spreading butter on bread. Ji Ning hurriedly finished the last few buns, catching them just before they finished buttering, and sat across from Catherine.

Aphra subtly shifted her seat, widening the gap from this uninvited guest, but Ji Ning pretended not to notice and greeted them with the classic Chinese salutation.

“Have you eaten, ladies?” Ji Ning felt he ought to be featured in etiquette classes, convinced he was the embodiment of manners—no elder could find fault with such a greeting.

“What do you think?” Catherine picked up her napkin and elegantly wiped her mouth. When Ji Ning appeared, she’d sped up swallowing her bread, as it was improper to speak with food in one’s mouth. Now, with his greeting, she wondered if the man before her was suffering some trauma above the neck.

Ji Ning forced a smile, trying to ease the awkwardness. “Good morning. How have you been lately?”

He stared at Aphra, believing he appeared as a mature senior greeting gentle juniors, but Aphra stuck out her tongue, showing no respect. “Busy writing a self-critique.”

“Ji Ning, if you have something to say, just say it,” Catherine began to tidy her tableware with brisk, graceful movements.

“Nothing really, just saying hello.” Ji Ning thought, I can’t possibly admit I’m here to get familiar for future favors—that would make Catherine think I’m shamelessly after her, which, admittedly, I am. He stole a furtive glance at the girl’s youthful, alluring figure.

Catherine and Aphra exchanged a look; they’d seen that gaze before. Another lecher. No wonder they’d take advantage—after all, a readily available scapegoat shouldn’t go unused.

“Actually, we have a commission and need more hands. We were about to recruit at the academy center, but with you, we’re just enough,” Aphra shifted closer.

“I’m sorry, I have classes this afternoon. What a pity. I won’t keep you from recruiting at the center.” Ji Ning stood, declining smoothly. “Commission my foot. There’s not a single normal person in this bird academy—the kind of freaks who issue commissions, only fools take on their tasks.” He grumbled inwardly as he made for the main entrance.

“The sponsor is Senior Irina. I’ve already checked; the task isn’t difficult, so the credit reward is low, which is why only we’re taking it.” Catherine’s voice reached Ji Ning just as he was about to leave.

Ji Ning returned to his seat, direct, “How many credits?”

In a place like Deer Academy, every extra day was a desecration of a beautiful life. He needed to earn enough credits to graduate early, then smash the SCP Foundation’s bastards, and finally live a normal life.

“One credit per person, settled at the end of the term,” Aphra propped her chin in her hands and added, “Third-year students may transfer their credits to designated lower-year students at the end of the term, though there’s a limit.”

“It’s my honor to assist two ladies,” Ji Ning spread his hands, inviting her to continue. A flicker of anticipation stirred—these side quests in academies usually only triggered for main characters. Was he about to embark on a path of unrivaled greatness?

“The commission is simple: find a disobedient little puppy.” Aphra summoned the attendant for two desserts, explaining the commission in a soft voice while passing one dessert to Catherine.

“Three days ago, an insomniac in the Threeportland business district spotted a creature suspected to be a giant hellhound. I doubt it—if it really were a hellhound, this commission would be handled by the academy’s Missing Persons Investigation Office, not us.” Aphra took a small bite of a cherry atop her tiramisu, licking the cake from her finger.

“This time, we’re only investigating, no interference with the target,” Catherine emphasized the word “no interference.” Ji Ning nodded solemnly; a certain black student who returned draped in a white sheet had already proven a freshman rule: any action without supervision was a walk toward the afterlife.

“We’ll discuss the details at five this afternoon in the academy center library,” Catherine glanced at a small clock on the wall. Ji Ning sensibly rose to leave, but curiosity got the better of him. “Aphra, is dessert your real meal?”

Aphra, cheeks bulging, shot Ji Ning a glare. “Don’t you know girls have a special stomach just for sweets?” She stacked two gleaming plates and patted her belly in satisfaction.

In the afternoon, after enduring two hours of Silvia’s one-sided beating, Ji Ning requested to leave class early. After he explained his reason, Silvia waved him off in disappointment. “Go on, go on. Young people these days... Can meeting a few girls really compare to a good bout of fighting?” Ji Ning ignored Silvia’s melancholy, as if she’d lived through half a lifetime. For a woman in her prime to say such things was truly sad. Ji Ning dared not betray any thoughts, and, suppressing his aches, staggered toward the academy center’s library.

It was Ji Ning’s first time here, but even before he entered, he was certain this place was a gathering ground for madmen and zealots. After all, an ordinary library wouldn’t be named the Exiled Library, even if it was just a branch.

A large sign stood at the entrance, repeating a message in numerous languages to ensure all could read and obey the rules.

Welcome, Exile. Please do not fold, rotate, or transform your companions.

The library exists independently from normal space, housing nearly every book ever written—and many that have never been written. Pathways to the library exist all over the world, and in other worlds as well. When you climb to the top of the shelves, you will see more shelves stretching beyond your sight. The library has walls; it is not infinite, but it is still far larger than any man-made structure.

Since its inception, at least as far as anyone knows, the library has served to collect and provide books and information. All are welcome to consult books or other materials here. Many works in the library are mysterious to visitors. The section called the Archive is open only to certain individuals, while others are usually restricted to librarians.

The library still has rules: return books on time; do not damage books; do not steal books; do not harm library property; do not harm those within the library. The librarian class is composed of those who cannot or will not follow the rules.

Librarians are caretakers, overseeing the library’s daily maintenance. Most visitors encounter only one of three types of librarians per day.

Archivists serve people behind the long desk in the main hall. They have no eyes, yet instinctively know how to locate any book in the library. They also issue library cards, loan books, and keep track of borrowed volumes. If you look behind the desk, you’ll see they have no legs, but are fused with chairs fixed to the marble floor.

Shelvers return books to the shelves. They have six to ten arms, arched legs, and short, stout bodies, making them excellent climbers who don’t need ladders to reach the highest shelves. They rarely touch the ground.

Guides provide directions to visitors and track signs of rule violations. They are utterly silent—indeed, they have no mouths. Their left hand is replaced by a chain linked to a brass lantern that never dims.

Notably, Guides serve as the library’s first line of defense against hostile entities. Some believe they sense threats before adversaries enter via the Hidden Paths, though this claim is disputed.

Hidden Paths are channels connecting different worlds and realities, and the library is their hub; nearly every world has at least one Path leading to it.

Each Path is, in some sense, a “door.” It can be a literal door, an archway, or a mirror. To cross a Path, you must “knock”—that is, perform a specific action or meet a certain condition. Perhaps whistle the right tune, carry a seven-leaf clover, or unravel a VHS copy of “Enter the Dragon.” Such things. “Knock” open the Path, step through, and you find yourself in a new world.

Not all Paths lead to the library; some go to other worlds, some to different places in the same world. The wise—including the scholars of the Serpent’s Hand—have never figured out how these Paths work. If there is any logic to their operation, no one has discovered it.

In the world of the library, wonders are hidden, but never truly far away. Yet never forget: this is a realm wilder than our own, and by no means safe. Tread carefully.