Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: The Used Bookstore's NPC
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A serene bookstore steeped in a tranquil atmosphere.
The ceiling lights bathed the surroundings in a soft glow, creating a cozy vibe.
In this warm and comforting space, the only sound was the rustle of turning pages, standing out sharply.
All the used bookstores I-seo had seen before were chaotic piles of books tossed everywhere.
There were often more books stacked on the floor than on the shelves. Most were in poor condition too.
In that sense, these neatly arranged and shelved books felt less like a used bookstore and more like a library.
Lifting your head revealed a ceiling soaring impossibly high.
Several floors nestled between.
Not a single empty shelf—every one crammed full of books. The sight was overwhelming in its density.
But instead of ordinary books, hundreds, even thousands of skill books filled the space, giving off an eerie impression.
Why collect so many useless secondhand items?
I was curious about the reason, but also intimidated by the mad obsession of this place's owner.
Used skill books were typically valuable only to collectors. They weren't for passing on knowledge, the essence of books, but for showing off or decorating spaces.
But look at the books here.
Traces of human touch were visible everywhere.
These weren't from neglect.
On the contrary, the covers were impeccably maintained, as if well-cared for.
Those marks came from heavy reading—from literal hands-on use.
They seemed more loved than any collector's display pieces.
"Ah, you're here? You could have made some noise..."
The owner, Liv, closed her book and looked up.
Was her focus impressive or just oblivious?
I thought I'd made plenty of noise.
Her crooked beret and disheveled hair perfectly matched her sloppy personality.
Even that messy look was stunningly beautiful, beyond what ordinary people could compare to.
"S-so, did you bring it? That thing the Old Man promised!"
"Ah, yes. Here."
I handed over the neatly wrapped book, and she floundered, unsure what to do.
She stamped her feet in agitation, her hands trembling pitifully as she took it.
At a glance, it looked like anxiety, but her faintly flushed cheeks revealed it was excitement.
"Hah... hah..."
Her ragged breathing, like some pervert, sent chills down my spine.
She was drooling from the thrill.
"H-huh."
Hard to believe this was the same woman who'd swept away monsters on the coast.
Right now, she just looked like a pretty airhead.
"Heh heh heh. Finally!!"
She rubbed the book against her cheek in delight.
Then our eyes met. She looked embarrassed and slyly averted hers.
"Ahem. How about some coffee?"
"Is that okay?"
"Just sit tight for a sec."
Books lay scattered on the table.
Open volumes, pens and pencils here and there, neatly organized notes—all caught my eye.
I wondered why an NPC needed skill books. No status window meant she couldn't learn skills from them anyway.
Just a hobby? Or studying them for knowledge? But what good was that knowledge?
Countless questions arose, but I shelved them. I wouldn't understand anyway.
"What kind of coffee?"
Various coffee tools were around.
Does she enjoy coffee? Books and coffee—a nice combo, I thought.
"Americano for me, please."
"Huh? I don't know how to make coffee."
"What? Then what's all this?"
"Just for decor. I tried learning properly but got lazy and quit. Now they're just interior props. They fit pretty well, though, right?"
"They do."
I'd fallen for it completely.
A bizarre situation where no one was tricked, yet I felt duped. Liv spoke up.
"Got instant mix or black. Which?"
"Black for me, please. And speak casually— the Sage told me about you."
Being formal with me while bantering with the Sage felt awkward.
"Oh, sure?"
I hadn't expected her to switch so eagerly.
But it felt more comfortable this way.
The Sage said she'd been here since the Tower's birth—an NPC from the start.
If it weren't from the Sage, I'd never believe such tales.
No—even having seen the coastal scene myself, I'd doubt stories from anyone else.
Things like all the rankers once being her disciples, or her single-handedly blocking the Abyss.
Incredible claims.
"Whoa, ugh! Almost spilled it."
Watching her precariously carry the coffee stirred faint doubts even now.
The secretary or whatever— I-seo, was it?—brought the book the Old Man asked for. He was busy, so she ran the errand instead.
Felt wrong to just send her off, so I treated her to coffee.
Showed off my long-honed instant coffee skills. I didn't know beans from beans, but mixing coffee? Piece of cake.
After she left, the familiar silence returned to the used bookstore.
The clock's ticking rang loud, interspersed with page turns forming a quiet harmony.
The book from the Old Man lived up to its legendary reputation—packed with solid content.
It examined skills from multiple angles and pointed out proper growth paths.
Yet it didn't spoon-feed answers; it guided you to reason them out yourself.
Legendary skill books always had this quality.
The Tower itself recognized the skill as legendary.
As I'd said before, skills register when you've mastered and fully understood your abilities through repetition.
Those who created legendary skills were no ordinary folk, naturally.
And their writings became skill books. No wonder they outshone lower grades.
That didn't make common skill books useless.
If legendaries were advanced courses, commons were the basics.
No solid foundation, no building anything.
Beginners might even need common ones more.
Tied to their growth path, after all.
True, acquiring skills via status window skips understanding the content.
But it's not zero impact.
Even the same skill has different potential and specializations.
The book's content subtly influences that.
The only sound was the rustle of pages— the best music in the room.
Each turn added knowledge, bringing a natural smile.
Rising satisfaction, matched by rising regret.
The content was captivating—too much so. I wished it would never end.
That bred the regret.
But everything reaches an end. Endings complete the buildup, perfecting it.
An undying flower, an endless tale, a road stretching forever without arrival.
A flower that never wilts bears no fruit, yields no result. Over time, it loses even its scent, becoming mere decoration.
An unresolved story ruins the narrative flow, negating all prior buildup. Sacrifices become pointless deaths.
An infinite road is hell itself—dangling futile hope, torturing endlessly. No direction leads to endless wandering, collapse. Their struggles turn meaningless.
When something should end, its refusal makes it shabby, hard to watch.
I was the same.
It applied to those two as well—born with the Tower, like sisters.
'Tower' and 'Abyss'.
Too distant for family or friends, yet not quite strangers.
Still, a strange kinship formed.
The unconquered Tower, the eternally expanding Abyss, and me—mere observer.
We watch others' ends, yet can't claim our own.
"Haa."
I sighed, reaching for my coffee.
Clink. The cup tipped, crashing to the floor.
Thankfully, no books got wet, but the floor was a mess.
Shards of glass and coffee stains soaked the ground.
This sudden mess didn't bother me oddly.
It chased away the strange thoughts crowding my mind.
Maybe the humid weather seeped into my heart too.