Lucien read the sentence for the fourth time.
“If this book still exists... then we failed to disappear.”
There was no signature, no date, and no name that could help explain who had written it. He turned to the next page, only to find another blank sheet. The page after that was the same, as were all the pages that followed, right up to the back. There was no other writing hidden between the pages, no little note in the corner of the paper, not even a trace of ink to suggest that the book had ever contained anything.
Lucien let out a long breath as he stared at the last page.
“Was this book really made to be read? Then why does it contain only one sentence?”
He turned it over again, hoping for faint writing visible only from a certain angle. He lifted the book toward the windowlight, then slowly tilted it. The surface of the paper remained unchanged. There was no watermark, stamp, or trace of writing he could read.
His fingers then brushed the black leather cover. There were no carvings or symbols, not even stitching or decoration that might usually offer a clue about the origin of an old book. The cover was completely plain. Far too plain for an object found in the Restricted Archive.
Lucien’s curiosity only grew. He had worked there long enough to know that every item in the collection had a reason for being kept. If not for its contents, then at least for its ownership history. A book without a title or identity should never have made it past the cataloging process.
He carried the book to the cataloging desk and opened the drawers of index cards one by one. Old handwritten cards slid between his fingers as he searched by collection type, estimated age, size, and shelf location. Not a single record matched.
Lucien then moved on to the university’s digital catalog and entered every identifying feature he could use. He tried searches for anonymous collections, books without authors, and documents that had not yet been classified. The computer screen continued to show the same result.
No Record Found.
Lucien stared at the screen for a moment before finally shifting his gaze to the book lying beside the keyboard.
“So... what are you, really?”
He knew the question sounded ridiculous, since the book obviously wasn’t going to answer him. But being alone in the archive for hours on end did make a person grow accustomed to talking to inanimate objects.
The sound of the door opening shattered the silence.
“You’re here awfully early.”
Lucien turned.
Professor Aldric Whitmore stepped inside carrying several research folders. He was more than fifty years old, but his stride was still quick and measured, like someone who always knew what needed to be done after opening a room’s door. He set the folders on the table, then looked over at Lucien, who was still sitting in front of the computer.
“Good morning, Professor.”
“You look like you haven’t slept.”
Lucien gave him a faint smile. “I did sleep, Prof. I just found something a little unsettling.”
The professor raised an eyebrow.
“What is it?”
Lucien pushed the black book toward him.
“I found it yesterday in aisle seven of the Restricted Archive.”
The professor did not touch it right away. He stared at the book for several seconds, as if trying to remember whether he had ever seen that plain black cover before.
“May I see it?”
“Of course.”
The professor picked up the book and turned it over in his hands. He opened the first page, then flipped through several blank pages until he found the writing at the back. His expression remained calm as he read the sentence.
After a few seconds, he closed the book.
“Hmm.”
Lucien waited.
The professor said nothing more.
“That’s it? That’s your reaction?”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
Lucien blinked.
“You’ve never seen this book before, Professor?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Are you sure?”
The professor smiled faintly.
“Lucien, if I’d ever seen a book with writing like that, I would remember it.”
The answer only left Lucien more confused. He took the book back and set it between them.
“What’s stranger is that this book isn’t in the catalog at all.”
The professor turned to him immediately.
“You checked?”
“Everything. The shelf index, the digital catalog, old collection lists, even the collection transfer files.”
“Are you sure there wasn’t an error in your search?”
“I tried several possibilities.”
The professor nodded slowly.
Lucien continued, “I’d never seen it during my two years working here, either. And that shelf is one of the sections I clean most often.”
The professor looked at the book.
“Then how could this book have been there?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you.”
The professor did not answer.
He picked up the book again, but this time he did not open it. He simply ran his thumb across the cover, then looked toward the back aisle.
“Which shelf?”
“The very end.”
The professor drew a short breath.
“Between two books?”
Lucien nodded.
“Then show me.”
They walked toward the last aisle. Lucien went ahead and stopped in front of the shelf in question. Two books with dark brown covers were still in place.
“Here.”
The professor examined their arrangement.
“Between these two?”
“Yes.”
“Exactly?”
“Exactly.”
The professor pulled the first book from the shelf, then the one beside it. He examined the space left behind. After that, he took a small metal ruler from his jacket pocket and measured the distance between the two books.
Lucien watched without understanding.
“What is it, Professor?”
The professor did not answer immediately. He put the two books back, then measured the exact same distance again. This time, he did so more carefully.
“Wait.”
He pulled out one of the books and shifted it slightly to the side.
The shelf was already full.
There wasn’t enough room for a book as thick as the black book they had found.
Lucien furrowed his brow.
“Maybe they weren’t packed this tightly yesterday.”
The professor shook his head.
“Then there should be a gap.”
He tried to slip the black book between the two books.
It didn’t fit.
Lucien fell silent too.
The professor pulled it back out and checked the book’s dimensions with the ruler. Then he compared them with the distance between the two books on the shelf.
The result remained the same.
There was no way the book could have been there in the position Lucien remembered.
“But I took it from here,” Lucien said.
The professor looked at him.
“I believe you.”
“Then why doesn’t it fit?”
The professor did not answer.
He looked back at the shelf, then at the black book in his hand. The calm expression he had worn all this time gradually turned serious.
“Lucien, are you sure you didn’t move another book before taking it?”
“I was just cleaning the shelf. I didn’t take any books out.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
The professor gave a small nod.
“Very well.”
He did not sound as if he doubted Lucien. On the contrary, his tone sounded like that of someone trying to make sure every ordinary possibility had been examined before considering something more difficult to explain.
Lucien watched his face.
“Professor?”
“Hmm?”
“If it wasn’t placed on that shelf...”
The professor looked at the black book in his hand.
“...then how did it get there?”
The question hung between them.
There was no reasonable answer.
They returned to the worktable without discussing it. The professor set the black book on the table and pulled out a chair. This time, he did not open it right away. Instead, he sat there for quite a while, staring at it.
Lucien stood on the other side of the table.
“Do you think someone could have put it there without recording it?”
“Possibly.”
“Does that mean someone could enter the Restricted Archive without our knowledge?”
“Don’t jump to that conclusion.”
The professor raised one hand.
“There are several simpler possibilities.”
“Such as?”
“There may have been an error in the records.”
“For a book that doesn’t even have an inventory number?”
The professor fell silent.
Lucien realized that was a difficult question to answer.
“Or perhaps the book was part of an old collection that had never been cataloged.”
The professor shook his head.
“Then there should be some other record. Even the most disorganized collection leaves a trace.”
He opened one of the research folders and took out an old inventory list.
“Collections brought into this room don’t simply appear out of nowhere.”
Lucien looked at the list.
“So this book should have left a trace.”
“Yes.”
“And it didn’t.”
“Not as far as we know.”
Lucien rubbed his chin.
“Then who wrote the sentence inside it?”
The professor looked at the black book again.
“That’s a more difficult question.”
Lucien pointed to the last page.
“What do you think it means?”
The professor reread the sentence.
“If this book still exists... then we failed to disappear.”
He repeated the final part in his mind before answering.
“Perhaps the writer was referring to himself and the people who were with him.”
“So there was a group?”
“Possibly.”
“What kind of group?”
The professor shrugged.
“We don’t have enough information to know.”
Lucien was slightly disappointed by the answer.
Professor Whitmore could usually find at least one possibility in an old document. This time, however, he seemed just as confused.
“So we really don’t know anything?”
The professor smiled faintly.
“We know one thing.”
“What?”
“This book shouldn’t be in the catalog.”
Lucien nodded.
“I already knew that.”
“There’s one more thing.”
The professor looked at him.
“That sentence was written by someone who thought their book would disappear.”
Lucien looked at the last page again.
“And it didn’t.”
“Or,” the professor said softly, “someone deliberately made sure this book would be found.”
Lucien fell silent.
That possibility felt more unsettling than all the others.
“Why me?”
The professor did not answer.
Lucien waited several seconds before asking again.
“If someone deliberately hid it, why put it somewhere I come almost every day?”
The professor stared at him for a long moment.
“I don’t know.”
The answer was simple, but it only made Lucien more uncomfortable.
All this time, he had thought of history as something that could be explained if someone searched long enough. But the book forced him to confront something that did not even have a starting point to search from.
The professor finally stood.
“We shouldn’t rush this.”
He took the black book and placed it inside an empty archive folder.
Lucien watched him.
“You’re going to keep it?”
“For the time being.”
“Where?”
“In my office.”
Lucien nodded.
The professor then paused before putting the book in a drawer.
“Lucien.”
“Yes, Professor?”
“Starting today, please don’t tell anyone about this book just yet.”
Lucien frowned.
“Why?”
The professor did not answer immediately. He closed the drawer slowly, then looked at Lucien with an expression far more serious than before.
“Because I don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
Lucien waited.
The professor continued in a lower voice.
“And until we do, I don’t want too many people to know this book exists.”
“Do you think it’s dangerous?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then why keep it secret?”
The professor smiled faintly, but this time his smile did nothing to lighten the mood.
“Because I don’t know who else will believe you besides me.”
Lucien fell silent.
The professor reopened his research folder as if their conversation were over, but Lucien remained where he was. His thoughts returned to the shelf in aisle seven, to the book that should not have fit there, and to the one sentence that kept echoing in his mind.
If this book still exists... then we failed to disappear.
He still didn’t know who the word we referred to.
He also didn’t know what, exactly, they had failed to do.
What he did know was that a book not even listed in the university catalog was now being kept in Professor Whitmore’s office, and for the first time in his two years working in the Restricted Archive, there was one object that made him feel the more answers he sought, the more questions appeared.