The Librarian Who Accidentally Raised the Seven Calamities Chapter 1: [1] The Silence that Breathed

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The first thing I realized was that I couldn't scream. It wasn't that I didn't want to. My lungs were burning, and my tiny, fragile chest was desperate to breathe. But every time I tried to cry, I felt like I was hitting an invisible wall in my throat. It didn't just stop. All of a sudden… it was gone. [Noise isn't allowed in the Library] Shimmering blue text suddenly appeared before me. It looked like a game window, but it felt less like a notification and more like a joke. 'I can't breathe, but I'm still conscious—how the hell is that possible?' 'Library? I'm in a bedroom, you piece of— f- fix my voice!!' "He's not breathing," a woman's voice gasped. Her voice was trembling, as if a single mistake would cost her her life. I was dangling upside down, held by a pair of shaking, calloused hands. The midwife began slapping my back; the blows stung my fragile back more than I could have imagined. I wanted to scream and cry out in pain. But instead, I just stared at the floorboards. I was still trying to process what had happened. BANG- The heavy oak doors swung open with a crash. Duke Alaric didn't just walk in; he practically burst through the door. He slowly walked towards me. He didn't ask if my mother was still alive, he didn't even look at her. He stopped three feet from the midwife. "Give him to me," he commanded. The midwife let go of me as if I were a cursed relic. Alaric's grip was brutal. He grabbed me by the ribs; his thick fingers almost closed around my chest. He didn't look at me like a child. He pressed a thumb against the center of my forehead. I felt his power---a hot, aggressive, and impatient mana; it felt as if i were having a stroke. This was a "Resonance Test." He was looking for a sign, a spark, that his fourth son carried the fire of the Reinhart lineage. ... Then silence fell over the room The candles went out suddenly; the wax turned to black dust before it hit the floor. The heat from the fireplace vanished in an instant; it was replaced by such a biting cold that it felt as though the walls were trembling. The blood on the floor began to spread rapidly; it rushed toward Alaric's boots and started climbing up his skin like hungry vines. [Synchronization: 1%.] [Archive Owner detected. The foundation is thirsty.] Alaric recoiled, nearly dropping me. His face, usually a mask of noble arrogance, was twisted in a look of pure, primal revulsion. He looked at his thumb—the skin where he had touched my forehead was stained black. Not bruised. Stained. Like he'd dipped his hand in an inkwell that wouldn't dry. "Empty," Alaric hissed. But his voice lacked its usual sharpness. It was weak, overshadowed by fear. "He's not a sorcerer. He's a leak. A void that devours everything it touches." After a few seconds, the woman spoke. "My Lord, the naming ceremony—" the midwife started, her voice shaking. "There is no ceremony for a mistake," Alaric snapped. He looked at me one last time, his blue eyes cold and distant. "He wants silence? Fine. Take him to the North Wing. Throw him into the Archives. Let the dust decide if he's worth keeping." He turned and walked out, wiping his ink-stained hand on his cloak, but the stain didn't fade. It stayed there, a black smudge on the Reinhart crest. I lay on the bed, my small, heavy head lolling to the side. The midwife's tears were warm, but I didn't care. I was looking at the corner of the room where the shadows were beginning to peel off the wall like old wallpaper. 'So that's how it is,' I thought, my vision finally starting to blur. 'Useless to the world, but a meal for the shadows.' [Welcome Home, Cael von Reinhart.] The heavy doors to the library weren't even open yet, but I could already hear the pages turning in the dark. They were waiting for me.