The Scream of A Thousand Libraries Chapter 52: Chapter 52: Book Fair (II).

Read chapter 52 of The Scream of A Thousand Libraries by Susangja on NovelPedia.

POV: HELENA IVYRA. Renata was saying something about how her bookmark looked like a medieval sword, and I nodded, laughing, but my attention kept drifting away to the environment around us. There was nothing strange, nothing magical, nothing spiritual… just discomfort. A weird smell mixed into the air, maybe. A light weight on the back of my neck, as if something had spread among the people. Or maybe it was just my imagination. I made a point of ignoring it. After we finished our shopping and improvised a small snack, a somewhat rubbery cheese bread and a cheap soda, we went back to walking around the fair with no rush. The crowd was still lively, students going in and out of booths, hunting for discounts, laughing loudly, being dramatic about not having enough money to buy everything they wanted. “Okay,” Renata said, stretching her arms. “I think we’ve officially cleared the map.” “Cleared? We barely explored half of it.” I pointed out. “Yes, except my money’s gone. Therefore, exploration is over.” “Fair. Valid argument.” We were near the side exit of the hall, where the water outside made the place feel colder and more open. The rain had completely stopped, and now scattered droplets fell from the edge of the roof, forming small rhythmic taps on the ground. The brightness made the air feel less heavy there. Everything felt like an ordinary rainy day with a small strange coincidence… That’s when we heard it. “Guys… did you see the thing about the daycare?” said a girl a few steps from us. “From Blumenau, right?” another replied, her voice trembling. “My mom just texted me…” Renata and I exchanged an automatic look. It wasn’t the tone people use for random gossip. We stopped out of instinct, without even agreeing on it. The girls kept talking, now quieter, but still audible. “A guy walked into a daycare with an axe and k-killed five children…” the first one said, her voice numb. “Oh my gosh…” the other whispered. Renata’s eyes widened. I felt a shiver run down my spine, as if someone had dragged an icy cloth along my back. “Did you hear that?” she asked. “I did…” I stepped a little closer, not wanting to seem nosy. Other people were listening too, and the news spread quickly, like gunpowder between students, teachers, and vendors. Blumenau was right there. A neighboring city. A sister city. A place anyone from here could reach in less than two hours by car. The thought of something so brutal happening so close made the air feel… scarier. “Damn…” I murmured. “That’s…” But I couldn’t finish the sentence. Because there wasn’t a single word that could describe it. Horrible? Absurd? Sickening? Unimaginable? None of them felt enough. And maybe because of that, everything became more gray. The hall, the sounds, the laughter… everything felt a bit off, a bit wrong, a bit misaligned with reality in that moment. As if the news had stripped something from us, an invisible layer of protection that kept the day sunny despite the rain. “It’s so weird,” Renata said. “These things… they happen far away, you know? In places we can’t reach. But when it’s next door…” “It feels like we’re not prepared for it,” I finished. She nodded, her expression somber. We stayed quiet for a few seconds. And then, as if the universe wanted to illustrate the moment, an unpleasant sound echoed through the hall. The sound of someone vomiting. I turned automatically, expecting to see just a student feeling sick. It happened all the time at crowded events. But it wasn’t just one. “Look over there…” Renata whispered, frightened. About fifteen meters away, a boy was bent over, hands on his knees, vomiting on the floor, his whole body shaking. Next to him, a teacher tried to help, holding his shoulders. But further ahead. Another one started vomiting. Another person. And another. And another. In under a minute, I counted mentally, because I was frozen, watching at least ten people vomiting in the hall. Some dropped to their knees, others let their backpacks fall and d