Ascendance of a Bookworm: Part 1 Volume 1 E-Book

Miya Kazuki

• Herausgeber: J-Novel Club
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

A certain college girl who's loved books ever since she was a little girl dies in an accident and is reborn in another world she knows nothing about. She is now Myne, the sickly five-year-old daughter of a poor soldier. To make things worse, the world she's been reborn in has a very low literacy rate and books mostly don't exist. She'd have to pay an enormous amount of money to buy one.
Myne resolves herself: If there aren't any books, she'll just have to make them! Her goal is to become a librarian. This story begins with her quest to make books so she can live surrounded by them!
Dive into this biblio-fantasy written for book lovers and bookworms!

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Cover

Color Illustrations

Map of Ehrenfest

Prologue

A New Life

Exploring My Home

Exploring the City

Books: Unobtainable

Lifestyle Overhaul

Neighborhood Boys

Paper: Unobtainable

Learning to Respect Egyptian Culture

Winter Preparations

Stone Slate Get!

Beaten by Ancient Egyptians

The Sweet Taste of Winter

Helping Out Otto

Tuuli’s Hair Ornament

Bring Me to The Forest

Long Live Mesopotamian Culture

Clay Tablets Won’t Work

Tuuli’s Baptism

I Love You, Yellow River Culture

I Want Ink

Intense Battle with Food

Mokkan and A Mysterious Fever

The Road to a Meeting

Meeting with the Merchant

Epilogue

A Day Without Myne

Unchanging Daily Life

Afterword

About J-Novel Club

Copyright

Landmarks

Color Images

Table of Contents

Prologue

Urano Motosu loved books. Psychology, religion, history, geography, education, anthropology, math, physics, geology, chemistry, biology, art, language, fiction... Books were filled with the knowledge of all humanity and she loved them from the bottom of her heart.

She felt rewarded whenever she read a book packed with facts and trivia new to her. Looking upon worlds unbeknownst to her through maps and picture anthologies made her feel the intoxicating bliss of her world expanding. She was even interested in old tales and myths from foreign countries, as she felt like they gave her a glimpse into different cultures of ages long past. They were rich with history and she couldn’t count how many hours she had lost to unraveling their mysteries.

Urano loved the distinctive scent of old books packed into the storeroom of a library, and even the dusty air enticed her so much that she would always head straight for the back rooms of whichever libraries she visited. She would slowly fill her lungs with the old, musty smell and look over the aged books, feeling elated from that alone. Of course, she also loved the smell of new paper and ink. She had fun just wondering about what would be written on those pages, what new information awaited her.

Above all, Urano just didn’t feel right when her eyes weren’t scanning the lines of a book. In order to survive she always kept a book close at hand, whether she was taking a bath, using the bathroom, or even just walking around. She had lived this way from childhood to her college graduation, clinging to books with such fervor that everyone who knew Urano called her “that weird bookworm.” They said that she loved books so much it was damaging her life.

But Urano didn’t care, no matter what they said. She had books, and that was enough to make her happy.

A large truck passed in front of Urano, spewing the smell of exhaust behind it. The warm wind flew past her, rustling her bangs. But she paid them no mind. All she cared about was hurriedly holding down the pages of her book before they flipped and she lost her place.

“Urano, c’mon, that’s dangerous. Stay close to me.”

“Mmm...” Urano pushed up her glasses and gave a lazy response, focusing more on the words in front of her. She noticed that her rustled hair was getting in the way and quickly brushed it aside. An exasperated sigh drifted into her ears and she felt someone pull on her arm, a little hard. Her brows furrowed. “Shuu, that hurts.”

“Complain all you want. A little pain is a lot better than getting hit by a truck and dying, yeah?”

“That’s true. I wouldn’t want to die from anything but an avalanche of books.”

Urano wanted to live her entire life surrounded by books. If possible, she wanted to spend her whole life inside a book storeroom, where there’s no sun to damage the pages but just enough airflow to keep things comfortable.

Time not spent reading books was time wasted.

Even if people said her skin was gross and pale and laughed at her for being weak due to lack of exercise, even if her mom yelled at her for forgetting to eat, she had no intention of ever letting go of her books.

If she had to die somehow, she may as well die getting crushed by an avalanche of books. That’d make her a lot happier than a slow death in a hospital bed. Urano sincerely believed that.

“I’m always telling you not to read while you walk. If I weren’t here, you definitely woulda walked straight into the road and died in no time. How about a little thank you?”

“But I say it all the time. I’m so, sooo thankful.”

“That don’t sound too sincere to me.”

“I am, I am. It’s thanks to you that I can read books while doing chores, Shuu. But even if I did die, I’d ask a god to reincarnate me so I can keep reading books in my next life. Isn’t that smart? Ahaha.”

“Life ain’t that convenient, moron.”

Their conversation continued until they reached Urano’s house. Shuu entered with her rather than going into his own house next door. As they were childhood friends and went to the same daycare, they had been raised like siblings practically since birth. He always referred to Urano’s place as home, and nobody questioned that.

“Mom, here’s what you wanted. I’ll be in the book room. Call me whenever dinner’s ready.”

“Right, right. What about you, Shuu? Is your mother planning on making anything?”

“Nah, I’m eating here tonight. She’s got work. Urano, I’m borrowing your TV to play some games.”

“Uh huh, go ahead.” Urano raised her voice so Shuu could hear her as she headed straight to the book storage room left behind by her father, who had died when she was young. She opened the door and turned on the lights.

The book room had a window for ventilation purposes, but it was tightly covered by a thick light-blocking curtain to protect the books from sunlight. There were bookcases packed with books on all sides and a desk with a huge stack of books on top of it, as Urano had bought so many new books that the shelves couldn’t hold them all.

Urano smoothly sat onto the desk chair without looking up from her book, and kept on reading. Suddenly, her vision shook. She concluded that an earthquake was happening and kept on reading as always. The shaking was harder than usual, which made it difficult for her to read.

Her brows furrowed and she looked up, frustrated at the earthquake, only to see books dominating her vision. “Hyaaah?!”

Books tumbled from a tilted shelf and rained right down onto her. Unable to dodge them, Urano could only stare with her eyes wide open as she was buried beneath them.

A New Life

...It’s so hot. It hurts. I hate thiiis...

A child’s voice cried out directly into my head, filled with pain and suffering.

Well, what do you want me to do about that? I had no idea what to do, and over time the voice grew increasingly quiet.

The moment I realized I couldn’t hear the child’s voice anymore, the bubble-esque thing that had been encapsulating me disappeared with a burst, and I felt my consciousness slowly rising up.

At the same time, I felt a hot fever and pain spread throughout my body as if I had been afflicted with influenza. I nodded and agreed with the child, This certainly is hot and it certainly does hurt. I hate it too.

But the child’s voice didn’t reply.

It was so hot. I tried moving around to find a colder spot in the bed. Maybe due to the fever, I couldn’t move my body like I wanted to. But I struggled on regardless, and in the process of wiggling my body, heard the sound of something like paper and grass rubbing together beneath me.

“...What’s that noise?” My throat should’ve been sore due to the fever, but a childish and high-pitched voice came out of my mouth. It was clearly not my own voice, and it sounded just like the child’s voice that I’d heard in my head a second ago.

I wanted to keep sleeping since the fever was making me feel so sluggish, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that I was in an unfamiliar bed and that my voice wasn’t my own, so I slowly lifted my heavy eyelids.

My fever must have been enormous, as my eyes were wet and my vision twisted. Thankfully, though, my tears were apparently serving as makeshift lenses, as I could see far farther than I usually could without my glasses.

“Wha?” For some reason, I could see the small, unhealthy-looking hand of a child stretched out in front of me. Weird. My hand should be a lot bigger than this. I have the hands of an adult, not a small, malnourished child.

I could move the child’s hand like my own, clenching and opening it. This body that I could move at will was not my own. The sheer shock of that revelation made my mouth dry up. “...What’s, happening?”

Making sure to keep the tears from dipping out of my wet eyes, I moved my gaze around while keeping my head still. It didn’t take long to notice that I wasn’t in my own room. The bed beneath me was hard and lacked a mattress; it was using cushions made of something prickly and rough instead. The dirty blanket thrown over me had a weird smell, and my whole body was itchy as if it were infested with fleas or bedbugs.

“Hold on, wait... Where am I?” My last memory was getting crushed by an avalanche of books, and it wasn’t likely I had been rescued in the nick of time. At the very least, I was sure no hospital in Japan would treat patients on such a filthy bed. What’s going on?

“I... I definitely died, right?” All signs pointed to yes. I had died being crushed by books. That earthquake was at best a three or four on the Richter scale. It wasn’t the kind of earthquake that killed people. So my death had definitely ended up on the news, something like, “A college girl nearing graduation was crushed to death by books in her own home.”

...That’s so embarrassing! I died twice that day, once physically and once socially. I felt so embarrassed I tried rolling around on the bed, but out of fear for my heavy and pained head, I decided to double facepalm instead.

“I mean, okay, I definitely joked about it. I definitely thought that, if I was going to die, I may as well die getting crushed by books. I honestly did think it’d be better than dying a slow death on a hospital bed.” But this was all wrong. I had dreamed of a happy death at the end of a life surrounded by books. I honestly hadn’t expected an earthquake to happen and crush me to death so soon.

“This is awful. I’d just gotten hired, too. Oooh, my sweet college library...” In this troubled age of high unemployment, I had just managed to land a job in a college library. Through guts and determination to fulfill my dream of a happy life surrounded by books, I passed all the necessary tests and interviews and finally secured victory. This job would involve spending far more time around books than any other, and the library even had plenty of old books and documents.

My mom, who worried more about me than anyone else, even started crying after hearing the news. “That’s wonderful. Urano, you actually found a respectable, good job. I’m so proud of you,” she’d said, tears dripping out of her eyes. And days after that, I just up and die?

My mind drifted to thoughts of how my mother must have cried after learning of my death. She, the mother I’d never meet again, would definitely be mad. I could say with confidence that at some point she’d screamed, “How many times did I tell you to get rid of some of those books?!”

“I’m sorry, Mom...” I lifted up a heavy, sluggish hand to wipe away my tears.

With great effort, I slowly lifted my head and sat my burning hot body up before looking around the room to obtain as much information as possible, paying no heed to my hair sticking to my sweaty neck. The room had only a few dressers for storing things and two tables, apparently beds, each covered with filthy blankets. Sadly, there was no bookshelf in sight.

“I don’t see any books... Maybe this is just a nightmare? A death nightmare?” If a god had granted my wish and reincarnated me, there should have been books nearby. My wish was to keep reading books after being reborn, after all. While thinking things through with my feverish, foggy head, I stared at a spider’s nest hanging off the dark, soot-stained ceiling.

Soon, however, the door opened and a woman came in. Perhaps she heard me moving, or perhaps she heard me talking to myself. But, either way, she was a beautiful woman with a triangular bandanna tied on her head who looked to be in her upper-twenties. She had a lovely face, but she was dirty. So dirty that I would assume she was homeless if I saw her in the streets.

I don’t know who this woman is, but she really should wash her face and keep herself clean. She’s wasting her good looks.

“Myne, %&$#+@*+#%?”

“Hyaaah!” The moment I heard the woman’s incomprehensible speech, a mental dam burst and memories that were familiar, yet not my own, came rushing through. In the span of a few blinks, the accumulated years of memories belonging to the girl named Myne had crashed through my mind like a flood and beat against my brain, causing me to reflexively clasp my head in horror.

“Myne, are you okay?”

No, I’m not Myne! I wanted to protest, but I couldn’t. I was overwhelmed by the indescribable sensation of this strange, dirty room and these weak, small hands becoming familiar to me. I got goosebumps as the language I previously couldn’t understand became fully comprehensible.

The huge flood of information sent me into a panic, and everything I could see before me screamed one thing: You’re not Urano anymore. You’re Myne.

“Myne? Myne?” The woman called out to me, worried, but to me she was just a stranger. Or she should have been, but for some reason, it felt like I knew her. It even felt like I loved her.

The love felt gross and alien. It wasn’t my own. I couldn’t yet manage to obediently accept that the woman in front of me was my mother. As my repulsion and love ground against each other, the woman kept calling out my name. Myne.

“...Mom.”

When I looked up at this strange woman I had never met before and called her “Mom,” I ceased being Urano and became Myne.

“Are you okay? You look like you have a headache.”

I instinctively didn’t want to touch my mom, she who existed in my memories yet was someone I didn’t know, and so I fell back onto the stinky bed to avoid her outstretched hand. I then shut my eyes to fully shut off all visual stimulation. “...My head still hurts. I want to sleep.”

“Okay. Rest well, dear.”

I waited for Mom to leave the bedroom and got to work trying to grasp my situation. My head was messed up from the fever, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep peacefully while panicked like I was.

I had no idea how things had ended up this way. But it was more important to think of what to do next, rather than get stuck on the past. Knowing how this happened wouldn’t change the fact that I had to do something.

If I didn’t use Myne’s memories to fully understand my surroundings, my family would quickly get suspicious. I began to slowly digest Myne’s many memories. I tried thinking as far back as I could, but her memories were those of a very young girl with a weak grasp on language. She didn’t clearly understand everything Mom and Dad said, so there was a lot she didn’t know. My vocabulary was so lacking that over half of these memories were meaningless.

“Oh gosh, what do I do...?”

From the visuals of her memories, I determined a few things. One, my family consisted of four people: My mom, Effa; my older sister, Tuuli; and my dad, Gunther. It seemed like Dad was working as a soldier or something.

The most shocking thing of all, however, was that this world was not my own. My memories of my bandanna-wearing mom showed that she had light green hair, a color best described as jade. It wasn’t an unnatural dyed green, either. She really had green hair. Green so realistic I wanted to pull her hair and make sure it wasn’t a wig.

By the way, Tuuli had green hair and Dad had blue hair. My own hair was dark blue. I didn’t know whether I should be happy my hair was close to black as I was used to, or sad that it wasn’t actually black.

There were apparently no mirrors in this residence—something like an apartment located on the upper floor of a tall building—so no matter how much I explored my memories, I couldn’t find any details on my appearance beyond that. If I were to guess based on how good my parents and Tuuli looked, I probably didn’t look half bad myself. Though my appearance had no relevance to me as long as I could read books, so I wasn’t that worried about it. I didn’t look that amazing as Urano, after all. I could live without being cute.

“Haaah. Really, I just want to read books. I feel like my fever would vanish if I had a book in hand.”

I can survive anywhere as long as I’ve got books. I’ll endure anything. So please. Books. Let me have books. I placed a finger on my chin and began searching my memory for books. Let’s see. I wonder where they’re hiding all the books in this place.

“Myne, you’re awake?” As if to intentionally interrupt my thoughts, a young girl that looked about seven years old stepped lightly into my room.

It was Tuuli, my older sister. Her green hair, tied into a slightly misshapen braid, was so dry I could immediately tell she wasn’t washing it at all. Just like Mom, I wished she would wash her face. She was also wasting her good looks.

The reason I thought that was probably due to my upbringing in Japan, a country so fixated on cleanliness that other countries considered us to be obsessive. But I didn’t care about that. There were more important things in the world. And right now, there was one thing I needed to prioritize above everything else.

“Tuuli, would you bring me a (book)?” My older sister was old enough to know how to read, so surely there were at least a dozen picture books lying around. I could still read despite being sick and bedridden. It’s a miracle I got reborn like this, since I care more about reading the books of this different world than anything else.

Unfortunately, Tuuli just looked at me in confusion despite my sweet smile. “Huh? What’s a (book)?”

“You don’t know...? Ummm, they’re things with (letters) and stuff (written) on them. Some have (illustrations), too.”

“Myne, what are you even saying? Can’t you talk properly?”

“I’m telling you, a (book)! I want a (picture book).”

“What’s that? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Apparently, words that weren’t in Myne’s memories ended up coming out as Japanese, so Tuuli just shook her head in confusion no matter how hard I tried to explain what I wanted.

“Aaah, geez! (Do your job, auto translatooor!)”

“Why are you mad, Myne?”

“I’m not mad. My head just hurts.”

Looks like my first job will be to pay attention to everything people say and try to learn as many new words as possible. With Myne’s youthful brain and my twenty-two-year-old graduate wits and knowledge, learning this language should be a piece of cake. I... I hope it’ll be cake.

Even when I was Urano, I worked hard with a dictionary in hand to understand foreign books. If I thought of learning this world’s language as a means to read the books here, I wouldn’t mind the effort at all. My love and passion for books was so great that it pushed people away from me.

“...You’re mad because you still have a fever?” Tuuli reached out her dirty hand, likely trying to feel how hot my forehead was.

I reflexively grabbed her hand. “I’m still sick, you’ll catch it too.”

“That’s true. I’ll be careful.”

Safe. By acting like I was worried about her, I could avoid things I didn’t like. I managed to avoid getting touched by Tuuli’s dirty hand using the advanced social techniques of adults. She wasn’t a bad older sister, but I didn’t want her to touch me before getting clean. Or so I thought, before looking down at my own filthy hands and sighing.

“Haaah. I want to take a (bath). My head’s itchy.” The moment I murmured that, Myne’s memories informed me of the unfortunate truth: The best I would get was a bucket of water to dump over my head and a tattered rag to rub against myself.

Noooo! You can’t call that a bath. Also, there’s no toilet here?! Just a chamber pot?! Give me a break. Attention, whichever god put me here... I wanted to live somewhere modern and convenient.

My environment was so bad it honestly made me want to cry. When I was Urano, I lived in a very normal household. I never had any problems with food, clothes, using the bathroom, or getting books. This new life was a huge downgrade.

I... I miss Japan. It was filled with so many wonderful things I took for granted. Soft washcloths, comfortable beds, books, books, books... But no matter how much nostalgia I felt, I had no choice but to live in this new world. Crying wouldn’t get me anywhere. I had to teach my family the value of cleanliness.

As far as I could tell from my memories, Myne was a weak little girl who often had fevers and ended up bedridden for days at a time. Most of her memories involved the bed. If I didn’t improve my environment, I would probably be dead before long. I could imagine from the poor conditions I was put in while sick that it would be ideal to avoid needing medical attention at all costs.

...I need to clean up this room and figure out how to take baths ASAP. I’m the kind of lazy person that avoided chores as much as possible even with convenient modern electronics. I cared more about reading books than helping my mom. Am I gonna be able to live here?

I shook my head to get those thoughts out of my mind. No, no. Like I said, it’s a miracle I got reincarnated at all. I need to be more positive. How lucky! I get to read books that don’t even exist on Earth! ...Okay. I’m getting enthusiastic again.

First, in order to focus on reading books without worrying, I had to take care of my body. I slowly shut my eyes so I could rest. As my consciousness faded into darkness, one thought dominated my mind:

I don’t care what it is. I just want to read a book as soon as possible. Aaah, whichever god put me here, please pity me and grant me a book! Also, this might be asking for a bit much, but I want a library filled to the brim with books too.

Exploring My Home

Three days had passed since I became Myne. Those were three very intense days. I had survived several brutal battles I couldn’t talk about without crying.

First of all, I snuck out of bed to try and look around the house for books, but Mom found me and forced me back into bed. She got super mad. I tried several times to escape but failed every time. Every single time. It got so bad that she’d put me back in bed every time she saw me unless I was using the bathroom!

In the end, I didn’t get any chances to look for books. Not only that, but even though using the toilet was the only freedom offered to me, it too ended up as a terrible struggle. The “bathroom” in this place was a chamber pot in the corner of the bedroom.

To make matters worse, Myne apparently couldn’t use the toilet on her own before now, so I had to relieve myself while a family member watched. No matter how much I screamed “I can do it on my own! Don’t watch!”, nobody budged. They got mad at me, asking what I’d do if I got pee everywhere.

I ended up using the pot while crying, and believe it or not, Tuuli complimented me. “Wow, Myne! You’ve gotten really good at this. Soon you’ll be able to do it on your own,” she said. I could appreciate that she was happy for her little sister growing up, but my pride, dignity, and self-respect as a human being were in tatters.

By the way, not only did my family relieve themselves in a chamber pot, they even dumped it right out the window. Unbelievable.

Changing clothes was a fearsome struggle as well. I tried doing it on my own, but my dad, who I barely knew all things considered, took charge and changed my clothes for me. That was so embarrassing I actually started to cry, insisting I could do it on my own, but he just interpreted that as me throwing a tantrum. Absolutely unbelievable.

Since my original dad had died when I was young, I didn’t really understand how to interact with a father. Although Myne’s memory told me I loved him, I could only see him as a mean-looking muscular guy. He was super strong thanks to working as a soldier, and all my resistance was crushed before his might.

Three days of constantly losing to my family resulted in my young maidenly heart and sense of shame getting torn to shreds.

I’m a young girl. My family has to take care of me. This is just how things have to be. ...If I don’t think like that, I’ll just die! I can’t take this any longer! This life is too much! Or so I screamed in my head, but there really was no helping my situation. Even if I ran away from home, a weak and sickly girl like me wouldn’t be able to do anything on her own. I’d just end up running through the streets in search of a shower, screaming in horror amid the waste raining from above, until I eventually died miserably of hunger.

Although it may have sounded like I’d experienced nothing but failure here, that wasn’t the case. I had my own small victories. For example, after being unable to bear my own filth, I asked Tuuli to wipe my body over with a warm cloth each day and she accepted. I mean, if I’m going to get stripped anyway, why would I not have her wipe me clean? I’m past the point of shame here.

I wonder if the people of this world have something against wiping each other’s bodies. Tuuli looked at me really weirdly each time she did it, but I felt great. The hot water in the bucket ended up filthy the first day, but lately it always ended up a lot more clear. That said, my head was still itchy. I knew we didn’t have any, but I wanted shampoo.

There was something else I managed to get, too: a hair stick to keep my hair together! I asked for a wooden stick to keep my long, straight hair from getting everywhere, and Tuuli actually carved one out of a piece of wood for me.

Well, the first thing I did was find Tuuli’s doll and ask if I could snap its leg off, which made her cry. I do feel bad about that. But to be fair, even though it was precious to her with pieces carved out of wood by Dad and clothes sewn by Mom, it just kinda looked like a cheap toy to me. I didn’t know it was so important at a glance.

Anyway. I rolled my hair into a bun, but Tuuli told me that only adults wore all of their hair up like that, so I settled on a half-up hairstyle. This world’s culture sure is different.

I was stuck humiliating myself every day, so the only thing left for me to do was get on my two feet and improve things however I could. To that end, I needed books.

The first step to improving my life here would be getting books. With books, I wouldn’t mind spending my whole life in bed, and I could deal with the harsher aspects of life. I could, and I would.

So, I decided to explore my home today through any means necessary. I hadn’t read any books in a long time and withdrawal symptoms were beginning to show. It wouldn’t be long before I started screaming “Books, give me boooks! Waaah!” while sobbing and flailing.

“Myne, are you asleep?” Tuuli opened the door and popped her head in. After seeing that I was still quietly lying in bed, she nodded to herself in satisfaction.

Over the past three days, I had constantly snuck out of bed after waking up and tried looking for books, so both Mom and Tuuli—who had been taking care of me most of the time—were completely on guard. Tuuli in particular was desperate to keep me in bed while Mom was at work throughout the day, since she had been entrusted with babysitting me. My small body was incapable of beating Tuuli, no matter how hard I tried to run away.

“One day, I’m gonna (ascend) out of here.”

“What was that, Myne?”

“...Mmm? I just said that I can’t wait to grow up.”

Tuuli, naturally not noticing the true intent behind my sugar-coated words, gave a troubled smile. “You’ll get a lot bigger once your sickness goes away. You’re sick all the time, so you barely eat. Sometimes people think you’re three years old even though you’re already five.”

“What about you, Tuuli?”

“I’m six years old, but a lot of people think I’m seven or eight, so I think I’ll be okay.”

We were born a year apart and there’s this much of a difference between us? Looks like my ascension might end up being a little harder than I thought. But I won’t give up. I’ll clean this place up, eat carefully, and get healthy in no time.

“Mom went to work, so I’m going to go wash the dishes. Don’t get out of bed, okay? No matter what. You won’t get better if you don’t sleep, and if you don’t get better, you won’t grow.”

I had been acting nice for the past day in order to loosen up Tuuli’s guard, quietly waiting in bed for the moment she left.

“Okay, I’m going. Be good while I’m gone.”

“Okaaaay.” I gave Tuuli the answer she wanted and she shut the bedroom door.

Heh... Heh heh heh...! Now, hurry up and leave.

I quietly waited for Tuuli to gather the dishes into a basket and take them outside. I didn’t know where she washed them, but I knew she generally went outside for thirty minutes when doing so. Our home didn’t have water, so I could extrapolate that there was a shared source of water outside somewhere. I heard the clink of the lock and then listened as Tuuli’s footsteps disappeared down the steps.

Okaaay... It’s hunting time. Tuuli’s definitely old enough to have a few picture books around the place. I’ll find some books in no time once I start looking. Definitely. No way there’s a house without books in it. I probably won’t be able to actually read the book, but I’ll be able to imagine what’s going on from the pictures and guess what the words mean.

Once Tuuli’s footsteps had completely vanished, I stealthily slipped out of bed. I winced a little after my feet touched the floor; it was covered in dirt and felt grimy. My family had made it filthy walking around with their dirty shoes, and although I dreaded walking on it with my bare feet, Tuuli had taken away my clog-like wooden shoes to prevent me from going anywhere. I had no choice.

Well... Finding books is more important than keeping my feet clean, anyway.

The bed which I had been locked in for days due to my unrelenting fever had a basket beside it filled with children’s toys made from wood and straw, but no books. “It would be a lot easier for me if they were just in here...”

I could feel dirt rubbing against the bottom of my feet each time I walked. It was normal in this family to keep shoes on in the house, so I knew nothing would come from me complaining. I knew it, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Would someone bring me a broom and rag, pleeease?” Naturally, no one responded to my call, and neither a broom nor rag magically appeared from nowhere.

“Ngggh! Am I already in trouble?” To me, the biggest hurdle to exploring the house was the bedroom door. I could kind of reach the doorknob if I stretched really, really hard, but actually turning it was a lot harder than I expected.

I looked around the room for something I could step on, and noticed the large box that contained my clothing. “Nmmn...!” I would have had no problem moving it back in my Urano days, but my hands were so small now that I couldn’t make it budge no matter how hard I pushed. I thought about turning the toy-filled basket upside down and standing on it since I was so small anyway, but I was still probably heavy enough that it’d end up crushed.

“I need to grow up fast. There’s so many things I can’t do with this body.”

I looked around the room and, after thinking about what I could move, settled on balling up my parents’ comforter to use as a stepping stool. I would hate putting my own comforter on this dirty floor, but as my parents were used to living in this filth, I was sure they wouldn’t mind me using theirs. Definitely. Um... I’m sorry, Mom. Dad. There’s nothing I won’t do if books are on the line, even if it means I’ll get yelled at later.

“Oof.” I got on the balled-up comforter and somehow managed to turn the doorknob using all of my body weight.

The door opened with a creak toward me.

“Bwuh?!”

I had been pulling down on the handle with my body weight, and the door shot toward me. I hurriedly let go before it hit me in the head, but it was too late. I fell backwards and rolled down the balled-up comforter before hitting the floor with a loud thump.

“Oooow...” I stood up, holding my head, and saw that at least the door had stayed open. This head pain is a means to a noble end.

I slipped into the open crack and shoved the door all the way open, sliding my parents’ comforter across the floor. It looked like that part of the floor had suddenly gotten cleaner, but I pretended I hadn’t seen anything. I hadn’t intended to make the comforter that much dirtier.

I’m... I’m really sorry.

“Oh, it’s the kitchen.” I left the bedroom and saw that there was a kitchen right outside it. Well, it wasn’t exactly fancy enough to be called a kitchen. It was like a place you could choose to cook, but wouldn’t really want to.

There was a smallish table in the center of the room with two three-legged chairs and a long box that likely also served as a seat. On the right was a cabinet with a handle, probably with dishes stored inside. The wall closest to the bedroom had nails in it with metal pots, ladles, and pans hanging off of them. There was a furnace near them that probably worked as a stove. A string connected two walls and had dirty rags hanging off of it—they looked so dirty they’d probably make whatever they touched even more unclean.

“Yuuuck. I think I know why I’m sick all the time.”

The corner opposite from the furnace had a large water jug and a sink-like water basin. As expected, there was no running water. To top things off, there was a large basket filled with potatoes, onions, and other food products. There were a lot of things I didn’t recognize, so it was possible that the potatoes weren’t actually potatoes at all.

“Hm? This one is... kind of like an avocado. I wonder if I can get oil from it?” I looked through the food and found one fruit in particular that interested me. If I could extract oil from it, I might be able to do something about my itchy head.

My mom from back in my Urano days had a habit of getting obsessed with one random thing after another. She could only be described as whimsical to a fault. She made whatever was in front of her at the time the focal point of her life: TV shows about saving money, magazine articles about living in nature, foreign activities in a cultural center, anything. She always dragged me along with her, saying she “wanted me to get interested in something other than books,” but I knew she only ever got involved with things that interested her. Having no other choice, I tagged along every time, and thanks to that I might’ve learned just enough to make shampoo on my own.

...Thank you, Mom. I think I might just survive over here. Encouraged by my findings, I looked around the room and saw that there were two doors other than the bedroom door.

“Eheh. Left or right door, which one’s the prize?” The kitchen didn’t look like it had a bookshelf anywhere. I saw that one of the two doors was cracked open, so I pulled it all the way.

“Mmm, a storage room? Guess this isn’t it.” It was a room packed with stuff I didn’t really understand the purpose of. There were shelves with stuff on them, but it was a real mess and it didn’t seem like the kind of place that would have a bookshelf.

I gave up on it and tried opening the other door. It made a clicking sound when I pulled on it, signaling that it was locked. Minutes of trying to open it yielded no results. The door would not open.

“...Wait. Is this the door Tuuli left from? Wha? Is that all?” If this door led outside, then our home had no bathtub, no toilet, no running water, and no bookshelves. It had nothing. No matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find any other rooms.

...Um, God, do you hate me? Is this a cruel joke? I asked to be reborn so that I could keep reading books even after I died. I didn’t intend to be transported to another world with my Japanese memories and customs, forced to live in a home with no bathtub, no toilet, and no water. I thought for sure you’d take me to a world filled with books.

“...Maybe books are expensive here?” According to my knowledge of history, books were extremely expensive until the invention of the printing press led to their mass production. Those not born into a rich or noble life would generally never read a single book in their lives. In which case, this wouldn’t be the kind of world where you give your neighbor’s kid a picture book as a birthday gift.

“Ngh, fine. I’ll start looking for letters first instead.” I didn’t absolutely need books in order to study this world’s writing system. Posters, newspapers, manuals, calendars, and all sorts of things naturally had letters written on them. Or they did in Japan, at least.

“...Nothing. There’s no letters anywhere! Not a single one!”

I had walked around the rooms searching every shelf and cabinet I could find, but not only had I not found any books, I didn’t even find anything with a single letter on it. I couldn’t find letters or paper.

“What’s going on here?” My head started to hurt, as if a fever had burst up within me out of nowhere. My heart throbbed and I could feel it screaming out, valves tightening. I dropped to the ground like a doll with its strings cut. My eyes burned on the inside.

Well, okay, I got crushed by books. No helping that. That was basically my dream of dying buried by books. Fine. And it was true that I myself had asked to be reincarnated. I understand all that.

...But you know, there aren’t any books here. There aren’t even letters. Not even paper! Can I really live in a place like this? Do I have any reason to live?

A tear dripped down my cheek. I had never even once thought about a world without books. Such a thing was unfathomable to me. And yet here I was. Unable to think of a single reason to live on in this world as Myne, I felt my insides go hollow. I couldn’t stop crying.

“Myne! Why aren’t you in bed?! Don’t walk around without your shoes on!” Tuuli had gotten home at some point and, seeing me on the kitchen floor, shouted with her blue eyes open wide in anger.

“...Tuuli, there aren’t any (books)?”

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?”

“Tuuli, I want (books). I want to read (books). I want to read them so much, but there aren’t any (books).”

Tuuli called out to me, worried, as tears dripped down my cheeks. But she was completely used to a world without books. She wouldn’t understand my pain no matter what I said to her.

...Is there anyone out there who can understand me? Anyone who knows where I can go to get books? Someone, tell me. Please.