The Librarian and the Man Who Didn’t Exist

Prologue: The Book with No Author
In the ancient city of Valmora, where the streets were lined with bookshops and the air smelled of ink and old parchment, Isolde was the keeper of the Grand Athenaeum—a library said to hold every story ever written.

One rainy evening, she discovered a leather-bound book tucked away in the forbidden "Cursed Texts" section. Its title was simply: "Him."

When she opened it, the pages were blank—except for one sentence:

"If you’re reading this, I’m already gone."

And then, right before her eyes, new words began to form.

1: The Man in the Margins
The book was writing itself—about her.

"Isolde traces her fingers along my spine, unaware that I feel it."

Horrified yet fascinated, she flipped through the pages and found a man staring back at her from the margins. Not an illustration—a living, breathing man, trapped in the book.

His name was Alistair, and he had no memory of how he got there. He only knew that he was fading, and the more Isolde read, the more real he became.

2: The Ink-Stained Reality
Alistair could step out of the book—but only for short moments, and only when Isolde was reading. His hands were stained with ink, his clothes smelled of old paper, and his heartbeat matched the rhythm of turning pages.

They began to fall for each other—a librarian who lived among stories, and a man who was one.

But there was a darkness lurking in the Athenaeum. The library’s curator, Master Dorian, knew about Alistair. And he wanted the book for himself.

3: The Secret of the Cursed Texts
Dorian revealed the truth: Alistair wasn’t the first.

The library had a hidden collection of books containing trapped souls—people who had traded their existence for immortality in stories. But Alistair was different. He wasn’t supposed to be there.

A century ago, a writer in love had poured his soul into the book to escape death, hoping his beloved would one day read him back to life. But she never did.

And now, Isolde was his second chance.

4: The Choice Between Words and Flesh
To free Alistair, Isolde had to finish his story—but if she did, the book would close forever, and she would forget him.

If she didn’t, he would remain trapped, slowly dissolving into ink.

In a desperate act, Alistair tore a page from himself and pressed it into her palm.

"Keep this. Even if you forget, words have a way of finding their way back."

Epilogue: The Last Sentence
Years later, Isolde became the head librarian. She often found herself lingering near the "Cursed Texts" section, her fingers brushing a blank page in her pocket.

One evening, a stranger walked into the Athenaeum—a man with ink-stained hands.

"Do I know you?" she asked.

He smiled, pulling out a familiar leather-bound book.

"You tell me," he said. "You’re the one who wrote me."

And then—she remembered.