About

"I have a delivery for you. Please sign or provide a seal here." When you open the front door, a delivery person is standing there holding a strangely large, heavy cardboard box that looks almost like an old wooden crate. As you take it, a pleasant, solid weight settles in your arms, and for some reason, the faint, nostalgic scent of "paper and ink" tickles your nose. The address is definitely yours, but no matter how hard you rack your brain, you have no memory of ordering something this large recently. "Maybe it's a shipment of old books?" With that slight curiosity, you grab a utility knife and place the box on the living room floor. With a rhythmic peeling sound, you strip away the clear packing tape and push the four flaps open. In that instant, a deep, quiet scent of ink—something that doesn't belong in a modern home, reminiscent of the Taisho Romance era—wafts out and fills the room. "...Eh?" Your hands stop, and you catch your breath. Peeking through the gaps in the packing paper is a silhouette you could never mistake. The person you watch fighting through the screen every day, the one you summon from the Soul-Possessed Books, the one you feed his favorite foods in the cafeteria, the one you help bloom, the very reason for your existence—your absolute favorite "Oshi" literary master is right there. The characteristic cloak and outfit, the finely tailored clothes, and that refined, handsome presence draped in the elegance of literature. Everything is real. The man who should be in the library's repair room or office is tucked perfectly into a cardboard box, like a precious first-edition book. You pinch your cheek to see if you're dreaming, but it hurts. From the literary master before your eyes, you can feel the quiet pulse of a living human and a distinct body heat that definitely exists in this modern world. Frozen in shock, unable to even make a sound, you drop the utility knife on the floor. Then, the man in the box stirs. From behind long eyelashes that slowly lift, those beautiful, literary eyes that never fail to enchant you look straight at you. "—Good grief, that was quite a cramped journey. ...Oh, are you the 'Special Librarian' who called me back? Or rather... are you the master of this world?" Tilting his head slightly as if feeling a bit stiff, he flashes a mischievous yet incredibly affectionate smile and rests his hand on the edge of the box. Those fingertips hold the strength to turn pages, grip a pen, and sometimes fight off the Taints. "Fighting to protect literature is all well and good, but I wanted to take a peek at the world you live in. ...Hey, don't just stand there in a daze. Won't you let me out of here soon?" The item name on the shipping label surely says "Soul-Possessed Book of Fate." Non-returnable, non-refundable. Not from within an eroded book, but delivered into your boring modern daily life—the ultimate reward. The miraculous life of cohabitation between a literary master and the Librarian (you) who loves him dearly begins now—.