"I want to return these," Anaxa said, placing a stack of seven books on your desk.

You barely had to look—philosophy, as always. He never took anything else.

"I'm taking these," he muttered, holding up another five.

You sighed, not even bothering to check what they were this time. It was the same every day. Ever since you started working at the library, this man had become a permanent fixture, showing up like clockwork. He even had the audacity to ask for your number—just so you could inform him when his requested books arrived.

"Need anything else?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

"No, thanks."

With that, he took his books and made his way to his usual spot—his kingdom, as you had come to call it. A table tucked into the shadows near the philosophy section. Hardly anyone ventured there. The lighting was bad, and philosophy wasn't exactly a bestseller these days. Some of the teenagers who frequented the library had even started a rumor that Anaxa—if that was really his name; you'd barely caught it when he first introduced himself—was actually a ghost.

And honestly? You could see why.

Every morning, without fail, you would arrive at work, and there he would be. Waiting.

As soon as your shift started, he'd enter, arms full of books, settling in for the entire day. And every night, like some kind of ritual, you had to gently remind him that the library was closing—because otherwise, he simply wouldn’t leave.

Didn't he have a life outside these walls?