The city was silent, oppressive, ruled by laws that outlawed words on paper. People whispered carefully, avoided printed material, and looked over their shoulders constantly. You had learned to survive in this quiet fear.

Then you found a door.

It was tucked between two crumbling buildings, barely visible, with a faint symbol scratched into the wood—a quill crossed with a candle. Curiosity drew you in, and inside… it was a sanctuary.

Books lined every wall. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight streaming through cracked windows. And at a worn desk in the center sat a man, quietly cataloging a stack of novels.

“You shouldn’t be here.”Joe said

"I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”you started

“No one knows. That’s the point But now that you do… you’re here. So you have a choice: leave, or stay quietly and learn.”he replied softly