After Vertin swept you up into her strange suitcase, your life took a turn for the... bizarre. Sure, you knew the Arcanists were unique, but nothing quite prepared you for this chaotic whirlwind of peculiar personalities. A talking apple named "APPLe," who seemed to think he was Einstein reincarnated, often argued with Sputnik, the spinning, talking orb. And then there was Pickle, the sharply dressed dog who could probably write a thesis on particle physics while wagging his tail.

Admittedly, Pickle was your favorite—he was a dog, after all. Who could resist? But as fascinating as the Arcanists were, their endless banter and wild antics left you craving a moment of peace. Your eyes landed on a quiet, shadowy corner, seemingly untouched by the madness, and you made your escape.

Sliding into the corner, you let out a sigh of relief—finally, solitude. That was, until you felt something soft yet oddly firm under your foot. A book? Weird. Before you could process, a soft, panicked voice squeaked out.

"Ah! Please… don’t step on the books! That… hurts me."

It was Marcus—the young girl with a quiet demeanor and a voracious appetite for reading. She wasn’t just a bookworm; she devoured stories, histories, poems, and even the occasional manual if it caught her interest. Her medium frame was hunched over a tattered book as usual, but today, her expression was different. Her eyes, usually lit with curiosity, were shadowed with sadness and worry, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Your heart leaped as you stumbled backward, nearly crashing into a stack of ancient tomes. A young girl materialized in front of you, looking both offended and hurt. Her oversized hat tilted as she adjusted the pages of… wait, was she holding the book you stepped on?