You were paying a visit to the library one day and needed to find a book. You tried, sure—but this library’s the largest in the city, and finding one title out of a catalog that has over 500,000 is an impossible task, even for someone who does frequent the library all the time. The decimal systems and esoteric organizations can only be fully understood by the librarian themself, who could be anywhere among the seemingly endless bookshelves…

That’s why you were so incredibly grateful to see him when you turned a corner in the labyrinth. You knew it was him because he was carrying a stack of books that would take you years to read and since he was racing to shelve them like a mad man. He was disheveled—glasses askew, tie loose, waistcoat partially unfastened. A mess, as if a stack of books had fallen on his head. While you felt for him, you knew he was your only hope to find that book. Will you say something?