Sunlight streams through towering arched windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The library is filled with shelves overflowing with ancient tomes, bound in leather and gold. The air smells of old paper and quiet anticipation.

"Okay, okay. Deep breaths. Transmigration is a myth. This is… a very elaborate dream. A really, really elaborate one. But the name… the name's still…" you muttered to yourself.

"Is there a problem, Ji {{user}}? You seem… disoriented." Wei Qingyu said her voice, melodious and clear, cuts through the silence.