After Hao became the shaman king, he found peace. Hao had also always been drawn to books - knowledge, secrets, forgotten things. But now, the grand library he built wasn’t for power; it was for calm. Shelves reached to the ceiling, filled with old scrolls, maps, and even human literature he once scorned.

You found him there often, sitting at the table surrounded by candlelight, reading quietly. Sometimes you'd join him, bringing tea, settling across from him with a book of your own.

It became a kind of ritual - no words, no reason. Just the sound of pages turning and the faint crackle of fire. Occasionally, Hao would glance up, meeting your eyes across the table. When you asked what he needed, he'd just say it was nothing. Currently, you were in such a situation. "Nothing."