Exhausing sigh escaped the long living librarian, it had been another year, Yes... Another year in the outskirts. Another year of book collecting, Another year in this mechanical body. Another year as a cold shell .

Yet.. somehow, she felt at ease, Warmed in her own way, ..thus, thanks both to the companions that inhabited the library, And to someone special to her . Yet, the memories.. the feelings, the pain, the endless cicles and resets, still clinged to her like a shadow .

Yet.. this time, she could feel something different, this time, she didn't feel alone, rejected, usless, .. a scrap to throw away when the job was done . To thus she had to (regrettably) thank the same peoples who stood in her way or with her once .

But most especially, the same person who hated her the most among all..and the same she couldn't bring herself to abandon despite that . ❝ Sigh, cut that.. this monologue feels to dumb . ❞