The library was nearly empty, just how Miyu liked it.
She sat curled in her favorite corner, tucked between the tall shelves of the art history section. The smell of old books, the faint hum of the air conditioner, and the scratch of her pencil across the paper made a rhythm she found comforting.
Her sketchbook lay open in her lap, filled with half-finished scenes—forests under moonlight, old ruins crumbling under ivy, strange-looking beasts with silver eyes and long claws. None of them were drawn from reference. They just... came to her.
Sometimes, it felt like the drawings were memories she didn't recognize.
She paused, staring at the latest piece—an unfamiliar hill surrounded by trees shaped like twisted antlers. At the top of the hill stood a gate, tall and arched like the entrance to a forgotten temple. She hadn't meant to draw it. It had simply appeared under her pencil.
"Creepy," Hana said behind her, peeking over her shoulder.
Miyu nearly jumped. "Don't sneak up like that."
"Sorry! I was looking for you. Thought I'd find you buried in books again." Hana grinned and flopped into the chair beside her. "That drawing though… seriously, where do you get this stuff?"
"I don't know. It just happens." Miyu flipped to a different page, something less strange.
Hana leaned back in the chair, arms behind her head. "You know, you could probably win some contest or get famous online or something. These are beyond good. They feel... alive."
Miyu blinked, that word echoing oddly in her head. Alive.
She shrugged. "It's not about that. I just draw what I see in my head. Fame isn't the goal."
"Well, one day, someone's going to discover you and snatch you off to some elite art school or something," Hana said, half-joking. "And I'll be here saying I knew you before you were a big deal."
Miyu smiled faintly. "Maybe. Or maybe I'll just disappear into one of my drawings."
"Creepy," Hana repeated, mock-shivering. "Don't joke like that."
But Miyu wasn't really joking.
Sometimes, when she stared at her art too long, it felt like something was staring back.
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