The library of All Souls College houses a considerable number of mysticism texts. This place is usually closed to outsiders, only the renowned mystics can co to borrow. But this isn’t because of the superiority of mystics; it’s simply to protect ordinary people from being disturbed by mystical powers.
"I have a feeling," Jason said standing in front of the bookshelf, "that what we’re looking for is one of those neglected secret books. Preferably one that’s considered nonsense and left in the corner. Doctor, do you have any leads?"
"Most of the texts here are classics. If you want to find gossip, you might need to go to Gotham University Library. However, there are indeed so texts here whose value has yet to be proven. If you wish to see them, go upstairs to the room on the left and take a look."
Jason nodded and directly bypassed these shelves downstairs and went up to the second floor. He did not conduct a large-scale search, just stood at the door for a while, then headed directly for one of the rows of bookshelves.
Jason recalled what the elderly librarian told him when he applied for the librarian position at Gotham University Library.
"What you need to be a librarian here is not mory, nor patience, but a kind of special intuition. Words have power, and your job is to feel that power without seeing the words. Only in this way can you help those who don’t know what they’re looking for to find the book they want."
Jason didn’t understand these words at first. To him, this was just an ordinary part-ti job, no different from working at a fast-food restaurant. But he quickly realized that Gotham is always different from other places, and the importance of being a librarian here is unimaginable.
The people who co during the day are fine; most can find the books themselves and quietly sit aside to read, or directly co to borrow them. But at night, it’s different. When Jason first encountered those strange folks mumbling oddly, he thought they had drunk too much. If it weren’t for that guy who got hit by a shotgun yet still muttered at the counter, Jason would have thrown him out as an ordinary drunk.
Since then, he has witnessed the colorful other side of Gotham. Bear in mind, he is a native Gothamite and a citizen who climbed from the bottom. Yet even so, this city still holds endless secrets for him, too many new facets he hasn’t seen.
Gradually, Jason learned how to use his intuition to help those peculiar visitors, figuring out what they really wanted to find, providing them help, and occasionally even making new friends.
This job is fraught with danger but also full of opportunities. Standing in front of the bookshelf, Jason took out a pair of special glasses from his pocket. This was given to him by a "friend," able to help him block cognitive pollution, especially effective against words.
Although it appears like those cheap 3D glasses from a cinema and isn’t comfortable to wear, Jason used these glasses to immunize himself nurous tis from beatings by mystical words in Gotham University Library. This ti, it was equally effective.
Jason flipped through that row of bookshelves for a while and quickly found what he was looking for—a bookmark tucked among other books.
This bookmark was very peculiar, looking like so unlucky borrower left it in the book. But that’s actually impossible, because the ones borrowing books here are experts, they wouldn’t make such a low-level mistake, and the books are checked upon return, giving them no room to leave bookmarks.
Yet this bookmark appeared here so abruptly. As soon as Jason picked up the bookmark, he knew he had found the right thing. For no reason, just a kind of intuition.
He picked up the bookmark and took a look. It was just a yellowed piece of paper sealed in plastic film, seemingly nothing special, but Jason found the plastic can be torn open. So, he cautiously tore the film open, only to discover the paper was folded. Unfolding it, several lines of text appeared before him.
Bang!
Jason’s back of the head hit the back shelf. He let out a shriek. Jim and Doctor Sophocles hurried over to support him.
"What happened?"
"Nothing, underestimated this thing." Jason took several deep breaths, took off the glasses, firmly clutching the paper, starting to retrieve the information he’d just seen in his brain.
The brain’s protective chanism had already made him forget these things, but in order to obtain clues, he had to force himself to rember. Fortunately, he often sorted out his mories, so the brain’s protective chanism didn’t forcibly delete the information, but rely moved it to the recycle bin. He could move it back bit by bit.
Sitting at the nearby seat, Jason drank a bit of hot tea and felt much better. After working hard to decipher the information, he spoke: "Solar eclipse."
"What?"
"It’s related to a solar eclipse. The ’day of etching’ ntioned in here should refer to a solar eclipse."
"What will happen during a solar eclipse?"
"Sothing will arrive during the solar eclipse," Jason said, "That’s my guess. Also, it ntioned brown people here, possibly referring to Latinos or Indians."
"Looks like we’ll need to check out folklore on this topic," Doctor Sophocles said, "I’ll delve into folk tales. You investigate solar eclipse."
"No problem," Jason said, "Besides, better let Brainiac check who left this bookmark here. I suspect there may be a group of people who know exactly what’s going on."
"You an followers?"
Jason nodded: "I believe there are followers; otherwise, they wouldn’t leave so much information. Also, remind everyone not to look toward the Atlantic Ocean through windows."
Constantine sat in his study, gazing at the manuscripts piled in front of him. They recorded many cryptic knowledge. After a mont, he picked up a pen and wrote a letter, sealed it in an envelope, and handed it to Zatanna.
Zatanna glanced at the address, then said, "Another one of those mysterious pen pal societies? Will they know the clues?"
Constantine shook his head and said, "Only asking will tell."
After Zatanna left, she quickly returned, then said, "That address no longer has a mailbox, only this."
She left the letter that Constantine had handed her and another one behind. Constantine took the letter and glanced at it, just about to open it when Zatanna stopped him and said, "Are you sure you want to open it? What if it’s a trap?"
"It won’t be. There’s a mark on it," Constantine said, "That mysterious pen pal has ways to discern authenticity and whether the letter writer is still rational. Otherwise, they would have been wiped out long ago."
Constantine opened the letter, and his expression changed several tis. Zatanna looked at him, and Constantine said, "It’s the ’Concealer’."
"The Concealer? That na sounds familiar... Oh, wait. Is it the group from last ti, using a contaminated journal, almost wiped out the pen pal network in the Southern Hemisphere?"
"You actually rember," Constantine said, sowhat surprised.
"How could I forget? You almost read that thing," Zatanna said, "If I hadn’t reacted quickly, your brain might have exploded. Seriously, since you stopped being a magician, you’ve beco even more dangerous than before."
"Aren’t you here?" Constantine laughed, then squinted and said, "This so-called group of Concealers are complete surrenderists and madn. They eagerly await the arrival of Outer Gods on Earth, treat forbidden knowledge as sacred, and see us pen pals who communicate privately but don’t join them as heretics. It’s no surprise they’re up to sothing."
"Is it them again? What are they summoning this ti?"
At this point, Zatanna heard so commotion outside. She cautiously moved closer, only to see the mailbox’s signal raised up.
"The pen pals are getting restless," Constantine said, "I hope they can give a specific target. Without the librarian, vague targets can’t be found at all."
Zatanna walked to the mailbox and retrieved the letter. Constantine took it in his hands, examined it, then opened the letter. After reading for a while, he said, "We have it indeed."
"What is it? Does Amanda need to make a trip?"
"No need, this ti it’s a book. As long as it’s not opened, it won’t be a problem." Constantine stood up and said, "Can’t let Amanda get too deeply involved. Her stupidity is limited and should be used where it matters."
Before dawn, Constantine arrived at Gotham University Library. Zatanna looked at the empty counter and said, "Why is there no librarian anymore? It’s been so long; can’t they hire soone else?"
Constantine shook his head and said, "To beco the librarian at Gotham University Library, you need to have a special talent. Not just anyone can do it. Since the last one left, without a suitable successor, the position naturally remains vacant."
"Why did the last one leave?"
"So people don’t plan to get too involved; they consider this just a job. It’s quite normal for work plans to change."
"How did the last one perform?"
"Better than the one before last." Constantine thought for a mont and said, "He was very strong and had good gun skills. More importantly, his inspiration was much stronger than the one before last. He was very precise in finding books; if he were here, we wouldn’t have to go through this trouble."
Saying this, he began to search. Zatanna asked, "What book are you looking for?"
"I don’t know yet. You only know once it’s found."
"Sa old story," Zatanna rolled her eyes, "You’re even more mysterious now than you were as a magician."
"In fact, this is what it truly ans to be a mage." Constantine shrugged, "Not knowing who you are, not knowing who you’re dealing with, not knowing what you’re looking for, and not knowing what the use is once you’ve found it. Everything being mysterious is the real mysticism."
"You should at least give a bit of a description, right?" Zatanna said, "What does it roughly look like?"
"All I know is that it’s an appendix of a famous to. That to is definitely not here, but its appendix might very well be. It could be in Greek or Hebrew..."
"Oh, spare ," Zatanna said while looking through items, "I don’t understand a word of those two languages."
Suddenly, Constantine’s movents paused. Zatanna leaned closer, seeing a few thin sheets of paper in his hand, seemingly torn from a book.
"Good heavens, why did you tear it off..."
"I didn’t tear it off." Constantine’s tone turned eerie, "It ca to ... window. Little Zha. Window..."
By the end, Constantine’s words beca very slurred. But Zatanna reacted quickly, she spun around and pointed with her finger. Antilanguage Magic took effect imdiately—"Dead Seal Windows!"
All the windows were sealed shut. Just as Constantine looked at the windows, it felt like he was punched, staggering back a few steps, falling to the ground.
Zatanna rushed over to help him up. Constantine wiped his bloody nose and said, "That sure packed a punch."
"How is it?" she asked.
Constantine looked down at the papers in his hand and then said, "It’s fine now. I take back my praise for the last librarian. He surely let those Concealers sneak in."
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