He went inside.
Without any particular thoughts or expectations—more out of curiosity than any plan. The noise of the street and the crowd remained outside the door, as if it had been neatly cut off along with the wind and people's voices.
It was quieter inside.
He took a few steps and stopped, allowing his eyes to adjust to the soft light. The air here was cool and dry, without the smell of food or dust. Everything seemed... calm.
Somewhere to the side, two people bumped shoulders slightly. Nothing serious — one had already moved on, but the other slowed down for a moment, tilted his head, pressed his palm to his chest, raised it briefly, and said a word.
The other nodded.
He noticed it in passing.
Without interest.
Without thinking.
He just noticed it — like you notice an unusual sound or gesture, without attaching any particular meaning to it.
And he walked on.
The space inside turned out to be larger than it looked from the outside. High ceilings, long rows of shelves stretching into the distance, and soft light falling from above. The floor was smooth, warm in color, and footsteps sounded muffled, as if the place itself did not like sudden movements.
Identical rectangular objects stood along the walls. They were different colors and thicknesses, but all had the same shape. They were arranged evenly, almost perfectly.
He stopped at the nearest shelf and picked one up.
It was heavy.
A hard cover.
Inside were thin sheets covered with neat lines of unfamiliar symbols.
He leafed through several pages.
"I don't understand anything..." he admitted quietly and closed the book.
He didn't feel disappointed.
On the contrary, his curiosity only grew stronger.
He began to move on, no longer touching these things, but simply observing them. Where they were thicker. Where they were thinner. Where there were images on the covers, and where there were only symbols. Some symbols were repeated, while others were rare. Some had diagrams, some had maps, and some had simple drawings.
He didn't understand the meaning.
But he saw the structure.
And that was enough.
He turned between the rows.
There were long tables here. People were sitting behind them. Some were reading, some were taking notes, some were just looking at the pages without moving. No one spoke loudly. No one argued. No one paid any attention to him.
He sat down at a free table, carefully placed his bag at his feet, and put his palms on the smooth surface.
Warm.
Comfortable.
He got up and walked over to the wall, where large images hung. Maps. Diagrams. Lines connecting dots. Even without words, much was clear.
And among them, he saw a familiar shape.
A colossal tree.
It was marked as a tree, and lines, circles, and marks radiated around it.
He stared at it for a long time.
"So... it really is important," he said quietly.
Returning to the shelves, he noticed something strange.
One row was lower than the others. The books there were brighter, with simple drawings, large images of people, animals, and objects. The colors were rich, the shapes clear.
He leaned over.
"For children?" he suggested.
He picked up one of the books.
The pages were thick and dense. And some pages had buttons on them.
He frowned.
He carefully pressed one of the buttons.
"BA-LO."
The sound was unexpectedly loud.
He froze.
Several people looked up. Someone glanced in his direction. The silence became more noticeable, more intense.
He instantly closed the book and pressed it to his chest, then, almost automatically, repeated the same gesture he had seen at the entrance: a slight tilt of the head, palm to chest, a short movement with his open hand.
"Excuse me…" he said, just as the man had said.
But the gesture and the word were understood.
Someone nodded.
Someone else looked back down at their book.
Silence returned.
He carefully put the children's book back.
His heart was beating a little faster.
"So... there are books here that talk," he whispered.
He sat down at the table again.
Now his interest had changed. If they teach children sounds here, then they teach language here. From the very beginning. By ear. From the simple.
He didn't go back to that shelf. Not now.
But he remembered the place.
The color.
The layout.
His memory worked clearly. Too clearly.
"And learning is fun..." he said quietly, looking at his hands.
He looked around the room again. Maps. Books. People. Silence.
It wasn't just a building.
It was a place where you could catch up with the world, understand it.
He began to explore the building, but didn't dare take any books yet, just looking at them with intense curiosity. As he walked around and examined everything, he didn't notice how the light outside the windows had changed. It became softer, warmer. The shadows from the bookshelves stretched across the floor.
Suddenly, a voice rang out across the hall.
It was loud, calm, coming from several places at once. Clear words, repeated without emotion.
He didn't understand a single word.
But he understood the meaning.
People began to close their books. Some stood up, some pushed back their chairs. Everything happened calmly, almost synchronously.
"I guess I have to go..." he said quietly to himself.
He got up, adjusted his bag, and looked one last time at the low shelf with children's books.
He really needed to know the language of this world.
Then he headed for the exit with everyone else, not standing out, blending into the flow.
It was already evening outside. The sky was darkening, painted with warm hues, and the streets were gradually emptying.
He looked back at the building.
"Tomorrow..." he said quietly.
He left with the people, disappearing into the crowd. As night fell, he was left alone on the village street... occasionally, he could see people walking down the street.
He decided to return to the forest and set up a temporary camp there until he found a normal place to live.
He didn't go very far from the village so that he wouldn't have far to go in the morning.
He didn't yet know how interesting this night would be...