Mina's first full shift in the library wing began with crates.
They arrived quietly, rolled in on padded carts by logistics staff who didn't linger. No greetings. No small talk. Just the soft hum of wheels over stone and the muted click of seals being verified before the carts were released into the wing.
Mina logged them one by one, posture straight, hands steady. She had learned quickly that the library didn't forgive carelessness. It didn't humiliate mistakes or dramatize them, but once an error entered the record here, it stayed. Misfile something and it didn't inconvenience a coworker. It distorted history.
"Careful with that stack."
The voice came from her left, light, quick, threaded with amusement rather than reprimand.
Mina turned to see a woman leaning against the end of the shelving unit, tablet balanced on one hip. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose knot that looked like it had lost a fight halfway through the day. Her eyes were sharp, curious, already scanning the crate Mina held like they'd been doing this together for years.
"That code set predates the current shelving logic," the woman continued. "If you stack them in numerical order instead of sequence order, the index will revolt."
Mina blinked. "Indexes don't—"
"They absolutely do," the woman said, grinning. "I'm Cora. Research indexing and packet assembly. Which is a very polite way of saying I fix everyone else's messes and get blamed for them when powerful people get annoyed."
Mina adjusted her grip on the crate instinctively. "I'm Mina."
"I know," Cora replied easily. "You're the new one who doesn't rush."
That caught Mina off guard.
Before she could respond, Cora was already moving, fingers flying across her tablet as she scanned tags and cross-checked intake logs.
"Relax," Cora added, lowering her voice. "If you were doing this wrong, Nessa would've appeared by now."
As if summoned by name, the air at the far end of the wing sharpened.
Not footsteps. Not movement.
Just presence.
Cora's eyes flicked that way. "See?"
Mina let out a quiet breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
The library wing didn't feel like the rest of Helix.
It shared the same pale stone and precise lighting, the same controlled temperature that made the estate feel curated rather than lived in, but the weight here was different. Not wealth. Not security.
Knowledge.
Shelves lined the walls, interrupted by glass cabinets that held more than books. Slim binders stamped with seals. Files tied with clasps instead of spines. Objects displayed on velvet like museum pieces, rings, insignias, fractured metal fragments whose purpose Mina couldn't guess.
It wasn't a place for leisure.
It was a place where decisions were remembered.
Nessa stood at the central desk, tablet in hand, expression neutral in the way authority always was when it didn't need to announce itself.
"You're on support today," she said. "Cataloging, reshelving, and intake reconciliation. No restricted cabinets unless I assign them."
Mina nodded. "Understood."
Nessa slid a task tablet across the desk. "Questions go through me. Not security. Not Maren. Not residents."
There was a pause on the last word.
"I wasn't planning to ask," Mina said evenly.
Nessa studied her for a fraction of a second, then nodded once and moved on.
Cora waited until she was gone before whispering, "She likes you."
Mina glanced at her. "She didn't smile."
"That's how you know," Cora replied seriously. "If Nessa smiles, someone's in trouble."
They worked deeper into the stacks, the floor softening underfoot to mute sound. Mina didn't love that. Silence had never been her friend. But here, it meant something different, privacy, not threat.
Cora worked fast, hands practiced, eyes skimming codes like they were second nature.
"So," she said casually, "you're on scheduling support too, right?"
"Twice a week," Mina replied.
Cora raised an eyebrow. "Already? That's quick."
"I corrected an overlap," Mina said. "It wasn't—"
"Don't minimize," Cora cut in. "Everything is a big deal when it touches resident time. Most people don't see the ripple until it smacks them in the face."
Mina didn't argue. She'd lived her life watching ripples.
They worked in silence for a bit before Cora spoke again, quieter this time.
"You know they're young, right?"
Mina paused. "Who?"
Cora glanced at her, eyes widening. "Oh. You really didn't know."
A faint unease settled in Mina's chest.
"The residents," Cora said. "Early twenties. Give or take."
That changed something. It collapsed distance Mina hadn't realized she'd been relying on.
Cora leaned closer. "This stays between us."
Mina didn't answer. She didn't need to.
Cora gestured subtly to a darkened cabinet nearby. "This wing isn't just books. It's contracts. Agreements. Institutional memory. Aurelion runs on paper more than people realize."
"Who controls it?" Mina asked.
Cora hesitated. "Not us. We touch the edges. That's all."
Before Mina could press further, Nessa's voice cut through the aisle.
"Cora."
"Yes," Cora said instantly.
"Less talking."
"More shelving," Cora finished obediently.
As Nessa walked away, Cora mouthed, told you, and Mina surprised herself by almost smiling.
For the first time, the library felt less like a vault and more like a workplace.