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The Archives

The smell of old books mixed with faint mustiness and wooden varnish, carried by a cold breeze from the air conditioner, greeted Raphael's nostrils. The scent reminded him of the days when it was time for private lessons in the study room at home. Rows of shelves lined up in perfect order, leaving a spacious aisle at the center, served as a walking path for students visiting the facility. Although he wasn't unfamiliar with this setup at home, the sheer number of books stored there was a sight to behold, not just on the ground floor but even in the mezzanine and the second floor.

Raphael carefully traversed the path, looking up at the brass signage hanging from an iron wrench above, dividing the library into sections, which was convenient, at least. Each bookcase was stocked with books of various thicknesses and sizes, arranged neatly into their designated catalogue. His hand ran across the row of books, touching them by the spines before stopping on one and pulling it out to skim over its pages.

Hmmm... Isn't this the first edition of Hurry Botter and the Philosopher’s Tome? I remember reading this one at home. He was mildly surprised at the collection. There were still some other rare editions from the next set of book series.

To think the Academy could display these out in the open meant there was a good amount of trust between the students and the institution, or perhaps not everyone was interested in reading these days. Oh well, it was a great novel to read, at least he could say. He returned it to its location and continued on his way.

First... Where could that be? He wondered, looking around the room. His footsteps stopped right in front of a pedestal with a sign: Directory. It was a map showing the location of sections in the library. Raphael pressed his finger onto the list, scanning it carefully.

“Ah, there it is, the Archives.” He exclaimed softly. It was tucked in the quiet corners of the ground floor, at the other end of the room. Another brass sign stood out, dangling from the low ceiling with the section’s name, Archive.

With the same excitement coursing through his nerves, he was about to dash from his position. But a lady in her late thirties appeared before him, hands on her hips, eyes glaring at him intently.

“No running in the library.” She hushed him sternly.

Raphael flinched and apologized. "S-sorry."

The lady scoffed and returned to her business, pulling a trolley stacked with books before disappearing into a row of shelves.

He let out a deep breath. That was close…. No running here, huh? Should take note of that.

Once he reached the place at his own pace, the archives section was separated by a room with glass panel walls. He leaned in, feeling the cold glass against his cheek and peeking into the room. A few PCs lined up in idle mode, emitting a green light that glowed ominously in the dark, and chairs arranged accordingly in front of each station. Anything else inside was beyond his recognition in the dark.

“Well, no one’s here, I guess,” Raphael concluded before reaching for the door’s handle.

The glass door glided smoothly with a soft whoosh as Raphael opened it. When he stepped into the room, the automatic sensor lights activated, illuminating the area in a flash.

The room was mostly empty, quite ironic for a prestigious Academy, except for a few bookshelves on the side with the Academy’s own published magazines, yearbooks organized since the Academy’s establishment, and some newspaper clippings displayed on the wall in a glass frame.

Raphael grabbed the nearest seat and began his search on the computer. The screen greeted him with a simple layout: a search bar in the middle and a menu at the side. Without hesitation, his fingers found the keyboard, pressing one key and another until the search bar was filled with her name.

Elena Wallace.

He pressed the Enter button. Three dots appeared on screen, pulsating while the page began reloading. A lump swallowed down his throat as Raphael stared at the white screen, waiting. His palms started to sweat as he held the mouse idly while the beating in his chest kept pounding and pounding incessantly.

Then, the loading screen finally ceased.

The page appeared before him—his eyes widened.

“No results found.”

He glanced over the search bar, checking the input once more. The spelling of her name was correct, and he refreshed it a couple of times. Still, the result was the same: nothing.

Ah… this is unfortunate. He sighed and pressed his palm over his forehead.

Maybe his gut was right all along. She was never here in the first place, and that note…. It must have been a ruse… a sick, despicable ruse. But why was it even there in the first place? What was the purpose of it being discovered by him?

Then, he thought about what his uncle said to him.

Perhaps she has changed…. Physically. So much that he could not recognize her.

He got up from his seat and stared at the wall in front of him before leaning forward against one of the lower shelves. “Elena… where are you? “

His eyes wandered around for a second before stopping on the wall filled with newspaper clippings. He never bothered checking the contents on display, but a picture from one of the headlines caught his eye.

The photo was a bit blurry due to the distance between the subject and the photographer. It was a wide-shot image from a newspaper two years ago, featuring the Academy’s new enrollees gathering in the admissions office.

“The New Evanderhill Academy: Fresh Start.” He read out the headline. “New students and freshmen are welcome.”

That one over there.

Dark blue hair tied in a low ponytail reaching down her waist. Her back was turned away from the camera, but her figure and silhouette spoke volumes— average build and height, as he pictured her looking after five years from now.

He gasped. It was her. Elena. No doubt about it.

Instinctively, Raphael reached for the display and pried it open, but it was sealed tight no matter how hard he tried. His hand clenched into a fist and slammed it hard against the wall.

“Ow!” He winced, feeling his fist throbbing in pain, and rubbed it against his palm to ease the pain away. That was not the best way to let it out.

“Ugh! Damn it.” He groaned in disappointment.

Why does it have to be locked— He paused. W-wait… what am I doing? I can take a picture, right?

Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he snapped a photo of the newspaper and even took another shot zoomed in to her. Despite everything that happened, that picture was the only concrete evidence that she was present in the Academy. That was all he needed, a confirmation.

As he left the library with his hand clenching the phone in his pocket, he felt it: a newfound hope inside him. A smile appeared at the corners of his lips as he walked along the empty corridors.

One step closer to finding you. Elena.