It was my first time truly venturing into the library, not just peeking inside.

I never had a reason to come here before. During my first year, I mostly stayed in the classroom.

‘But I didn’t expect to find a doodle here.’

Not that I could’ve known since I’d never been here.

Even though seeing the doodle didn’t trigger anything unusual, I thought I’d take a nap to relax—but, as always, my unease proved correct.

‘What the hell is this…?’@@novelbin@@

I wasn’t in the library or even the school anymore.

I found myself in a dimly lit room with no windows to gauge the time or weather outside.

Despite the 18 years that had passed, the place felt eerily familiar.

"Of all the memories, it had to be this one," I muttered.

Though it wasn’t my memory, it must have been the moment my mentor visited—back in my old studio.

The room was cluttered with various paintings, including masterpieces like [Seiren] and [Gumiho], leaning haphazardly against the walls.

My past self didn’t care much about tidiness, even for important works.

Art supplies littered the floor in poor condition, further emphasizing my carelessness.

Despite the mess, I hadn’t let go of my brush back then.

The only light in the room came from a single small lamp. That’s how I’d worked during those days.

"But why is no one here?"

As far as I remembered, after setting up my studio, I rarely left unless it was for something important.

The room was empty except for me and the paintings.

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