Diary of a Dead Wizard-Chapter 166: Hunger

Saul hadn’t seen himself in a very, very, very long time.

So much so that he stared blankly for a few seconds before realizing the person lying there was his past self.

A man nearing thirty, unshaven and hollow-eyed—a pitiful corporate slave.

To this day, he still didn’t know why he had transmigrated.

Did he die from overwork late at night? Or collapse from alcohol poisoning?

His memories before arriving in this world felt plundered, his past so blurry it was like a dream.

“So what I fear is my death in my past life? Could it be that in those missing memories, something terrifying happened?”

Inside the library, the surrounding white mist was thickening, blurring his vision.

“Time is limited. The mystery of transmigration clearly isn’t something I can unravel right now,” Saul muttered as he reached toward the body in front of him. “Blindly probing the unknown only leads to getting lost in it. Better to go with the flow.”

As his hand touched the figure before him, Saul’s vision suddenly warped—the corpse vanished, and the bookshelves around him returned to being rows of thick tomes.

These books were unlike any others. Each was at least ten centimeters thick, and the covers were bound tightly with fine silver chains.

Attached to the chains were small tags displaying the titles.

The mist was starting to impair Saul’s vision, making it harder and harder to see.

Staying too long in the depths of the library risked getting lost. This was the mentors’ method of driving apprentices away to keep them from delving too deeply into forbidden knowledge.

He dropped to the ground, quickly scanning tag after tag.

Just before the shelves were completely swallowed by mist, Saul finally selected two books.

He pulled them free and ducked into the aisle between shelves, glancing around.

After confirming the direction he’d come from, he grabbed the books and sprinted.

The white mist thickened.

His pace slowed.

At last, just as his legs felt like they would give out, Saul stepped out of the mist.

The entrance to the library loomed ahead—and with it, the elderly librarian.

Clutching the books to his chest, Saul turned for a final glance.

The bookshelves behind him were still shrouded in pale mist, tranquil and silent, patiently waiting for someone to come read. Everything that had just happened felt like a hallucination.

But even though he’d nearly been trapped in the mist, the diary hadn’t triggered any death warning.

Did that mean the mist wasn’t actually dangerous? Or was it because he had advanced to Second Rank?

“You’re borrowing these two books?” The elderly librarian, who had been suppressing some inner excitement at the doorway, now walked up to him when Saul didn’t approach.

Startled, Saul turned to see the man nearly in his face.

He quickly stepped to the side. “Yes.”

“Let me see.” The old man reached out both hands, as if to take the books from Saul.

In the past, he only reached out to take payment—never books.

Caught off guard, Saul couldn’t avoid the man’s hands, and the books were snatched from his arms.

But the old man simply gave them a quick glance before shoving them right back into Saul’s chest.

It all happened so fast, it was like nothing had occurred at all.

“I wouldn’t recommend borrowing these for more than three days,” the old man even offered advice.

“Did this grumpy old geezer take his meds today?” Saul wondered in surprise, thanking him repeatedly.

As he left the library, Saul couldn’t help looking back one more time—only to see the elderly librarian with hands behind his back, smiling and nodding at him.

Once Saul was gone, the librarian raised his hands to inspect them. All of his fingertips were shortened, as though something had devoured them.

Yet his face was filled with elated joy.

“You were right. It does smell like freedom.”

…

Saul didn’t return to his dormitory, nor did he head to the Second Storage Room.

He needed a relatively safe place to read the two books.

For example—Mentor Kaz’s laboratory.

Each mentor’s lab had a long-term apprentice stationed there to maintain the space and serve as a guard.

If anything abnormal occurred, the stationed apprentice would use a special communication device to alert the mentor directly.

More often than not, the mentor would arrive quickly.

It had been a long time since Saul had last visited Kaz’s lab. As he pushed the door open, he saw a familiar figure.

Angela sat at a desk, writing and sketching, though her dazed expression betrayed wandering thoughts. She looked exhausted.

Saul had heard from Mark that since entering the Wizard Tower, Angela hadn’t worked anywhere but the lab.

No matter who was previously assigned to manage the lab, she always managed to land the assistant position.

Over time, Kaz’s apprentices had all come to know her.

To put it in Saul’s familiar terms: the seniors came and went, but Angela was a constant.

She had never seemed interested in changing jobs—she simply stayed put.

Saul walked in and took a seat at the table directly across from her.

The sound of the chair scraping the floor startled Angela from her daze. She reflexively stood and looked toward the door.

Seeing no one there, she belatedly noticed Saul in front of her.

“Saul, it’s been a while since you came by.” She tried to smile, but the effort only highlighted her dark eye circles.

“Mm.” Recalling Angela’s seemingly split-personality state from the previous night, Saul uncharacteristically asked, “You don’t look well. Are you sick?”

“No, not at all!” Angela snapped back, her tone overly harsh. Realizing it, she quickly forced a smile. “I just haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

Since she clearly didn’t want to elaborate, Saul didn’t pry.

He placed both books on the table, studied their titles a few times, then carefully began undoing the chains on one of them.

Angela watched him with a conflicted expression. After hesitating several times, she finally couldn’t hold it in.

But her right hand suddenly lifted, and she raised her index finger to her lips.

Shhh…

Angela blinked. Her eyes instantly brimmed with tears.

She lowered her head, and two drops of tears fell on her robe, soaking into the fabric.

She quickly raised the book in front of her, using it to shield herself as she wiped her tears away.

Saul didn’t notice anything unusual. The book had completely absorbed his attention.

The one he opened was a collection of stories—tales of horrific events related to nightmares in the wizarding world.

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Saul flipped through them quickly. He wasn’t reading for shock value; he was hoping to find any mention of the Nightmare Butterfly.

To his surprise, he found it in the fifth story.

The tale was simple.

A powerful True Wizard discovered that his son had uncovered a secret of his—and intended to use it to kill him and inherit everything.

The wizard understood why his son wanted to kill him.

He had become a True Wizard at a young age, his appearance frozen in middle age. But his son, lacking aptitude, had remained an apprentice and was now old and frail.

The wizard, out of fatherly love, foiled the plot but chose not to punish his son.

But the son was unrepentant. Seizing the moment when he pretended to apologize, he launched a second attack.

This time, the wizard struck back and killed his son outright.

It was only in that moment that he realized—he was the son.

For some reason, he had inherited the True Wizard’s memories and confused his identity.

As death came for him, the son saw a beautiful silver butterfly flutter out of his vision.

The story then shifted to the perspective of an unknown narrator.

He explained that when the butterfly emerged from the son’s mind, it was captured by the True Wizard. After some investigation, he discovered it was the Nightmare Butterfly—a creature exceedingly rare even in the wizarding world.

But not long afterward, the True Wizard died as well.

Before his death, he gouged out his eyes, burst his eardrums, sliced off his nose, and leapt naked into a subterranean fire vein, burning alive.

His final words were a repeated scream: “It’s all fake! All of it’s fake!”

At this, Saul slammed the book shut.

“The Nightmare Butterfly really can affect consciousness—or maybe it copies the consciousness of others. If the host lacks a strong enough will, they could completely lose themselves…”

Suddenly, a searing hunger twisted Saul’s stomach. The craving for food broke through his thoughts.

Food…

He looked up—and saw Angela across from him, eyes slightly red, quietly reading.

Saul swallowed.

(End of Chapter)