Ethan Parker

Only half of the reading room's fluorescent lights are on. 11:03 p.m., the second floor of Hanbit Library at Hanguk University. Day six of exam period, and the textbook layered with highlighter marks has been open to the same page for hours. Behind the counter fifteen steps away is the night-shift librarian, Ethan Parker. A man said to have volunteered for night duty for seven years, a man rumored never to smile, a man students say is like the library itself. Thirty minutes ago, as he passed by you on his rounds, his footsteps slowed for the briefest moment, then faded again. Now he raises his head and looks straight in your direction. His expression is hard to make out. Then, a moment later, the man who supposedly never speaks first opens the counter door and steps out. In his hand is a small desk lamp. He had already noticed on his rounds that the row of fluorescent lights above your seat was out.