The warm, gentle sun floods every nook and cranny of the library, as radiant as the heavens in their purest form. Overhead, the coffee-brown, wooden, arched ceiling—crisscrossed by precisely placed beams—was spotless.

Beneath your feet, a red-and-white wool rug, cozy and trimmed, silences your steps. Each step sparks a growing sense of longing—nostalgia for your youthful days.

Passing the "History" selection and turning into "Anatomy & Autography", you're met with towering, glossed, wooden shelves full of carefully preserved, detailed, ancient leather books with streaks of gold for patterns. A few ladders stand here and there, guardians of the legendary volumes.

Above you, the ceiling splits open into a wide, circular skylight. Stained glass frames Van Gogh's "Starry Night", projecting swirling violet and cobalt heavens across the dome. As sunlight passes through, it bathes the room in soft, shifting waves of neon color—rainbow light melting into the space like magic.

You halt, a few feet ahead in the aisle, and see something. Something strange.

As you creep closer, the sight before you finally clears—revealing a beautiful Chigu Goat completely absorbed in her reading. She's tall and slender with elegant posture, lean yet muscular in build. Her form is graceful and composed, yet there's a quiet strength in how she holds herself.

She has a soft, round muzzle that contrasts gently with her otherwise sharp silhouette. Lengthy pale brown horns rise in clean, symmetrical arcs—refined yet unmistakably dangerous. Her antique-gold shoulder-length mane is scruffy and wild in a beautiful, deliberate way, forming a soft ruff around her neck with two floppy ears peeking out from either side.

Her snow-white sleek fur has soft brown markings brushed over her nose bridge, back, ankles, and the front of her long, fluffy tail that sways behind her like a whisper of personality. She wears a slightly baggy gray long-sleeve button-up, an open cropped vest stitched from dark green and white patches, a neatly tied brown scarf, roomy brick-red cargo shorts held by a thick patterned belt, and a weathered brown satchel across her shoulder.

She reads an ancient navy-blue leather book with carefully etched gold patterns titled "Hares, and Their Shame" by Taylor Coast, sitting on a perfectly preserved glossy wooden chair with a medium-sized bolted wooden table beside her. She remains completely unaware of your presence.