Ever met a fairy? I've met one or two before.

Once upon a time, some old man at an out-of-the-way bar told Ensign Williams this. He didn't put much thought into the ludicrous claim and the ensuing rambling because that man seemed real out there when he spoke. But Williams was confident he was just drunk, not touched by fairies. Because he didn't believe in the supernatural, fairies included. Every account of fairy sightings was a sham. Especially the Cottingley fairies, much to Arthur Conan Doyle's embarrassment. They didn't exist except as figments that a whimsical, childish mind imagined.

That was the past. But should he meet this old man again, he would tell him that he, in a way, had met a fairy.

His story would begin at a certain academy in a certain quiet coastal town. It was an ancient one, and the naval base it served was built around it, not the other way around—turning it into a striking centerpiece, a relic surrounded by the modern world.

It was just old, however, not elite. It certainly wasn't Eton nor Gordonstoun, and the only reason anyone would enroll there was its convenient location. The students mainly consist of children of stationed officers—the military brats. To many of them, the school would probably be the closest thing to a naval academy they would ever taste, though some did grow up to become future officers, or so he heard.

And then, there were them. The KANSENs. He wasn't sure of their purpose for attending school—probably to gain some semblance of a normal life, if he had to guess. Most of them did appear to be of school age and acted that part, too. The boys would discreetly leer at them but won't do more than that, and the girls would leave them alone for whatever reasons. Despite sharing a roof, their destinies were indeed worlds apart.

Now, some of the officers at the base had to staff the school. One spring, when the new school year had just begun, he, a new arrival, found himself in the library as an assistant librarian. He soon wondered if he was being hazed or had committed some kind of misconduct and was being punished because the task was numbingly dull.

Not helping things was the fact that the library itself wasn't particularly stimulating in every sense of the word. The lighting was barely adequate—provided mainly by that window stretching from the floor up to the ceiling in front of his desk—and the volumes and the tomes were dusty and old. Some might even be old enough to crumble if he did so much as look at them wrong.

Hours upon hours passed until it was the end of the school day, and he had not encountered a single soul. Not entirely surprising because these days, one can just look things up quickly without going to a library.

Apparently, not having any work was as tiring as actually working, and after letting out a very long yawn, he began to doze, figuring he could get some shuteye before locking the doors. He could dread having to go through it again later tomorrow.

At that time, he thought the silvery blur zipping past him was a dream. But through eyes left groggy by half-slumber, he could see the shadow turning around and scurrying toward his desk.

"Excuse me, are you the librarian?" a soft but hardly meek voice inquired.

He rubbed his eyes to help rid of the bleariness, and her features soon became clear against the backdrop of noon sunlight—well-tended tresses and braided sidelocks, tinted cool silver (which he thought was platinum blonde at first glance); the tempered gleam of the blue eyes behind the most oversized round glasses he had ever seen, which indeed lent to a bookish impression; and the light smile conveying an overall airy disposition, though she also had a nervous air about her. Her navy-blue, gold-trimmed uniform was immaculate. Almost. There were crumbs on the collar and her cheek, and he was curious if she realized it at all, though he kept that question to himself.

"So, by any chance, are you the librarian?" she spoke again. There was an odd chill around him as she did, but he chalked it up to the library being drafty at times.

"No, I'm just an assistant. How can I help you?"

"Oh, I see. Well, you see, I'm looking for some books. Do you happen to know where I can find them? The library's still open, right?"

"Well, since I'm still here, I guess so. Let's see what I can do."

Even though he was convinced the girl was doubtful of him, judging from her somewhat resigned tone, he rose from his seat anyway. He'd admit he didn't know, and her doubts were not entirely unfounded, but he could try. So that's what he told her. He would try. Apparently, it was good enough for her because he soon found himself traversing the winding maze of bookshelves with her in tow. Whoever designed this place was crazy, he grumbled. At least the girl didn't complain.

And he just realized it now, assuming it wasn't his mind toying with him for no good reason—amid the musty, wooden scent around them, there were traces of something sweet, but he could not precisely tell what. It could be sugar. Or vanilla. Or probably marmalade. Whatever it was, it felt like some lingering aroma you took home from a baker's shop. It was a pleasant distraction, he would say.

"Oh, this is the fairytale section," she remarked while he was distracted, driving him into an abrupt pause. But they were indeed at the section she mentioned. How could he miss that? Whirling around, he noticed she was browsing the books. It didn't take long for her to find what she wanted. He couldn't tell what it was because she didn't show him. Not that he's all that interested anyway.

She clutched that storybook (At least he thought it was one) as they resumed walking. Then she hummed a melody. It was nice, he thought. So carefree. Being thought of as childish for reading that sort of book or strange, for coming to that library clearly wasn't a concern to her.

"You like that kind of story, huh?" against his better judgment, he asked. The regret came almost immediately—and after that, relief because she laughed.

"Fairies? Well, you may say so. Fairies are fascinating. You'll never know if what they show you are real or just an illusion. You never know if you're seeing one, even. They could disappear at any given moment. Oh, they are also good at making sweets and flowers, I heard."

"Oh...Okay then."

He had hoped he wouldn't sound too dismissive because he was, to be honest, a little weirded out. Again, she just laughed as though she understood he found her words unusual and expected that reaction. Now he felt a little guilty, regardless of how true that was.

"You don't believe in fairies, don't you?"

"...Well...no. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. They aren't real. But stories about them are interesting."

He looked over his shoulder. She was still smiling, despite her wistful-tinged words.

"Hmm...I guess so..."

"Mm. Ah... here's the arts and crafts section. Let me take a look around a bit. Sorry for making you come with me, though? You're supposed to go home already, aren't you?"

"No, it's fine."

It was true he could just let her look around by herself. She seemed to know the place better than him. He had no idea why he insisted on coming along, but he did, and he didn't find it unwelcome, no matter how late it had become.

"Ah, there it is," she took another book and dusted the cover off. Like before, he couldn't see the title, but there were pictures of flowers on it.

"Let's go. Only one more, and I'm done."

That shelf they were looking for, which was devoted to food, was located just near the previous one. Again, it was she who found it. But it took longer for her to find what she wanted this time.

"...Do you know the specific title...?" he asked as she continued to comb the shelves. While she took the first two books on a whim, it seemed that she had one in mind for this one.

"It was something my mentor told me about. She said I could find it here. Maybe it's up there...?"

He followed her gaze to the top of the towering shelf. None of them could reach it without some help, and it just so happened a ladder was nearby. But he wasn't too confident in how that old, decrepit-looking wooden ladder would hold up. And despite seemingly sharing his concern, she approached the ladder anyway.

"Well, can't let us holed up in here for long, so let's just get it done, shall we?"

"Ah, wait. I'll do it," he offered. No way he would let her endanger herself like that.

"What...? You think I can't, huh? You think I can't take care of myself? I'll do this. You stay there."

Left speechless by her sudden lashing out, he could only watch her setting up the ladder and climbing it up to the very top when she couldn't find what she was looking for.

"...There...!" she finally exclaimed after a while. The book she talked about was on the end of that row, but she was a touch too far to easily get it. So she began to reach out for it, each attempt making the ladder creak even more—until, to his horror, one of its legs finally gave in.

But she was safe in his arms, even though she was gasping, panting, and shaking, just like he did. Even after he put her down, she had to cling to him for a moment before she could stand straight on her own.

But she did get the book, miraculously.

"I... I'm...so...sorry," she whispered, nearly breaking into sobs. "It's just...I don't like...when...when..."

"... That's alright. It's okay."

When he placed a hand on her shoulder, she began to calm down. For once, he was glad the library was desolate. The gesture was awkward, but it worked.

Since she had gotten everything she was looking for, they went back to his desk. She was apparently a first-year because she had no library card and was indeed a KANSEN.

Edinburgh, she wrote her name. As in HMS Edinburgh. But everyone would just call her Edi, she told him.

"Well then... that's all. You can borrow those books for a week or renew them as much as you like. Nobody's ever coming here anyway."

"...Thank you...well, maybe you could tell me your name? I told you mine."

"Williams. Ensign Williams."

"Oh, I see. So, should it be Ensign or Mr. Williams?"

"Anything's fine, I guess."

"Alright, Mr. Williams, it is. Well then, I will take my leave, Mr. Williams. Oh, before I forgot..."

Against the backdrop of the setting sun on the window, she smiled even though her eyes were still glistening with tears.

"Thank you for all you've done for me today. I'll see you again."

It was, for lack of a better word, ethereal. And she had already disappeared by the time he snapped out of the daze it caused.

And now, all that was left for him to do was to lean back on his chair and wonder if the stirring within and the lingering sweetness was real and not just a figment of his imagination.