Scorpio Moon Kiss

I closed the few windows still left open as the evening wind grew stronger than usual. The creaking of the wooden frames made the usually silent library feel different. Hurriedly, I shut each of the dark brown wooden windows one by one until none remained open.  

I looked up, frowning at the staircase leading to the second floor of the library. I could’ve sworn I heard a strange, unfamiliar sound. After a moment of silence and observation, I gave up and returned to my seat. Probably nothing serious—just a stray cat that had wandered into the library.  

Night was almost falling, yet I felt more at ease here than ever. As I had done every year since I started working at Asteria Library, I spent extra time here on my birthday.  

That’s right—today was my twenty-fifth birthday. Nothing special, just like all the years before. I celebrated my birthday at Asteria Library with a cup of chamomile tea and a slice of strawberry cream cake, my favorite.  

The library, tucked away at the end of the street, had closed hours ago, but I was still content staying here, breathing in the scent of old books while reshelving the ones left out.  

No friends, no family on my birthday—yet it felt oddly peaceful. Especially with the chamomile tea warming my hands as I gazed through the transparent glass walls at the nightshade flowers blooming as dusk settled in.  

This library was too archaic, its stone tower reminiscent of 18th-century design, yet for some reason, I adored it—as if there was nothing strange about it. The oak entrance door with its faintly carved sigma symbol always caught my attention. The symbol only became clear when traced with a finger. I wondered if it had anything to do with Asteria, the goddess of falling stars in Greek mythology.  

My eyes drifted back to the glass walls. The wind had calmed, and the night sky deepened. Moonlight spilled into the library, casting a dim glow.  

I took a deep breath. There was no harm in spending my birthday here. The scent of old books and chamomile tea was a soothing combination. Smiling, I stood up and gathered the scattered books left on the tables—ones that had been read but not reshelved by the visitors earlier that day.  

The first floor of the library was filled with modern astrology and astronomy books, while the second floor housed ancient manuscripts on lycanthropy—the mythological ability of humans to transform into werewolves.  

Ever since I was a child, Asteria Library had always had more lycanthropy manuscripts than any other books—an oddity for a small town like Moonhaven. My grandmother said the founders were 18th-century collectors of rare texts, but I suspected there was more to it. Even now, I still didn’t know why this library felt so different.  

After ensuring all the books were back in place, I returned to my seat, intending to finish my now-cold chamomile tea and the last bite of strawberry cake.  

The sky outside was unusually bright—likely because of the full moon. I inhaled deeply, the scent of nightshade mingling with the aged wood, filling my lungs.  

The grandfather clock across from me chimed four times, even though it was already seven in the evening. The same thing happened no matter the time—the chimes were always three short. Maybe the old clock was broken, or maybe it had always been that way.  

I finished my cake and decided it was time to leave. Spending my birthday here had been pleasant, but I had to open the library early tomorrow.  

Fiddling with the tarnished silver crab pendant—a gift from my father—I smiled. His face flashed in my mind. Suddenly, I missed him, especially on a day like this.  

Alright, I should head home before the night grew any later and I became too comfortable here.  

The sound of heavy footsteps and something crashing in the hallway made me freeze. This time, I was sure it wasn’t the black cat that often roamed the library—the noise was too loud for a feline.  

What was that? Was someone still here? But I had already checked—no one else was supposed to be in the library. A thief? I shook my head. Why would anyone steal from a place with nothing valuable?  

The night wind howled against the glass walls, rustling like hushed whispers. I rubbed my arms, suddenly covered in goosebumps—not from the cold, but from an eerie sensation creeping up my spine. It felt like something was watching me from behind the bookshelves.  

Outside, the nightshade flowers swayed, their dark purple petals dancing in the moonlight. I remembered the legend my grandmother once told me—nightshade blooms to welcome those lost between two worlds. But of course, that was just a bedtime story.  

Heart pounding, I forced myself toward the source of the noise—the hallway leading to the rare books section. The corridor was darker than usual, as if the moonlight refused to enter. My own shadow stretched unnaturally across the wooden floor, twisting into something unfamiliar. I couldn’t leave without knowing what that sound was. Maybe it really was just a cat… or a group of them.  

As I stepped further in, the metallic tang of blood and something sickly sweet—like rotting flesh—filled my nose. I held my breath. The smell was too familiar, like dried blood left for days. But how? This library was always immaculate, barely even collecting dust.  

No… no. I must be seeing things! How could someone be lying on the library floor? Their body was sprawled unnaturally, like a discarded doll. Jet-black hair covered part of their face, but from where I stood, I could see the sharp line of their jaw—like a Greek statue.  

"Y-you…" My voice caught. I hadn’t realized I was gripping my father’s crab pendant so tightly, as if it could give me courage. Something was wrong—not just the wound, but the way the air around us felt static, as if time had stopped.  

I didn’t dare move closer, only watching from a distance. Oh no! They were hurt! From where I stood, I could see the deep gash on their right shoulder, dark blood soaking through their clothes.  

I had to help him!  

I turned to grab the first-aid kit I always kept at my desk. My mind blanked—nothing mattered except saving the helpless figure on the floor.  

Strangely, as I approached, I felt no fear. Kneeling beside them, I inspected the wound. But something was off—the injury was severe, blood staining their clothes, yet not a single drop had touched the floor.  

Curiosity pulled me closer. It wasn’t that there was no blood… but the blood that dripped from the wound evaporated like smoke before it could land.  

"Don’t call an ambulance." The hoarse voice made me jolt. They lifted their head slightly, and for a moment, under the dim light, their skin seemed to glow—as if moonlight was trapped beneath it. Their eyes flickered yellow.  

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice trembling. But before they could answer, their body moved—too fast for a human. One second they were on the ground, the next they were upright, their face inches from mine.  

Oh! So it was a man—and a rather handsome one at that. Good grief, Selene! How could I even notice that at a time like this?  

"But you need a doctor—"  

"A doctor can’t fix this," he groaned.  

"Then let me treat you now," I said, fumbling with the first-aid kit.  

"Don’t." He grabbed my wrist, his other hand pressing a bloodstained necklace into my palm. Before I could process what was happening, he suddenly straightened—as if he hadn’t been injured at all.  

"You need to leave before the moon reaches its peak," he said. His voice echoed in my skull, not just spoken but imprinted in my mind. There was an unnatural compulsion in his words, like a spell. In an instant, he was gone—leaving only a crescent moon pendant smeared with blood in my hand.  

Who was he? Why was he injured here? And… why did he give me this pendant?  

Hands shaking, I clutched the necklace. The crescent moon pendant felt warm, almost alive. The dried blood on its surface formed strange patterns, like ancient script from one of the lycanthropy manuscripts.  

As I turned to leave, from the corner of my eye, I saw his shadow still standing in the hallway—but no longer human. His silhouette stretched, twisted, becoming something larger, darker. I blinked, and it vanished.  

My mind raced. Had we met before? Because when I looked at him, I felt an inexplicable familiarity—like a painful longing.  

I needed to go. Now. Before anything else strange happened.  

Wrapping the pendant in a handkerchief after wiping off the blood, I took a shaky breath. This was the first time something so bizarre had happened in the library—and on my birthday, no less.  

As I stepped outside, the weather shifted abruptly. The once-bright moonlight dimmed, and the wind roared to life.  

My body suddenly warmed despite the chill. My fingers brushed against my zodiac pendant—the crab—now pulsing with heat, sending warmth through my entire body.  

Too many strange things had happened tonight. I couldn’t stay any longer. Especially after that man’s warning. Who was he? Why had he appeared like that?  

I quickened my pace, leaving the library behind. Just then, my eyes caught a massive black shadow perched atop the old church roof—before it vanished into thin air.(*)  

The second place where I feel most at ease, after the Asteria Library, is my own room. Especially after the unbelievable incident at the library earlier, this room feels like it can calm my mind and emotions. The sea-blue walls—my favorite color since childhood—seem to embrace me with their soothing coolness. The old photos in cracked wooden frames remind me of the days when Father still spent time with me—before he vanished without a trace.  

As I change into my pajamas, I study my reflection in the mirror. Something feels different about this birthday night. My lips are pale, and faint dark circles shadow my eyes, as if I hadn’t slept all night. Yet the strange events at the library only happened a few hours ago. Normally, I spend my birthdays in tranquility, but not this time. That odd, restless heartbeat has lingered ever since my encounter with the mysterious man.  

Ah, right! The necklace!  

I quickly button my pajama top and grab my bag from the desk. The da