Chapter 39: The Renovation Showdown, Final Battle
There is a roof.
There are walls.
There are windows.
These are proof of “civilization” that humanity won over thousands of years.
Throwing them away is no different from returning to being monkeys.
“…Are you serious?”
I asked in an exhausted voice.
At the center of the library.
The architect Leonardo was pointing up at the ceiling and declaring triumphantly.
“Of course I am!
This ceiling is the root of all evil!”
The blueprint he spread out—carved into stone so Run could not eat it—depicted a shocking sight.
The library had no roof.
Bookshelves were exposed beneath the open sky, and direct sunlight poured down onto the reading area.
“I call it the ‘Sky Library’!
Knowledge is infinite like the sky itself!
Then we should remove the physical lid—the ceiling—and connect directly to the universe!”
“What happens when it rains?”
“Getting wet is part of the experience!
Ink bleeding, paper swelling… that fleeting impermanence is beauty!”
“The books will mold.
Rejected.”
I answered instantly.
As someone who loves books—no, as their caretaker—this was unforgivable.
It was cultural vandalism.
“You don’t understand!
Knowledge raised in a greenhouse, protected and coddled, has no value!”
Leonardo launched into a passionate speech.
It seemed persuasion through words was impossible.
His dictionary clearly lacked the phrase “maintenance.”
Then—
I would have to teach him with his body.
“…Very well.”
I sighed and spoke calmly.
“Leonardo.
If you insist that much, I have a proposal.”
“What is it?
Have you surrendered to my aesthetics?”
“No.
…Spend one full day in this library.”
I took out the key and let it jingle.
“From morning until night.
Do not step outside even once.
Feel with your own skin which parts of this room are ‘dead.’
If after that you still say ‘a roof is unnecessary’…”
“Then what?”
“I will personally blow the roof off.”
“…Interesting!”
Leonardo grinned.
“I accept!
There’s no way my sensibilities will bow to such an old-fashioned box!”
And so,
The final battle between artist and caretaker began.
The weapons were neither swords nor magic.
They were “comfort.”
10:00 a.m.
Leonardo sat facing his sketchbook.
The seat was by the window, exactly where I had instructed.
“Hmph, the sunlight isn’t bad.
…But it’s a shame there’s glass in between.”
He complained, yet his brush kept moving.
I said nothing, working at a desk some distance away.
However, I was devoting all my attention to environmental control.
‘Phase One: Lighting.’
The windows of this library were not ordinary glass.
Using an application of my 《Clean》 magic, I had adjusted the light transmission.
Harsh direct sunlight was cut away, letting in only soft, diffused light ideal for reading.
A magical illumination that did not tire the eyes, even over long hours.
Leonardo’s brush moved steadily.
One hour.
Two hours.
He never rubbed his eyes even once.
The crease between his brows gradually faded.
1:00 p.m.
“…Hmm.
It’s getting a little warm.”
Leonardo loosened his collar.
Outside, early summer sunlight blazed down.
If there had been no roof, he would have collapsed from heatstroke by now.
‘Phase Two: Ventilation.’
I exchanged a glance with Run.
Run immediately understood and sucked the dust from the ventilation filters.
Air flowed through.
The coolness stored in the stone walls mixed with the breeze from outside, keeping the room at a constant twenty-four degrees.
Not artificial cooling, but the pleasant comfort of natural airflow.
“…Oh?”
Leonardo’s hand stopped.
He took a deep breath.
“…The air is clear.
There’s no dustiness…”
“Run is cleaning.”
“I-I see…
But the airflow paths are calculated.
…Who designed this?”
“I did.”
“…Tch.”
He clicked his tongue in frustration, but his expression was calm.
His body was beginning to respond honestly to comfort.
3:00 p.m.
Snack time.
Sylvia arrived carrying iced tea and chiffon cake.
“Here you are.”
“…I’ll take it.”
Leonardo sank deep into the sofa—the one I had protected with my life—and took a bite of cake.
Fluffy texture.
Cold tea.
And silence.
There was none of the palace’s bustle here.
Only the sound of pages turning, and occasionally Run’s soft “kyuu” as it slept.
Leonardo’s eyelids began to droop.
He had said he had been working through the night.
For someone constantly chasing “beauty” and keeping himself tense, this space that demanded nothing was dangerously sweet.
“…No, I mustn’t fall asleep.
I came here to fight…”
He struggled desperately.
But the power of my beloved sofa—its ability to ruin people—was overwhelming.
His body melted like slime.
“…Damn it…
Why…
Why is this so calming…”
Then, at 5:00 p.m.
The moment of judgment arrived.
Drip.
Drip, drip…
Shaaah!
Just as forecasted, a sudden evening downpour struck.
A torrential rain hammered the capital like water dumped from a bucket.
Outside the window, everything was shrouded in a gray curtain of rain.
Trees swayed violently, and people ran screaming through the streets.
But not here.
Inside the library, it was quiet.
The roof.
The walls.
The windows.
They stopped the violence outside and protected us.
Only the sound of rain remained, gently echoing like background music.
“… ”
Leonardo placed his hand against the windowpane.
On the other side, rain lashed furiously against the glass.
“…If,”
he murmured in a trembling voice.
“If we had removed the ceiling, just like my plan…”
“By now, this place would be flooded,”
I replied calmly.
“All the books would be ruined.
Your sketchbook would be a lump of mud.
And we would be soaked, shivering in the cold.”
“… ”
“Leonardo.
You said, ‘A greenhouse that only protects has no value.’”
I stood beside him.
“But isn’t it because we are protected that we can dream in peace?
The leeway to find the sound of rain ‘beautiful’ exists only because we are not getting wet.”
Reading books.
Drawing pictures.
Taking a second nap.
All of these are advanced intellectual activities that exist only because there is a safe ‘nest.’
“A roof is not just a physical lid.
…it is a barrier that protects the human heart.”
Leonardo slowly turned around.
Tears overflowed from his eyes.
“…It’s warm.”
“Huh?”
“This place…
It feels just like sitting by the fireplace at my parents’ home…”
He collapsed in tears.
The flamboyantly dressed artist cried like a child.
“I…
In chasing beauty, I forgot the most important thing—rest.
The very origin of architecture: creating a place for people to return to…!”
He took my hand.
(Run hissed in warning, but I ignored it.)
“I lose!
A complete defeat, Eliana!
…No, Master!”
“Please don’t call me that.
Hilda is already more than enough.”
“Let’s keep this roof!
The walls too, and the windows!
They are all functioning perfectly!
This is… ‘functional beauty’!”
Shaking with emotion, he pulled out his blueprint—the stone slab—and was about to slam it onto the floor.
Then he stopped.
It was heavy, and it would damage the floor.
Instead, he gently flipped it over and used it to adjust the height of a table leg.
“…The renovation plan is scrapped.
No, revised!”
His eyes sparkled.
“I’ll reinforce this library while preserving its comfort!
Fixing leaks, adding insulation, and installing dedicated passages for Run!
How about that!?”
“…In that case, you’re welcome to proceed.”
I smiled.
At last, he had become someone I could reason with.
The rain stopped.
Sunlight streamed through gaps in the clouds.
The wet windowpanes glittered.
“…Beautiful,”
Leonardo murmured.
“Ah, how beautiful…
A sunset seen from beneath a roof.”
Those words held more truth than any of his past theories on art.
An hour later.
Leonardo skipped away saying, “I feel reborn!”
The new blueprint he left behind was titled:
“The Most Comfortable Library in the World.”
“…Good grief.”
I sank deeply into the sofa.
It had been long.
From the glass chair, to the toilet walls, and finally the roof.
The battle over my sanctuary ended in total victory.
“Kyuu~”
Run climbed onto my lap.
Warm.
“Good work, Run.
…Peace has returned.”
Click.
The door opened.
“I’m home, Eliana.”
It was Claude, back from work.
He looked around the room and nodded in satisfaction.
“…The ceiling is still there.
The toilet walls too.”
“Of course.
Who do you think protected them?”
“I’m grateful.
…If the roof had disappeared, I was ready to blast Leonardo to the moon.”
He said it jokingly, but his eyes were not smiling.
He meant it.
“Come on, let’s go home.
…Today is an anniversary.”
“An anniversary?”
“You forgot?
One month since our wedding.”
“…Ah.”
I had forgotten.
Completely lost in my battle with the architect.
“I-I’m sorry.
I didn’t even make a dinner reservation…”
“That’s fine.”
Claude gently stroked my hair.
“Eating out is nice, but…
Tonight I feel like staying in.
Your cooking—no, cooking together—sounds good too.”
“…Hehe.
You’re right.”
I stood up.
We didn’t need flashy parties or luxurious meals.
A roofed home, warm soup, and the one I love.
What greater luxury could there be?
“Let’s go home, dear.”
“Yeah.”
We held hands and left the library.
Run followed happily behind us.
My “home plan” was now complete.
I had secured the best castle, one no one could interfere with.
And when we returned home,
an awkward but warm table awaited us.
An everyday miracle called ordinary life.