Ambrose’s eyes traced the elegant script flowing across ancient parchment, absorbing knowledge from a treatise on elemental transmutation that had likely remained untouched for centuries. The gentle rustling of pages echoed in the hidden chamber beneath Crono Academy’s restricted archives—a secret repository whose existence had been forgotten by all but one.
As he lifted his gaze from the weathered tome, Ambrose found Claire hovering before him, her spectral form radiating a soft luminescence that cast dancing shadows across the dusty shelves. Her ethereal features had arranged themselves into an eager smile, the earlier distress completely absent from her ghostly countenance.
"Does it not suit your tastes?" she inquired with the professional attentiveness of a dedicated librarian. Her translucent fingers gestured toward the book in his hands. "Do you want me to pick another one for you?"
Ambrose suppressed a grimace, mentally berating himself for his strategic miscalculation. When he had first recognized her non-human nature—a ghost harboring deep resentment—he had deliberately provoked her, hoping to trigger a semi-berserk state. His plan had been elegant in its simplicity: once agitated, she would perceive him as vulnerable, activating his Fragile Beauty skill. The charm effect would then allow him to easily manipulate and establish control over her, potentially binding her as a ghost summon—training her secretly to protect her against Hualing is she ever lost control.
But he had overlooked a crucial element. While Claire indeed carried centuries of resentment within her, she also possessed an overwhelming devotion to this hidden library. Her entire identity had become inextricably bound to these forgotten tomes. The likelihood of convincing her to abandon her self-appointed duty seemed vanishingly small.
I completely misread the situation, he thought, mentally palm-facing at his own shortsightedness.
Claire tilted her head questioningly, observing his momentary lapse into self-recrimination. "Is something wrong?" her voice carried genuine concern.
With a dismissive wave, Ambrose closed the book and set it carefully aside. A new approach was needed—one that worked with her devotion rather than against it.
"Claire," he began deliberately.
The ghost perked up instantly. "Yes?"
Choosing his words carefully to avoid triggering her, Ambrose ventured, "Have you ever thought about moving the library?"
The effect was immediate. Claire’s luminous form dimmed noticeably as her spectral hands clutched at the fabric of her dress—a reflexive gesture from her mortal days. Tiny wisps of chaotic energy began dancing around her edges, warning signs of the instability he had witnessed earlier.
"Don’t misunderstand," he added hastily, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I don’t mean it like that."
Her form stabilized slightly, though wariness remained evident in her posture.
"Actually," Ambrose continued, shifting tactics, "isn’t it boring being here?"
"I have to protect the books," she replied with the simple conviction of someone stating an immutable law of nature.
Ambrose noted the fundamental disconnect. She wasn’t comprehending his suggestion as anything but a threat to her purpose. A more indirect approach would be necessary—one that leveraged her devotion rather than challenged it.
Rising from his seated position, Ambrose adopted a contemplative expression. He moved with deliberate care between the towering shelves, letting his fingers trail across the ancient spines with reverent gentleness.
"Actually, I feel bad for these books," he murmured, infusing his voice with calculated melancholy.
Claire’s form drifted closer, curiosity overcoming caution. "Why?" The single word carried genuine concern for her precious charges.
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Selecting a particularly impressive volume bound in what appeared to be dragon hide, Ambrose cradled it in his hands like a sacred artifact. His voice took on the cadence of a philosophical lecture, resonant with manufactured passion.
"Books are not mere objects, but living vessels that carry the immortal essence of those who came before us. When authors commit their thoughts to paper, they perform an act of sacred preservation, embedding their very souls into the pages we now hold." His fingers caressed the ancient binding with theatrical reverence. "These tomes possess a mysterious will of their own—have you not felt a book call to you from a shelf, or witnessed how certain volumes find their way into the hands of those who need them most?"
Claire’s luminous form brightened with recognition, her head nodding in vigorous agreement.
"We are not the owners of books but their temporary guardians," Ambrose continued, warming to his performance, "entrusted with their care until they choose to move on. To neglect a book is to silence a voice that has traveled across time itself to speak directly to you, a betrayal of the covenant between writer and reader that sustains the great river of human wisdom flowing from one generation to the next."
I’m really good at this nonsense, he thought smugly. I’m almost convincing myself.
Pausing for dramatic effect, Ambrose gazed sadly at the surrounding shelves. "That’s why I feel such sorrow for these books imprisoned here," he gestured expansively, "unable to share their knowledge. Don’t you think it’s terribly selfish of us to keep these treasures to ourselves?"
Claire’s spectral features registered the first flickers of doubt, exactly as he had intended.
"When these authors committed their wisdom to paper," he pressed, sensing weakness, "they hoped that knowledge would reach future generations. Are we going to let their hopes die here, in this forgotten place, accumulating nothing but dust?"
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The ghost librarian’s form wavered slightly, internal conflict visible in the fluctuating intensity of her luminescence. "What should I do?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "They wanted to get rid of the books. I just wanted to protect them..."
Sensing her spiraling toward another dangerous emotional state, Ambrose stepped closer, gently pressing his finger against her spectral lips. The touch halted her distress immediately.
"I have a plan," he stated with confident authority. "Form a contract with me, and I’ll take both you and the books out of here." His eyes locked with hers, projecting absolute conviction. "I’ll ensure both your safety and that of the library."
Extending his hand toward the spectral librarian, Ambrose carefully maintained his expression of sincere concern, revealing nothing of his calculated manipulation or the potential advantages a bound ghost might provide in his arsenal of abilities.
Claire stared at his outstretched hand, centuries of protective instinct warring with the alluring promise of fulfilling her true purpose—sharing knowledge rather than merely preserving it.
…
Claire’s luminous gaze fixed upon Ambrose’s outstretched hand, her spectral form flickering with indecision. The centuries she had spent as guardian of this forgotten library weighed heavily in her ethereal consciousness, a burden of purpose that had defined her existence beyond death.
She had protected these books with unwavering dedication, preserving ancient knowledge from those who would destroy it. Yet Ambrose’s words had planted a seed of doubt in her heart. In her fierce determination to safeguard these tomes, had she inadvertently betrayed their fundamental purpose? Had she become not their protector, but their jailer? How was she any different from those who wanted to torch them?
"Was I... selfish?" she whispered, the question directed more to herself than to Ambrose.
Her translucent features contorted as conflicting emotions battled within her. No, she hadn’t acted out of selfishness. She had acted out of necessity, out of desperate love for these irreplaceable repositories of wisdom. They were going to burn the books—destroy centuries of knowledge with callous disregard. She had done what was necessary to preserve them.
And yet...
Books existed to be read, to share their knowledge with seeking minds. By hiding them away, even with the noblest intentions, hadn’t she denied them their essential purpose? A book unread was like a song unsung—preserved but unfulfilled.
Claire’s luminous eyes lifted to meet Ambrose’s steady gaze. Something in his expression resonated with certainty—a confidence that seemed to transcend his youthful appearance. His eyes held wisdom beyond his years, as though he could perceive layers of reality hidden from ordinary sight. When he looked at her, she felt strangely vulnerable, as if her centuries of existence were laid bare before him.
For the first time since her death, Claire felt a fluttering sensation reminiscent of her mortal heart. A ghostly blush tinged her translucent features as she realized that in Ambrose, she had found someone who understood both her devotion to the books and the greater purpose they were meant to serve.
With delicate grace, her arm extended toward him, her incorporeal fingers pressing against his solid flesh with that curious semi-tangible quality unique to their interaction. The connection sent a shiver of energy through her ethereal form—not unpleasant, but intensely alive.
"I agree," she murmured, her voice carrying both resolution and surrender.
…
A/N - Should we explore what Meihua and the girls are doing or just skip and use it later as a flashback? Many of you seem to always want to have Ambrose on screen but he isn’t all that interesting.