Sungyeol couldn’t say how long he had been sitting motionless with the black object in his hands. It could have been 5 minutes, or it could have been an hour. There was something strange about it all.

Why do I feel so weird?

When he finally regained the control of his nerves, he wiped the sweat off his forehead. It was October, the cold was settling in, and yet he was sweating as if it was mid-June. There was tingling sensation in his blood, as if microscopic ants were crawling up his veins. He tried to breathe deeply to calm himself down, but something caught in his ribs every time he tried and he had to revert to taking short puffs of breath.

What’s going on here?

Suddenly, Sungyeol wished his grandfather was there. If the object he was holding was indeed what he reckoned it to be, and by now he was pretty certain, this should be his moment of glory. But instead of feeling any sort of pride or satisfaction, he felt scared. He was reminded of what his grandfather had said about possessing The Sacred Secrets.

“It’s a completely different feeling. Actually, it’d be different for each person who holds the book; it depends on their personality to some extent, and under what circumstances they’ve received it. But it will never be what one expects to feel when they hold the key to the secrets of the cosmos.”

As the memory came back to him, he felt angry with himself. The reaction to holding the book was supposed to reflect the holder’s personality – why was he so scared then?

I’m not a coward!

He tried to shrug off the feeling – he wasn’t a weakling and he understood the momentum of holding the secrets of the cosmos. Young, he might be, but he wasn’t a coward. He was as prepared as any adult Mystic Cosmologist; he shouldn’t be the one to feel hesitation or trepidation.

Gathering his courage, he gently brushed his fingers over the cloth. Nothing extraordinary happened and he couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed. He had read accounts of great mystics who had held The Sacred Secrets. Although all of them had described the moment differently, almost all of them had mentioned that they had felt an instant connection with the secrets. But Sungyeol only felt the texture of the cloth under his touch.

Don’t I have what it takes to tap the potential of the secrets?

He stowed the thought away – he was the grandson of one of the greatest Mystic Cosmologists ever, it ran through his blood. If anyone deserved the hallowed book, it was him.

He caressed the cloth again, this time a little more calmly. His grandfather had held this very book. He hadn’t been able to indulge in the pages of this book but Sungyeol would. He would finish his grandfather’s incomplete wish. He could imagine his grandfather’s content face, laced with pride.

“The book identifies with the truly enlightened ones, the ones who are willing to believe, the ones who have the greatness to carry out its Charges. It never falls into the wrong hands.”

Sungyeol now recalled how The Sacred Secrets not only contained the endless mysteries of the Universe but also Charges, special missions which had to be fulfilled by the possessor of the Knowledge in order to serve the cause of Mysticism and the Cosmos. It could be making an Elite Concoction, or compiling a Spellbook, or traveling far and wide to search for hidden documents.

He felt goosebumps erupting on his arms, thinking about the Charge he would be assigned with. Every Maintainer – a Mystic Cosmologist who had been chosen to own the book – had been assigned a different charge. He wasn’t sure exactly how that happened since The Sacred Secrets is never been altered but he hoped it would take him far away from home so that he could live his dreams.

He couldn’t delay the moment any longer. He had to discover is prize, he had to ensure that what he was holding in his hands was indeed the collection of the Universe’s greatest secrets.

Gently, as if he was handling something precious, he removed the grimy black cloth and let it drop to the floor. His face fell when he saw what he was holding – a tattered old diary, half the size of what it had seemed through the cloth and weighing even less.

What the hell?

And that was when he felt as if he had been shot at the heart by a bullet of ice. He felt an icy sensation spread rapidly from the center of his heart and overpower him. He dropped the diary from his hand and as it hit the coffee table, it started to glow a frosty blue.

Sungyeol had to shield his eyes from the silver-edged blue flames wafting out from the diary as the chilly feeling clenched his heart harder and harder until he thought he’d die.

What is this?

As rapidly as it had come, the feeling left. The room, which had been filled with bluish light before, was lit only by the white light of the fluorescent bulbs now. He hadn’t noticed it before but the clock on the wall of the living room had stopped.

Strange, it was working right before the man came.

He was panting as if he had been wrestling with someone, his body felt drained of all energy and he felt as if he had just woken up after years of paralysis. His throat was as dry as wood.

As his breathing fell back to normal pace, he slowly turned his head to face the diary on the table, or what had been the diary.

He let out an audible gasp.

There was no sign of the dog-eared diary; instead on the table sat an elegant book, much larger and thicker than regular books. It looked ancient, but there was no sign of wear or tear. The cover was smooth black with intricate silver designs along the edges. It looked like designs but Sungyeol knew that there was writing among them – a warning to the Maintainer. But even if he could make out the writing through the silvery designs, he wouldn’t be able to read it because it was written in the sacred language of the Norse gods – the language of the Mystic Cosmologists.

However, he knew the words by heart, and he knew the meaning as well. It was every Mystic Cosmologists’ favorite words:

‘Pass deg beskuer,

Du har blitt valgt

Hvis du mislykkes i å velge riktig

Vil sjelen din bli frosset’

The poem was supposed to be repeated all over the margin a thousand times and it roughly translated to:

‘Beware beholder,

You have been chosen

If you fail to choose rightly

Your soul will be frozen.’

At the center of the cover was the symbol of Mystic Cosmology, a thousand year old sign that sent shivers down the spine of those who understood its potent. Gulping down his excitement, Sungyeol touched the symbol.

It was like electric shock – he felt the hairs on his arm rise and his toes curl because of some unseen force. There was a whooshing noise that filled his ears, like the sound of the rushing sea. In an instant, he knew this was it – The Sacred Secrets, the greatest secrets of the world had identified with him, had chosen him. An unbreakable bond had formed between the book and him, it was a contract signed in blood and ice.

The sound of the sea in his ears was replaced by frantic whispers in a language he didn’t understand. He realized it was the book speaking to him, instructing him, confiding in him.

All the fear he had felt before melted away. He felt feverish as he deepened his touch on the cover. He felt euphoria like he had never felt before, and there was something else, something novel coursing down his arteries – power. He was powerful, he possessed what no one else in the world did, no normal people, no Mystic Cosmologists. He was the enlightened among the ocean of enlightened ones. His first instinct after the realization was to read the book from cover to cover, to devour its secrets, to make the Knowledge his own. Impulsively, he tried to pry the cover open but it wouldn’t budge.

He felt the surge of adrenaline inside him staggering to keep up its flow. As his excitement ebbed, his disappointment, and fear increased.

Why can’t I open it?

He reached out again but something told him he was missing something vital, maybe a ritual, a specific word. He racked his brain for anything his grandfather might have said about it. Lost in thoughts, he relaxed into the sofa only to jerk back up when the doorbell sounded. He cursed as his heart leapt to his throat.

Oh no, please not mom and dad. Or Daeyeol, which is worse.

He looked around for a place to hide the book. He thought of stuffing it under the sofa and although it wasn’t very respectful he had no other choice. The doorbell was going off, now accompanied by banging.

It’s Daeyeol.

He tried to pick it up and stash it in its temporary hiding place. But try as he might, he couldn’t lift up the book. It seemed to be glued to the table.

“Coming,” he shouted at the door while he wrestled with the book. Finally he gave up trying and threw the black cloth over it before running over to the door.

I swear I’ll kill you Daeyeol.

“What do you think you’re doing?” An angry voice greeted him the moment he opened the door. He felt the last drops of adrenaline leaving his blood stream, his heart beat returning to normal and the aura of mysticism disappearing from the surrounding air. Ordinary was everywhere.  “You were supposed to be at my place with the DVD, not here! Why are you doing this to me! What, did you get a new best friend? Or is it a girlfriend? Or is it your cat? Now even your cat is more important than me?” The words were spoken in rapid haste by disgruntled Woohyun who pushed Sungyeol away and entered the room like he owned the place.

Sungyeol let out an exasperated sigh.

At least some things are still normal.

“Woohyun, I don’t have a cat.”

A hundred apologies and a cheesecake later Woohyun finally calmed down. They were talking in the kitchen and Sungyeol had almost forgotten about The Sacred Secrets. It was difficult to keep anything else in mind when Woohyun and his boisterous self was around. It was difficult for him to believe that anything powerful or mystical was under this very roof. Woohyun enhanced the feeling of platitude in the house.

“I had to get a babysitter for Jihyun. That fox-eyed man, that stupid neighbor of mine, what’s his name again?” When Sungyeol shrugged Woohyun continued with his mouth full of cheesecake. “Yeah that’s right, Kim Sunggyu -” A slap landed on Sungyeol’s shoulder. “That Sunggyu guy, he ripped me off. $25 for watching Jihyun for a couple of hours, seriously! I tell you, he hates me!”

Sungyeol took a bite out of the cake. He was thinking what to reply, one wrong word and Woohyun would blast off again. He finally settled for nodding gravely.

“Why are you nodding like a cow?”

“I’m not -”

“Whatever, do you have the DVD or what?”

Woohyun’s latest addiction was a boy band called Infinite. On Friday nights, they would browse and watch Infinite shows and songs. Sungyeol liked them too, but not as obsessively as Woohyun. Since Woohyun was so interested in Infinite, Sungyeol had promised to get him their concert DVD as an early birthday present. That was what they were scheduled to watch today.

“I’ll get it.” Sungyeol got up to get the DVD from his bedroom. Since his mom had fixed the room in the morning, he took some time to find the item and when he returned to the kitchen Woohyun wasn’t there. Thinking he had gone to set up the DVD player, he sauntered to the living room.

The DVD fell to the ground with a clatter. Sungyeol stopped breathing.

Woohyun was holding the book covered in black cloth.

How did he raise it from the table?

“What’s this?” Woohyun asked when he saw him.

“Woohyun put it down, slowly -”

But Woohyun, being Woohyun, did the exact opposite. He removed the black cloth. The tattered diary reappeared.

“You keep a diary? How come I don’t know? And why does this look a thousand years old?”

“Woohyun that’s my grandfather’s diary, just give it to -” Too late, the diary had started glowing blue.

---

A/N: 100% original Norwegian translation, thanks to Limie unnie!