The Meaning of Restoration

Morning came in with a symphony of unrelenting raindrops pattering outside his bedroom window.

Auri groaned, stretching his sore limbs like a lazy feline before burrowing deeper into the mattress. The gloomy weather outside blanketed him with a comforting feeling that made him want to lie in bed all day. Even the way his pillow cradled his head felt like he was floating on clouds.

Fuck the books. He's not leaving his room today.

After all the work he did yesterday, he deserved a day where he wasn't repairing torn pages or scraping old glue off of old spines. And since he missed yesterday's night out, maybe he should hit the arcade this afternoon and invite his friends to watch a movie. There was a new one based on a game he used to play when he was a kid. Or maybe—

Knock, knock, knock.

"Auri! Until what time are you planning to sleep? It's almost noon! Get up already!"

Auri buried his face in his pillow to muffle his groan.

"How late did you stay up last night? Don't tell me you were working on that stupid game again?" His mother let out a dramatic sigh. "I thought we've already talked about this? I told you not to waste your time on useless stuff. Your grandfather needs you at the shop."

Auri kicked the blanket off his feet and jostled violently on the bed like a mosquito larvae on a sewer.

"Aurelius!"

"I'm up! I'm up! God, stop banging on my door!"

"Then get going already! What kind of apprentice are you to sleep in until noon? You should be at the shop before your grandfather does!"

Auri forced himself to sit and sighed in defeat. No matter how much he tried to avoid it, there was no escaping books. He was bound to them like a slave. It wouldn't surprise him if the books developed a personality one day and demanded he call them his master.

When that day came, he was doomed.

After putting on a fresh set of clothes, Auri stomped out of his room with a heavy heart. The floorboards creaked in his every step, leaving a trail of resentment as he marched down the stairs. When he reached the kitchen, however, the scent of simmering meat and spices that filled his nostrils made it difficult for him to stay disgruntled.

The rhythmic chopping sound of a knife against the cutting board filled the space as his mother prepared for lunch. Her earlier scolding still lingered in the air. Though she had her attention on cooking at the moment, the deep scowl on her aging face made it clear she hadn't let it go yet.

"What's on the menu for today?" Auri asked through a stifled yawn while rubbing his stomach.

"It's beef curry," she said without looking up from the chopping board. "There's still bacon and egg on the table. Eat it and go to the workshop as soon as you finish. Your grandfather is expecting you."

Auri grunted as he navigated his way through the dining room. He didn't have the energy to deal with her nagging, so he simply took a seat, grabbed the plate of food, and started stuffing his mouth with what was leftover from the breakfast that he missed.

Unfortunately, his mother had a different thing in mind.

"What have you been doing for you to wake up this late?" she started, her voice as sharp as the knife she was holding. "You're not a kid anymore, Auri. Have some sense of responsibility and wake up in time. How are you going to take over the shop if you can't do something as simple as being punctual?"

'It's not like I wanted it,' Auri wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing full well that any further comment would only turn her reprimands into another lengthy lecture.

"Are you working on some game again? I told you before—"

"I'm not working on anything, Mom." Auri sighed. "Stop bringing up my games every time you want to lecture me. I beg you, please."

"I'm just trying to remind you. You have a real work now."

"Game development is a real work too, just so you know. I know someone who already made millions by creating games."

His mother scoffed. "Of course, they'd make millions. The game they made must be so addicting that it rots the brains of children. Look at what happened to your cousin, Jeremy. He quits college and plays video games all day. That's all he does!"

"Jeremy is a professional game vlogger, Mom. Playing games is his job."

"Oh, so even playing games is a job now, huh?" She shook her head as if she were some goddess of mockery. "Time sure is changing. I'm worried what the future may bring if kids like you keep having this kind of mindset."

"You're just scared of change, Mom. Most boomers, like you, are."

The chopping sound of her knife stopped. She put the knife down, rested both hands on her hips, and gave him an open-mouthed stare that translated to: how dare you say that to your mother?

Auri finished his plate, chugged a mouthful of water, then hurried out of the kitchen to avoid further discussion. He doubted his mother would make another game-related comment for a while, though he was sure she'd find another way to discourage him from further pursuing a career in game development.

If only the first game he released wasn't botched...

No. If only his brother didn't run away from home, she wouldn't be pestering him like she did just now. She never cared what he did before. It was only after her favorite son disappeared that she started nitpicking at his career choices.

Auri shook his head as he charged into the rain with an umbrella in hand. He was doing just fine living under his brother's shadow. But now that the spotlight had shifted onto him, the sudden weight of their expectations became a shackle that bound him to the spot his brother had left behind.

'I don't like this. Do I have to do this my whole life?'

Auri shook the droplets off the umbrella before hanging it on a rack in front of the shop. As usual, the library was empty. The dim lighting whispered warmth and a cozy ambiance, but the unrelenting rain outside made it feel emptier. The towering wooden shelves, stacked with rescued books, continued to gather dust. Without customers, the space felt like a forgotten museum filled with decaying pages, waiting for an audience that would never come.

With a forlorn sigh, Auri made his way to the back of the shop. He pushed the door lightly, trying not to make a sound, but the old hinges creaked anyway, announcing his arrival to the old man hunched over the workbench. The distinct smell of old parchment and dried glue hit him the moment he stepped inside; it was a scent he had grown accustomed to after spending endless hours repairing books.

His grandfather didn't look up even as he approached. He just continued scraping away the remnants of old glue on the old book's brittle spine. Despite his age, his worn hands still moved with practiced precision—measured, never rushed, his fingers working with the patience of someone who had restored books for a thousandth time.

"Don't just stand there, boy. Grab your knife and make yourself useful," his grandfather grunted, making him jump.

Auri did as he was told. After taking out his scalpel from the toolkit, he started working on the book that he found easiest to fix. He tried imitating the way his grandfather handled a damaged book, careful and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. But not even half an hour had passed and he could already feel himself growing frustrated.

How can his grandfather make it look so effortless?

"Don't rush," his grandfather said. "You always rush. This isn't a race, boy."

"But I won't be able to finish anything with this! Ugh, I hate doing this kind of work."

His grandfather scoffed. "All you do is complain."

"Who wouldn't complain, Grandpa? After removing the old cover, I'll scrape the old glue, then I'll patch up the torn pages, then I'll stitch it back, glue it, then press it. It's such a tedious work. I'll end up stuck here again until dawn, just like yesterday!"

"You were stuck here because you do poor work. You do poor work because you see this as a chore."

Auri rolled his eyes. "How else am I supposed to see this? A life-changing work?"

His grandfather shook his head, but he didn't scold him for his sarcasm. For a moment, there was silence, until he spoke again. "Why do you think we repair books, Aurelius?"

At the mention of his full name, Auri's hand stopped moving across the book's spine. The old man never called him by his nickname, always addressing him as 'boy'. So when the name 'Aurelius' rolled out of the man's tongue who had a measured silence, he knew something was coming.

"What do you think book restoration truly means?"

Auri frowned, thinking. "We fix books so uhh... people can still read them? Or hoard them? I mean, we get customers who hoard books, but they don't really read them."

The old man let out a small chuckle. "Is that how you think it is?"

"Did you expect I'd give you an answer with a deeper meaning?"

"Didn't say you have to give one."

Auri paused as his grandfather pushed himself up and ambled to a shelf filled with books he kept hidden, separated from the books they displayed outside—his archive.

"But someday, you will get your hands on books that you will come to cherish," his grandfather continued. "When time starts eroding their pages, you will do everything you can to keep them from falling apart. Only then will you realize why the books are worth saving. Why we are called... the Books' Savior."