To be fair, Django hadn't meant to be creepy. If the price to pay for dodging oblivion was freaking a few people out, Django was willing to make that choice. The problem was now everyone was paranoid. The mere mention of a ghost had put everyone on edge, even the least superstitious of castle residents. According to some butler conversations Django had listened in on that night, even the king seemed a bit worried about a wraith in his halls.
'Well, at least there's no suspicion about me. As far as everyone knows, I've been in my room the whole time.'
Regardless, plans had to change. He couldn't just wait for a good moment to walk through the front door, it was too obvious now. Luckily, libraries in places like castles tend to have multiple entrances and exits.
Django stood in front of his map, mentally crossing off pathways and plotting the courses of passerby.
'Hmm... They always prepare dinner around this time... and that means I'll have to be on that side of the great hall. But that means crossing the very populated side corridor connecting the empty bedrooms and the servants quarters. Tricky.'
However, Django wasn't too worried. He had braved far more atrocious odds than this.
With a plan in mind, he just had to wait a while. Daylight had it's moments, but night time was much more suited for his excursions. However, people would be much more wary of ghosts at night, and knowing his luck, he didn't want any possibility of attention.
So twilight it was.
---
Sun beginning to dip into the night, Django crept through the halls as quickly as he could, ducking into rooms whenever he heard voices.
'I'm telling you, there's a ghost, Misha saw one! Said it was sneaking around the library, in the corner of your eye, and when you try to look directly at it, all you would see is smoke...'
'Stop it, Kars. She was just tired from the night shift, happens to all of us.'
'Yeah, but do you see ghosts?'
'...'
Django shook his head. The rumor had spread, and if it was being talked about so casually, it would have been spread all throughout the castle. Though, if it was spoken casually, a lot of people probably didn't believe it. That was a win in and of itself.
As the pair of servants walked down the hall, Django ducked out of the room he was hiding in and made a dash across a section of the castle that could flip between empty and full in a flash...
But Django knew the habits of almost everyone in this castle. He had plenty of time, tens of seconds of leeway that he didn't even need to take advantage of.
Finding the room he desired, a random study, as more voices filled where he had just been, Django sighed in satisfaction.
'Slippery as a snake, I am. See this, Zherros? I am a true escape master.'
He moved behind a chair in the study and moved a random shelf, revealing a small door.
'Wait. If I haven't been caught, I technically haven't escaped anything...'
Shrugging, he opened the small door and crawled in.
The passageway was narrow and cramped, but Django managed. As soon as he reached the end, he tried to open the exit, but couldn't.
'Huh? It was fine last time when I opened it from the other side. Has it rusted over or something?'
He awkwardly rammed his shoulder into the door with a audible thud. Not giving up, Django rammed again, and again, and one more time -
"Woah!"
He fell, unceremoniously, face first onto the floor. Freezing, he strained his ears to see if anyone had noticed his arrival.
The seconds passed... and nothing happened.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Django grimaced and stood up, rubbing his ramming shoulder and looking around. As expected, he was in the castle library.
It was a giant room, easily five or six times taller than his bedroom. With a gold and quartz motif, the library shined (or at least would in the daytime), broken only by the dark oak wood of the shelves, desks, and other furniture. Said shelves of books lined every wall, and then some. If there was a question Django had, it could probably be answered in this sanctuary of paper bound knowledge. And boy did he have a lot of questions.
'Well, time to go shopping.'
Walking around the books in the dim lighting of moonlight, Django scrutinized sections, looking for anything relevant. He knew a good chunk of the directory by memory, having seen the same boring titles over and over again in the many trips he had made to the library. No offense, but "History of Artugne Cooking" and "Records of Ancient Sewage Disposal" didn't strike his fancy, no matter how many times he somehow ran into them.
No, what Django was looking for was, yet again, information on his mark. Since he had left early last time with what he had thought was his answer, he hadn't checked what else he could find in the religious history section.
Sneaking over, watching for the librarian, 'Who isn't at her usual post, weird...' Django pursed through the multitude of books until a few caught his eyes.
The first was titled "Records of Divine Conflict." Django didn't know why gods got into wars, but the idea enough was interesting to make it worth grabbing. With a cover of red leather and fancy gold trimming, Django thought it looked worthy of being in some general's study.
The second was much more appealing though. This one was bound in black, with silver trimming, like a moon to the "Records of Divine Conflict's" sun. It was simply titled "Gods."
'Now this seems it might have something important to tell me.' Django stacked it on top of the other book.
The final book was different. Instead of looking like an actual book, "Excerpts from Miklagard's History" seemed like a bunch of papers hastily Frankenstein together. In fact, it wasn't even on the shelf, it was pushed to the back of a "deep" shelf where large books were stored, in such a way that it would remain out of sight. Django couldn't resist.
Making his way back to the door, he was in the middle of shoving his haul through, when he heard a small gasp. It was the librarian, Misha, holding a small lantern.
"G-g-g-g-g-ghost!" She looked like she might faint.
Django slammed the door shut and ran to his room as fast as he could.