#8.
Hello, Archie.
Are you alive?
6.11. Lonely Cordelia
* * *
Hello, Cordelia.
I am alive. You seem to be alive too.
On the night of the eleventh day of the pale green moon. Archie.
* * *
Hey, Prince Archie,
Stop fooling around and tell me quickly.
Is everything going as we discussed?
6.11. Cordelia, who is starting to worry.
P.S.: Tomorrow is the day we receive the manuscript from writer Anne Selin. Aren’t you excited? By the way, have you finished reading “Wuthering Heights”? What did you think? How about “Sherlock Holmes” and “Macbeth”? Which one suited your taste the most?
* * *
To my still impatient friend, Cordelia Gray.
I’ll follow your lead and return countless question marks to you.
By the way, how are you polishing the manuscript I returned last time?
Is that editor Marianne, who was bothering you, doing well? (My memory is quite useful, isn’t it?)
What happened to my splendid disappointment, the golden book, that I took to Sotheby’s?
Come on, tell me how you’ve been. Reading your long chatter is always my joy. Please write as long as possible. Take your time and write carefully.
Otherwise, you will flood me with brief letters until the box overflows and confuse me, my dear friend, Coco. Then, I cannot bear your loneliness, and I must respond to your witty letters.
Friend, it is my joy to bear that duty gladly. But today, I have a lengthy story I must tell you.
Do you understand? It means to wait quietly. Mischievous lady.
On the eleventh day of the pale green moon, Archie with much to write, arm aching.
* * *
To Archie
(no content)
6.11. Evening. Your very patient Coco, quietly waiting for the next letter.
P.S.: I’m pondering what to answer first to satisfy all the question marks you threw at me.
* * *
06-11-TUE-PM 9:00
From: Garrett〈[email protected]〉
To: Cordelia〈[email protected]〉
Lady Cordelia Gray, who has to go pick up a manuscript even on a rare resting Wednesday.
What time are you going to Portobello?
How about I go with you?
I’m always worried about you, a new editor, being alone with a man who isn’t even an author.
* * *
06-11-TUE-PM 9:10
From: Cordelia〈[email protected]〉
To: Garrett〈[email protected]〉
Wow, I almost suffocated with the question marks.
You could ask this at work.
Anyway, no, it’s fine. It’s my job, so I can go alone.
* * *
06-11-TUE-PM9:12
From: Garrett〈[email protected]〉
To: Cordelia〈[email protected]〉
It’s okay, Cordelia.
It’s okay for a new editor to ask for a little help.
How about leaving at lunchtime to give it a date-like feel since it’s a day off anyway?
It would be nice to have dinner together after going to Portobello.
* * *
06-11-TUE-PM9:25
From: Cordelia〈[email protected]〉
To: Garrett〈[email protected]〉
I said no, Garrett.
And you’re a new editor too.
* * *
06-11-TUE-PM9:26
From: Garrett〈[email protected]〉
To: Cordelia〈[email protected]〉
I have two months more experience than you.
* * *
06-11-TUE-PM9:40
From: Garrett〈[email protected]〉
To: Cordelia〈[email protected]〉
Cordelia? Already asleep?
* * *
06-11-TUE-PM10:00
From: Garrett〈[email protected]〉
To: Cordelia〈[email protected]〉
I guess you’re asleep. See you tomorrow then.
* * *
[Delivery Failure Notice] The email to [email protected] could not be delivered.
Sender: Bloomsveil Webmaster 〈[email protected]〉
Recipient: Garrett 〈[email protected]〉
Your email could not be sent.
Please refer to the reason for the failure and the solution below.
Sent Time: 06-11 PM 10:00
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* * *
To Prince Archie
Do you know?
If you explain what happened to me today, I would already know the contents of the manuscript I will receive tomorrow. But novels sometimes put ten years’ worth of events into one story, so who knows how things will turn out.
P.S.: Since this letter is a reply, quickly continue writing what you were writing! I want to receive your long letter soon.
P.S.2: I am feeling a bit unpleasant right now for some reason. I want to wash away this feeling quickly with your letter.
6.11 Night. Cordelia, feeling like Heathcliff waiting for Cathy’s ghost to appear.
* * *
To my admirable book recommender, Cordelia
The night we last exchanged letters, I stayed up all night reading “Wuthering Heights” and, overwhelmed with emotions, I even started a new book, “Macbeth.” I finally fell asleep with bloodshot eyes only when morning came.
That means, regrettably, I couldn’t keep my plan to visit my sister in the morning. If you’re reading this and clicking your tongue, you should stop. It’s entirely your fault, Cordelia.
Actually, I never thought you recommended those books to me in vain. I thought I could decide something after reading them all. And that thought wasn’t completely wrong.
Interestingly, since I didn’t go to see Cecile, Cecile came to see me. It was around midday when the sun was right above Arly Palace. Cecile burst into my room while I was still half-asleep and shouted,
“What are you plotting?”
As you know, Cordelia, Cecile is incredibly smart and exceptionally quick-witted. Seeing that I, who had fled to a monastery to avoid social events, was back at the palace much earlier than planned, she wouldn’t just let it pass.
Even so, I thought her movements were too swift, and I scrutinized her expression while thinking hard. Cecile sighed and asked,
“Why did you block off the monastery?”
“The monastery?”
“Yeah, what kind of treasure are you hiding there?”
“You sent someone to the monastery.”
“Did I have a choice?”
It was only then that I realized my foolishness.
I didn’t just return early; I rushed back to the palace late at night. I did so to ask you about the situation, but to Cecile, who knew nothing of this, it seemed very odd.
My curious sister must have immediately sent someone to the monastery. But the monastery’s gate was firmly locked. Yes, not only did Bedder, who witnessed the princess’s cabin with me, keep his promise of silence, but he also completely blocked access to the monastery. Such a loyal yet utterly unhelpful old man. It was a source of great frustration for me.
Even though Cecile is the kingdom’s princess and first in line for the throne, she couldn’t storm the monastery. However, she couldn’t just sit back, not knowing what was going on. So Cecile came straight to me.
Understanding this, I wondered if it would be best to tell her about discovering the princess’s cabin. However, I thought it wasn’t the right time. I wanted to confess it while holding the initiative, rather than being cornered and having to reveal it under interrogation.
But I still had to answer why the monastery was closed. Not knowing how to excuse myself, I hesitated and stammered. At that moment, my eyes fell on the books you sent me, Cordelia.
“Books!”
I shouted.
“Books?” Cecile asked back.
“Yes, books! Books!”
“What are you talking about?”
Cecile looked at me again with a disdainful expression. But I had successfully diverted her attention for the moment, so I quickly added,
“I brought books. I brought books from the monastery.”
“Are you still half-asleep? Explain it clearly.”
“Bedder brought the books. They’re completely new.”
“What do they look like?”
Such a reaction was natural. The books you sent were all very small, light, plain without any decorations, and suspiciously sleek as if wondering how they were made.
I quickly grabbed three books and held them out to the skeptical-eyed Cecile.
“A Study in Scarlet by Sherlock Holmes”
“Macbeth”
“Wuthering Heights”
“They weren’t made in the scriptorium. According to Bedder, someone left them at the monastery.”
“Who on earth?”
“That, we don’t know. Bedder said it might be someone from another kingdom. But this isn’t all.”
“How many more are there?”
“Easily more than ten.”
Lies flowed smoothly from my mouth. Cecile, taken aback, asked,
“That many?”
“Yes, look at these books. There are over a dozen like these.”
“They look quite shabby. Probably brought from a place like Aldar, where barbarians live.”
Aldar!
That place is a barren land north of Windsor. Although it is now said to be inhabited by barbarians, a hundred years ago, it was a vast empire with a history much longer than Windsor’s. Yes, it wouldn’t be strange if a place like that had over a dozen such books.
I quickly seized on Cecile’s suggestion.
“Yes, Aldar. That must be it. Aldar has a deep history. It makes sense! Look, even though they look plain, the content is remarkable.”
“Are you planning to have the scriptorium copy these books and make new ones?”
Clever Cecile, she continued to come up with excuses for me.
“We’ll copy and embellish them. The illustrators are also involved in the work.”
“So, that’s why the monastery is closed?”
“Yes, Cecile. I suggested it. To close it temporarily. And instead of staying there, I brought these books back. To show them to my sister.”
I don’t know how I could lie so easily then. Cecile eyed me suspiciously for a moment, then glanced at the books.
“There are three in total.”
“Do you want to take them and read?”
“Have you read them?”
“Roughly.”
“Are they interesting?”
“Surprisingly so.”
I handed all three books to Cecile and said,
“Pick one.”
Secretly, I hoped she would take *Wuthering Heights*. That book has a way of completely capturing one’s mind. *Sherlock Holmes* would not have been a bad choice either, as it’s a fine piece that can be devoured in one sitting.
But Cecile chose *Macbeth*. A beautiful yet sad, brutal story with plenty of blood. It was a very Cecile-like choice, and I held back my sarcasm as I handed her the book.
That ended my private meeting with Cecile. I quickly rode Sherlock and confessed the situation to Bedder. I thought I could breathe easy for a few days, but things never go that smoothly.
The next morning, Cecile came to see me again at dawn in the practice yard. She threw *Macbeth* at me. As I picked it up and brushed off the dirt, Cecile shouted,
“Why did you show me this book? Are you trying to tell me that without the courage to kill, I shouldn’t even think about becoming a king?”
I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Even as Cecile’s eyes narrowed dangerously, I couldn’t stop laughing. Only Cecile could interpret the book in such a way and empathize with the protagonist.
“Why are you laughing?”
For the first time, my sister Cecile looked almost cute. I stopped laughing to avoid angering her further and replied,
“First, I didn’t show it to you. You chose it.”
Cecile made a motion as if to draw her sword again. If I hadn’t quickly added more, I might have been writing this letter with my head barely attached.
“And you’re not Macbeth; you’re Lady Macbeth.”
“What?”
“You’re not the guy without the guts to become a king, who kills people and trembles at ghosts. You’re Lady Macbeth. The snake whispering to her husband to be bolder, to kill everyone and become king.”
Cecile stared at me.
The practice yard was quiet. Cecile, as usual, was fully armed and had her sword. I had just come in and was only wearing a tunic, not yet armored. If Cecile swung her sword here…
Then she burst into laughter.
“Yeah, Lady Macbeth. That makes sense.”
After a moment, the laughter died down. When the practice yard regained its evening tranquility, I thought, yes, now is the best time to say this.
“Cecile, I found the house where the princess and the knight lived.”
Hold on. Someone’s knocking on the door. I’ll write the next letter soon. Cordelia.
– Archie, the obedient man who follows your instructions except for waking up a bit late.
* * *
My goodness, Prince Archie.
I threw away the letter I was writing and am sending this new one.
If you wish to be the obedient man who follows my instructions, then quickly continue the story. What happened next? What happened?
Cordelia, feeling very lonely.
* * *
Cordelia, who is adorable even when pretending to be lonely,
Your faithful friend, Archie Albert, is now going to see the queen as you commanded. I’ll write to you again after I return.
P.S.: Since you’ll receive the manuscript from Anne Selin tomorrow anyway, do you really need my letter?
* * *
Archie,
Yes, I need it. Very much.
Listening to your stories is much more fun than reading a manuscript.
I don’t know how things have progressed that you’re now going to see the queen, but I hope it goes well.
P.S.: I reread your letter and, oh dear, I’m starting to like Cecile. Thinking of her as a Lady Macbeth-like woman suddenly makes her quite appealing. The world needs women like that too, those who boldly step into the path of evil without hesitation. But it would be unfortunate if all the red-haired ones died.
———= Author’s Note ———=
To my readers,
I really like Cecile.
I hope you do too, but it’s fine if you don’t (attention seekers will take anything).
P.S.: Your subscriptions, recommendations, and comments are the strength that fuels my writing. Thank you.
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