#34.
To my drunken lady,
I don’t seem to be the kind of person born to make you restless.
Seeing that I received your letter as soon as you sent it.
I’ve just arrived at the monastery.
Before I could even lay my body in the burned-down stable, they led me to the scriptorium.
I hastily opened the document case, just like a camel drinking water after crossing the Aldar Desert, and held your letter in my hands.
Both letters were addressed to Beder.
The old man was so delighted.
I carried the box to my room, letting my sore shoulder droop (yes, you didn’t forget, did you? It hurts. Please pay a bit more attention to my shoulder), and resolved to blame you for not replying for three whole days.
But as soon as I opened the box, three sheets of paper slipped out. It must be that you tried to write a new letter, emptied the document case, and put them back. Thus, three letters you drunkenly wrote over three days landed in my hands all at once.
The joy I feel in this magical moment is something only you and I in this world can understand. Now, like a madman, I kiss the paper in a frenzy instead of your lips. Without hesitation, I eagerly read your letters.
Are you still sitting there, my lady?
Shall I respond briefly, as you wish, first?
Yes, I have arrived safely.
I even brought some rather amusing stories to share with you.
But as always, it’s more important to savor your letters than to tell my tales.
In the first letter, true to a drunken note, you filled it with words I can’t make sense of.
In the second, you shook me to my core by addressing me as “my beloved prince,” and then you said you followed a poet’s letter.
I can no longer believe you resemble your clumsy father. From the way you toy with me in the first sentence of your letter, it’s clear you take after your mother.
The night of the twenty-fifth of the first month.
-Your Arch Albert, who rushed in covered in dust and sat at his desk.
P.S. Stop corresponding with Beder. I’m taking the title of “lady” he uses to address you for myself.
P.S.2: I forgot to mention your note about “you can tell from my writing that I’m drunk.” No, Cordelia. From your handwriting alone, no one could tell whether you’re drunk or haven’t touched a drop of alcohol. Your writing always staggers as if intoxicated. And I love even that staggering.
* * *
To my Prince Arch Albert, who accepts my staggering writing with his steady handwriting,
I read with delight your confident reply, which attempts to answer my three letters all at once.
Setting aside the travel story for later, let me first respond to your burning possessiveness: I wrote to Scribe Beder three nights ago. The content was nothing special.
I simply mistook your “playful letter” for one written by Scribe Beder, and I only asked him about that. But the letter remained in the document case for three whole days, and Scribe Beder’s reply never came.
So, I believe it’s time to put an end to your endless suspicions about Beder. He no longer peeks into our document case.
P.S.: You say you don’t understand my first letter? The one that ends with “read and tear it up,” wasn’t that a joke from you? Or could it really have been a prank from Beder?
P.S.2: I forgot the most important part. Do you know? For the past three days, I’ve waited only for you. Just for this moment, exchanging letters with you.
* * *
To my lady, who tempts me with sweet postscripts.
On the morning I left for Daphne’s wedding, I went to the scriptorium and put a lock on our document case.
The previous day, I had asked the blacksmith to make me a sturdy lock. I was fortunate it was completed before I left.
You must be giving me a sideways glance, thinking I’m going too far with my obsession, but it wasn’t just because I doubted Beder.
A new book order came in, and the eight scribes of Lethe Monastery have become quite busy. Because of this, many people have been coming and going in the 1st Scriptorium recently.
But bringing it to my room wasn’t an option either, as Flynn and Noel constantly sought me out. I felt the need for some form of security.
Anyway, that letter you said you tore—it seems like a prank Beder played the night before I locked the case. Such a wretched old man.
My compliments to your friend, Miss Juliet, who promptly tore up the letter. If we ever meet, I somehow feel we would become soulmates.
-Though my body remains yours, Arch Albert.
* * *
To Prince Arch Albert, who is now legally mine,
Do you realize the words you wrote in your letter have legal binding? Giving your soul to Juliet at a bargain while offering me your beautiful body fills me with such delight. If the document case had been just a little bigger, I might have climbed inside, reached you, and torn apart any pleasure or otherwise in our path—what a shame.
But Arch, about that letter, whether it’s a prank from Beder or not.
It troubled me for three whole nights.
Forgive me if this sounds harsh, especially as you may still be recovering from your travels, but could you briefly summon Beder to our document case?
Show him my letter. And ask him to imitate my handwriting. If he asks why, just tell him Cordelia desperately requested it.
Night of 7.25,
-From today, your owner, Cordelia commands.
* * *
To my proud possessor,
Is there any question? I will obey immediately.
Well, if you’ve asked, there must be a reason. I’ll hurry over to Beder.
If the old man is sleeping, I’ll wake him and bring him over, so wait just a little longer.
Night of the twenty-fifth day of the first month,
-From today, yours, Arch Albert William.
* * *
To my Cordelia,
Given our inability to meet, you know that our friendship must be based on complete honesty, right? So please don’t take my words the wrong way. Are you ready for what I’m about to say?
Beder’s handwriting is far too elegant to imitate yours!
Someone who writes as beautifully as he does could never mimic your drunken script.
In case you feel insulted, I’ve enclosed Beder’s earnest attempt at copying your handwriting.
P.S.: I don’t mind feeling like I’m in a mystery, but what’s going on? Let me join in the fun, too.
* * *
To Prince Arch Albert William,
Now, since I’ve called your name at length, you know I’m about to get serious, right?
Let me tell you the hidden story you’re curious about.
Three nights ago, in the early morning, after you enchanted me with your words about thinking of me every day, a strange letter appeared in our document case.
The person who wrote that letter mentioned a habit that only my late mother and I know about. They also foretold a future that neither my mother nor even I could predict.
The most important thing is that the person who wrote that letter imitated my handwriting. Well, it wasn’t as good as mine, but it was almost identical.
At first, I thought it was a prank from Beder.
Later, I thought maybe it was you, making an unusually elaborate joke.
But now, as we’ve confirmed, it’s clear that it was neither of you.
Now, the arrow in my mind is pointing in only one direction, but I’m terribly afraid to walk down that path.
-Your anxious friend, Coco.
* * *
To my Lady Sherlock,
I’ll go ahead and delete that line about an “elaborate joke” from the letter, alright? Since this letter is legally binding, those words might echo in a courtroom someday.
Yes, it was my clumsy attempt at a joke to put you at ease. Sorry for the delay in replying—it took me a while to figure out what you were saying.
So, you’re talking about that letter you tore up while drunk with Juliet, right?
A letter neither Beder nor I wrote ended up in the document case?
I’m finding it just as difficult to understand what’s going on. I did mention that people have been coming and going in the 1st Scriptorium lately, but even then, it’s just Noel, Florian, and the eight scribes: Beder, Lewis, Peter, Philip, Tilbert, Jeremy, Dossie, and Osdin.
None of them would have ever seen your charming handwriting. I always keep the letters you send me stored away in a secret place only I know.
Who could possibly be playing such a trick, imitating your handwriting? I have no idea.
But what’s even stranger is this, my Sherlock Lady:
Though I have no clue what’s going on, you, my clever friend, seem to already know who the culprit is.
What on earth is happening?
Cordelia, why are you so frightened?
On this fearful night of the first month,
Your ever-loyal friend, Arch Albert.
* * *
To my wise friend who always finds everything out, even in my rambling letters,
Hey, Arch, do you know this?
That place where your injured shoulder and broken wrist heal as if nothing happened,
Where people casually talk about towers of magic,
Where monsters break through barriers—these are all things that don’t exist in my world.
In your world, if a letter suddenly drops into a document case, you might brush it off as just something that happens. But in my bleak life, this is a miracle.
Yes, exchanging letters with you is truly like magic for me.
I’m terrified that one day, it will end.
What scares me the most is that if it ends, I might just sit here, helpless, doing nothing.
So, Arch.
I’ll explain what’s going on later.
But for now, could you just do as I ask?
To my beloved prince, rest tonight and recover from your travels.
When morning comes, wake everyone and gather them around the document case. The eight scribes, Noel, and Florian—everyone.
Then, one by one, have them enter the 1st Scriptorium, write whatever they want, and place it inside the document case.
It doesn’t matter what they write—let them write what they wish to say to me, Cordelia. You might even show them my letter and ask them to imitate my handwriting if you’d like.
Assure them that no one will peek at what they wrote.
Leave the document case untouched until midnight.
Arch, this time, you absolutely must not peek.
I will look first, and I’ll tell you what happens.
Can you trust me and do that?
Night of the 25th of the first month,
Your Cordelia, who feels guilty for troubling you even before you’ve recovered from your journey.
* * *
To my secretive Coco,
What you’ve asked of me has never once harmed me.
But even if it does, you know by now that I won’t hesitate.
Yes, I will do as you ask.
The diligent monks wake before dawn, so it won’t take long.
The hardest part will be resisting the urge to peek inside the document case until midnight, as you instructed. So, until tomorrow at midnight, my friend.
7.25.
Your faithful friend, Arch.
* * *
Hello.
Tilbert here.
* * *
I want pickled herring.
* * *
You said to write anything, so here’s anything.
* * *
Lady Cordelia, this is Scribe Beder.
I wanted to write much more, but Prince Arch commanded me to keep it short. Yet, he told Lewis to write anything! Why is he being so strict with me? Nevertheless, I offer my greetings and hope you remain in good health until the next time we exchange words. But honestly, what is our prince up to? He’s losing his mind day by day, and this old man is truly worried…
* * *
It was tough following Chief Scribe Beder’s turn.
* * *
Only the faithful Lord is my guiding light.
* * *
I’m hungry. Lord, send down the meat.
* * *
I’m hungry. I think Philip wrote that he was hungry too, so it’s probably okay to write the same thing.
Lord, don’t just send down meat, but also send bread along with it.
* * *
Noel Noel Noel Noel
Ahchi Ahchi Ichi Acha
Cordelia Cordelia Cordelia Cordelia
Florian Flurian Florian Florian
* * *
Cordelia,
I told you not to tell anyone.
Just stay quiet, and when the letters stop, go to Liam.
You really don’t listen, do you?
This time, please listen to me and do as you’re told.
* * *
To my dear detective lady.
I swear I didn’t see it.
Now, is it the way you wanted?
At midnight, on the night between the 26th and 27th of the First Month.
More tired of waiting for your letters than travel fatigue, Archie Albert William.
* * *
Yes, my prince, it’s all taken care of.
I went to the Thames River and gathered all the torn papers.
It was nothing much. Just scribbles I had written.
I guess I saw something wrong while drunk.
I’m sorry.
7.27.
– Cordelia Gray
———= Author’s Note ———=
To the readers who read three letters in a row.
Last time, Archie and Cordelia didn’t write for two days, right? So, I came back after two days.
This time, Archie was away for three days. So, I came back after three days. By now, you’ve probably figured out that I’m not writing this story myself but simply transcribing it… or so I’d like to say. Yes, I apologize. I’ll bring the next letter as soon as the transcription is done.
P.S.1: Thank you, Ddumchit and Himmelhalt, for the support coupons!ㅠㅠ
P.S.2: Thank you for all the comments, reviews, favorites, and recommendations. I read them all, and it’s as fun as if I could picture eight monks lining up one by one to write their comments.
<– Your utility value –>
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