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Shirone Royal Palace.
Under the same moonlight, Roxy, who appeared to be only fourteen years old, sat at her desk in her bedroom, writing a letter.
Her petite frame made it so that her feet couldn't even touch the ground while sitting on the chair, forcing her to balance on the tips of her toes against the chair's crossbar.
Her posture was rigid and proper.
The sound of her pen scratching against the paper filled the room as words flowed onto the page.
Despite Roxy's small stature, her handwriting was anything but "cute." Unlike the elegant, flowing script of nobles, hers was methodical—each stroke deliberate, like the precise lettering found in meticulously crafted magic textbooks.
It mirrored her approach to magic itself.
Meticulous. Almost to the point of being "old-fashioned."
Yet, the content of her letter was anything but rigid.
It carried a liveliness that matched her youthful appearance—far removed from the measured, scholarly tone she used when documenting monster encounters in bestiaries.
Dear Allen,
To be honest, I was a little… surprised.
After your letter last winter, I hadn't even had time to reply before another one arrived barely a month later.
You usually wait for my response before sending another, so two in such quick succession was unexpected.
If there's anything else you'd like to share, feel free to write anytime. Hearing about the three of you makes me feel like I'm still part of your lives in some small way.
It's strange.
It almost feels like I've gone back to that brief time we spent together during the training camp two years ago.
About what you mentioned in your letter—
You completely eradicated the source of the monster surge in the Snow Valley last winter?
That's incredible.
Monster surges near the Red Dragon Mountains always leave a strong impression on me.
During the two years I spent as a tutor in the Knight's household, I remember him leaving every winter to subjugate monsters. He'd be gone for a week each time.
His wife always looked so worried.
The whole atmosphere at home would grow heavy until he returned safely.
Now that the monster surge has been wiped out, perhaps those tense winters won't happen again.
I'm truly happy for them.
As for the details of the extermination—
Even though you only briefly mentioned it in your letter, I could still sense the danger.
"A valley teeming with monsters, so many you couldn't see the end of them"—
Honestly, I've only ever seen something like that in a dungeon.
And from how you described it, the sheer number you faced might have even surpassed what you'd find in one.
I'm really curious about how it all played out.
If possible, next time, could you share more details?
I know you don't want me to worry—just like when you went after the "Mane Wolves."
But like I said back then, I want to feel involved.
It reminds me of those days.
I hope you didn't get hurt.
About Sylphie's hair turning white from mana exhaustion—
I was shocked when I read that.
As soon as I got your letter, I rushed to the royal library in Shirone's capital to look up similar cases.
I found one from decades ago here in the kingdom, but the person in question was human—not a half-elf like Sylphie.
Still, I did some research on mixed-blood lineages and discovered that hybrids often possess superior innate abilities compared to humans.
This includes physical resilience, among other things.
And since that human lived a full lifespan…
I think Sylphie will be fine.
Please don't worry too much.
That said, when we meet again, I'd still like to examine her condition myself.
But what I'm really curious about is—
What kind of accident could have drained her mana so completely?
The battle must have been far more dangerous than I imagined.
So, I'll say it again—if you can, tell me what happened that day.
I worry about you all too.
…Ah, I got too serious.
Let me tell you about how things are on my end.
First, regarding my new pupil in the royal palace—
He's the Seventh Prince of Shirone, Pax Shirone.
Just as you predicted, he's quite the handful.
At a glance, he looks cute, but after spending time with him, it's clear his spoiled upbringing has left him with some… unpleasant tendencies.
He's already twelve years old.
You were only eleven when we met, yet the difference between you two is staggering.
I keep catching myself comparing him to you—
And then realizing that no matter how hard I try, I can't imagine the word "cute" ever applying to you.
…
Sorry, I got off track.
I don't know why, but whenever I write to you, my thoughts always seem to wander.
My apologies.
Speaking of Pax—
Your advice about teaching methods was spot-on.
Over these past few months, I've caught myself more than once comparing his talent to Rudy's in my mind.
But remembering your warning, I've managed to suppress those thoughts.
You were right—it would only crush his confidence.
Honestly, I won't lie—back when I first met Rudy, his chantless magic made me question my own abilities as a mage.
But then you came along, and I started wondering if the Greyrat family was just a breeding ground for geniuses.
Since parting ways with you, I've met all sorts of adventurers—swordsmen, mages—but none have had talent as frightening as yours.
I suppose true prodigies really are rare.
So, I'll keep following your advice—praising him more, being less strict.
But there's one thing I don't understand—
Why did you emphasize twice in your letters that if he ever does something inappropriate—like sexual harassment—I should immediately hit him with a Flame Circle?
He has said some rude things, but he's never gone that far.
I think you might be overestimating the risk.
Unless…
Were you worried about me?
Roxy blinked rapidly as she stared at the draft.
She looked slightly embarrassed.
After the "incident" where she'd sent a letter with only a single sheet of paper, she'd developed a habit of writing drafts before sending anything to Allen.
Even now, remembering that blunder made her cheeks burn.
"Writing 'Dear' only to immediately cross it out—how obvious can I be?"
Thankfully, Allen had never mentioned it.
Roxy scratched her cheek, her fingers brushing through the blue strands of her hair.
She picked up the draft again, her azure eyes scanning the lines.
Then, with a sigh, she took her pen and—
Scratched out: "Were you worried about me?"
Scratched out: "I was a little… surprised."
Scratched out: "Sorry, I got off track."
Blacked out all the "Hm" and "Ah" interjections.
After reviewing it once more, she nodded in satisfaction.
"There. Now it doesn't sound so careless."
She smiled slightly, then resumed writing.
About what you mentioned—the roots of Shirone's national flower being edible—
I tried soaking them in sugar water.
They really are delicious.
…
Did you remember that I like sweets? (Scratched out)
The "Snowflake of Buena Village" you sent me—
I received it. I never knew flowers could be preserved like that.
At first, I thought about using it as a bookmark, but I worried the pages might damage its delicate folds.
Truthfully…
I don't want to ruin it.
Looking at it makes me think of you— (Scratched out)
…of Buena's snow.
Still, thank you. I'll treasure it.
As for the "evil god figurine" comment—
What kind of description is that? It doesn't sound very flattering.
Did you not like the doll I carved for you? I know my craftsmanship isn't great, but I put a lot of effort into it…
Though the one you gave me—I've been sleeping with it in my hand. (Entire paragraph blacked out)
Lastly—
Your usual flowery words about us meeting again.
But somehow, they never fail to sound pleasant.
Very much your style.
I wonder when I'll hear you say them in person.
Will it be summer? Or winter?
Honestly… I don't have any gifts to send you this time.
I haven't left the palace to go shopping lately.
Sorry.
The Batieryl flower bookmark you made me is lovely.
Who knew you were so skilled? Unlike me—after all those Shirone flowers, I only managed to make one proper petal bookmark. (Frantically scratched out)
—Roxy.
P.S. And stop calling me "Blue Mommy"!
Roxy lifted the finished letter, staring at the mess of crossed-out lines and ink blots.
Her expression froze.
Then, with a groan, she slumped forward, burying her face in the paper.
"What in the world did I just write?!"
The candlelight flickered, casting shadows over her cascading blue hair as she wallowed in embarrassment.
On the desk nearby, Allen's most recent letter lay open.
The flame's glow danced across his handwriting.
"Next time you write, send it directly to the Lord's estate in Roa."
"I think a big city like Roa would be better for Rudy and Sylphie's growth than Buena Village. They're both exceptional for their age—they should experience more of the world."
"The estate should have good educational resources. Maybe we could even work as tutors for the lord's daughter to earn some extra money. With Norn and Aisha around, finances have gotten tighter."
"This way, I'll also meet my birth parents. I wonder what they're like. Honestly, I don't feel much connection to them."
"One thing's certain—I don't plan on revealing my identity. They probably wouldn't recognize me anyway, given how much I've changed."
"Keeping some distance might be for the best."
"—Allen."
"Allen's family…"
"Sent away to the capital as a child, parents he's never met, referring to his own sister as 'the lord's daughter'…"
"It's a little worrying."
Roxy rested her head on the desk, the candlelight reflecting in her deep blue eyes.
For a moment, she imagined Allen's face—not his usual relaxed demeanor, but a tired, worn-out expression.
She blinked, and the image vanished.
Pushing herself up, she picked up her pen again.
The soft scratching of ink on paper resumed.
Allen.
Are you doing alright?
If something's troubling you…
You can tell me.
I'll listen.
I want to listen.
Even if it's just through words on a page.
She set the pen down.
This time, she didn't cross anything out.
The candle flickered.
Her gaze lingered on the page.
Written there, bathed in the shifting light, was his name.
Note: So far this story is published up to chapter 185 on my patreon, go check it out and remember that if we reach the goal of 30 power stones I will publish the next chapter.