The message was so brief it almost made me think it was news of my father’s critical condition. The handwriting was also… how should I put it… reminiscent of a dying message, or a threat.
But, even though he wants the next part—
I let out a small sigh.
The continuation just wasn’t coming to me.
This was the first time something like this had happened. Could this be what people call writer’s block?
I folded Lord Leonardo’s letter and quietly returned it to the envelope, then tucked it away in a drawer as if to forget it.
But perhaps because I didn’t reply, more letters started arriving.
—"How’s the progress?"
—"Just send what you’ve written so far."
—"The first step is to sit at your desk."
Even though he says that…
I sighed and tossed Lord Leonardo’s letter back into the drawer.
No matter how long I sit at my desk, the pen just won’t move.
It’s because I’ve lost confidence in the trick behind the case.
In the capital and in my family’s estate, snow only flurries lightly. I’ve never actually seen a thick, heavy snowfall.
I’m writing based on knowledge I’ve read in books, but… is this really accurate?
Is it truly possible? I started to worry that anyone who knows snow well would find it unbelievable.
And when I began to lose confidence in the key trick of the story, my anxiety only grew.
In fact, is this even… interesting?
◇ ◇ ◇
"Christine."
As my writing ground to a halt, Lord Leonardo paid me a visit.
My, my. It might not just rain, but spears may fall from the sky.
Sitting in the salon, waiting for me, he cut straight to the point with a serious look, hardly bothering with formalities.
"Why haven’t you sent the next part?"
"Um…"
"You haven’t replied to any of my letters either."
That’s mutual, isn’t it?
That’s what I thought, but I kept quiet.
"…Is Prince McQueen alright?"
"Huh?"
I blinked rapidly in surprise.
Prince McQueen, that is… he must be referring to Detective Prince McQueen, the character from the story I wrote.
Um, wait a moment.
If he knows that… does that mean he actually read my letters?
"He’s alright, but after this…"
"Wait. Don’t spoil it."
"Spoil?"
I was stopped.
I can understand the dislike of spoilers. If someone tells you, "This happens next," while you’re in the middle of reading a book, you might feel the urge to lash out.
With those words, something clicked inside me.
"You really… read my letters?"
"…Yes."
Lord Leonardo nodded.
With a very serious expression, he continued.
"I read them. After reading once, I went back and read them all over again from the start."
"I see…"
"Then I read the parts I liked the most again. Finally, I even read the ordinary letters you sent at the beginning. If I think of them as essays by the author, they’re not bad."
"Es… essays?"
"I brought the sweets and flowers you mentioned you liked. Eat them, display the flowers, and keep going."
"Um…"
Wait, is he… encouraging me?
The mystery of the sweets and bouquet placed on the table was finally solved.
He must have read my letters, and after they stopped arriving so frequently, he became worried and came to cheer me up.
His kindness touched me deeply.
However, despite his encouragement, there was still a reason I couldn’t simply move forward.
After hesitating, I managed to softly admit the truth.
"A-Actually… I’m in a slump."
"A slump?"
Lord Leonardo’s eyes widened.
"Why?"
"Why, you ask…"
If I knew why, I wouldn’t be struggling.
But, well… after recalling what made me stop writing, I explained.
"After this, the trick behind the case is revealed… but I haven’t seen much snow myself."
"Snow?"
"It’s important for the trick."
"That’s right, the mansion in the snow is the setting, isn’t it?"
Lord Leonardo nodded.
He had really read my story thoroughly. I was touched.
"Snow, huh?"
Muttering to himself, Lord Leonardo stood up.
"Wait here. I’ll be back soon."
"Huh?"
Lord Leonardo left the salon, leaving me bewildered and wondering what on earth he was up to.
What could he possibly be doing…?
As I tilted my head in confusion, Lord Leonardo returned, bringing another man with him. Once seated back in his chair, Lord Leonardo introduced the man standing beside him.
“This is my coachman. He used to work as a guard at a snowy outpost.”
“Oh my!”
I couldn’t help but clap my hands in excitement.
That means he must be knowledgeable about snow! He’s the perfect person to ask for firsthand experience!
The coachman patiently explained to me what life was like in regions with heavy snow. He even answered each of my potentially silly questions, one by one.
“I see, so snow really can get heavy enough to break branches?”
“Of course. We even build roofs with sharp slopes so the snow doesn’t cave them in.”
“Just as I read in books!”
“Shoveling snow is backbreaking work, too. Even knights complain about it.”
My notebook was filled with notes.
I had confirmed everything I wanted to know and felt completely satisfied.
Relieved to find that most of my theories were correct, I could now vividly imagine what real snow was like, and the points that needed improvement became clear.
As I let out a contented sigh, Lord Leonardo, who had been silently listening to my conversation with the coachman, hesitantly spoke up.
“Do you think you’ll be able to write the rest now?”
“Yes!”
I answered with my fists clenched tightly in determination.
If anything, I felt like sitting at my desk immediately and dipping my pen into ink. My ideas were bubbling over, and I couldn’t wait to get them onto paper—I was that excited.
“Please look forward to it!”
I said this in a rush of enthusiasm, but then quickly came to my senses.
Oh no, I got carried away again.
“...I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get ahead of myself.”
“What are you apologizing for?”
Lord Leonardo blinked at me in surprise, looking confused.
Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he said:
“Everything you write is interesting.”
“Wha—?”
“The scene where the fairy realizes the difference in lifespan between herself and the human and begins to cry made my chest ache. The part where two friends, despite wanting to trust each other, begin to doubt was incredibly suspenseful. And the moment where the protagonist, who has lost everything to her future self, bites her lip and stands back up—that gave me courage. And then—”
Lord Leonardo continued, speaking fluidly, recounting specific moments from my stories.
As I listened, I realized just how sensitive he actually was, more than I’d initially thought. Hearing each of his impressions, knowing that he had read my stories so carefully, made my chest feel warm with emotion.
“I’m still anxious to know what happens to Detective Prince McQueen. Sure, he’s the protagonist, so I assume he’ll be fine, but I can’t stop thinking about how he’ll escape after being left unconscious in the snowy mountains. I’ve been eagerly waiting for your next letter, always waiting.”
Lord Leonardo’s words felt like a dream come true.
Because all I’ve been doing is writing what I want to write.
Simply because I love writing stories.
In fact, I sent my letters to Lord Leonardo assuming he wouldn’t read them at all.
“Do you understand? Everything you’ve written has been truly captivating.”
His words made me so, so happy.
Knowing that someone had read what I wrote and found it interesting—it was the first time I realized how joyful that could be.
“I’m really looking forward to the rest.”
Lord Leonardo smiled softly.
It was the first time I’d seen him smile.
Then again, today was the first time I’d ever even seen his face… but that smile was so gentle.
“U-Um…”
I instinctively called out to Lord Leonardo.
“If you happen to read what I write and enjoy it…”
“Hm?”
“Could you… maybe send me a short reply? Just one word would be enough.”
I said it.
I really said it.
Because despite his stern appearance and curt words, he seemed surprisingly kind… so I thought maybe this small request might be okay.
That’s what I thought.
After all, he hadn’t sent me any replies for such a long time, so surely this wouldn’t be too much to ask, right?
He read the stories I wrote, and—he said they were interesting.
That alone made me so happy, more than I could have imagined.
So, I thought, maybe… just one more time.
Lord Leonardo widened his eyes, then awkwardly looked away.
After hesitating for a while, he finally spoke, somewhat defensively.
“T-To sit down at a desk… it’s far too delicate a task.”
“Do you really think so?”
“…My handwriting is awful.”
“I’ve noticed.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
Of course, I could tell how much he disliked writing just from seeing those threat-like letters of his. He probably didn’t reply because he didn’t want anyone to see his handwriting.
But even so… now I understand that he must have written them with great effort.
I looked into Lord Leonardo’s hesitant eyes.
“Even if it’s short and messy, I don’t mind.”
“…Alright.”
In the end, Lord Leonardo nodded in agreement.
◇ ◇ ◇
“How should I describe the scent of foreign tea in the story?”
“I’ll have some imported.”
“Thank you! I’ll study it at home and send you another letter once I’ve written more!”
“…”
“I need to research the playing technique of an ancient instrument—it’s key to the story, but I can’t seem to find anyone who plays it.”
“There’s an orchestra performing soon. Why don’t you ask them?”
“Is there really? Oh, that sounds wonderful! I’ll go with my mother!”
“……”
“I heard that in the desert, the temperature drops sharply at night—is that true?”
“…Shall we go together to find out?”
“Oh my, a research trip?”
“A honeymoon!”
[The End]
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