Chapter 53

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Translator: Ebonarch

Chapter: 53

Chapter Title: A Friend's Letter (1)

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Regret came flooding in before even two seconds had passed.

"Ah..."

I shouldn't have asked.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Why in the heavens would you test me like this?

'Is it because I don't believe?'

Just then, the mail carrier girl finally relaxed and took the signed receipt paper.

"Well, delivery complete, so I'll be on my way—"

"W-Wait a moment! Please hold on just a bit."

I couldn't let the mail carrier go yet.

Now that I'd learned the sender's identity, pretending ignorance was impossible.

Ignoring a letter from royalty was an enormous breach of etiquette.

I had to read it immediately upon receipt and reply just as swiftly.

'What was I thinking, asking that...'

I'd already suspected as much in my heart.

Why had I probed further?

But it was too late now.

With a deathly pale face, I asked the mail carrier,

"Could you wait just a little? I'll read it right away and write a reply."

"But I'm hungry..."

The harpy bounced anxiously in place.

Turning to her, I said,

"Auditory Officer, do you have any snacks by chance?"

The Auditory Officer immediately pulled a small biscuit from her desk drawer.

"I have some hardtack for drinks~."

Right. At least you don't go for straight liquor.

"Please give some to the mail carrier here."

Harpy folk were generally simple creatures.

In exchange for their mobility and flight, they suffered from constant hunger.

So they lit up at tasty treats and wore their emotions plainly on their sleeves.

She'd probably been hoping for a snack after delivering to the margrave's castle.

"Wow!"

As expected, the immediate reaction.

She flapped her wings excitedly and snatched a hardtack from the Auditory Officer's hand, popping it into her mouth.

"Nom nom... Okay, I'll wait a bit longer!"

"Excellent."

There was no time to hesitate.

I tore open the letter envelope and scanned the contents.

How on earth did they decide we're friends?

I couldn't even imagine.

'Could it be because of that conversation in the royal mausoleum?'

But that was under the assumption they didn't know I was referring to the princess.

And it hadn't been particularly friendly banter, either.

Let's read on for now.

[Hello, this is your friend. How have you been?]

The opening line started as disjointed as ever.

It hadn't even been a full day—asking how I'd been felt awkward.

Yet the letters were neatly spaced, mismatched to the tone.

'They're not used to writing letters, I suppose.'

Come to think of it, there'd been no news of the princess attending social events or mingling since the incident.

In other words, I might be the first person in her life to receive a letter from her.

'If that's the case...'

It made a little sense.

Then maybe I could approach this with a generous heart.

I relaxed my expression and calmly read the next line—

[ActuallyIcan'trevealmyidentitybutmeetingyougave meanewjoysoI'mgatheringcouragetotellyoumystoryIhopethisdoesn'tfeellikeaburdentooyouohbutit'llprobablygetserioussoIunderstandifeelsburdenedaboveallyousaidyouunderstandmesoyouk nowhowI'mfeelingrightdon'tyouthenso maybeyoualreadyknowwhatI'mabouttogosayanywayIwanttotryexpressingmystorytoyouthroughwordssoI'llstartashorttale—]

—Thud.

I closed the letter.

My eyes spun.

"..."

Shock. And horror.

What had I just witnessed?

Even seeing it with my own eyes, my brain refused to accept it.

'This is what a princess of the realm wrote?'

Even so, this was too much.

Letters were meant to convey information, emotions, and thoughts.

Normally, you discern what the sender wants or means by reading them.

But this? It only delivered chaos.

Not doubt, anger, or sorrow—but pure chaos.

It felt like reading a cursed grimoire.

"Hoo... It's fine. I've handled more convoluted paperwork than this."

I steeled myself.

Backing down here meant no reply.

"...Let's do this."

I gathered my wits and read it again.

[Actuallygoingtoseemybrotherthatdayhonestlydidn'thavesomuchmeaningnoitdidhavesomemeaningbutstillmeetingyou—]

—Thump.

I slammed my head on the desk.

"What the hell is this even saying..."

It transcended comprehension.

'A cipher?'

I focused every ounce of concentration and stared at the letter again.

[Anywaymy momsaysit'salway myfaultrightbuteven sojustonceIwante dhertohugme—]

It was in common tongue.

"I'm going insane."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

A sigh escaped me unwittingly.

Even my talents couldn't crack this.

Give me a language from another world—hell, another dimension—instead.

That would be easier.

But like all things, this accursed letter had an end, thankfully.

[I want to say more, but paper's short. I'll send another tomorrow. From your friend.]

Why was only the end perfectly spelled?

First and last lines clean, middle a mess.

Anyone could see she'd spilled her thoughts wildly before snapping to her senses.

"Haa..."

Princess.

What kind of life have you led?

And tomorrow, another one?

"What did I ever do to deserve this..."

Only five minutes had passed, yet I felt like I'd pulled three days of overtime.

I shoved the letter into the deepest, darkest drawer and immediately began drafting a reply.

I couldn't use her name.

Since she wanted anonymity, I'd play along.

[I received your letter well. It's been ages since this officer got mail from a friend, so I'm surprised and intrigued all at once. I'm delighted to make this new connection.]

A light greeting, written in a tone of pure enjoyment.

Crucial to act oblivious to her being the princess.

No hint of displeasure.

[However, with my recent workload, processing so much information at once is tricky. I'd be grateful if you'd kindly space them out with your generous understanding.]

And subtly—oh so very subtly—slipped in a plea to paragraph it, at least.

[Looking forward to your reply. From your friend.]

A tidy close. With blatant lies.

"Hoo..."

It seemed decent enough. Time to send it back.

"Mail carrier. Could you deliver this as a reply?"

The harpy, having devoured the Auditory Officer's snacks, snapped her head up.

"Uh... But I don't know the recipient...?"

Liar.

Those big harpy eyes slyly avoided mine.

I shook my head.

"It's fine. She'll figure it out right away."

Putting my reply straight into her own envelope would tip her off immediately.

She stuffed it deep into her bag.

"In exchange, next time you come, I'll have plenty of harpy favorites ready."

A sweet incentive to boot.

The mail carrier beamed, wings flapping wildly.

"Yay, snacks! Deal! Deal!"

She snatched her bag with her talons and soared out the second-floor window with gusto.

'Please don't reply, please don't reply...'

My desperate prayer in her wake was my little secret.

Once the utterly unwanted storm passed, my eyes finally caught the other documents.

Intel from the Information Bureau—and its reward.

"Let's see..."

I unfolded the stack stamped with the serpent seal.

[Miras Redeira Zudrahin.]

The lamia's intricate script filled my vision, scrawled messily like a child's doodle.

I focused, and it slowly morphed into readable text.

Gaps aplenty, but over half the upper echelons were listed.

Then a familiar name jumped out.

"Haten Silla."

The one the changeling mentioned.

—The client's name is Haten Sil...

I flipped open the entry-exit ledger.

And there, amid yesterday's horde of 'Haten Sils,' one exact match appeared.

—Haten Silla. Human. From the northern Scardi Empire.

Jet-black long hair, blood-red eyes gleaming eerily.

A woman smirked ominously from the portrait.

Her origins matched the Evil God Cult's activity zone, name spot-on.

Gazing at the image, I said,

"Found you."

You're the mastermind behind this terror plot.

About fifteen minutes later, conference room.

"This woman is the culprit behind the recent terror—and the one who commissioned Erzena's kidnapping."

The Sensory Officers and Erzena looked gravely serious after my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠briefing.

She murmured at Haten Silla's portrait on the table.

"I had no idea. So the Evil God Cult has a Saintess position too..."

The exact opposite impression of Erzena.

As if colors inverted—hair, eyes, all reversed.

"As the Holy Church's antithesis, we might call her the Evil Saintess."

This was new to us too.

We'd figured some lunatic, not an Evil God Cult saintess.

"With that rank, she might escalate to bolder, larger operations ahead."

The Auditory Officer offered a compelling take.

"Especially with the elder missing—she's likely seized control."

"What's the worst that could happen next?"

She narrowed her eyes at the Olfactory Officer's question.

"Who knows. Major border incursion, meddling in foreign politics like the Holy Church, or even assassination contracts."

She spoke spine-chilling possibilities without flinching.

No one rebutted.

Someone bold enough for a Holy Church kidnapping wouldn't hesitate at worse.

The remorseless were our prime threats.

"We must stop that."

I stated firmly, and the Gustatory Officer feigned nonchalance.

"R-Right! Now we know the bad guys' identities, we can prepare countermeasures!"

The Tactile Officer nodded.

"Issuing entry bans and warrants on the Evil God Cult now would be ideal."

The most logical proposal.

They wouldn't know we'd gotten intel—perfect to disrupt their plans.

But I shook my head.

"No. We won't use this intel that way."

"Pardon?"

We'd always been reactive to incidents.

Borders were where the unforeseen erupted, and the foreseen too.

From Immigration Control and examiners' standpoint, total threat elimination was impossible.

Bound by rules and protocols.

'Always defensive, passive.'

No matter the caution, postmortem and prevention were our best.

"This time, let's change our approach."

But that was before.

Now with their intel, we could pivot.

I addressed them all.

"First, we'll hit the Evil God Cult."

No more taking hits forever.

Time for a counterstrike.

"And not with our hands—but someone else's."