Love Letter
Once their happy meal had ended, Luke—stuffed to the absolute brim—gulped down water and fought for breath.
I ate far more than I expected… I've always carefully regulated my portions, and yet…
To Luke, who five thousand years ago had known only food thin on aroma and flavor, modern spices were nothing short of a revolution.
For a hundred years he had restrained every desire save curiosity and the hunger for knowledge to an extreme degree—yet these skewers simply had to be the exception.
In the days when Luke had been an active mage, the great war had left food scarce, and the war's shadow had left culinary craft with little prestige. To someone raised in that age, modern seasoning was simply too intense.
The act of fine dining, which had always claimed a large share of human life, had by now fully established itself as a culture of its own.
"Urgh…"
And so Luke could not help but overeat.
Recalling the sight of Luke forcibly packing skewers into his mouth, Daiton asked with genuine worry.
"I told you to stop eating…"
"Hrm…"
It was Luke himself who had stuffed food into his mouth despite Daiton's protests, was it not? Freshly embarrassed, Luke avoided Daiton's pitying gaze.
Daiton spoke again.
"If it's that bad, just throw up. Want me to pat your back?"
"I cannot do that. Is this not food you worked hard to prepare? And wasting food in such a manner is hardly desirable."
Luke was truly ashamed that he had failed to account for how much his stomach had shrunk from sheer deliciousness—but spitting out food already in his mouth would be a waste of resources. Having lived with limited means, Luke despised such waste. A mage's cool rationality, of course, made it equally impossible to approve of it.
At any rate—overeating at this age. Had he gone senile after all these years? Luke thought, and a bitter smile touched his lips.
Seeing the years contained in that answer and that smile, Daiton rubbed the back of his neck, wondering just how starved a life Luke must once have lived.
"Well… as long as you enjoyed it…"
"Yes. It was truly delicious."
Gently rubbing his bloated belly, Luke pondered whether there was anything he might offer in return—then spoke as if something had just occurred to him.
"By any chance, is the love letter coming along well?"
At Luke's question, Daiton let out a long, heavy sigh.
"Haa… No. I really don't have any talent for writing. I have no idea what to put down."
"Hrm. Very well. Since I was treated to a meal, I shall help you. Follow me to my room!"
Daiton doubted there was much to learn from a child's love letter—but Luke's confident voice made him think he might as well give it a try.
"Well, alright. I'll go grab some paper and a pen."
He still didn't expect much.
Even though Luke had offered to help, he had no intention of writing the love letter in Daiton's place.
So what kind of help was he offering?
"Now then, I shall teach you the proper method of composing a love letter. Listen carefully."
"Yes, Master Luke Irushi. Please bestow your teachings upon this humble mortal."
Luke smiled faintly at Daiton's exaggerated tone, set paper on the desk, and put pen to it. When Daiton took up a suitable position beside him, Luke decided he was ready to listen, and began moving the pen across the page as he explained.
"Now then—a love letter is ultimately about conveying one's heart."
Luke wrote the word heart and drew a large circle around it.
"Therefore, writing in a way that clearly reveals your feelings is of the greatest importance."
"I see."
Daiton answered halfheartedly at first. As it was a lecture from a child, nothing particularly novel was forthcoming.
But at what Luke said next, Daiton briefly lost himself.
"That said, suddenly confessing one's love is not good. Ultimately a love letter is also writing, and writing has order. Writing without proper order is merely messy and troublesome to read. No woman would fall in love from such a thing, would she?"
Huh. This is more serious than I expected.
Was this really coming out of a ten-year-old's mouth? Daiton was slightly flustered, but he nodded.
"Right."
Encouraged a little by the change in Daiton's attitude, Luke began to explain in greater detail. Writing the words when and how on the paper in order, he continued.
"It is best to first describe the process of when and how you came to like her. Your counterpart is in a state of having no expectation whatsoever of receiving this letter. Therefore the most important—and most curious—piece of information will be since when? Do you agree?"
"Uh, yeah. I agree."
"So you write that first. Only with that premise can she roughly gauge the depth of your feelings. You said one year, did you not? For a human that is quite a long time—but the one you are sending this letter to is an elf. An elf whose span of life differs from yours by more than double. To her, one year is not so long a time, so it would be better to devote a little more writing to the feelings of this past year."
"Huh? Oh."
"Next, you should write what you like about her. You must describe which parts of Yerna you liked most, and what emotions those stirred in you. But the important thing is not to use overly metaphorical or figurative expressions. The writing you must produce now is not literature. For a love letter, it is better to write a little more directly."
"Directly…?"
"In other words, do not write things like your eyes sparkle like jewels… Just write that her eyes are beautiful."
Luke pointed to a sentence on a sheet of paper that was all wrinkled, as if Daiton had crumpled it once already. At the critique, Daiton scratched his head and replied.
"Yeah, I wasn't too happy with that either."
"Hence why you crumpled it. I know."
Nodding, Luke grinned and continued the lecture.
"Good. Having written what you like about Yerna, now write how you intend to proceed. Do not get too far ahead of yourself—keep it at a moderate level. So: if Yerna were to accept you, what would you most want to do?"
Daiton twisted his body bashfully for no particular reason.
"W-well… go on a date together… that kind of thing, you know."
Seeing that, Luke felt a little confused as the freshness of youth and the unmanliness of a man who failed to live up to his bulk rose up at the same time.
He's as big as Cale Propson, and yet…
Closing his eyes briefly, then opening them, Luke wrote the word date on the paper. He knew what a date was. Such a word had appeared in the novel he had seen earlier, so he could understand.
"Very well. That… should be fine. Still, restrain yourself from anything too explicit."
"I know that much."
"And be sure to include the words I love you. That will do it."
"Ooooh…"
Though amazed, Daiton was also extremely flustered by Luke's words. It was a lecture that simply did not sound as if it had come from a little kid sitting on stacked books because the chair was too tall.
Luke, having once been headmaster of an academy, was accustomed to teaching others—and in his later years, living as a village chief, he had helped young people with romantic counseling a few times. That experience was now expressing itself. But Daiton had expected advice at the level of a child's game at best, and when it diverged so greatly from his expectations, he could not help but be flustered.
What the hell is with this kid?
What kind of life experience was this for a little brat? Well—if you studied hard, did you learn this sort of thing?
"Hey, where the hell did you learn this stuff?"
"It is all experience. As you can see, I am not young."
Looking down at Luke's confident expression, Daiton raised one eyebrow.
"What's a little kid going on about?"
"Which is precisely why I am saying you need to send me a more respectful gaze!"
Being called a little kid was still unpleasant, after all.
While Daiton went off to rewrite the love letter following Luke's advice, Luke was also reading through a book.
It was a language study workbook titled Finish Your Child's Language Learning in One Volume!
Luke also intended to write a sample love letter to show Daiton as an example. He now had no problem reading text, but writing was still clumsy. Even with the brilliant mind of a great archmage, it was impossible for Luke—who had written ancient characters for a hundred years, five thousand years ago—to completely master modern writing in just a few weeks.
There is a great difference between reading and writing. He could now read modern characters without difficulty, but the work of assembling modern expressions in his mind, imbuing them with modern sensibilities, and weaving them into sentences was a problem of an entirely different dimension. Character variations could not be ignored either, and he needed to filter out expressions no longer in use.
"Hrm. There really are far too many changed expressions."
In truth, Luke had considered writing an example for Daiton before. But judging from how Yerna had been unable to properly read the letter he left her, there seemed to have been some alterations to modern characters. Unable to write long passages, Luke began composing by comparing the expressions and examples in the language workbook.
"Hrm…"
But when he actually tried to write, it was not easy. A love letter without a subject is merely hollow, and he could not very well hand over an empty love letter devoid of emotion as an example.
I must think of someone…
After deep contemplation, Luke was finally able to think of someone.
I apologize for always thinking of you, Renie. It is because your death still does not feel real to me. Forgive me.
Among the connections of his past life, the only person who had come closest to the emotion of love was ultimately her alone. She had been his deepest relationship, and also his most joyful one. Though they could never become lovers, the only thing that could make a mage's cool heart race was the memories of being with her. She had been that radiant a person.
And so Luke wrote the love letter while thinking of Renie Arinseia.
With all his heart.
Scratch, scratch.
But perhaps he had concentrated too hard. Completely unaware that Yerna had entered, Luke was seriously writing away when he jumped at the presence he suddenly felt right beside him.
"Wh-what! Wh-what is it?"
"Lu, what are you doing right now?"
"Y-Yerna. When exactly did you arrive? You startled me."
As Luke muttered, pressing a hand to his chest, Yerna put her index finger to her jawline and said,
"I just got here. Lu, but what on earth are you writing?"
When Yerna showed curiosity about the love letter he had written, he hastily crumpled it and hid it behind his back. It was not writing he wanted to show a third party, nor was there any need to show it.
"Ah—it is nothing. Pay it no mind."
"Hrm, what is it though?"
Yerna felt some puzzlement at Luke's unfamiliar reaction, but because that reaction was rather cute, she felt like teasing him a little. Nothing too severe—just lightly.
"Heh heh~ What could our Lu be trying so hard to hide~? Could it be… you wrote a love letter?"
But that joke was fatal to Luke.
Because it was true.
"Did you… see it, by any chance…?"
Is getting caught writing a love letter originally this embarrassing a thing…?
He had explained it so confidently to Daiton, but actually writing with his heart fully poured in was a first, and it was terribly embarrassing. Moreover, the reality of being caught writing a love letter at a hundred years of age sent a dreadful chill through him, and he could not answer for a moment. The immediate embarrassment was greater than the mental capacity to determine whether Yerna's words were a joke or serious.
"Wait—for real?"
At that reaction, Yerna covered her mouth and widened her eyes in surprise.
Earlier when I roughly looked, there was something about red hair… The only man Luke's seen is Daiton, right? Could it be…?
It was an absurd misunderstanding. But it was already being accepted as fact in Yerna's mind.
This was Daiton's fault. Yerna could not help but think that way.
With that age difference, what the hell did Daiton do?
"…Yerna, is something the matter?"
Luke, watching her expression suddenly harden with concern, climbed down from the chair and approached to ask. She seemed to snap back to her senses, plopped the documents she had brought onto the desk, flung open the dormitory front door, and said,
"Just a sec—unni's going out for a bit."
"What is the matter that you are doing this…? Your expression does not look good…"
"It won't take long. Don't worry."
"Well… very well."
Thinking she must be going out for some air because something had soured her mood, Luke simply nodded.
And a short while later, screams began to be heard from Daiton's quarters.
"It's true! Yerna!! I didn't do anything to Luke! I grilled some skewers for her, but other than that I didn't do a thing!"
"Don't make me laugh! You seduced her with skewers! You pervert—you lolicon!"
"Aaaargh!!"
In the meantime, Luke ended the day by tossing the love letter he had written as an example into the fireplace and incinerating it—on the grounds that it was still too embarrassing to show even to Daiton.