[To Asha who likes the locket

Many interesting things happened while our letters were exchanged, Sha. Before addressing each of those points, I’m very proud that you liked the gift.

I’ve given jewelry to family members before, but they all said ‘What’s the point of such cumbersome things’ and just put them in wooden boxes and that was the end.

Everyone uses their hands a lot, so rings or bracelets might be somewhat bothersome, but not wearing them even once a year is too much, isn’t it?

Everyone has no romance or courtesy!

My brothers too, they all think I’m a good-natured kid without a single worry. I wish that were true. Then I wouldn’t pathetically grumble to you.

But you’ll accept me generously even like this, right? Right?

Today was a rare day off. Actually, Dad nagged about ledgers and budgets, so I just ran away. It’s a childish way to solve problems, but whatever.

I haven’t even had my nineteenth birthday yet.

In my opinion, my beloved family should reach an agreement on whether I’m mature enough to ‘be entrusted with household affairs’ or young enough that ‘there’s no need to tell me all family matters.’

They completely exclude me from family events or inviting guests, while pushing ambiguous troublesome matters onto me saying ‘What could you possibly be busy with.’

I’m truly grateful that you trust me—actually, I’m not that grateful—but I hope you understand the position of someone who’s repeatedly ignored and then dragged in.

You probably won’t.

It was a good day for walking. It was cold enough to make my ears sting, yet felt refreshing and open. I climbed up a moderately high tree and looked around. Though I’m in the mountains, and all I can see is snow and leaves.

I stayed like that for a long time. Then I remembered that I hadn’t replied to you. Thinking of you waiting made me feel urgent. Once this letter leaves, I’ll be the one waiting.

As we each became busy with our own circumstances, the interval between letters has gradually lengthened. We asked for and received forgiveness then, so I won’t apologize.

However.

Thank you for waiting for me this time too. You don’t need to return this thanks.

Even though it’s nothing special, you always like my drawings. I did put effort into the picture I drew in the locket and the color I mixed with paint, but it wasn’t ‘extremely difficult.’

It’s not that I’m exceptionally talented, but that’s the original level of difficulty. A skilled person would probably complete it in thirty minutes, an outstanding person in five minutes.

I won’t confess how long it took me to complete the drawing. That would be a bit sad.

I’m always grateful for your praise, but my reaction isn’t modesty—it’s fact. And you’ve always said even my random scribbles were wonderful.

Clouds lightly swept with charcoal, flowers drawn playfully with leftover ink. You said everything was splendid.

While it’s true I get excited every time you have such misconceptions, to speak coldly—good heavens, this is really an expression you would use—people who draw at this level are common.

When Mom first brought paintings into the mansion, when one of those paintings happened to be Tebe’s posthumous work… I had to taste a very familiar frustration then.

When I struggled for over thirty minutes with a problem my eldest brother solved in one minute.

When I couldn’t handle a wooden sword at fourteen that my younger brother wielded skillfully at ten.

When I had bragged about being the best at drawing in the village, but witnessed that distant painting.

That grandeur, that vastness wasn’t the kind you could reach by spending time. There are many geniuses in the world, and I’m at best ‘not bad’ level.

Why did that expression feel so terrible.

Anyway, I’ll stop this story.

I should give you my opinion on your doubts.

The reason Lucio got angry at you is one of two things.

First. He likes you.

Second. The person Lucio likes, likes you.

Otherwise, there’s no way he would blame you saying ‘It’s because of you!’ If he’s an extremely reasonable person, that is.

This is also just my speculation.

The surest way is to ask the person directly. If it doesn’t make you nervous, how about asking once? Be sure to tell me too.

I’ll wait for your reply!

With affection and longing, Carol.

P.S. I read the writing you enclosed in your last letter well. Personally, I prefer prose poetry to short poems. Though I don’t know much about poetry classification. How about trying to write something longer than a page and a half? You’re not hiding any writing from me, are you?]

※※※

Knock knock.

“Come in.”

Just after dinner time, there was only one person who could knock on Asha’s door without stepping on the stairs. At the end of her slowly raised gaze, a tall boy was leaning against the doorframe.

Whether the recuperative life on the island suited his constitution, his broad shoulders and slightly tanned skin showed no signs of illness.

“What are you doing standing there?”

The guy who would shamelessly claim the chair beside the bed even without the room owner’s invitation was standing still, unlike usual. Asha tilted her head and gestured lightly.

Then, something familiar caught her eye between the crossed-armed boy’s thumb and middle finger.

A cream-colored letter envelope.

Her pale forehead narrowed vertically. Just as her pale lips were about to move, his sullen face changed to a playful one.

“This.”

“……Yeah.”

“It was lying in the hallway.”

“Yeah.”

“Good heavens, Asha. Relax. You’d think I was going to eat you alive.”

“So. Did you read it?”

She didn’t have the leisure to respond to every joke. The man continued speaking with a meaningful smile without answering Asha’s question.

“I thought it might be a letter Dad sent, so I looked. I also thought maybe Grandfather dropped it. So—”

“You read it.”

“Yeah. I had to open the contents to know whose it was.”

“D*mn.”

Teal hair spilled over the blanket. Asha, who had pulled up her knees to embrace them, pressed her forehead against her knees and sighed.

The girl, reddened with bewilderment, bit her lips then sharply raised her chin.

“Why did you open someone else’s mail without permission!”

“Hey, if the recipient was clear, I wouldn’t have opened it either. Do you think I have no manners?”

“How ridiculous. Even if you were trying to find the owner, you only needed to look at the beginning of the letter.”

Her tone was quite sharp as she shot back with mockery.

Asha knew how many specific modifiers her friend used when writing down ‘Asha’s’ name.

“Well, I didn’t say I read it all.”

“Your eyes are impure.”

“Huh? Why are my eyes—”

Eyes that looked exactly like her well-behaved hair blinked. Asha, who had been tolerating her friend’s detestable behavior, snorted and retorted.

“You were suspicious from the moment you came in grinning. So?”

“Hm?”

“If you were just going to quietly leave the letter and go, you wouldn’t have delayed like this.”

“Oh, Asha. How unusual for someone so oblivious to catch on.”

“I’m not that oblivious.”

“No, you are. If you had any sense, you wouldn’t be unaware of facts that a complete stranger could guess just from explanations.”

“What facts?”

Instead of explaining this and that, Lucio held out the letter envelope.

Asha irritably tore open the envelope that bore traces of another person and read through the long sentences slowly once, then quickly three times.

The boy who had sat in the chair beside the bed in the meantime waited patiently for Asha to put down the letter. Using his friend’s constantly changing expression as entertainment.

Unable to suppress her rising lips, Asha looked at Lucio with a much gentler voice. At her generous gaze that roughly told him to state his business, Lucio opened his mouth without delay.

“It seems like you freely told him about other kids in your letter.”

“It’s my letter.”

“Still, I don’t find it pleasant to be exposed like this to someone whose face I don’t even know.”

“Don’t you write about other kids to Uncle?”

“I don’t send letters to Dad.”

“You’re proudly talking about being unfilial.”

“He comes every vacation season anyway. Anyway, what’s important now isn’t me but you. How could you expose my affairs like this without saying a single word to me? How many of my circumstances have been conveyed to ‘Carol’ all this time……”

Lucio muttered in a sorrowful tone while pretending to wipe away tears.

It was a trick that wouldn’t fool even a dog, but Asha’s heart was slightly shaken. The fundamental problem that Lucio had opened the letter without permission had long been pushed aside.

Above all—

“Carol probably knows everything about me. Meanwhile, I’m receiving such speculation from someone I don’t even know.”

She didn’t like hearing the name ‘Carol’ mentioned by someone else. Carol and Asha were, at least in their letters, unique and irreplaceable to each other.

Though the letters themselves began as ‘Aila’s substitute,’ now……

“So?”

“Hm?”

“So, what do you want to do about it?”

The artificial wailing stopped, and thin lips stretched long. Lucio, who easily snatched the letter placed near Asha’s knees, waved the very last page and confessed.

“This is the correct answer.”

“Which, hah, which part of the letter?”

“This.”

A long index finger pointed to the center of the paper. Asha, who adjusted her glasses, leaned forward and read the elegantly written sentence.

[Second. The person Lucio likes, likes you.]