Would you like to see my business card? Despite handing them out at every official event, I still have half of them left. The company keeps printing new cards before I can use up the old ones, so they never decrease, but that’s actually worked out well.

I’m enclosing it with this letter. Since you already know my name and affiliation, you’ll now learn my phone number and address. How about it, is this the “story about me” you were expecting?

Now it’s your turn, Perry. Tell me more about yourself.

You said you had no friends—is that true? I simply can’t imagine it. Perry, you’re such an att—, such a charming person. If people who spent up to six years with you failed to recognize your true value, that must be nothing short of a loss in their lives.

My adolescence was filled with confusion. I felt nothing was going my way, and I hated everyone who passed me by.

Still, even in those gloomy times, there was one person I didn’t hate. Sometimes I think I’m alive today because of that one person.

Oh my, I must go now. This makes six consecutive days of flying.

I hope you have a good night.

February 12,

From Yuan Bellium.]

[To Yuan

Did your flight go well? As I write this letter, I wonder where you might be. In a country close to the kingdom, in a very distant land across the sea, or perhaps above the clouds.

Yuan, Yuan.

It’s a name I truly love. They say it’s one of the most common names in the kingdom, but what does that matter? I cherish a season spent with that name during a certain time.

To clarify, we weren’t friends. It’s not even such a remarkable memory.

Yes, it’s not. It’s all in the past, right? How many years has it been since graduation?

Let’s talk more about our present. What does it feel like to fly through the sky? I’m not a witch, and I’ve barely ridden trains, let alone airplanes. The furthest journey in my life was my only one—from my hometown to Roju, the city where we met and where I graduated from school.

I still remember the feeling of endlessly moving away from that small rural village.

Though my entire family opposed me until the moment they saw me off at the train station, I don’t regret coming to this city. The old royal capital, cradle of art and romance. Can you imagine how this country girl felt when first witnessing the theater district she’d only seen in magazines? The rose-colored bricks over three hundred years old, statues of famous playwrights, and sophisticated people roaming the streets!

It was probably then, that day. Looking at the theater posters on the wall, I became certain. That someday my name would appear in the center of such a poster. I optimistically believed it would definitely happen, absurdly confident despite having only read magazines back home and seen just one play by chance.

Even while arranging dormitory fees, tuition, and pocket money all by myself, I didn’t feel it was hard. My supervising teacher applied for scholarships on my behalf and assigned me campus jobs.

The part-time work wasn’t difficult. It involved running errands for teachers or organizing supplies. Oh, and I also introduced the school to transfer students.

One of them was short with very dark hair—my eyesight was better then than now—and I diligently showed them the school’s various secret places. Thanks to bustling around the school, I had thoroughly mastered its geography.

Oh my, I’ve strayed off topic again. May I ask a completely different question? I’ve been secretly curious.

Yuan, aren’t you afraid of flying? I’m surprisingly timid. I’m certain I’ve used up all the courage available in my life on acting alone.

I’m not joking, really. I’m afraid of heights, insects with no legs or too many legs, and embarrassingly, even needles. Oh, just imagining them makes me dizzy.

My legs tremble even looking down from a two-story building, so an airplane! My toes curl involuntarily.

Does that vast sky, being above the clouds, not bother you at all? Or are you the type to endure despite ominous thoughts and dizzying fears? I hope it’s the former. Since you spend most of your day in an airplane, it would be too sad if you had to endure every day.

It’s already time for work! There’s a lot of snow outside—did your plane take off? I hope you return safely.

February 14

Wishing you luck, Perry.]

[To the thoughtful Perry

Thanks to your concern, I returned safely. Just because the weather is bad doesn’t mean planes can’t take off, so even on days when third parties might think “is this possible?”, planes often do fly. Conversely, there are times when it’s visibly clear but planes can’t take off and just circle around.

This time I visited a country called Diam, much colder than our kingdom. The wind was fierce enough to freeze your tongue.

At the same time, befitting its reputation as the homeland of arts, just a short distance from the airport were rows of old theaters. You came to mind.

Ah, “came to mind” doesn’t have any strange meaning. Purely, with so many actors and famous works always being performed, I simply thought you would like this place.

Yes, anyway, if I’d had time, I would have watched a play, but I had to turn back because of a flight the next morning.

In front of the hotel where I was staying, a group of what looked like teenagers was playing guitars and singing. They were playing cheerful melodies with bare, chapped white hands. It was optimistic music with the same chorus repeating. You came to mind.

To finish answering your question, I don’t have a fear of heights. When I first flew, my whole body did feel stiff, but not to the point of forgetting what I’d learned.

Your concern isn’t entirely unfounded. I actually had a classmate who quit after realizing during practice that they had acrophobia.

Three or four students quit that way each year. Some leave because they fear enclosed spaces, and rarely, some are dismissed due to deteriorating eyesight.

I’ve been fortunate enough to continue well until now. So, are you less sad now?

Regarding my profession, while I don’t have the passionate feelings you do, I don’t hate it. There’s something special about the moment you rise above the clouds and face the open sky.

But by my standards, you, who left for a big city with no connections at a young age, are much more admirable than me who merely pilots planes that have passed safety checks.

Weren’t you afraid? I’m also curious why you chose specifically Roju and that particular school among many cities.

I did change schools once, but not for a brave reason like yours. It was merely a natural flow connected to my parents’ divorce.

They didn’t ask for my opinion, and I complied. I settled in the kingdom with my father, and for the first few years, I struggled to learn the kingdom’s language.

At first, I barely opened my mouth in the classroom. My classmates spoke too quickly with varying pronunciations, making it hard to understand, and even when I did speak, I was often ignored. Some kids even mocked my accent.

Not an impressive story.

Those were days of quietly killing time, but they weren’t all bad. Like noticing certain secrets earlier than other kids.

For instance, why the notoriously boring philosophy teacher always asked one particular student to read the book.

Oh, I’ve written too much. I hope it’s not difficult for you to read. Is there any handwriting that’s hard to read? I had penmanship corrections with my father when I was thirteen or fourteen, but it seems to get messier when I write at length.

The snow has stopped in Priton. It’s sunny with no humidity, perfect weather for flying planes. I hope your day goes well too.

February 18,

From Yuan Bellium.

P.S. About the letters, how about sending them in braille? I would need to get a braille slate or typewriter, but it’s not difficult. Reading through my letter carefully, I’m concerned it might not be very readable for you, Perry. Please give me your opinion freely, without considering my circumstances.]

[To Perry

Did my last letter upset you? Or did I say something rude? If so, I sincerely apologize. Nothing seems as insincere as an apology made without knowing what for…… but if I don’t do at least this much, I don’t know what else I can do right now.

Did I ramble on too long with boring stories? Was my writing so messy it was hard to read? Or was my suggestion unpleasant, or… perhaps you found a reason to dislike me.

Until last year, I never even dreamed of receiving replies from you, but now Yuan Bellium, who proudly claimed not to expect responses, is nowhere to be seen.

If you no longer wish to send letters, please write just one word: “yes.”

The air is very cold. Please be careful of colds and winter accidents.

February 27,

From Yuan Bellium.]