Chapter 54: Principle, May You Be Like Her

Roland, I was so glad to receive your letter.

Life in Folk County is neither good nor bad, but I imagine the weather must be better than where you are.

I have finally moved out of the poorhouse.

After receiving the "gift" you sent me, I rented a small room. Now, after a day's work, I no longer have to grab a piece of chalk and fight others for a spot.

It feels truly wonderful.

Thank you, Roland.

Before I left, those men and women were still talking about you frequently, saying you had been adopted by some great person and were living in luxury, yet you were ungrateful and unwilling to return to Folk County to help those who had once extended a helping hand to them—

Such damned helping hands! They never gave you a single coin, nor a single kind word, nor spoke up for you once!

Those pigs and hyenas are simply out of their minds.

The children aren't burdened with such dirty thoughts, though. A few girls always come to knock on my door, secretly asking me for news about you:

"Will Roland come back? When is he coming back?"

I suspect these young lasses are just waiting for you.

Before I moved away, Abner even asked me about that lady.

That fat-bellied pig!

I didn't tell him a single word!

I have read your letter over and over again, and I am so glad that you have found a place to belong—having friends, having family, everything is different now, isn't it?

I told you so, Roland.

There must be someone in this world who loves you.

Don't send me money anymore; I am doing wonderfully at the textile factory.

You and I, our pockets are both full of hope now.

We must live well.

——Yours forever, Jaim Jones.

Three letters lay on the square table beside his bed.

One was as above, from Folk County, sent by Jaim Jones.

And the other two: one from the West District, and one from the East District.

From Mrs. Cherry Chloe, and from his belated uncle, Puxiu Collins.

Since Roland had mentioned it previously, this lady—who had recently grown rather haggard and faced endless household troubles—had written down all her thoughts and mailed them in.

The letter was filled with rambling household trifles, curses directed at her husband, the pain she felt from the gossip slandering her, and her concern for Roland's health.

There were no formal pleasantries; it was as authentic as her standing before him and nagging, "You've grown too thin."

Roland intended to write back to her.

After all, he would be staying here for an unknown length of time.

His uncle's letter, by contrast, was very short, brought in with the help of Fernandez.

The word count was small, and it could be summarized as:

"How are you doing."

"I told you not to go too far."

"That big guy said you were injured, I suppose it's a back injury."

"Without you, the ladies don't come around as often, and we've lost a lot of income."

"I'll be waiting for you to come back."

"An old timer out of his element."

Indeed.

Roland cheerfully unfolded the paper, laid it over a small wooden board, and used the stubby pen provided by the nun to write his reply.

"Someone cares about you, Roland."

—I know, is there anything remarkable about that?

"Look at you, your smile is stretching all the way to your ears."

In high spirits, Roland hummed a tune, his two feet swaying back and forth beneath the covers.

After soothing Puxiu Collins—casually informing him that the letter had been written by a proxy—he folded the letter small and tucked it into an envelope.

Now, he had to consider how to reply to Mrs. Cherry Chloe.

Holding the pen shaft, he thought for a moment before writing on the paper:

"I wish you good health and everlasting youth."

"I was overjoyed to receive your reply."

"You need not blame yourself for my injury; aside from protecting you—my friend—it was also the duty of an executive."

"I recall mentioning to you that I keep many stories hidden in my mind."

"I do not know whether this might alleviate the noise that often rings in your ears at night. If this can grant you a sound night's sleep and help your increasingly weary spirit, that would be the best thing possible."

"It is merely what a friend should do."

"Not knowing what you might care to hear, I have presumed to pick the one I like best to tell you."

The room was so quiet that the dropping of a needle could be heard.

Roland wrote swiftly, scratch by scratch.

Those tender, picturesque stories slowly took shape upon the stationery.

It felt as though it had returned him to that dim, foul-smelling room—the very place that had almost changed his entire life.

There, Miss Nina had endured suffering day and night, revealing countless wondrous worlds to him.

Now, he was going to secretly show a corner of that world to his friend.

Of course, to prevent the letter from leaking, he chose one that was not too "forbidden."

For instance...

The magnificent, perilous dragon's nest where storms gather.

Deep blue ink blossomed across the paper, a boy and a girl holding hands, gazing up at the sky.

"'My father was no liar!' the youth shouted."

"'It floats right up there in the sky! I will find it!'"

Roland hummed a little tune, characters floating like clouds, kissing one another.

They transformed into the scenery within the story, singing in unison as they crossed the storm, filling the boundary between life and death with joy and sorrow alike.

"The throttle was pushed all the way to the limit."

"Yet still he could not catch that illusory shadow."

"‘Keep close to me, son.’ The phantom looked back at the boy, as if speaking those words. His smile was brilliant."

"Witness, and record."

"You are the witness of legends..."

"You shall also become a legend."

"Tears soaked the clouds."

"That was the final farewell between the boy and his liar father."

Like an old story branded onto yellowed pages, waiting for a finder, after years apart, to carefully pick it up.

Roland familiarly transcribed the shining adventure from his memory, hoping to gaze together with Mrs. Cherry Chloe upon that city drifting ever further, ever higher.

"'I am Roșita Doyelu Ulu Laputa!' the young girl declared, brave and fearless. She stood amidst the storm, her voice echoing across the heavens, as if piercing through history and overlapping with the monarchs of bygone eras."

"‘My people have passed away, our kingdom sealed in dust.’"

"‘We are the legend of legends, the miracle of miracles, a tale passed down, a phantom that shall never appear again.’"

"‘Here...’"

"‘I proclaim as the last queen—’"

"‘Fly!’"

"‘To the sky! To the end of people's memories!’"

"‘You are free! Punish!’"

Roland left a blunt ink dot on the paper, skipped to a new line, and wrote at the very end:

"May you be as persistent and passionate as the youth, as brave and steadfast as the maiden, and as free and untroubled as the city that went to the sky."

"I dedicate this story solely to you, to my friend, Cherry Chloe."

"May you find clear springs and clean winds within your weary life, to cleanse your bright eyes and pure soul."

"May you be like Roșita."

"Steadfast and brave, free and passionate."

"It knows no distinction between you and me, let alone men and women."

"——Ever responding to your call, growing fatter, Roland Collins."

Clumsy words fell upon the paper, condensing into a romantic adventure.

Roland shook the stationery.

His wrist paused.

After a long moment.

Flames danced in his eyes.

...

"Stationery (A Story That Was Never Born)"

"Principle: Fantasy"

...