Gredor’s Messenger and the Invisible Thread

Of course, it wasn’t that I didn’t understand their feelings. Even without thinking deeply, I knew the Count and my brothers must have suffered terribly watching their cherished youngest fall ill with a high fever.

But isn’t this a bit much? I thought about it every day, and yes, it was definitely too much.

With a dazed mind, I accepted a spoonful of something that was indistinguishable between soup and water before waving it away. I was sick of the thin gruel they brought under the guise of “easy-to-digest food,” and even the clear broths with a hint of meat failed to satisfy me. I was starting to crave thick cuts of meat and vegetables I could actually chew. More than anything, my body—accustomed to running and rolling around every day—was screaming in protest at this lifestyle of walking fewer than fifty steps a day.

I didn’t know what they had said to Spellman, but the Count and Cale seemed determined not to send me back to the Imperial Palace this time. If nothing else, I was all for that.

The reason, without a second thought, was the Crown Prince. If I went to the Palace, the chances of running into him were high, and I didn’t have the confidence to act composed in front of the man who hadn’t just grazed my throat, but had actively strangled me. Besides, my role as the Prince’s playmate had effectively ended once Erkel left for the Academy. I didn’t even need to worry about Annette’s reaction anymore.

The moment the room was empty, I rolled around on the bed. The only ones who managed to bypass the ironclad sentries to visit me were Helena and Elliot. Helena had thrown a tantrum about staying until I was fully recovered despite Academy classes being in session, eventually being forced onto a train; Elliot had visited two days ago and would likely return in a day or two. My only solace was the letters I exchanged with Cici. But even those weren’t frequent enough, leaving me with a pile of one-sided letters I’d written. Cici had even asked if something was wrong, surprised by the sheer volume of my recent correspondence.

Writhing in boredom, my eyes landed on the desk, and a sudden memory sparked.

I opened the first drawer and found exactly what I was looking for: the box sealed with Erkel’s crest. It was the item he had delivered through Aiden. Sitting up straight in my chair, I opened it with a sense of solemnity.

Inside the box were the usual things Erkel sent—a letter asking after my well-being, a pen, and a book. The book was bound in plain, soft black leather, and the spine where the title should have been was blank. When I flipped through it, there was no content. It wasn’t a book; it was a notebook.

[I want you to write in this diary. It’s a set with mine.]

A diary?

I thought the pen was the main gift, but was it the notebook? Unlike the fairly luxurious-looking pen, the diary was just a plain notebook of black leather. The edges of the inner pages were even slightly yellowed, giving the impression of a second-hand item or something that had sat in a shop for a very long time. Is “vintage” the trend now? Even so, it didn’t seem like the kind of thing a Prince would go out of his way to gift.

But the person who sent this wasn’t just any Prince; it was Erkel. He had even specifically designated its use as a “diary” and expressed his wish for me to use it.

Though I didn’t understand the intent, I opened the first page. Tucked inside was a postcard perfectly sized for the notebook.

To [Erkel Noel Acareon] and [ ].

The signatures were quite flamboyant. This isn’t some kind of curse, is it? If it had come from anyone but Erkel, I would have asked Abel to check it, but I pushed my unease aside and wrote my name in the blank space. The moment I lifted the pen, a small flame erupted as if the name were being cauterized into the page. My wrist stung; I checked it to find a faint pattern, smaller than a coin, glowing and then slowly fading just like the postcard. It seemed to be just an effect, as no burn marks remained.

I couldn’t fathom why he’d sent such a thing. I flipped through the back pages again, but there were still no traces of ink. It would have been nice if he’d explained more in the letter. But then again, he was probably worried about entrusting such a significant matter to Aiden so suddenly.

If I felt this uneasy, imagine how he feels. The Academy has a higher probability of accidents compared to the Imperial Palace. It would be difficult to identify a suspect even if a fire broke out in his room, if his food was poisoned, or if he “accidentally” got hurt during practice. I hoped he’d at least find a friend there he could talk to openly.

Feeling a wave of sympathy, I reaffirmed my resolve to do whatever Erkel asked of me. Right. How hard could keeping a diary be? Especially since I had so much time on my hands that I was sleeping just to kill it.

<Weather: unknown. Being stuck in this room, I’m losing my sense of the seasons. The maids react as if the world is ending if I so much as open a window. It wasn’t even this bad when I was younger; at the rate they’re going, I wouldn’t be surprised if they started bringing me baby food soon. I hope I can go outside before a full month passes. It would be great to find another teacher, even if it’s not Spellman.>

What else should I write? I’ve never kept a diary regularly, so I didn’t know. The last time I wrote a diary was probably for a primary school summer holiday assignment. Or wait, maybe I dabbled in it briefly when I started university, vowing to begin a “new life.”

I pressed the tip of the pen against my lips. Should I jot down what topics to discuss when I meet Elliot? Or maybe, since it’s the first entry, I should add some resolutions for the future. As I finished my thought and prepared to continue writing, I froze in confusion. Everything I had written so far had vanished.

“Huh? What the…?”

Startled, I flipped the pages, but the notebook was clean. As I was stroking the paper—which bore no trace of ink—new ink began to spread as if someone were writing in real-time.

[Hello. If it’s alright, could you answer a question for me?]

A curse? A ghost? Thinking of it as magic was the most rational conclusion, but I had never heard of magic like this. The Empire was a bizarre world where you could move people and objects with magic, yet things like “messengers” or “calling functions” didn’t exist.

After a moment’s hesitation, I moved my pen below the sentence on the page.

<Sure.>

[Thank you. I suddenly couldn’t recall a name. I’ve been here for a very long time, you see. By any chance, do you know the name of a general who went to war on a ship shaped like an animal and died in battle? As he died, he said not to announce his death…]

<Yi Sun-sin. What the—Erkel? Are you kidding me?

The smooth cursive stopped abruptly. As before, the words disappeared after a short pause.

[TT]

<What are you doing? And what’s with that way of speaking?

[Is this really Llewellyn? No, I just… I wanted to check in case someone else opened it.]

As soon as those words vanished, “The tone was just a concept lol” followed. The tension I had felt dissipated into a sense of absurdity.

[This was made by a mage named Gredor. Simply put, it’s like a one-on-one messenger.]

Now that the ice was broken, Erkel moved his pen rapidly, seemingly excited to be talking after so long.

The original name of the “diary” was Gredor’s Letter. It was a unique messenger item—the only one of its kind in an Empire where real-time communication was impossible. Although its design sense was lacking, it was undoubtedly an incredible object that defied the common sense of this world.

<Why did he only make one pair of these? He could have made a fortune selling them as a limited edition.>

It would have been a massive hit. Sitting on a pile of money would have been only a matter of time. To invent something that could grant wealth and fame at once and then not mass-produce it… I couldn’t understand it.

[I heard he died shortly after making this one pair. His disciple found them while sorting through his belongings, but didn’t know how to use them and just threw them away.]

He should have focused more on the cover design. Gredor had imbued this notebook with all sorts of spells, including waterproofing and fire resistance. The worn appearance was just Gredor’s personal taste combined with the passage of time. Hearing the explanation that it wouldn’t tear even if cut with a knife or get dirty even if rolled in mud made me feel even more regretful. A genius of the century had passed away too soon. If Gredor had died just twenty years later, the people of the Empire might be carrying magical versions of mobile phones in their hands by now.

While video calls were possible, both parties had to be mages and the conditions were strict, so in reality, it was only used for military purposes and hadn’t been commercialized yet.

[But are you feeling okay? Helena was in an absolute state. I was shocked to hear the news.]

I rolled the pen for a moment before replying promptly. No matter how upset Helena was, she wouldn’t have been able to tell the Prince every little detail of the festival.

<I’m fine.>

<Given how many potions and blessings they poured into me, they could have brought someone back from the dead.>

[LOLOLOLOL]

[Ah, okay, okay.]

<But there is something that’s bothering me.>

I gave a brief explanation of the incident. It wasn’t exactly something to brag about—getting beaten up somewhere—but the fact that the attackers didn’t seem like ordinary thugs weighed on my mind.

[That definitely sounds strange.]

[Doesn’t seem like a minor event…]

[Did you ask your family about it?]

<No. Not yet.>

The house was already in a complete uproar. They were obsessive enough as it was; if I brought up the possibility that someone harbored a grudge against the family and had targeted me for kidnap and murder from the start, I might not be allowed out of the castle until I reached adulthood.

I hesitated, then decided to add the part about the Crown Prince to Erkel. He had felt guilty for a long time about the Crown Prince grazing my neck in the past; I worried that hearing about a deliberate attempt on my life would make Erkel feel more apologetic and distressed than I was. However, since it involved a lead character of the original story, it didn’t seem like something I could just ignore.

<Actually, the Crown Prince is being strange, too.>