Love Letter From The Future

A strange dream.

The scenery at dusk was soaked in blood and appeared murky. Crows were digging into the decayed ground, surrounded by fallen corpses. Even the sounds seemed to meet an end, making this place a desolate slice of hell.

Amidst it all, a man was crying.

Filth from the corpses stained his hands. Yet, he showed no signs of stopping. In this world of black and white, only the squelching sensation echoed without sound.

Before long, twilight passed, and the gray hues of the world lightened. It was only then that the man stood up. What felt like mere minutes had seemingly aged him by years.

He gazed blankly at the dark sky for some time before staggering toward me.

The darkness that had settled obscured his face. All I could glimpse were fragments of emotions flickering like remnants of fire between his eyes.

Resentment, hatred, and regret.

As the man brushed past me, forming a figure tall and imposing, sound was born for the first time in this world.

“……Delphrium.”

The sound was abruptly tossed aside, yet it struck my ears like thunder, trained to silence for so long.

Startled by that parched whisper, my gaze shifted sideways. There, the burning golden eyes were.

“Delphrium is coming.”

He spoke to me as if spitting out the words.

Awakening from the nightmare, I found myself gasping for air.

My heart thudded like a fish just caught, pushing against my eyelids.

A heavy breath made the taste of alcohol linger, and the damp pillowcase was soaked with cold sweat. I always awoke from nightmares feeling this distasteful.

Letting out a long sigh, I splashed my face with water, which finally calmed my breathing. It had been such a vivid dream. Perhaps that’s why it felt so unpleasant.

And ‘Delphrium,’ yes, Delphrium.

As I rummaged through the content of the nightmare like picking out fish bones, I couldn’t help but chuckle.

It was a name drawn from the creation myths of the church. The first betrayer of humanity, the source of all sin. And the master of all monsters.

Had I been too influenced by Professor Levistros’ lectures on mythology?

With a wry smile, I shook off the remnants of the dream and propped my upper body up, avoiding the damp sheets.

The room, neither too narrow nor too spacious, was dark and quiet. This scenery was all too familiar. It was a dormitory for the aristocrats attending the Academy, a place I had already lived in for three years.

If my family’s prestige had been a little greater, I might have enjoyed a spacious and luxurious room, but alas, I was just the second son of a rural noble family.

In other words, just managing to cover the expensive tuition of the Academy was a blessing in itself. I had no luxury to stay in an even more expensive dormitory.

After sitting in a daze for a while, my head began to throb. I had overindulged the previous night.

It felt as if a heavy rock was pressing down on my brain. An unpleasant thirst surged as I groped around for the small table next to my bed.

With a thud, light and heat returned to the room. The magical lights installed in the dorm weren’t particularly expensive, but they allowed me to see the vague outline in the dim room.

As I reached for the canteen I always kept on the table to drink, I hesitated for a moment.

There was a peculiar sense of discomfort. Nothing had changed, yet something felt different. As I tilted my head in confusion, I soon discovered the cause.

The calendar had turned over. Spring hadn’t even begun yet; the month of the harp should still have three days left, but already it was the month of the bow. I must have really gotten drunk last night.

As I briefly tried to recall the hazy memories of the previous night, my movements came to a halt for the second time. My gaze caught on a foreign object lodged in the corner of my vision.

It was a letter. Written on luxurious paper with neat handwriting, it was clearly a letter from an educated and cultured noble. This only plunged me deeper into confusion.

Could there have been someone to send me a letter? And even if there was, I had no memory of receiving one.

My hand naturally reached for the letter. The words “Ian Fercurus” written at the top indicated that the addressed recipient was indeed me.

If that was the case, there was only one way to unravel the mystery.

Soon, my eyes began to scan the neatly penned words swiftly.

—-

To. My beloved, Ian Fercurus

Well, is there anyone who dislikes spring?

I heard this recently from a gentleman in the streets of Arancourt. He was an elegant old man dressed in smart attire, and I was deeply impressed by his dignified speech and restrained manners.

Looking back, he must have been someone who worked in a reputable noble family.

He mentioned having wandered aimlessly last winter, yet his gentle smile was as warm as the sunlight of spring. It must have been the end of winter that softened him.

At such times, I recall what we achieved. Protecting the world, and becoming heroes.

I once thought it a fanciful tale from a fairy tale I read in my childhood, but now that our names have been carved onto the pages of that book, it still feels surreal.

It’s all thanks to you. Or rather, as you said, perhaps it’s thanks to all of us.

I’ve grown somewhat accustomed to life in Arancourt. When we crossed the endless desert of sand, I worried about what would happen, but ultimately, this place is indeed a community.

The sunlight is warm, and the sea sparkles with clear light. Didn’t the old saying go, “If you view with the eyes of a fairy, you’ll uncover hidden treasures?” It turns out to be true.

And writing letters to you has also become an important part of my daily routine.

At first, I was somewhat puzzled by the request to write at least once a month. After all, it’s you, Ian. You, who always smiled silently. Still, I wondered if you felt lonely sending your beloved off far away, so my heart raced a bit.

But it seems the excitement is always just for me. I send letters every two days, yet replies make their way back only once a week.

Of course, I understand that there could be a lot going on in your duties. I’m not lacking enough in empathy to not comprehend how heavy the load you’re carrying is. I’ve seen it the closest, after all. The pain, sorrow, and torment.

During such a busy and challenging time, I feel it’s unbecoming of a fiancée not to support my lover. I deeply reflect on that.

However, protecting Arancourt, which is one of the Empire’s three major trade ports and a strategic point safeguarding the western coastline of the continent, is also a duty I must bear as a noble of the Empire.

Ian, you know well, I suppose. The effects of last winter have not disappeared entirely.

Yet I still find time to send you letters, hoping you’ll understand my yearning heart even a little.

Tonight, especially, I miss you, Ian. With the arrival of the month of the bow, the stars are twinkling in the sky as they dance, just like that night.

Our deepening connection started during the Hunting Festival held in the month of the bow. For someone who always suffered from inferiority, the memories of that day remain a thrilling recollection.

Thinking back, that year’s Hunting Festival was particularly fraught with incidents. It all began when Emma from the Alchemy Department was found unconscious after being attacked by a mysterious monster while she was gathering materials. I should have noticed back then.

It was also the case when monsters ambushed us during the Swordsmanship Department’s practice. What would have happened if we hadn’t responded swiftly? Still, nobody seemed to pay attention.

At that time, we thought that since the forest would serve as the stage for the Hunting Festival, we were intentionally neglecting the monsters’ reproduction. It was a naive judgment typical of students. I heard the faculty was in chaos.

No matter how I think about it, I believe it was President Delmore’s mistake to proceed with that year’s Hunting Festival.

However, a part of my heart holds gratitude towards him. It provided an opportunity for our relationship to deepen.

Additionally, it was the first time I also experienced the thrill of victory at the Hunting Festival. When I faced that monster, I wondered what would happen, but I was safe thanks to you.

Now that I think about it, I still have questions. How did you know the monster’s weakness was its horn?

Whenever I ask, you merely smile cryptically and say, “There’s such a thing,” leaving it an unsolved mystery even after seven years.

After defeating the monster, there was another sudden attack, yet somehow we became the ones who secured the monster’s flesh. Now I am even grateful for that day’s ambush.

Because it was the first time we could win. Even though it was thanks to you and our friends, the memory of that day remains a turning point in my life.

And since that day, I’ve developed a deeper interest in you, making that incident precious in many ways. Before then, I couldn’t even imagine becoming your lover.

The moon is already waning. I must wrap up this letter. It was a joyful night to recall precious memories with you.

The dry winter has passed, and the mournful spring has arrived. The last snow of winter has long since melted away, but my heart, still thinking of you, has not yet thawed in the spring sun.

Tonight, I eagerly await the day I can meet you, Ian.

No, Brother Ian.

I pray I can meet you even in my dreams.

P.S. 1: I recently heard news that a cat from the Holy Kingdom visited the Empire. I say this out of caution, but I hope that even if that cat tries to intrude, you will not betray our bond. By the way, since arriving in Arancourt, I don’t even have meals alone with men. Until then.

From. Thinking of you tonight, Sephia.

In the Year of the Empire 571, on the fifth day of the month of the bow.

—-

After reading the letter for several minutes, I fell into silence.

It was a long letter. There were no expressions that went against vocabulary or etiquette, and the neat handwriting suggested it was written with considerable care.

However, my only response to receiving such a heartfelt letter was one.

“……What nonsense is this?”

In disbelief, I swallowed a hollow laugh and crumpled the letter into my fist. It was nothing but an incomprehensible tale from start to finish.

The Hunting Festival? It was indeed the biggest event held at the Academy during the month of the bow. However, it was an event scheduled for the end of the month, and as of now, only the plans had been announced. How could I know about that day’s happenings?

The name “Sephia” was also strange. It sounded like the “Sephia flower,” but unfortunately, there was no one in my surroundings with that name or nickname.

Above all, the most jarring thing about this letter was the date written at the very end.

My gaze returned to the calendar atop the table. On the translucent background shaped like a bow, the year was noted as follows.

Year of the Empire 564.

So this letter meant it had traveled from seven years in the future. It was absurd.

As I thought so, I was about to crumple the letter again when I suddenly froze at a certain point that caught my eye.

It was the unread back part of the letter. There, in a handwriting distinctly different from the rest, one phrase was scrawled.

“If the future is not protected, the world will perish.”

That phrase bore the weight of regret and resentment, leading me to stare blankly at the writing.

A scene from the nightmare flickered at the edge of my mind. That person who had been gazing at me with burning golden eyes.

But it was only a fleeting moment. I soon regained my senses and crumpled the letter once more. I threw it into the trash can a little distance from the bed.

With a thud, that crumpled piece of paper, which had once been a letter, landed in the trash.

Confirming that, I gulped down the remaining water in the canteen and returned to bed. Without knowing a thing.

From the moment I received that letter, my life had already changed irrevocably.

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