Chương 33: Vol. 1 - The Sealed Letter

"Kawa," Mom called.

"You got mail!"

"Coming~!" I exclaimed, padding down the steps. I rushed to the mailbox to see two letters. One was addressed to me, and the heavier one was addressed to Dad.

"Dad, you got mail!"

"Just leave it on the dining table first," Dad said. Carefully, I opened my letter. There's only one person in the whole wide world who would write me a letter. Actually, two. I bet it's Leo who wanted to double-check things with me one last time, and Snow who saw her father writing a letter to me and wanted to write one too. As I expected, there were two slightly yellowish paper inside. Snow's one read: Hey Kawa! Long time no see! Do you like this nice ancient paper? Do you? DO you? I picked it, hehe!

You see, my dad was writing you a boring political letter, so as kind-hearted as I am, I decided to write you a nice letter about my life so far to cheer you up! Ever since you left, Papa's been moaning and groaning about how things were better when you were around, when in reality, nothing has changed at all! The magitech you gave us was really useful for us!

Just the other day, the stupid hairy lions came over to take away our territory, so we immediately put down our glasses of green tea and whipped out our guns. It was amazing! I got to whip seven lions bald in total! I pity them for having so much hair while living as a wild animal. Their scalps must be really itchy. Thus, as great as I am, I did them a huuuuuge favour by giving them a free haircut:) But! The worst part was that they didn't even thank me! They pounced on me, scratching my perfectly snowy arm.

Thank goodness Granny was there, she whipped out her great sharp fans and sliced those nasty lions up. And, that very night, we were served lion stew. Ok, dinner's ready, I'll just write till here today. Bye, Kawa, hope to see you soon! P. S. It was really yummy!! Love, Your fav Snow Fox (Snow)"Oh my," I muttered.

"Just what monster have I bred?" Now, back to official business. I opened Leo's letter carefully. Dearest Hoshikawa Hoshino, How are you? I hope you are doing well. Please, send my regards to your family. Recently, the board has been considering the idea of expanding our business. I hope you do not mind; however, I personally think that we should be collecting money from our neighbouring countries instead of giving them gifts.

As you can see, this is a great business opportunity to sell our products and have a worldwide chain. Do you remember the piano you asked us to send to Lucarion? I remember you putting an irremovable device there such that our blueprint would always remain as our state secret. Our country has also sworn an oath that if we even think about spreading or selling these blueprints, lightning will immediately strike us down.

I believe we could sell our onsen and bathhouse ideas and much more to Lucarion, Eloweyns, and Dunran and attach that device to it. This way, we can have more money to expand our Kingdom as the city of Briarwoods. Hoshikawa, please permit us to expand our business empire. Thank you. Warmest Regards, Leo"Hm." I drummed a finger against the tabletop, the soft tap… tap… echoing in the quiet room.

"Expanding our business empire," I said slowly, tasting the words, "does sound like a good move. If we have more money, we can gather more resources. Build more. Reach further." The idea clicked into place.

"Alright." I pushed my chair back and stood in one smooth motion, resolve snapping tight in my chest.

"I'll send him the blueprints," I declared.

"Buses. Ships. Trains. Cars." Already moving, I turned and ran, the floorboards thudding beneath my feet as I headed for my room, thoughts racing faster than my steps. Paper. Ink. I just needed to— SLAM. The sound tore through the house like a gunshot. I froze. Then I spun around and sprinted back downstairs. Dad was on his feet, one hand planted on the table so hard the wood groaned beneath it. The dishes rattled. The room felt… heavier, as if the air itself had sunk.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Something had changed.

"Dad, what's—" Before I could finish, I heard them. I hid behind a wall and peeked out. Dad held the letter tightly in his hand, almost crumpling it.

"Maybe…maybe we should really go…" Mom stuttered, her voice breaking. Her face displayed subtle signs of fear. This was the first time Mom was this scared.

"Nothing's wrong." I reassured myself. But the more I listened, the more doubts I had.

"No, it's only a matter of time till they find us. They've already tracked down Leonard's family. The house of Sterling has fallen." Dad said softly.

"No! That can't be true! No, no, no!" Mom took a step back, grief-stricken.

"But it is," Dad sighed.

"A merchant passing by told me yesterday."

"They're not stopping there, are they?" Mom whispered.

"No, they're not." I stayed where I was, pressed into the narrow strip of shadow between the doorway and the wall, breath held so tightly it burned my lungs. From here, I could see the fire. I could see Dad. He stood alone before the hearth. The letter rested in his hand, folded once, its edges already worn as if it had traveled far to reach him. The fire behind him breathed slowly, orange and gold light washing over the room in unsteady pulses.

Each flicker carved his silhouette into the walls—broad shoulders, rigid spine, a man frozen between choice and consequence. He didn't move at first. The flames crackled softly, patient. Then Dad stepped closer. The heat intensified, bending the air, warping the shape of the hearthstones. He lifted the letter, holding it above the fire—not yet touching it. For a moment, it hovered there, suspended between safety and destruction. The paper trembled faintly, whether from the rising heat or his grip, I couldn't tell.

The fire reached up. A single tongue of flame brushed the corner. The paper darkened instantly. Black crept across white, the edge curling inward with a quiet hiss. The smell hit me a heartbeat later—burning parchment, sharp and bitter, cutting through the warmth of the room. Dad didn't pull away. The flame spread, faster now, climbing the letter like it had been waiting for permission. Ink twisted and blurred, lines warping into meaningless shapes before vanishing entirely.

Whatever had been written there—whatever had crossed the world to arrive in his hands—was being erased in silence. I watched from the shadows. The letter began to fold in on itself, shrinking as the fire consumed it. The paper glowed red along its veins, fragile and incandescent, before cracking and breaking apart. Ash peeled away in thin flakes, lifting briefly into the air before sinking back into the fire. The flames surged higher, roaring softly as if pleased.

Light flooded the room, painting everything in gold and red. Dad's face was half-lit, half-consumed by shadow, his expression carved into something unreadable—hard, resolute, unmoving. His hand remained steady as the letter disintegrated, even as the heat licked dangerously close to his fingers. Still, he didn't let go. The last intact portion burned brightest, a brief, defiant flare before collapsing inward.

The paper lost its shape entirely, breaking into glowing fragments that fell from his grip and vanished into the heart of the fire. Gone. Only ash remained. Dad released what was left, and the embers scattered, dissolving into gray dust. The flames settled, crackling softly once more, as if nothing extraordinary had happened. But I stayed frozen. In the silence that followed, the hearth continued to glow—warm, ordinary, deceptive.

The fire gave no sign of the words it had devoured, no hint of the weight it had just erased. From where I hid, unseen and unheard, I understood one thing with terrifying clarity: Some truths were dangerous enough to be fed to the flames. And I had just watched one of them disappear forever. If paper can make Dad afraid, then paper must be dangerous.

"What are we going to do?" Mom whispered.

"I don't know," Dad said quietly.

"I only know that we have to survive this. We just have to."

"They're after him, no?" Dad clutched her arm tightly.

"No, no, no!" Mom's eyes flooded with tears as they cascaded down her cheek.

"After all he's the only 'successful attempt'," Dad reasoned. Mom shook her head desperately, "No, it can't be!"

"We have to face the truth," Dad said firmly.

"Together. We'll get through this together."

"Then are you going to tell the kids?" Mom sniffled. Dad froze for a moment before regaining his composure.

"Yes," He said slowly.

"But not now."

"Now's not the time." Questions flooded into my mind. Who is he? Who's after us? And lastly, how would they find him if they got Dad and Mom? What's going on?? I clutched my head in agony.

"Oh Kawa, you're down early," Mom immediately wiped her tears. Shit, I've been spotted.

"Mom, were you crying?" I raised an eyebrow in suspicion. Dad and Mom nodded, as if they were confirming that I didn't hear their conversation.

"Oh no, dear," Mom smiled.

"Your Dad was telling me something so heartwarming today that I couldn't help but shed a tear."

"You sure it's just 'a tear'?" I questioned.

"Yes Kawa," Dad laughed. And the house was lively and warm once again. I don't understand. Do my parents have bipolar? One moment ago, they were sad and depressed, almost grieving. But now, they seem to be happily dancing while cooking a sunny side up. What sorcery is this!