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Chapter 19
I was led by Leona’s hand to her room.
Along the way, the knights waved at us, but Leona seemed not to notice and ignored them.
Anyway… a love letter? What on earth was going on?
It seemed Leona had someone she liked.
But then, why didn’t she write it herself and instead brought me along to ask for help?
A little later, when we arrived at Leona’s room, I finally understood.
Her room was scattered with swords, sweat-stained training clothes, and all sorts of things fitting a swordsman’s lifestyle.
But what caught my eye was a collection of novels on a bookshelf deep inside the room. They all looked like they belonged to the same series, uniform in size and height.
“Oh, you want to write a letter to your favorite author?”
So it wasn’t a romantic affection—it was admiration as a fan.
“Yes. But I’m not good at writing…”
“Then it’s a fan letter, not a love letter. Though they’re similar, I suppose.”
“Ha ha.”
A question arose in my mind.
“Then why ask me for help? If it’s just a matter of writing skill, there must be others who could do it.”
She could’ve asked any fellow member of the knights—loyal subordinates who would follow her orders faithfully.
“Ugh… they’d tease me if they knew I liked reading.”
“Well, that’s their problem. What’s wrong with liking books?”
Leona explained that the knights were never serious, always acting like rowdy colts—reckless and immature.
It felt almost like she was giving a self-introduction. But I felt a pang of sympathy for her having to hide her taste. Even someone with big muscles and a fierce face can love romance novels.
I listened to Leona and stepped closer to the bookshelf. I saw the title A One-Night Encounter.
I opened my eyes wide and looked at her.
“So you really like it too, huh?”
“The worst part is, my subordinates tease me not for liking the book, but for saying it’s unpopular!”
Her voice rang in a high-pitched tone, echoing throughout the room. Leona answered first.
“Yes. This is my absolute favorite work.”
Ah, so that’s why she asked me—to find someone who could understand her taste.
I felt a sudden kinship, like it filled my chest painfully with warmth.
“You really like this book?”
“Yes.”
“Me too! I never thought I’d meet someone else who likes it…”
From that moment on, we jumped around the room, sharing the joy of finding a kindred spirit.
When you realize someone else likes what you thought only you liked, isn’t it naturally exciting?
“So, to celebrate the release of the side story, I want to write a letter to the author.”
“That’s wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!”
Together, we began drafting the letter.
Leona wanted the letter to have a soft style, filled with embellishments.
I wrote down the words while following the outline she had prepared.
“To the author of A One-Night Encounter,
Hello, dear author. The gentle spring breeze touches the streets evenly today as well.
I hope the March bloom gives you strength, too. The reason I am writing this letter is none other than to congratulate you on your side story release, and to tell you how much I love your work…”
Thud
I set the pen down after finishing the last sentence.
Leona held the letter as delicately as if it were a baby chick.
“Thank you, Advisor.”
“No problem. Let’s send it.”
We finished the letter surprisingly quickly, leaving us some time before dinner.
We looked for a delivery person but decided to deliver the letter to the author in person.
We stepped out of the main gate and walked briskly.
“The publisher for A One-Night Encounter is here, right?”
As we entered the building with the neat sign, a familiar uniform caught our eyes.
“Isn’t that a duke’s maid uniform?”
“…Yes!”
The woman in the duke’s maid uniform, her face hidden by her bonnet, had entered the publisher’s building ahead of us.
We carefully followed her, like detectives tailing someone.
“Welcome, Author!”
We saw a publishing staff member greeting her. Author?
Leona and I swallowed hard, waiting for the next words.
“This new A One-Night Encounter side story turned out well. Are you working on your next piece now?”
Perhaps she had expected such an extraordinary coincidence. The author of A One-Night Encounter was a maid of the duke.
We turned to see her face. She smiled at the mention of her next work and removed her bonnet.
Light brown hair, light brown eyes… a familiar face.
“Emma?”
“…Advisor?”
Emma looked at me, utterly shocked.
Her mouth gaped open, and she dropped the bonnet from her hands.
I did the same, dropping what I was holding.
I didn’t know much about Emma—only that she cleaned rooms so well they felt brand new, and that she seemed timid and shy. That was all.
I had never imagined she could write.
The problem wasn’t Emma’s hidden talent—it was that the letter I had dropped was a fan letter to her, the author of A One-Night Encounter.
I tried to pick it up, but a gust of wind swept it to her feet.
[True feelings must be conveyed.]
“Hey!”
[Riventa is right. Feelings are useless if not expressed.]
It was Riventa’s doing.
While I was stunned by Shuivan’s lonely voice, Emma awkwardly picked up the letter at her feet.
She read the words written on the envelope.
“A letter…? To the author…?”
“Ah, wait!”
Leona dashed forward. The publisher’s staff flinched at her imposing presence.
If only it had ended there… but Emma continued calmly.
“Vi-Vice Captain is here too? …May I read it?”
I reluctantly nodded. Emma broke the seal and unfolded the paper.
She began to read the contents aloud, clearly enunciating each word.
“When I read your work, even when I feel weak, I regain strength. Your writing is like the magic of a mage, the aura of a swordsman, and the divine power that heals our spirits…”
“Ah! Emma! Stop! Ah! Aaaah!”
Leona and I wanted to cover her mouth.
But Emma cheerfully continued reading the letter from start to finish.
Surely, she was doing this on purpose. Surely.
The staff member beside her was smiling, clearly enjoying the praise.
The only ones embarrassed, cheeks burning red from head to toe, were us.
“I’m so moved. I didn’t know the Advisor and Vice Captain loved my work so passionately.”
We had been trying to hide our urge to sink into a mouse hole, but Emma’s next words made us look up immediately.
“So, as a token of thanks, I’d like to share some unpublished settings and behind-the-scenes stories. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely!”
The discussion of her next work would wait. Emma left the publisher and returned with us to the duke’s mansion.
Dinner that night was potato potage, olive cheese salad, and roasted chicken.
The three of us talked at length about Emma’s works while eating.
Hearing unpublished settings, side stories, and creative anecdotes straight from the author was absolutely delightful.
It was sweet enough that I could tolerate having the author read our fan letter aloud.
“Still… I can’t believe the author is Emma.”
“I didn’t expect two residents of the mansion to love my work. Most other servants don’t even know my novel’s title.”
I took a bite of the olive cheese salad.
“You’re amazing, Emma.”
“Oh, what…?”
“I only knew you were a great cleaner, now I have to add ‘good writer’ too.”
Emma spilled some potato potage from her spoon at my words.
It seemed like she kept dropping things today.
“Ah, no, I-I’m not that good at writing…”
“Listen once.”
Leona held Emma’s flustered hands firmly.
“I used to think books were boring, tedious, only for humans with comfortable lives.”
“…”
“But after reading Emma’s novels, that completely changed. I haven’t openly shared my taste yet, but your writing has helped me.”
Before becoming Vice Captain, Leona lived a rough life in the backstreets.
Every day was filled with hunger, violence, schemes, and distrust.
The large scar on her face came from those days.
“Thanks to Emma’s novels, I can enrich my life further. I make sure to check them at least once a day.”
Emma’s eyes welled up at Leona’s heartfelt words.
“Wouldn’t you say that qualifies as being a good writer? Hahaha.”
“Th-thank you, Vice Captain.”
“Just call me Leona.”
We talked about romance novels until the restaurant closed. We even got Emma to sign our books.
After such sincere conversation, I felt like we had grown closer than before.
“Advisor, you really wrote the letter well.”
“Really? Thank you, Emma.”
“Ha ha. I’m glad I asked. Our meeting like this is thanks to my request, huh?”
And I wasn’t the only one feeling that way.
I said goodbye to the two of them and hurried to my room.
[You look happy, Lasha. I’m glad too.]
‘Of course.’
Today’s conversation had given me a good idea.
It would serve as the key to turning the Cupid Project around.
