L33. First Meeting

This is a memory I wove together with a young girl during my youth.
In other words, it could also be considered my memoir.
The reason I chose to record it in writing was entirely to dedicate it to her.

--That day, the town of Bern was also shrouded in a gentle drizzle.

The town of Bern is renowned. This small town, surrounded by greenery, is even a frequent summer retreat for the nobles of Gaslow. As frail and sick since childhood, I moved here with my parents. However, an uneasy atmosphere pervaded the town, something even I could clearly sense at the time.

On one of those typical rainy days, I received a letter.

* Please read this book to report the completion of the mission.

Since I was too ill to go outside, reading was my only hobby. Eventually, I began to write, as well.

Maybe it was the gray air, or perhaps it was the dead, brittle leaves that fell from strange branches. An unknown illness consumed my body, and my only escape was to seek solace in stories. Books became my only refuge.

Now, though, I feel a strange sense of gratitude toward that crippling image and those dead trees.

Thanks to them, I met her.

"I really loved your story."

I often imagined that my stories would be published by Quill Press. The message made my little dream seem just slightly more likely. I was elated.

The letter had been sent by a reader of "Miraculous Flower," the first story I ever wrote.

Her words made me realize what it meant to have someone read and appreciate what I had written.

* Read the next chapter.