🐾🐱🐾
AFTER getting ready to go out, Isabelle came down the stairs and found Amy standing in front of a large window that opened out to the garden.
Her daughter’s gaze was directed neither at the gardener, hard at work in the flower beds, nor the clear blue sky, but turned down at her hands. At this point, Isabelle was very familiar with that style of thin paper—it was a letter from Edward, delivered by Roodle.
Their near-daily exchanges also helped give Roodle, a retired royal messenger bird with few chances to fly long distances, a chance for some exercise. At first, Amy had often fretted over what to write about, but now she could write to Edward about the most mundane topics with ease.
Although Amy no longer had difficulty admitting to the frequency of these letters, today she was looking at her letter with pinched lips and a troubled expression.
Leaving her clutch bag with her maid, Isabelle approached Amy alone.
“Amy?” Isabelle asked.
“Oh! Mom!” Amy jumped in surprise.
She somehow hadn’t noticed that Isabelle had walked right up to her.
“Are you going out?” Amy asked. “Roodle has, uh, just arrived, and Tigger’s in the garden.”
“So it seems.”
Quickly folding up the letter, Amy tried to smooth over her panic by pointing at the garden. There Isabelle saw the snowy owl Roodle resting as he usually did on his favorite branch, and Tigger, who had just started to climb the tree himself.
Tigger didn’t usually show much interest in humans (except for Amy) or other animals, but whenever Roodle came to visit, Tigger would approach him all on his own. Amy wasn’t sure why they got along so well, but she loved watching them together. Seeing animals of different species being friendly with one another always made her feel warm and fuzzy inside.
They didn’t even do anything incredibly outrageous or cute together, either. Sometimes Roodle would suddenly stop preening himself and have a staring contest with Tigger, and then, just as suddenly, they would both look away. But Amy thought it was adorable, nonetheless.
Even the servants would rush to the windows whenever Roodle would arrive, just to see those fleeting scenes.
“But if Roodle’s here, why do you look so troubled?”
“What?”
“You look a little sad,” Isabelle said, glancing at the paper in her hand.
Amy tilted her head, looking puzzled. “I look sad?” she asked, blinking in surprise.
“That’s just what it seemed like to me, dear.”
Amy was genuinely and totally oblivious.
“It’s all right,” Isabelle continued with a knowing smile. “Some things are hard to talk to your parents about. It’s like that old poem, right? ‘Try as I might to mask these feelings, this face of mine betrays me…’”
Amy’s eyes widened in panic.
“N-No, it’s nothing like that! It’s just—I’m just going to the royal riding grounds again next week…”
“Yes, I remember.”
Amy had continued to frequent the riding grounds at the royal palace. Since starting school, however, it had become more difficult for her with her busy schedule to visit as spontaneously as she had in the past, so she started to plan her visits in advance.
At the riding grounds, Amy would hang out with the horses Fente and Ventus, who always eagerly awaited her visits, check up on the health of the other horses and the royal messenger birds, and chat about animals with Marvin and the other caretakers. She always had a great time.
“Um, yeah, so,” Amy continued, flapping her hands around erratically, “Ed hasn’t had a day off from his royal duties in a while, and he was supposed to have that day off to come, but he just wrote in this letter that he has to go to work that day after all, so…”
“Ah,” Isabelle said sympathetically, “just when you thought you were going to see him… That is indeed disappointing.”
“Th-That’s not why I’m… He said he was going to introduce me to a new horse he just got, th-that’s all!”
“Of course,” Isabelle said, chuckling.
A few days prior, a foal had been presented to the royal family from the lord of a territory famous for producing well-bred horses. Marvin, the other caretakers, and Edward had all been involved in choosing the horse, and Amy had really been looking forward to hearing about it.
Amy tried explaining this all to her mother, but Isabelle just smiled and nodded with a know-it-all look.
“Whatever you say, dear.”
Amy started to turn crimson under the intensity of her mother’s gaze.
“What?” Amy asked.
Then Isabelle suddenly pinched and stretched out both of her cheeks. Amy’s face immediately went blank with shock, and Isabelle laughed triumphantly.
“They’re so squishy and soft!” Isabelle cooed.
“Whach are chou doing?” Amy attempted to ask through her stretched cheeks.
“It makes me so happy to see such close friends!”
“B-Bucht we—we’re nacuht—”
Just as Amy started to squirm in panic, Isabelle let go of her cheeks. Throwing her arms wide, she shrugged innocently.
“Roodle and Tigger, of course! Look, they’re playing again!”
“Oh… R-Right. They’re friends, yeah. Great friends!”
As Amy cradled her smarting cheeks and looked outside, she saw the two animals on the same thick branch, slightly turned to face each other.
Roodle’s neck was stretched out, moving along as he followed the calm swishing of Tigger’s long tail. Amy had no idea what the significance of these behaviors were, but it was certainly adorable to watch.
“Who else did you think I was talking about, Amy?”
“Mom… Aren’t you running late?”
“Oh dear, I have to dash! I’ll be a little late coming home today, so you don’t have to wait for me for dinner.”
“Okay.”
“And Amy… You don’t have to think about it so hard.”
“What?”
Without explaining any further, Isabelle simply put a hand against Amy’s cheek, looking reluctant to leave. Then with one final smile, she set off. Amy watched her retreating figure with a sigh of relief.
Amy looked out the window again. Tigger had stealthily started moving his front paw toward Roodle. Roodle caught him in the act and Tigger quickly snatched back his paw as if nothing had happened. Amy leaned forward against the window.
She’s right. They’re good friends. So why did I immediately think of myself and Edward? Talk about embarrassing…
However, given their conversation before Isabelle’s comment, such a misunderstanding was probably inevitable.
Love was something Amy knew almost nothing about.
Excluding her own brother, Amy could count on one hand the guys her own age she was friends with. She could have amassed some experience in her past life to reference, but even back then, she never even had a crush on a boy, much less a boyfriend.
Her cheeks were starting to feel warm again. Amy brought her hands up to cover them, but the sharp fold of the letter bumped against her face.
Although they were enrolled in the same academy, Edward, who lived in the school dormitories while he carried out his official duties, was always busy. Amy was, too—on her days off, she would use her healing magic to help veterinarians treat animals. Predictably, the two didn’t get chances to meet up very often.
In the four years since they had met at that tea party, Amy had grown to cherish Edward as one of her closest friends.
But Edward was still one of the love interest characters from that otome game, in Amy’s mind. The more distance she could put between them, the better. She should want to cut contact with him entirely.
So Amy thought she would’ve been relieved when she read the letter telling her he couldn’t see her.
But her facial expression had worried her mother, instead… Amy had never been good at maintaining the poker face most aristocrats excelled at. Her thoughts must have shown on her face.
She hadn’t lied about looking forward to hearing about the new foal. But that probably hadn’t been the entire reason for how she had reacted… She realized that now.
Being pen pals is more than enough!
As Amy’s fist squeezed reflexively, the paper in her hand made a crunching sound. Panicking, Amy softened her grip and gently unfolded the thin paper used exclusively for messenger birds.
Edward’s words flowed effortlessly across the paper in his careful script, his language slightly informal—words one would say among friends. How long had it been since they’d been writing letters like this?
I’m sorry, he had written, honestly and sincerely. I’m really disappointed about this, too.
Amy looked over the letter and carefully folded it up once more.
Her thoughts were entwined with the game of her past. She was never fully able to dismiss the possibility that the game itself might “correct” the plot’s trajectory at any point… Amy knew fully well that she was still shackled by her fears.
Could I move past this if I knew the identity of the heroine? Amy wondered. Just the thought of meeting her is terrifying… And yet…
Amy reminded herself of her own reality, right at that very moment. It was exchanging letters with Edward every day and the way her heart sank at the news that she couldn’t see him.
That was her reality, regardless of if the “invisible hand of the game” was interfering.
Tigger hadn’t come back inside yet.
Amy tucked the letter safely away in her pocket, pushed back her shoulders, and stepped out under the clear, blue sky.