Majo no Tabitabi - Volume 10 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

The Land of Letters Never Forgets

The next place Miss Fran and I visited was an eccentric place known as the Land of Letters.

We had spent the afternoon flying swiftly over fields on our brooms, so I was feeling a bit hungry, and my heart pounded a little when I caught sight of the front gates. But once I realized it was the Land of Letters, my excitement was replaced by a somewhat more complicated feeling.

“Elaina, have you been here before?” Miss Fran asked me after alighting from her broom in front of the gate.

I nodded. “Yes, just once, about a month ago.” I, too, got down off my broom. “It’s known as the Land of Letters, and apparently quite a few people here have jobs related to writing. By the way, as far as the food goes, we really can’t…expect much…”

Since I had visited once before, I knew a bit about the place. I think the first feature worth pointing out was that the library was absolutely enormous, with an appropriately massive collection. The country itself was known to appeal to those engaged in the authorial occupation, and as I just said, quite a few famous authors made their residence there. As I also said, in general, the food was mostly basic fare, and dinner tables were usually populated with dishes that pursued simplicity as if anything would do so long as stomachs were filled.

Normally, I’m sure I would have reacted with bright-eyed excitement, “Wow, so many books! Amazing!” But at the moment, I was more interested in quieting my rumbling stomach than feeding my inner bookworm.

In my line of work as a traveler, there was nothing I appreciated more than arriving at a new place and having a good meal.

But even so, I’ve got some complicated feelings here…

“Our country’s immigration inspection is conducted entirely in writing. Please fill in all of the required information. Once you are finished writing, please place your forms in the box beside the gate.”

The gate guard who greeted us gave us these instructions, handed us each a pen and a piece of paper, and showed us over to a counter.

It was my second time there, so I filled all the fields with a practiced hand. Age, country of origin, number of visits to this country, purpose of this visit, occupation, criminal history, hobbies, favorite books, etc., etc.

“Oh…there’s no field for your name, is there?” Beside me, Miss Fran cocked her head with a puzzled “Hmm…?”

She seemed stumped.

“Apparently, you don’t need to write down your name when you enter. I heard there used to be travelers who were extremely uncomfortable writing their names, and it caused trouble, so they scrapped that field.”

“Oh…is that so? There are some strange mages in this world.” Miss Fran chuckled, then filled in all the required information.

As she was writing, she asked me, without looking up, “On that subject, how long did you stay here last time, Elaina?” It sounded like she was just making conversation.

I put my pen to my mouth and thought for a moment. “Hmm… I think…I was probably here for about a week? I had some money troubles while I was here, so I took a part-time job to make some cash.”

“It’s rare for you to take a job, isn’t it? What kind was it?”

“I was walking around the streets selling a book. The title was The Book of Infinite Possibilities.”

“What kind of book is that?”

“The pages are entirely blank. I found several copies at a local bookstore.”

“In other words, you were selling ordinary notebooks?”

“They were very well-made, so I bought them for fun, but once I added the title, I was able to sell them for a much higher price.”

“That’s fraud, you know…”

“Well, they were blank, so it’s true that they held endless possibilities.”

“Elaina, that’s fraud.”

“Miss Fran, you have to see these things from multiple angles. Depending on how you look at it, I was engaging in a socially meaningful activity…doesn’t it seem that way?”

“I’m sorry, but no matter how I look at it, you were running a scam and ripping off the locals. That’s the only impression I get.”

“Don’t you think they learned a lesson from my business? Something like ‘I never should have carelessly purchased a book that a suspicious witch was selling by the side of the road’?”

“So you admit it was fraud? You never change.”

Miss Fran let out an exasperated sigh, then set her pen down. She seemed to be done writing.

After that, the two of us together tossed our immigration inspection forms into the square box that was set up beside the gate. Once the papers were spit back out, the inspection would be complete.

As a matter of fact, one reason why I was so halfhearted about entering this country was because I was anxious that my misdeeds might have been discovered.

But something had occurred to me while I was filling in my immigration form.

We don’t have to write our names. I’ll probably be all right, won’t I?

If I’m being honest, I filled in the fields on the immigration form pretty carelessly the last time I entered, and this time, too. In other words, it’s all lies. But they’re just words on paper; there’s no way they can tell I’m trying to enter their country again after running a scheme here in the past, so I’ll be all right, won’t I? …Won’t I?

Before long, a bell chimed, and our papers were spit back out of the box.

“Goodness!”

First was Miss Fran’s form. There were words printed at the bottom.

NUMBER OF ENTRIES: TWO

OFFICIAL NOTICE: WE ARE HOLDING A BOOK ADDRESSED TO YOU.

…What’s this?

“Miss, this is your second time coming here…?”

“Oh? Didn’t I tell you?”

“This is the first I’m hearing of it…”

While we were having this exchange, my paper was spit out of the box with the chime of a bell, just as Miss Fran’s had been.

It had words printed at the bottom. This, too, was just like Miss Fran’s—

NUMBER OF ENTRIES: TWO

OFFICIAL NOTICE: YOU ARE BEING SUMMONED FOR QUESTIONING.

…………

Hmm?

That’s a bit different.

“You there, could we have a word?”

As I stood there, head tilted in confusion, a hand clapped down on my shoulder. I turned around nervously, my heart pounding loudly, and I saw several soldiers standing there.

“……………………Um, about what…?” My voice cracked, and I averted my eyes.

One of the soldiers asked, “You are the witch who previously defrauded people by the side of the road, right? We would like to hear the whole story.”

“Huh? Huuuh? Fraud…? Wh-what on earth do you mean?”

“The handwriting on the immigration inspection form you just filled in for us was a match for the writing on the cover of a strange book that appeared on the market one month ago.”

“…………”

“And coincidentally, it also matches the handwriting on another immigration form from one month ago. Strangely, the country of origin, the name, and everything else were different, but the handwriting is a match for some reason.”

“…………”

“Could I ask you to come with me?”

It was obvious that he expected an answer.

“…………”

I looked at Miss Fran.

She seemed to feel sympathy for me. Borrowing my words from earlier, she told me, “Elaina, you have to see these things from multiple angles, right?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer her.

“Sorry, no matter what angle I look at this from, I can only see a future in which I’m in a lot of trouble…”

“You’re getting your just deserts.” My teacher sighed with exasperation but also smiled slightly.

For some reason, the expression on her face made her look like she was reminiscing about the past.

As we were entering the Land of Letters, soldiers surrounded the naughty witch.

And who do you think she was?

That’s right, my favorite pupil.

“I categorically deny all charges! Categorically deny!”

Even though she desperately protested, ultimately the soldiers took Elaina away for questioning, and rather forcefully, I should add.

It was inevitable that things would turn out that way. It was an undeniable fact that she had committed a crime, so the most I could do was see her off with a wave of my hand and some ambiguous words of encouragement to comfort her.

“You…hang in there, okay?” I waved.

“I don’t suppose she’ll be back by this evening…,” I said to myself.

Well, there’s nothing to be done about that.

After that, I hailed one of the nearby guards and entrusted him with a letter that I asked him to give to Elaina upon her release. All I had written was I’ll be waiting for you in an inn near the plaza with the fountain along the main avenue.

I was planning to stay in the same hotel I had stayed at the last time I visited this country. My first visit had been quite a long time ago, though, so I wasn’t sure whether or not the hotel would still be there.

No country looks exactly as it did in the distant past, after all. There isn’t a thing in this world that doesn’t change, not humans and not places.

If you think something is not changing, you only feel that way because you’re too close to it.

I decided that if the inn where I had previously stayed had been demolished, well then, I could just wait in the fountain plaza.

So I successfully entered the country for the second time, as I had written on my immigration inspection form.

I was greeted by a nostalgically familiar view.

I remembered the city very well.

It was the first place I had explored alone after becoming a traveler.

“…How nostalgic.”

It really was quite a long time ago.

At that time, after barely escaping my hometown in one piece, I was traveling with another mage.

She had long gray hair that was so light, it was almost white, and she wore a black robe and a pointed hat. On her breast, she had a star-shaped brooch because she was a witch.

Also, she was the second mentor I’d ever had in my life.

At the time, I was calling her teacher. I already had someone I called a mentor, so I had to call her something else. Also, she kind of pushed me to call her that, telling me, “Listen up. From now on, you are to refer to me as teacher,” but anyway, that’s what I was calling her.

That teacher of mine made a decisive assertion just before we entered the city.

“I categorically refuse.”

Back then, I was still ignorant about the world outside my hometown, and every sight that met my inexperienced eyes seemed wonderful, even the figure of a witch resolutely refusing to back down, even when surrounded by soldiers. Wow, how cool! I thought.

“I will not write my name down. Not a chance. And I won’t show you any identification, either.”

By the way, the cause of my teacher’s indignation was the immigration inspection form. There was a field for writing your name. For some reason, she was entirely unwilling to write hers down.

At the time, I remember thinking—

She’s undaunted, even surrounded by soldiers…! Witches really are awesome!

I was a simple fool.

When I think back on that time, I can see that the reason my teacher was surrounded by those soldiers was actually that…

“You perpetrated fraud here in our country before.”

“We’ve got a lot of eyewitness accounts, you know.”

“Plenty of crime reports, too.”

“Won’t you write your name down?”

“First of all, we’d like you to submit to an interview.”

I think you can guess what had happened by the soldiers’ accusations. Sure enough—like mother, like daughter—my teacher had been ripping people off again.

The moment the soldiers heard her name, their reactions made it clear they were going to try to take her into custody.

“Huh? You came into our country once before, didn’t you? And you cheated people while you were here! Make sure you fill out the back of that form.”

For my teacher, refusing to write her name was a last-ditch attempt at self-defense.

But there must be some karmic rule that parent and child must both meet the same fate.

“Listen, you’d better hurry up and come with us! We’re taking you in!” One soldier forcefully clapped handcuffs on her wrists.

“Stop this! Who do you think I am?!”

“A swindler.”

“A cheater.”

“A crook.”

“It hurts to hear you use such blunt words. That’s enough.”

I stood there watching the soldiers drag my teacher away.

I was on my own once again, just as I had been back then. Although at that time, I handled being left behind very differently.

“Huh? Teacher, what? Whaaat…?”

I immediately started to panic when I was left by myself.

“You can go,” a soldier told me, and allowed me to pass through to the other side of the gate, but as I’ve said over and over again, I had never walked through the outside world on my own before.

I had spent my whole life, for as long as I could remember, in the town of Bielawald.

So when I was abandoned in a new country, I was at a complete loss.

“Wh-what do I do…?”

I surveyed my surroundings.

A cobblestone road stretched out straight ahead. The buildings lining each side had white walls that were dazzlingly bright in the sunlight. Along the road, I saw a bookstore, a post office, a café that had books available to read, a museum dedicated to famous authors, and a sign for a store related to their writings. It was only afterward that I learned people called this place the Land of Letters.

I was immediately fascinated by the new sights.

The beautiful outside world that stretched out to the ends of the earth welcomed me. Every unremarkable alley in this unremarkable city seemed to glitter and gleam. I wandered aimlessly down the road that seemed to go on forever, until finally I arrived at a plaza with a fountain.

People from around town were taking breaks on the benches placed here and there. I saw that many of them had books in hand, as if they had just borrowed them from the nearby library and were using their breaks to indulge in some reading.

That said, it wasn’t as if every person there was just reading. That didn’t seem to be the case.

“Hmm…this is…! No, this can’t be…ohhh…”

An older man was sitting by himself on one of the benches that backed up to the fountain.

I noticed him smoothly writing on the pages of a thin little book in his hands, then immediately afterward scratching his graying head and tearing up the pages he’d written.

Maybe it was because he seemed to be at his wit’s end, with a moody expression on his face, but the man looked like he had more than a fair number of years on him.

So when I saw a young-looking woman approach him, I’m ashamed to say I only considered the possibility that she was his daughter.

“Darling, you’re writing in a place like this?”

…But they were a couple.

They seemed to be husband and wife. Looking carefully, I could see matching rings on the ring fingers of their left hands.

“Don’t come up and talk to me all of a sudden!” The man hurriedly hid the notebook behind his back and looked up at his wife. “I’m free to choose where I write. Leave me alone!” He raised his voice and rejected her.

“I’m going to have a look around the clothing stores. Do you want to come with me?” the wife asked in an extremely calm tone of voice. She seemed accustomed to the man’s reactions.

“Of course I don’t want to go. I’m busy preparing my new work!”

“After I look at clothes, how about we have lunch?”

“Not interested! Go do whatever you want!” the man spit. What a cold person.

“My, my.” The wife chuckled and elegantly brought her hand to her mouth. “All right then, wait here for me a little while longer.” With those parting words, she left the man’s side again.

After watching his wife’s departure, the man grumbled, “…She’s finally gone,” and opened his little book again. “Hmm…no matter what I write, it’s not right…hmm…” As he muttered, he gripped his pen.

This was, again, my first experience exploring the world beyond my hometown. The place I’d been born had no entertainment to speak of, and so it was also my first time ever seeing a person engaged in the authorial craft.

“…………”

So I couldn’t help but stare at the man with curious eyes.

“What would be good for an opening passage…? What can I write that will actually be right…? Hmm…I don’t know.”

“…………”

Even though I was peering straight at his notebook, at point-blank range, I doubt anyone could blame me. Surely it was unavoidable?

“Of course, if I use even one cheesy line here—hmm?”

“…………”

I made eye contact with the man.

“…………”

The man said nothing.

“Hello,” I greeted him.

“…………” And yet the man still said nothing. Then he slammed his notebook closed and shouted, “Wh-who are you?! Don’t go around staring at people!”

He raised his voice again, as he had done with his wife. He seemed to have a habit of yelling whenever anyone approached him, almost like a reflex.

“Ah, s-sorry…” But I was still very naive in those days, so I flinched a little when he suddenly got angry at me. “It’s my first time ever seeing an author, so…”

“Humph…what are you, a child…?”

Perhaps because he realized, a little late, that the person he was addressing was indeed a young girl of tender years, at that point the man finally seemed to remember to act like an adult. “Are you interested in novels?” he asked.

“…………” I nodded in agreement.

“Is that so?”

On the cover of the notebook in the man’s hands was written: For My Wife.

I wonder if that’s the book’s title?

“Is that your new work?” I pointed to the notebook, but the man shook his head.

“No.”

“…? No?”

What’s that supposed to mean?

“This isn’t a novel. You don’t know that?”

I shook my head.

“Hmm…a foreigner, huh?” The man took a long, hard look at my appearance. “This is a book for safekeeping at the library.”

Then the man slowly looked back over his shoulder toward the fountain…and the library…and told me something interesting.

Apparently, in that country, they had a rather peculiar way of utilizing the library.

Originally, as I’m sure you know, the name library indicates a facility that holds books that are in common circulation, books that people are allowed to read for free. However, in this country, libraries apparently had another role.

“The libraries here accept people’s notebooks for safekeeping. Like diaries and memos and such.”

According to that man, there had always been a lot of people in the Land of Letters engaged in the literary profession, and at the same time, there had been a fair number of writers working in the libraries.

The writers would bring their own notebooks with them, and as they read other books and did research, they also produced new stories right there at the library. But the more notebooks a writer filled, the more bothersome it grew to bring them all every time. And at the same time, writers started jotting down passages in each other’s notebooks, starting a fad for a sort of game of composing novels in tandem. So the libraries started holding on to people’s notebooks for them.

The writers were thrilled when it became possible for them to work at the library without bringing heavy baggage with them every day.

Before long, word got around that the library would store notebooks, and shortly thereafter, people began using the library for safekeeping of things like diaries exchanged between lovers or messages to their future selves.

Actually, at that point, the man informed me that this had become the most common way of using the library.

But in that case…

“So the thing you’re writing is a love letter to your wife?”

To put it simply, that’s what you’re doing, right?

“……” The man was quiet for a moment. “…I suppose it is,” he said with a bitter look.

From his naked chagrin, it wasn’t difficult to imagine that he had only written the introduction.

“It’s hard to say it to her out loud, so…I thought I could do a better job in writing, but I haven’t been able to come up with the right words. And I’m supposed to be an author…” The man scratched his head.

It also wasn’t difficult to imagine that he was worried about the way he had been treating his wife.

“Well, even if I don’t make a point of writing these things down, I’m sure my wife already knows how I feel.”

I recalled his extremely calm wife, who was such a contrast to her husband. Sure enough, she had seemed a bit curious about what he had been writing. But she simply flashed a knowing smile as he shouted about how busy he was “preparing his new work.”

However…

“But even if she already knows, that doesn’t mean it’s okay not to write it down.” The man stroked his notebook, which was very thin because of all the pages he had torn out, and told me, “Every story, every thought, first has meaning when you put it into words. It may as well not exist while it’s still in your head. That’s why I write things down like this—”

As he spoke, he gazed out over the city, as if he was searching for his wife.

“Have you decided what you want to write?”

In response to my vague question, the man nodded.

“I guess I have. I’ve decided. But there’s too much.”

Oh-hoh.

“And that’s why you’re having such trouble with it?”

There are too many things you want to write, and you’re struggling because of it?

That was my personal understanding.

But the man smiled and shook his head.

“I’m having trouble because I’m simply embarrassed.”

I met up with my teacher again later that evening, and we stayed at an inn near the fountain plaza.

“I see…”

When my teacher heard about everything that had happened to me earlier that day, she nodded in understanding. “So that’s why the bookstores in this country are selling so many of those strange little notebooks…”

As she spoke, she pulled a notebook from her breast pocket. It was an exact match for the one the man in town had been holding.

“Where did you get that…?”

“I bought a bunch of them before we got here, for business purposes. You can have one.”

“Uh-huh…”

For business? What on earth does that mean?

“This is my second time visiting this place, but I didn’t know you all had that kind of book culture. Let’s go check out the library tomorrow. Doesn’t it sound fun to send your future self a message?” My teacher beamed with sudden enthusiasm.

Wait, I’m really happy that you’re so enthusiastic, and I appreciate the notebook, too, but I just have to ask…

“Miss, aren’t you under surveillance by the city guard? Is it all right for you to do something like visit the library?”

She had picked a fight with the authorities earlier that afternoon, so I had thought for sure that we would be leaving the country in the morning.

“Not a problem. I resolved that with a few pieces of gold.”

“With money…!”

At the risk of sounding tedious, I knew nothing of the world in those days, so I thought, My teacher is so amazing, solving problems with money when she’s in trouble! I was a hopeless moron.

“By the way, what kind of business are you going to do with these notebooks?”

It was a simple question.

When I asked, my teacher chuckled, “Heh,” and answered me with a slightly boastful smile. “We’ll turn them into gold.”

When I looked carefully at the notebook’s cover, I saw the title written on it: The Book of Infinite Possibilities.

…………

It really is like mother, like daughter, huh…?

That’s the end of my story from the past.

I’ve grown up quite a lot since then, and as I walked around the Land of Letters once again, it seemed that the place was smaller and less impressive than it had looked all those years ago.

My first visit to the Land of Letters had happened many years prior, so unfortunately, I didn’t have a clear picture of the city’s layout. Consequently, I ended up wandering aimlessly around town just as I had done before, admiring the view and picking up memories along the way.

As might be expected of a place called the Land of Letters, the streets were lined with numerous bookshops.

There was one dealing in querulous academic tomes; one selling light, entertaining novels; a specialist shop selling the kind of notebooks that the library stored; and so on and so forth.

I looked around at the many shops.

“…Oh!”

Shortly thereafter, I arrived at a certain store, where I encountered a familiar face.

It was moody-looking, with a furrowed brow. The image of a man I had met long ago was there in front of the bookstore, looking entirely unchanged.

“…………”

But unlike before, he did not speak a word to me. He didn’t raise his voice at me, and he didn’t seem at all troubled. He just stared in my direction, with a keen sparkle in his eyes.

As it turned out, I had only come across the image of the man, printed on a flimsy sheet of paper in a bookstore window.

“…So you really were a famous author, huh?”

The store mostly sold popular literature, and they were hosting a book fair promoting the writing of the same man I’d exchanged words with so long ago. As his image stared down at me, I stooped over to get a better look at his novels, which were lined up in the window of the shop. At a glance, there seemed to be quite a few of them.

Since I had come all that way to get to the shop and see a familiar old face, the thought of turning around and leaving made me feel a little lonely, so I picked up a book off one of the shelves and bought it.

I couldn’t help but feel that if I let this opportunity get away, I would never happen across this author again.

Clutching the book I had just purchased, I headed out of the shop, and just before I’d left it behind, I turned to look back at the store again.

IN MEMORIAM, FIVE YEARS—read the little poster, and next to the text, the image of the man I’d once known.

OFFICIAL NOTICE: WE ARE HOLDING A BOOK ADDRESSED TO YOU.

Looking at the scrap of paper I had been handed when I entered the city, I retraced my earlier footsteps. I was supposed to present my immigration paperwork at the library, where I would then receive the book that was waiting for me.

The notice said the book had been addressed to me, but as far as I could remember, there was no one in this country whom I would have considered a friend, much less a lover or anything like that.

But that didn’t mean I had no clue about the sender.

I figured it was probably the notebook I had written for myself, which was being held in the library’s collection.

Let me see, what on earth did I write in that notebook?

Unfortunately, although I remembered going to the library, I had completely forgotten what I had recorded in The Book of Infinite Possibilities that I had been given by my teacher. I racked my brain over it, but I hadn’t remembered anything by the time I made it to the fountain plaza.

“Hello.”

In fact, as I arrived at the fountain plaza, I had given up trying to tug at the thread of memory.

When I raised my head, I could see a woman sitting alone on a bench, her back to the fountain. She was looking up at me.

“That book…do you like it?” The woman’s gaze fell on the single book I was carrying in my hand.

“I haven’t read it yet, so I don’t know whether I like it or not.”

“Oh…of course. I’m sorry, I haven’t seen it for a while, and I just—” The woman’s hand was placed elegantly over her mouth.

She smiled in a familiar way.

There was a single tattered notebook sitting on her lap.

Maybe it was because I was staring intently at her notebook, or maybe she caught a glimpse of my immigration inspection form.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” the woman asked quietly.

I shook my head.

“That’s right, I came here from a country very far away.”

“For what purpose?”

Instead of answering, I pointed to the notebook in her hands.

The woman seemed to understand my gesture. “Oh!” She smiled broadly. “Who are you exchanging notebooks with?”

“My past self. Though I don’t really recall what I wrote.”

“I see. Well, that should be fun,” she said.

I nodded. “And did your husband give you that notebook?”

The woman tilted her head. “Yes…” I got the answer I was expecting. “He was a useless man, and he had a short temper.”

Her notebook, which had once been very fine, now looked shabby, and when I studied it more closely, I could see that it had become extremely thin. I was certain that he must have tried to rewrite it over and over again after meeting me. The results of all his agonizing were in there.

The woman lovingly stroked the tattered, crumbling notebook. “But he was a good husband,” she whispered.

“…What was written in the notebook?”

I was drawn in by curiosity. I couldn’t help but wonder what the man had finally written to her, after all his agonizing.

“Just a single phrase.”

With a smile, the woman handed the notebook over to me. “I suppose he must have been too embarrassed to say it to my face.”

I took the notebook from her and opened it.

“…………”

Sure enough, inside was written something that would have been a little embarrassing to say to someone face-to-face.

The inside of the library was packed with books as far as the eye could see.

It was just as you’d expect in a place that called itself the Land of Letters. The light streaming down from the glass-paneled ceiling illuminated all the shelves full of books.

“Welcome to the library.”

As my teacher and I approached the reception desk together, the woman sitting on the other side of the counter informed us that the rumors had been accurate. At that library, you could borrow ordinary publications, but it was also possible to bring your own notebook to deposit there.

“Well then, maybe you’ll be kind enough to take this girl’s notebook for safekeeping,” my teacher said to the receptionist, and she pushed me forward.

I looked up at her reflexively. “You don’t want to leave something, teacher?”

“Nah.” She shook her head casually. “I’ve only ever done bad things in this country. Even if I wrote something, I wouldn’t be able to come back and get it.” My teacher shrugged. “One day, when you’re an adult,” she added, “you’ve got to come back to this place.”

“…All right then, please take care of this.” I handed my notebook to the receptionist with both hands.

I had filled it in overnight. After worrying endlessly about what I should write, in the end, I had written the kind of sweet nonsense that would give me a good laugh later, when I was an adult who had forgotten she had even written such a thing.

I had written it for my adult self.

“We are honored to receive it.”

The receptionist accepted my notebook. After staring at it curiously for a few moments, she informed me that I could get it back the next time I visited the city by bringing my immigration inspection form to the library.

That was why I decided to visit again once I was grown.

Once I was so grown up that I had forgotten what I had written.

“What sort of things did you write?” my teacher asked as we left the library.

I answered her, “I posed a question for my future self.”

On a matter I’m a little embarrassed to mention out loud.

I was taken into custody by the city guard, harshly interrogated for a long time—well into the evening, in fact—and then on top of that, I was forced to pay a fine, and then finally, I received a severe scolding before they eventually set me free.

After all that, I was already completely exhausted by the time I met up with Miss Fran. I didn’t even have enough energy left to eat dinner.

“I’m back…”

My voice was weak when I finally made it to the inn. I was completely drained.

“Welcome back. Looks like you had a rough time.” Miss Fran greeted me cheerfully as always. She seemed to be in the middle of reading something. She was lying down on the bed with a book in her hands.

She’s certainly made herself at home…

Seems like she had a completely different day than I did… I’m jealous…

As I gazed enviously at my teacher, my eyes landed on a little notebook lying on the bed beside her.

“…………?”

I had seen that notebook before. It had a familiar cover that said: The Book of Infinite Possibilities.

What’s this?

“…Did I…give you that notebook?”

I don’t remember doing that, but…?

“No.” Miss Fran shook her head. “I’ve always had this.”

“But I feel I’m the only person who would think up such a strange title.”

“You may be surprised to find that you’re not alone.”

“Who else, then?”

“Someone very strange.”

“Must be. I can tell by looking at it.”

“…………”

Miss Fran made a face that was difficult to describe.

“Anyway, I’m extremely tired after today, so I’m going to hurry up and have a bath, then go to bed right away…”

The moment I had reached the inn, all my weariness had come crashing down on me at once.

I don’t want to do anything else today.

“That makes sense.” Miss Fran nodded from her bed. “Get a good night’s sleep.”

Her voice was much gentler than usual. As she spoke, she waved me off with her hand.

When I looked back at her, I saw her smiling nostalgically.

True to her word, Elaina had her bath, and then, after barely drying her hair, she said good night and flopped into bed without even eating dinner.

She must have been exhausted from her ordeal. Before long, I started to hear snoring coming from her bed.

I had also finished reading my book, so I closed it with a snap and got up.

Sitting nearby was a single slim notebook.

It was the one I had written to myself all those years ago.

“…………”

I opened the notebook.

The thin notebook had only one page remaining. It looked like the version of me in the past had had some trouble finding the right words and had rewritten the same entry again and again, only to tear out the page every time.

“So, in the end, I was only able to write this one thing, huh?”

Just like the man I had met so long ago, I must have had too many things I wanted to write and no way to sort them all out. No matter what I wrote, I must have felt embarrassed by it.

In my desperation, I had settled on a single phrase. It filled the entire page.

A message was written there for me, from the past to the future.

Maybe it was also a message for someone other than me.

“…………” I peered over at Elaina, who was still sleeping peacefully in bed.

She was lying on her side, breathing deeply in her sleep. She had seemed awfully tired. Now it looked like she was completely immersed in a dream.

She doesn’t seem likely to wake up.

“…………”

Just for a moment, I felt the urge to cause mischief.

“…Hey.” I poked at her cheek.

“Nnh…” Elaina frowned in irritation. But as I had expected, she seemed to be in dreamland, and her quiet breathing remained steady.

She’s really asleep.

“…………”

Perhaps because I’d just finished reading one of his books, the words of the man I’d once met passed through my mind.

“Every story, every thought, first has meaning when you put it into words. It may as well not exist while it’s still in your head.”

That was what he had told me long ago.

Whether you get your feelings across or not, ultimately, if you don’t put them down in words, they don’t mean anything, he had explained.

“…………”

Now that she was sleeping, there wouldn’t be much meaning in me saying the words to Elaina.

Because ultimately, they wouldn’t make it through to her.

So I decided to treat the moment purely as a rehearsal.

I stroked her long, soft hair. She frowned a little, as if it tickled, and I put one finger on her exposed ear and whispered, “Thank you so much for saving me back then.”

I’m here by your side now because you saved my life long ago.

My past self asked my present self a question.

Just one question, about something a little embarrassing to say out loud.

Do you still like Elaina? the notebook asked.

Yes, indeed, I thought.

“I love her.”

The next morning, Elaina and I ate our breakfast in the hotel room, rubbing our sleepy eyes, then set out to leave the city at a leisurely pace.

We could have done a little more sightseeing, but Elaina had suggested, “Why don’t we leave today?” so we’d decided to do that. I don’t suppose she wanted to stay all that long in a place where she’d been so sternly reprimanded.

She was so much like her mother. I was sure that long ago, my teacher must have also actually wanted to leave the country as soon as possible, even as she headed for the library. The only reason she hadn’t left right away was because I had been there with her.

“…………”

I walked along, gazing aimlessly around the city, taking one last look.

A cobblestone road stretched out straight ahead. The buildings lining each side had white walls that were dazzlingly bright in the sunlight. Along the road, I saw a bookstore, a post office, a café where one could read books, a museum dedicated to famous authors, and a sign for a store related to their writings.

This was the Land of Letters.

A wonderful place, full of lots of words.

“Nnh…”

And then, just as the city gates came into view, Elaina turned and stared directly into my eyes and started moving her mouth impatiently, as if she had something stuck in her teeth.

…………?

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

Elaina stared at me in absolute silence.

“…………”

Then, after letting out another groan and brooding for a bit, she said, “To tell the truth, there’s one thing I forgot to say to you earlier.”

My, my…

“What is it? Were there more crimes to confess…?”

More fraud? Is there more to say about your schemes? I’m going to get cross with you this time, you know!

I frowned a little at the thought.

But it seemed my conjecture was completely misplaced.

“That’s not it!” Elaina asserted coldly.

She looked a little sulky.

“Well then, what?”

I stopped walking and asked her again, tilting my head.

We were right in front of the gate.

Elaina fell silent again and made a troubled, slightly peevish face, then let out a huge sigh.

“Miss Fran.”

She took one step toward me and straightened her back.

Then she brushed my hair and placed one finger on my ear.

And she whispered a single phrase.

“You’re welcome.”

It took a little bit of time before I understood what her words meant and what they were referring to.

After standing up tall for just one moment, Elaina then immediately stepped out in front of me, said, “Well then, shall we go?” and walked on toward the gate.

She didn’t turn to look back at me for some time.

“…Yes, let’s.”

I followed after her footsteps, feeling a little relieved that she didn’t look back.