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The Letters

Chapter 4 - The Letters

π‘¬π’π’Šπ’‚π’'𝒔 𝑷𝑢𝑽

It's been a few months since that gal, Rose, joined CHO as an agent. Ever since then, my life has been.. eventful, to say the least.

___________________________________________

𝑭𝑳𝑨𝑺𝑯𝑩𝑨π‘ͺ𝑲𝑺:

"You should have returned to the headquarters, Elian."

"And let you storm through this world alone? I'm not that irresponsible."

Rose didn't reply. She didn't thank me either. She just stared ahead as the train shook. Her voice was cold. "I don't need you."

I glanced at her. "I know."

I said it with a soft sigh. I leaned back in my seat, watching her from the corner of my eye as she turned her gaze back to the window. She didn't need meβ€”yet still, I stayed. Because of the CHO..

---------------------------------------------

'Time sure flies... Ah, rightβ€”breakfast first.'

The mansion was quiet. Too quiet. My footsteps echoed off the pristine marble floor as I descended the stairs, the early morning light filtering through tall, cathedral-like windows. The walls were lined with oil paintings that felt older than time itselfβ€”elegant, intimidating, and definitely too expensive for someone like me to accidentally sneeze near.

The scent of garlic, cream, and fresh herbs wafted from the dining area. On the massive tableβ€”long enough to seat a small armyβ€”was an immaculate breakfast spread. Pasta with saffron cream sauce, toasted bread still warm from the oven, and fruit cut into exact geometric shapes.

I blinked. Seriously? Who eats pasta for breakfast...?

But then again, this was Rose's house.

She didn't cook. The food was made by a private chef on CHO's payrollβ€”some Michelin-starred culinary prodigy who now made eggs and carbs for an S-rank agent every morning.

This mansion gave me the creeps. Not because it was haunted, but because it wasn't. It was sterile. Lifeless. The black marble floors were so polished I could see my own stunned reflection staring back at me. Walls decorated with crimson and gold, but no signs of lifeβ€”no clutter, no stray socks, no scratched floors or crooked paintings. Everything was perfect.

Too perfect.

It was a place that tried to look like a home but felt more like a stage.

I plopped into the nearest chair and began eating the pasta without ceremony. I never stopped thinking about how empty the house sounded. Not silentβ€”empty. As if even sound didn't want to linger here.

This is the price of power, huh?

Ever since Rose ranked up to S-rank, she'd been living like this. Missions completed in record time, accolades piled high. She became the face of the agencyβ€”and I, well... I became her errand boy. "Guide" was just a nice way of saying "do everything for her."

Still, it wasn't all bad. The food was great. And she didn't talk much, so I had plenty of time to myselfβ€”until now.

I checked the time. 7:54 a.m. Rose would be up in six minutes. I knew her routine down to the second by nowβ€”she was nothing if not precise. Time to deliver her daily burden: the mail.

Groaning, I pushed away from the table. My stomach was full, but my soul was already tired.

She hated the internet, called it a "parasite of modern humans." So instead, she had everythingβ€”everythingβ€”sent to her through paper mail. Books. Reports. Letters. Even fan mail from people who didn't know she'd rather set herself on fire than read their affection.

I reached the massive front door, opened itβ€”

β€”and froze.

The mailbox was overflowing. Letters crammed into every inch. One or two even spilled onto the floor the moment I pulled it open.

With a sigh, I gathered the mountain of envelopes and dumped them unceremoniously onto a side table. As I began sorting them by color and sender like some medieval librarian, one envelope slipped from my fingers and fluttered to the ground.

It was marked with CHO's official seal. Routine memo, probably.

But behind it... was something else.

I picked up the second letter and blinked. A glossy black envelope, sealed with a crimson wax stamp shaped like a single ornate letter:

C.

I stared. My breath caught.

___________________________________________

π‘²π’“π’Šπ’•π’‚π’π’•π’‚'𝒔 𝑷𝑢𝑽

Months. Months in this world, and still not a single trace of the thief. My fingers tightened around the cup, my jaw clenched, lips pressed tightly together. I had tracked monsters across bloodied kingdoms. I had crushed rebel nobles under my heel. And yet hereβ€”here in this nauseatingly peaceful placeβ€”I couldn't even sniff out one man.

This morning was quiet. Too quiet.

It's been months since I arrived in this world. Months of searchingβ€”and still no thief. No medicine.

I bit my fingernail. Hard. Blood prickled on my tongue, metallic and grounding.

What if I never find it?

CHO kept burying me in missions. Distractions. Paperwork. Bodies. But no leads. Nothing.

Maybe I need to leave this country. Try somewhere

THUD.

The door slammed open, nearly jumping off its hinges. My heart lurched as I turned sharply. Elian stood there, breath ragged, sweat trailing down the side of his face. His expression was stricken, like he'd seen a ghostβ€”or worse.

"Elian?" I blinked. "What's going onβ€”?"

"Rose. Look at this!" he interrupted, shoving a letter at me, his hands trembling slightly.

I raised an eyebrow. "A letter? Let me guessβ€”CHO again?" I snatched it without ceremony and scoffed. "So they're sending me more homework?"

"Noβ€” Not the CHO." Elian grabbed the letter, flipped it around to show me the envelope stuck to the backβ€”sleek, black, and expensive-looking. A faint chill wafted from it, like snow brushing over bare skin. The seal was wax, silver and ornate, with a large stylized C engraved into it.

"Okay, dramatic. You found a shiny envelope. Want a medal?"

"Rose." He looked almost... rattled. "You don't recognize the symbol?"

"Should I? What, does it stand for 'Chevion' or something?"

"It does."

My heart dropped. "…What?"

"Chevion Academy," Elian said. "One of the biggest institutions in this world."

Chevion.

The word made my stomach twist. In the Demon World, "chevion" was a made-up insult kids usedβ€”something dumb, meaningless. Like calling someone a fartface.

There's no way it's real.

I yanked open the CHO letter with growing suspicion.

There it read:

---------------------------------------------

To: Agent Rose

From: CHO Operations Division

Subject: That Academy Letter

Hey Rose,

First offβ€”stellar work lately. You're pulling off missions like it's your part-time hobby, and the higher-ups are actually smiling (unheard of).

Now, the real reason we're writing: we've been flooded with invites from academies wanting you. After sifting through the chaos, we picked the best fitβ€”Chevion Academy.

Yeah, yeah. We know. "Academy? For brats? No thanks." We get it.

But the truth is, their resources, network, and location are perfectβ€”especially for that unofficial little mission of yours. We figured if we sent the invite alone, you'd burn it. So... we slipped it in with our letter.

This is your new assignment. Don't worry, we did the paperwork. Just show up and maybe scare a few students. You'll do great.

Cheers,

CHO Operations

---------------------------------------------

I stared at the letter, completely fazed, my anger rising with each word.

"Those CHO bastards!" I shouted, crumpling the letter and throwing it off the balcony. My eye twitched. Unbelievable.

"This is a joke," I spat. "This has to be a joke."

I paced the room like a beast in a cage, steps sharp and uneven. "What kind of absurd detour is this? An academy? For what? To sit around with arrogant children and pretend I belong here?"

But the worst partβ€”the part that made me feel like retchingβ€”was the smallest flicker of fear gnawing at my gut. Not fear of the academy, not even of failure, but of wasting time. Of being trapped while Lucian waited. While the thief walked free.

"They really think sending me to school will help? What am I, twelve?!"

Ping-!

Elian checked his phone and said with a straight face. "They just sent a follow-up message. Saidβ€”and I quote: 'Tell Rose it's from the higher-ups. We can't do anything. Also, letters are old-fashioned. Who uses them anymore, right? Haha! Thanks!'

My blood pressure hit a new personal best. I hugged a pillow, seconds away from ripping it in half, when Elian spoke again.

"I know you hate crowds... but you're still young. Maybe it's time to go to an academy, focus on something other than monster-slaying." He sounded too gentle. Like a dad.

"And besides, I heard the princess of Calverand goes there. With your royal tastes, maybe you two will get along?"

He handed me the Chevion letter. I stared at it, the pillow still clutched to my chest. My fingers hesitated... but I took it.

As soon as I opened the letter, a cool winter fragrance drifted out, crisp and clean like fresh snow under moonlight. The letter was neat, heck it was perfect. I couldn't help but notice how beautiful the handwriting was. The letter said:

---------------------------------------------

𝑻𝒐 π‘΄π’Šπ’”π’” 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆,Β 

𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 π’•π’‰π’Šπ’” 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔 π’šπ’π’– π’Šπ’ π’Žπ’π’Žπ’†π’π’•π’” 𝒐𝒇 π’’π’–π’Šπ’†π’• π’”π’•π’“π’†π’π’ˆπ’•π’‰, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’˜π’†π’Šπ’ˆπ’‰π’• π’šπ’π’– π’„π’‚π’“π’“π’š 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔 π’π’Šπ’ˆπ’‰π’•π’π’š 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 π’šπ’π’–π’“ 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 π’Šπ’‡ π’π’π’π’š 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉.Β π‘¨π’π’π’π’˜ π’Žπ’† 𝒕𝒐 π’Šπ’π’•π’“π’π’…π’–π’„π’† π’Žπ’šπ’”π’†π’π’‡β€”π‘¨π’›π’–π’“π’† 𝑬𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒓, π‘·π’“π’†π’”π’Šπ’…π’†π’π’• 𝒐𝒇 π‘ͺπ’‰π’†π’—π’Šπ’π’ π‘¨π’„π’‚π’…π’†π’Žπ’š, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 π’‡π’Šπ’“π’Ž π’ƒπ’†π’π’Šπ’†π’—π’†π’“ π’Šπ’ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒃𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 π’„π’–π’π’•π’Šπ’—π’‚π’•π’Šπ’π’ˆ π’‘π’π’•π’†π’π’•π’Šπ’‚π’ π’˜π’‰π’†π’“π’† π’Šπ’• 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒔 π’ƒπ’“π’Šπ’ˆπ’‰π’•π’†π’”π’•.

π‘»π’‰π’π’–π’ˆπ’‰ π’˜π’† 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’Žπ’†π’•, π’šπ’π’–π’“ π’π’‚π’Žπ’† 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅 π’Žπ’š π’…π’†π’”π’Œ π’Žπ’π’“π’† 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆, π’‚π’„π’„π’π’Žπ’‘π’‚π’π’Šπ’†π’… π’ƒπ’š 𝒏𝒐 π’”π’‰π’π’“π’•π’‚π’ˆπ’† 𝒐𝒇 π’Šπ’π’•π’“π’Šπ’ˆπ’–π’† 𝒂𝒏𝒅 π’’π’–π’Šπ’†π’• π’‚π’…π’Žπ’Šπ’“π’‚π’•π’Šπ’π’. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆, π‘΄π’Šπ’”π’” π‘Ήπ’π’”π’†β€”π’–π’π’…π’†π’π’Šπ’‚π’ƒπ’π’š 𝒔𝒐.

𝑨𝒏𝒅 π’Šπ’• π’Šπ’” π’˜π’Šπ’•π’‰ 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 π’Šπ’ π’Žπ’Šπ’π’… 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 π’Šπ’π’—π’Šπ’•π’‚π’•π’Šπ’π’ 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’šπ’π’– 𝒕𝒐 π’‹π’π’Šπ’ π‘ͺπ’‰π’†π’—π’Šπ’π’ π‘¨π’„π’‚π’…π’†π’Žπ’š. π‘¨π’Žπ’π’π’ˆ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’Šπ’π’”π’•π’Šπ’•π’–π’•π’Šπ’π’π’” 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 π’Šπ’π’•π’†π’“π’†π’”π’• π’Šπ’ π’‰π’π’”π’•π’Šπ’π’ˆ π’”π’π’Žπ’†π’π’π’† 𝒐𝒇 π’šπ’π’–π’“ π’–π’π’Šπ’’π’–π’† π’„π’‚π’π’Šπ’ƒπ’†π’“, π‘ͺπ’‰π’†π’—π’Šπ’π’ 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’Žπ’π’”π’• π’˜π’†π’π’-π’”π’–π’Šπ’•π’†π’…β€”π’π’π’• 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 π’Šπ’• π’Šπ’” 𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕, 𝒏𝒐𝒓 π’ˆπ’“π’‚π’π’…π’†π’”π’•, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 π’Šπ’• π’π’Šπ’”π’•π’†π’π’”.

𝑾𝒆 𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 π’Žπ’†π’“π’†π’π’š 𝒆𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆. 𝑾𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅. 𝑰 π’Šπ’Žπ’‚π’ˆπ’Šπ’π’† π’šπ’π’– π’Žπ’Šπ’ˆπ’‰π’• 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’π’“π’Šπ’ˆπ’Šπ’π’‚π’ 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒔𝒐 𝑰'𝒗𝒆 π’•π’‚π’Œπ’†π’ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’π’Šπ’ƒπ’†π’“π’•π’š 𝒐𝒇 π’†π’π’„π’π’π’”π’Šπ’π’ˆ π’Šπ’• π’˜π’Šπ’•π’‰π’Šπ’ π’•π’‰π’Šπ’” π’π’π’†β€”π’„π’π’π’”π’Šπ’…π’†π’“ π’Šπ’• 𝒂 π’π’–π’…π’ˆπ’†.

𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 π’šπ’π’– 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’π’†π’„π’†π’”π’”π’‚π’“π’š π’‚π’“π’“π’‚π’π’ˆπ’†π’Žπ’†π’π’•π’” π’˜π’Šπ’π’ 𝒃𝒆 π’Žπ’‚π’…π’† π’˜π’Šπ’•π’‰π’π’–π’• 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒐𝒏 π’šπ’π’–π’“ 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕.Β π‘΄π’‚π’š π’šπ’π’– π’˜π’‚π’π’Œ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 π’‡π’π’“π’˜π’‚π’“π’…, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 π’˜π’‰π’†π’ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒉 π’Šπ’” π’–π’π’„π’†π’“π’•π’‚π’Šπ’.Β 

π‘Ύπ’‚π’“π’Ž π’“π’†π’ˆπ’‚π’“π’…π’”,

𝑨𝒛𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝑬𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒓

π‘·π’“π’†π’”π’Šπ’…π’†π’π’• 𝒐𝒇 π‘ͺπ’‰π’†π’—π’Šπ’π’ π‘¨π’„π’‚π’…π’†π’Žπ’š

---------------------------------------------

Somehow, the letter brought a strange sense of calm. As if its presence alone had steadied the chaos in my mind. I sank onto the edge of my bed, the weight of the news finally settling in.

They were right.

Even if I don't want to go to an academy for brats. I really don't... It's so annoying.. But I have no choice. If the CHO deems that the academy can help me then I'd do it, for Luci's sake.

I couldn't find anything through the CHO. But if this "academy" is as prestigious as they claim... maybe I can pull some strings, gain influence, make the right connections.

And really, it wasn't like I had much of a choice.

With a slow exhale, my thoughts finally cleared. The decision came with surprising ease.

I'll go to that academy.

I glanced over at Elian. He was quietly watching me, his expression soft. Had he been trying to comfort me this entire time?

"Elian," I murmured, "where is the academy? And when does it start?"

His eyes lit up, eager to respond. "As I said earlier, most of the prestigious ones are in Aestharra. I believe the new term starts in about two weeks."

I gave a small nod, pushing myself up from the now-disheveled bed. It looked like a storm had passed through itβ€”and judging by how I'd felt earlier, maybe one had. A flash of disappointment flickered through me. I'd lost control. Again.

Elian seemed to notice. He reached out, gently patting my head with a faint smile.

"You haven't eaten yet, right? Go eat. We can talk more after that."

His voice was warm, grounding. I gave a quiet nod and turned to head downstairs.

The reason I came to this world was to find the medicine. If the CHO was right about this academy... then maybe this path, however uncertain, is the one I need to take.

___________________________________________

I stared into the mirror, calm and collected. My reflection wore the new academy uniformβ€”slightly altered, of course. Say what you want about Chevion or Fartface or whatever they call it, but their designers knew what they were doing.

White shirt. Black skirt. Black blazer with the academy's crest. A simple black necktie.

Sleek. Sharp. A little too bland.

Super bland, actually.

That's why I decided to wear a red ribbon instead of the necktie. Still, it suited me even without the ribbon. It had been a while since I bothered dressing up. My hair was done half-up, half-down, tied with a red bow. I hadn't expected much from the person who styled it, but I had to admitβ€”they did a decent job.

I let my eyes drift from the mirror to the window. Light filtered weakly through the dark-tinted glass, casting shadows across the room. Another home I was about to leave behind.

A knock. Elian stepped in.

"Rose, let's go. The portal's ready."

I gave a quiet nod, adjusted my tie, and pulled on the smile I'd practiced for years. Cold. Convincing.

With my luggage in hand, I walked beside him to the yard. CHO agents in uniform were waitingβ€”they'd set up a personal portal for me. How thoughtful.

As I approached, Elian reached out and patted my head with a fond smile.

"Hope we meet again, Rose. Don't scare the students too much," he joked. "Your dorm's prepared. Luggage taken care of. Just focus on the opening ceremony."

I looked at him and allowed a faint smile. "I know. Farewell, Elian."

He waved as I stepped into the portal. The same rush from my last teleportation surged over meβ€”light swallowing everything.

And just like that, I was no longer in Calverand.

Welcome to Aestharra's Chevion Academy.

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