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Morning sunlight streamed through the atelier’s tall windows, bathing the cozy home in warm golden light. Dust motes drifted lazily through the air as the girls finished dressing and hurried downstairs, eager to begin another day.
They found their teachers already in the living room.
Qifrey knelt before the stone fireplace, calmly arranging fresh logs upon the dying embers, coaxing the flames back to life. Across him, Olruggio lounged comfortably on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, looking as though he had been there for quite some time. The easy silence between them suggested they had been in conversation before the girls arrived.
Both men looked up.
“Good morning, girls,” Qifrey greeted warmly.
“Good morning, Master Qifrey! Master Olruggio!” the girls chimed in unison.
Before anyone could say another word, Tetia’s attention was caught by a large burlap sack resting conspicuously in the middle of the carpet. “What is that, Master Qifrey?” she asked, pointing curiously.
Unable to resist, the girls gathered around it in a loose circle, their eyes fixed on the mysterious sack. Curiosity practically sparkled across every face.
Still tending the fire, Qifrey didn’t even glance over his shoulder. “You might want to ask its owner.”
As one, the girls turned toward the only other adult in the room.
Olruggio rested an elbow against the arm of the sofa, a faintly amused smile tugging at his lips.
“Fan mail.”
“Fan mail?!” The girls repeated in unison. “Whooooa!” Their eyes widened with astonishment.
“I’ve never seen a fan mail before,” Coco admitted, her eyes fixed on the bulging sack. “I thought only celebrities got those.” She looked up at Olruggio, genuine wonder shining across her face. “Does that mean you’re a celebrity, Master Olruggio?”
The other girls whipped their heads toward him. “Whooooa!”
Olruggio sighed almost imperceptibly. Setting his raised foot on the floor, he scratched the back of his head, looking faintly embarrassed by the attention. “No. I am not.”
“Oh, don’t mind him,” Qifrey said with a quiet chuckle as he dusted the ash from his hands. “Olly’s simply being modest.”
Olruggio shot him a flat look, which Qifrey chuckled about. He gestured toward the overflowing sack. “These only started arriving after the Silver Eve Festival.”
Qifrey smiled to himself as he settled another log onto the fire. “I suppose your performance that night earned you quite the following.” His lone eye drifted toward Olruggio, gleaming with amusement. “You’re practically a pop star now.”
Olruggio let out a long, weary sigh, already regretting where the conversation was headed. “That’s exactly the sort of exaggeration I’m talking about.”
“And a correction,” Qifrey said, glancing over his shoulder with a knowing smile. “You didn’t start receiving these only after the Silver Eve Festival. You’ve been getting fan mail ever since the Glowing Stone Path.”
Olruggio didn’t even bother looking at him. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Master Olruggio, may I open the sack?” Tetia asked, already bouncing with excitement. “I want to see! I want to see!”
Olruggio chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Go ahead.”
That was all the permission the girls needed. They hurried to untie the sack, gathering around it shoulder to shoulder. The coarse fabric fell away, revealing its contents.
Letters.
Dozens upon dozens of them.
No…
Hundreds!
Envelopes of every size and color filled the sack to the brim, some adorned with pressed flowers, others sealed with colorful wax or decorated with careful drawings and elegant handwriting.
The girls stared in stunned silence.
Then, as if sharing the same thought “Whooooa.”
“There’s so many!” Agott blurted out, stating the obvious as she stared into the sack.
“Master Olruggio,” Coco asked, carefully picking up one of the envelopes, “are you keeping all of these?”
Olruggio shook his head. “No, my letter box is full.”
That caught Qifrey’s attention.
He’s keeping letters? he thought.
As far as Qifrey could remember, Olruggio had never cared much for fan mail. He rarely even bothered to read it, let alone keep it.
“I’m far too busy to read every letter.” He nodded toward the crackling fireplace that Qifrey is currently preparing. “I was planning to burn them.”
“Whaaaat?!” The girls cried out in unison, their voices filled with disbelief.
“That’s terrible, Master Olruggio!” Tetia protested, clutching a handful of envelopes to her chest. “Whoever wrote these letters poured their hearts into them!”
“And who knows?” Richeh added matter-of-factly. “There might even be money inside.”
Olruggio paused. “…I hadn’t considered that.” He rubbed his beard thoughtfully before letting out a resigned sigh. “I suppose burning them would be rather rude. It’s just…” He glanced at the mountain of letters. “I simply don’t have the time to read them all.”
Coco’s eyes lit up. “Then we’ll read them for you!”
The other girls immediately nodded in eager agreement. “Please!”
Olruggio couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm.
“By all means.” His gaze shifted to Coco. “You start. It was your idea.”
Coco beamed. “Okay!”
She rummaged through the sack until she found an elegant envelope adorned with delicate floral patterns. Cradling it carefully in both hands, she broke the seal and unfolded the neatly folded letter inside. She cleared her throat dramatically before reading aloud.
“Dear Mr. Olruggio,
I just wanted to thank you for the Crystal Flame. It was so awesome and cool! I hope you’ll keep making more amazing things for all of us.”
Coco lowered the letter with a bright smile. “That was sweet.”
The girls continued working through the mountain of letters.
Most were filled with heartfelt gratitude. Some contained handmade bookmarks, pressed flowers, or little coupons for free bread, pastries, or tea as tokens of appreciation.
“Oh!” Tetia exclaimed. “Master Olruggio, this person wants to give you a cat!”
Olruggio, who had begun relaxing against the sofa again, straightened slightly.
“A cat? I don’t want a cat.” He held out a hand. “What’s the letter say?”
Tetia happily continued reading.
“Dear Mr. Olruggio,
I’m your biggest fan! Please let your long Jewel Torch into my tight pus—”
Both adults panicked. In a blur, Olruggio snatched the letter from Tetia’s hands. “Not that one!”
Tetia blinked in confusion. “Huh? Why not?”
Olruggio folded the letter as quickly as he could and shoved it behind his back. His ears had turned a vivid shade of red. “Nothing...” He cleared his throat. “… about the pus—cat—I mean cat… I don’t want one. I’m allergic.”
The girls exchanged puzzled looks before shrugging and reaching for more letters.
A moment later, Agott frowned at another envelope. “This one’s kind of rude, Master Olruggio.” She unfolded it. “It says, ‘I’d love to sit on your face—’”
Qifrey appeared beside her almost instantly, smiling far too brightly as he plucked the letter from her fingers. “I think that’s quite enough reading for now.”
Before anyone could protest, Richeh reached into the sack. “Oh! This one has something inside.” She pulled out a lacy pair of women’s underwear. “The fan might have thought you’re a woman.”
Both adults lunged at once.
“Richeh!”
Qifrey whisked the garment away so quickly it was little more than a blur before tossing it into the fireplace. “Please go wash your hands.”
Richeh tilted her head. “Why, Master Qifrey?”
He gently turned her toward the washroom, resting both hands on her shoulders. “It’s best not to touch a stranger’s personal belongings. Off you go.”
“…Okay.”
As Richeh obediently trotted away, Olruggio buried his face in one hand and let out the deepest sigh of the morning. “…That’s enough reading.”
“Awwww…” the girls groaned in unison.
“But there are still so many left!” Coco complained.
Qifrey clapped his hands together with practiced enthusiasm. “I know it’s fun but it’s time for today’s lesson, my dear pupils.”
The chorus of disappointed sighs that followed was enough to make even Olruggio feel a little guilty.
“Let’s have today’s lesson outside,” Qifrey suggested. The study room, which also served as their living room, was still in complete disarray. “Go fetch your things and wait for me in the garden.”
The girls nodded obediently before filing upstairs, still grumbling about the abrupt end to fan mail reading.
Once the atelier had fallen quiet, Olruggio crouched beside the scattered envelopes, gathering them back into the burlap sack. With a weary sigh, he dragged it closer to the fireplace.
“…Jeez. That was a little too close.”
Qifrey settled cross-legged on the rug opposite him, the bulging sack between them. He tossed another log onto the fire, and the flames crackled warmly.
Olruggio began feeding a handful of letters into the fire. “There’s a reason I never read these.”
One by one, the envelopes curled and blackened in the flames. “Thought it’s going to be different this time. Sorry.”
Qifrey smiled knowingly. “No apology necessary. At least now we know to keep your fan mail well out of their reach.”
Olruggio gave a tired grunt in agreement.
After a brief silence, Qifrey tilted his head “Though I am curious.” His eye drifted toward the sack. “I remember how delighted you were when you received your first twenty letters. What changed?”
Olruggio didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he picked up another envelope, glanced at the handwriting, and tossed it straight into the fire without opening it. “…Well, for one…”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Some people have an alarming lack of shame.”
Qifrey raised an eyebrow. “That bad?”
Olruggio gave him a flat look. “I’ve received indecent sketches… suggestive letters…” He sighed. “Nude pictures are even worse.”
Qifrey’s face warmed with embarrassment. “…I don’t think I need any further details.”
“You really don’t.”
Another letter disappeared into the flames.
Qifrey rested his chin on one hand, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “…The price of fame.”
Olruggio watched the fire consume another envelope before speaking. “I’d like a refund then.”
Qifrey let out a chuckle.
“I only wanted to make things that people could use.” Olruggio’s gaze lingered on the dancing flames. “When I see someone using the Crystal Flame to light their home… or a child playing safely because of something I built…” A small, genuine smile softened his usually stoic expression. “That’s enough for me.”
He nudged the sack lightly with his boot.
“This…” He gestured toward the mountain of letters. “I can do without.”
Qifrey’s smile grew warmer. “I thought you’d say that.”
Olruggio huffed a quiet laugh. “If people remember my inventions more than they remember me, I’d consider that a life well lived.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The fire crackled gently between them.
Then Qifrey rose to his feet and brushed the ash from his robes. “Well I need to go. My apprentices are waiting for me.”
Olruggio looked up. “Go on. I still need to burn this stuff.”
Qifrey retreated and leave Olruggio with his bunch of fan mail.
“Olly? I brought some snacks.” Qifrey’s voice drifted through the partially open door.
He waited.
No answer.
“…Olly?”
Silence greeted him once more.
“I’ll let myself in, alright?”
He slipped inside and quietly climbed the ladder to the loft.
There, sprawled across the bed, Olruggio slept soundly, one arm draped over his eyes as the afternoon sunlight filtered through the window, casting warm patches of gold across the room.
A fond smile found its way onto Qifrey’s face.
Good thing I didn’t call any louder.
The thought amused him. For once, Olruggio had managed to fall asleep without interruption, and Qifrey had no intention of changing that.
Careful not to make a sound, he set the tray of tea and freshly baked snacks on the small bedside table. Olruggio’s workbench was, as usual, buried beneath tools, blueprints, and half-finished inventions, leaving scarcely enough room for a teacup.
Qifrey turned to leave.
Then his eyes wandered.
Against the far wall stood a tall cabinet lined with dozens of shallow drawers, each meticulously labeled in Olruggio’s neat handwriting.
He had seen the cabinet countless times before. Yet after their conversation that morning, one particular label immediately caught his attention.
Mail.
Qifrey paused.
Olruggio had mentioned over breakfast that his mailbox had become so full he no longer had room to keep everything.
His curiosity stirred.
Was this where he’d been storing the letters all this time?
Qifrey found himself staring at the little drawer a moment longer than he probably should have. Knowing Olruggio, Qifrey could never imagine him keeping letters as keepsakes. Affection from strangers had never seemed to matter to him. So what made these different?
Were they from someone important?
The thought surfaced before he could stop it.
His lips pressed into a faint pout.
…Someone special?
A dull sting settled in his chest.
He looked away from the drawer.
It’s private. None of your business. He told himself… and yet in a brief moment, he was standing right in front of it.
Qifrey let out a silent groan and covered his face with one hand.
“You’re hopeless, Qifrey.”
His fingers hovered over the small brass handle.
Just one look.
One look.
No. He shouldn’t.
Yes! He shouldn’t!
.
.
.
And yet, he opened the drawer anyway.
He took a peak and inside were only three envelopes.
He blinked.
Only three?
Olruggio had said this morning that his mailbox was overflowing that he couldn’t keep another. Qifrey had expected stacks upon stacks of old letters.
Instead, the drawer held only these.
He gently picked them up.
The moment he recognized the familiar handwriting, his breath caught.
“…”
These were his.
The three letters he had written during their apprentice days.
Back when Master Beldaruit had taken him on a three-month educational journey, leaving Olruggio at the Great Hall. He had promised to write once every month.
And he had kept that promise.
For a long moment, Qifrey simply stared.
A gentle warmth blossomed in his chest.
It spread through him so suddenly that the Silverwood Tree nestled within his body stirred in response. Silvery branches shimmered beneath his skin, and started to escape his right eye.
“…Olly…”
His voice was scarcely more than a whisper.
So these…
These were the letters Olruggio had chosen to keep.
Not fan mail.
Not praise from strangers.
Just three simple letters from a lonely apprentice who had missed his best friend.
A smile tugged at Qifrey’s lips before guilt settled over him just as quickly.
“…What am I doing?”
His smile faded.
He carefully returned each envelope exactly where he had found it and slid the drawer shut.
He had invaded Olruggio’s privacy.
The thought alone was enough to calm the Silverwood Tree’s excited glow. The warmth gradually receded, and he released a slow, steady breath.
Turning around, he looked toward the bed.
Olruggio was still fast asleep, oblivious to everything.
Qifrey walked over quietly and pulled the blanket higher over Olruggio’s shoulder.
Then he sat gently on the edge of the bed.
For a long moment, he simply watched the sleeping man. A helpless smile touched his lips before slowly fading into a look of quiet longing.
He let out a soft sigh.
“…What am I ever going to do with us, Olly?”
Impatience grew with each passing day.
No matter how many memories he erased, it was never enough. Every moment of warmth he shared with Olruggio gave those feelings another chance to bloom, as though his heart remembered what his mind refused to keep.