Chapter Text

Ⅰ

The first snow of the season fell quietly that morning. There wasn't enough to blanket the asphalt yet, only tiny flakes drifting lazily through the air before settling upon patches of withered grass, like delicate white petals blooming across ground that had long since lost its summer green.

Although winter had only just arrived, the capital's streets were already bustling with life. Engines rumbled one after another, traffic lights cycled endlessly through their colors, and pedestrians hurried along in thick coats, warm cups of coffee cradled in their hands. The city carried on as it always had, as though the year's first snowfall was nothing more than a picturesque backdrop to its daily routine.

Josephine leaned against the roadside railing. A faded green scarf was wrapped neatly around her neck, though it did little to keep the winter chill from seeping through to her back. Her cheeks had turned rosy from the biting cold, and every breath she exhaled blossomed into a thin veil of mist before dissolving into the air.

Slipping a hand beneath her down coat, she checked the watch fastened around her wrist. More than ten minutes had passed since the time they had agreed upon, yet Isaac—her brother and fellow work colleague—was nowhere to be seen.

Josephine clicked her tongue softly, suppressing a flicker of irritation. Her gaze swept along the street, hoping to catch sight of his familiar figure among the steady stream of pedestrians, but found nothing. After glancing to her left once more, she let out a quiet sigh and decided to wait inside the convenience store across the street. At the very least, she could buy herself a hot cup of coffee and wait somewhere far more comfortable than standing out in the bitter cold.

Before stepping inside, Josephine pulled out her phone and sent Isaac a brief message, letting him know where she would be waiting.

The moment the automatic doors slid open, a wave of warmth enveloped her. Heated air rushed over the skin that had been exposed to the cold, and the tension lingering in her shoulders gradually melted away. She let out a quiet sigh of relief as she slipped off her gloves.

To Josephine's surprise, the convenience store was occupied by only two or three customers. It was quiet—almost silent—a stark contrast to the bustling streets outside, where the capital never truly slept, with an endless stream of cars and pedestrians flowing past without pause.

A week earlier, Josephine and Isaac had received an email from the newspaper's editorial board. Its contents were straightforward: an assignment to cover one of the most influential historical and religious figures whose name was recognized throughout nearly all of the Western Continent, especially in the Kingdom of Loen.

His Grace Leonard Mitchell.

The editorial board also made it clear that if neither of them was interested, the assignment would simply be passed on to another reporter.

Josephine herself never quite understood why the editors had chosen the two of them for the job.

His Grace Leonard Mitchell was hardly someone who needed more publicity. His reputation had long been established before either of them was born. Stories of his heroism had been passed down from one generation to the next, while his poems had been republished countless times, becoming part of the literary canon that nearly everyone had read at some point in their lives.

In fact, only a few months ago, Josephine had seen the original manuscript of one of his poems displayed in a museum not far from here.

As for his writings...

It wasn't that Josephine meant any disrespect—or, worse, blasphemy—toward someone held in such universal reverence. It was simply that, if she were being honest, Leonard Mitchell's earliest works had never impressed her very much. They felt rough around the edges, as though they had been written by someone still searching for his own voice and style. That was in sharp contrast to the works from the final years of his life, which were undeniably beautiful, mature, and nearly flawless.

Then again, wasn't that only natural? Everyone begins as a learner before eventually mastering their craft.

And yet... It still felt strangely difficult to imagine that His Grace Deacon Leonard Mitchell had once stood at that very point. He had long since become a legend. It was hard to believe that even a legend had once produced works that were merely ordinary.

Still, don't misunderstand.

Josephine didn't belong to any faith. Everything she knew about Leonard Mitchell came from the perspective of history rather than belief. If she had to name the period of history she found most fascinating, she would instead choose the history of the Church of the Fool. The way it had emerged seemingly out of nowhere, endured the chaos of war, and eventually grew into one of the Orthodox Churches of the Western Continent had always captured her interest.

...All right. Her thoughts were wandering again. Now, where was she?

Ah, right.

At first, Josephine genuinely couldn't understand why they had been assigned to write an article about His Grace Leonard Mitchell. It seemed as though every conceivable aspect of the man's life had already been researched, documented, and discussed over and over again for decades.

Only then did something occur to her.

About a month ago, a historical novel based on Leonard Mitchell's life had become the talk of the entire country. Its sales had far exceeded every expectation, and nearly every bookstore had placed it prominently on its front display shelves.

What was the author's name again? Josephine furrowed her brows, trying to remember. If she recalled correctly... F.W.

At least, those were the only two letters printed on the book's cover. The author had chosen to conceal their identity behind a pair of initials.

Perhaps the novel's overwhelming success was precisely why the editorial board had decided it was the right time to publish another feature on His Grace Leonard Mitchell.

Long story short, after a lengthy discussion, Josephine and Isaac eventually accepted the editorial board's offer. There was no real downside to it.

They would still be paid by the company, and truth be told... the newsroom hadn't had many stories worth covering for nearly two weeks. For a reporter, that kind of lull was far more torturous than chasing after an elusive interviewee.

The real surprise came two days ago. Even Isaac, who had never shown much interest in history, had been taken aback. The two of them had sent a formal email to the St. Leonard Cathedral, requesting permission to visit and conduct their coverage. The reply arrived far sooner than either of them had expected.

Not only had the Cathedral granted permission, but they had also invited the two reporters to the Grand Cathedral of the Evernight Goddess in Backlund. According to the email, the Cathedral was in possession of several personal letters written by His Grace Leonard Mitchell—letters that had never before been made available to the public.

Josephine had read the email twice, just to make sure she hadn't misunderstood it.

The private correspondence of someone as significant as His Grace Leonard Mitchell was certainly not the sort of document ordinary people could simply request access to. For decades, the Cathedral had guarded those letters with extraordinary secrecy. Hardly a single rumor about them had ever surfaced.

So why were they willing to reveal them now? Josephine had no idea.

Perhaps there was a political motive behind the decision. Perhaps it was for the sake of historical scholarship. Or perhaps the Cathedral simply believed the time had finally come for those documents to be shared with the world.

Whatever the reason, she had no intention of letting an opportunity like this slip away. Chances like these did not come twice. It felt as though a gigantic cake had suddenly fallen straight from the heavens into her lap!

Josephine stirred the hot coffee she had just bought before making her way toward the row of seats beside the window. From where she sat, she had a clear view across the street.

A spacious park stretched before her, its withered lawn gradually dusted with a thin layer of fresh snow. The trees had already shed most of their leaves, and the park benches sat deserted, disturbed only occasionally by hurried pedestrians making their way to their destinations. It wasn't the holiday season, so there were scarcely any tourists lingering to admire the scenery.

Beyond the park stood Saint Samuel Cathedral.

The magnificent structure towered above the surrounding buildings, its imposing black stone walls seeming almost as though they had been carved from the night itself. Lofty pillars supported soaring Gothic arches adorned with intricate carvings, while stained-glass windows caught the muted morning light, scattering gentle colors across the slowly falling snow. Several slender spires reached toward the gray winter sky, and atop the tallest rested a great clock tower bearing the emblem of the Cathedral of Evernight Goddes, elegant yet solemn beneath the overcast heavens.

It was hardly surprising that the cathedral had become one of Backlund's most recognizable landmarks. Even from a distance, the Cathedral possessed an undeniable sense of dignity that instinctively made people lower their voices whenever they looked upon it.

Josephine was quietly admiring its grandeur when the convenience store's automatic doors slid open.

A man of average build hurried inside. He stood only a few centimeters taller than Josephine. A camera hung from his neck, while both hands busied themselves straightening the scarf that the frigid wind outside had left hopelessly disheveled.

The moment he spotted Josephine, he headed straight toward her. "Jose! Sorry I'm late. Traffic on the east side of the city was completely backed up. They're doing road repairs."

Josephine looked up at him with an annoyed expression, though she wasn't genuinely angry.

"Stop calling me Jose," she grumbled. "And next time, leave earlier if you already know the roads are going to be like that."

"Sorry," Isaac said again with a sheepish chuckle. Once he had finally managed to straighten his scarf, he walked over to the counter and ordered himself a cup of coffee.

Josephine merely let out a quiet sigh.

Fortunately, their appointment with the Cathedral of Evernight Goddes was still about fifteen minutes away. They had more than enough time to finish their coffee before crossing the street and heading to the cathedral.

.

The moment they stepped through the cathedral's main entrance, the world outside seemed to fall away behind them.

The constant roar of traffic that had filled the streets moments earlier vanished, replaced by a soothing silence. The air inside the cathedral was noticeably warmer, carrying the faint scent of vanilli and incense that had seeped into the ancient stone over decades. Its vaulted ceiling soared overhead, supported by rows of black pillars carved with intertwining vines and crescent moons. Winter light streamed through the stained-glass windows and the star-like skylights above, breaking into soft hues that danced across the polished stone floor.

A handful of worshippers sat quietly in the pews with their heads bowed in prayer. Off to one side, two nuns were replacing candles that had nearly burned down, while a young deacon carefully arranged prayer books on a wooden shelf. No one spoke above a whisper, as though the entire building silently asked every visitor to honor its tranquility.

Near the reception desk, a nun who appeared to be in her forties was organizing a stack of hymnals that had just been returned by parishioners. Her fingers moved deftly, aligning each volume with practiced precision before she looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Her blue eyes briefly examined Josephine and Isaac before settling on the press badges hanging around their necks.

"Good morning," she greeted them warmly. "Mrs. Langley and Mr. Langley, I presume?"

Isaac gave an awkward smile. "Uh... we're siblings."

"Oh." The nun looked momentarily surprised before offering an apologetic smile. "My apologies. Deacon Edmund only informed me that two reporters, Mrs. Langley and Mr. Langley, would be arriving this morning to conduct an interview."

Josephine, who had long since grown accustomed to misunderstandings like this, merely smiled faintly. "It's all right. It was our fault for using only our family name in the email. Please, just call me Josephine. And this is my brother—and colleague—Isaac."

The nun nodded politely. "In that case, please call me Sister Cecilia."

She placed the neatly arranged stack of hymnals onto the wooden shelf behind the desk, straightened the sleeves of her habit, then turned back to them.

"Come with me. I'll take you to the archives."

Sister Cecilia led them toward a doorway on the left side of the main hall.

As soon as the door opened, they entered a covered corridor that encircled the cathedral's central courtyard. Rows of black stone pillars lined one side of the passageway, while lofty arches framed the gardens nestled within the heart of the complex.

The courtyard was far larger than either of them had expected.

Winter grass stretched neatly around granite walkways. At its center stood an ancient oak tree that had shed nearly all of its leaves, leaving its branches to reach toward the gray sky like black silhouettes. The season's first snow drifted gently downward, collecting upon the tree's limbs, the carefully trimmed shrubs, and the surface of a small stone pond whose water was nearly frozen.

Several nuns crossed the courtyard carrying baskets filled with linens and Cathedral supplies. In the distance, two young deacons swept away the thin layer of snow beginning to gather along the walkways, while the gentle tolling of bells echoed from the cathedral's main tower, bouncing softly between the stone walls before gradually fading into silence.

Isaac, who had been walking a few paces behind them, could hardly conceal his excitement. Every so often he lifted his camera, photographing the vaulted corridors, the stained-glass windows visible in the distance, and the snow-dusted courtyard.

The soft click of the shutter was almost swallowed by the cathedral's silence.

Josephine merely spared him a brief glance before returning her attention to Sister Cecilia, who continued leading them toward the archives. Somehow, the deeper they ventured into the cathedral complex, the stronger the feeling grew that this place held far more stories than any history book had ever recorded.

"Is it customary for the Cathedral to preserve the belongings of all its deacons?" Josephine asked.

Without realizing it, her tone had shifted into something more formal and deliberate—a habit that invariably surfaced whenever she began interviewing someone.

Sister Cecilia shook her head gently.

"Not all of them. We do preserve archives and important items related to senior members of the Cathedral, but personal belongings that hold only historical value are usually transferred to museums or archived at the Cathedrals where they once served. Some are also sent to the Cathedral of Serenity in Winter County for research purposes."

They continued down the quiet stone corridor.

"In His Grace Leonard Mitchell's case," Sister Cecilia continued, "because he has a Cathedral dedicated in his honor, nearly all of his belongings were archived at the St. Leonard Cathedral."

"However, about a year ago, while we were clearing out an old archive room, we discovered several boxes of documents that had somehow been overlooked. Inside were records from his years of active service, along with a number of personal letters."

Isaac, who had remained silent until then, finally spoke.

"Is it... really all right for us to see them? I mean... even to publish them?"

The question caused their pace to slow for a moment.

Since the end of the Great War and the beginning of the Sixth Epoch, the existence of Beyonders was no longer a secret entirely hidden from the public. Ordinary people knew that there were individuals in this world who possessed abilities beyond those of normal humans—people who walked the extraordinary pathways and served the Churches or various official organizations.

History preserved countless accounts of the Fifth Epoch.

According to legend, angels still walked the earth in those days. They served their respective gods and goddesses, resided within the Churches as guardians of the faithful, led the Beyonders, and stood as the world's last line of defense whenever wars or calamities descended upon humanity. It was remembered as an era both magnificent and terrifying—a time when miracles and destruction existed side by side.

Even so, such knowledge extended no further than common historical understanding. After all, no one could say with certainty which parts were true and which had been embellished by generations of storytellers.

The government, together with the Eight Orthodox Churches, maintained strict oversight over anything connected to the world of mysticism. Documents, artifacts, and records that might contain dangerous information were inaccessible to the general public. Only those with proper authority and special permission were allowed to study them.

The reason was simple, To protect ordinary people.

That was why Isaac had hesitated the moment he learned they would be allowed to examine the personal letters left behind by His Grace Leonard Mitchell.

According to the stories known throughout the continent, Leonard Mitchell had not merely been a high-ranking deacon. He had been a man who ascended to become an angel and devoted himself to serving at the Evernight Goddess's side. Who could possibly guarantee that the personal letters of an angel contained nothing... dangerous to ordinary people?

Had Josephine known what was going through his mind at that moment, she probably would have smacked him over the head with her notebook. Stop thinking such ridiculous—borderline blasphemous—things. How could an angel ever have been an ordinary human being?

Fortunately, the entire exchange existed only inside Isaac's imagination.

Sister Cecilia let out a soft chuckle when she noticed the nervous look on his face.

"Don't worry. What you'll be seeing are only the official copies. The original documents were turned over to the Cathedral's Department of Preservation for examination as soon as they were discovered," she said with a reassuring smile. "My apologies if that's disappointing."

Josephine immediately shook her head.

"Not at all. We're grateful enough that the Cathedral is willing to let us examine the copies."

As she spoke, her eyes were inadvertently drawn to a black cardinal fluttering across the courtyard. The small bird landed on the edge of the stone pond, sending gentle ripples across the water, whose surface was beginning to disappear beneath a thin layer of ice.

A few moments later, Sister Cecilia stopped before a pair of heavy oak doors reinforced with black iron bands. From beneath her habit, she produced a chain holding more than a dozen keys. After selecting one with practiced ease, a soft click echoed as it turned inside the lock, followed by the quiet creak of the archive doors slowly swinging open.

"Sister Cecilia."

The nun turned at once upon hearing her name. Josephine tightened her grip on her notebook ever so slightly.

"May I ask why the Cathedral is willing to let us publish these letters? I mean... we're only reporters from a relatively small publishing house. We're not exactly a major newspaper."

A faint smile crossed Sister Cecilia's face. "To be perfectly honest... I can't answer that with certainty."

The response made Josephine and Isaac exchange puzzled glances. It was the last answer either of them had expected.

Sister Cecilia continued as she secured one of the doors open with a wooden stopper.

"The personal belongings of high-ranking deacons are always kept under the Cathedral's supervision. Any information released to the public is generally approved by the deacon responsible for overseeing those archives. Of course..." she added, "there are always a few matters that fall beyond our knowledge."

She turned back toward them.

"If you truly wish to know the reason behind this decision, you're welcome to submit a formal inquiry to the headquarters of the Cathedral of Evernight Goddes—the Cathedral of Serenity. However..." Her smile became slightly more amused. "...I can't guarantee that your request will be approved."

Silence settled over the corridor for a brief moment. Then Sister Cecilia stepped aside and gestured toward the open doorway. "Please."

The archive room that greeted them was nothing like Josephine had imagined.

Rather than being crammed with dusty boxes and neglected shelves, it resembled an old library. Towering oak bookcases stretched nearly to the ceiling, filled with archival folders, bound documents, and thick volumes meticulously organized by year and region. A wooden rolling ladder rested upon an iron rail running the length of the shelves, allowing anyone to reach even the highest compartments with ease.

The room carried the unmistakable scent of aged paper, ink, and weathered wood.

At its center stood a long table of dark wood large enough to seat more than a dozen people. High-backed chairs were arranged neatly along both sides, while several warm reading lamps illuminated the tabletop without making the room feel overly bright.

Sister Cecilia led them no farther.

Instead, she turned toward a low cabinet near the entrance and retrieved a small cardboard box marked with a simple label. Its position so close to the doorway made Josephine suspect it had been prepared for their arrival in advance.

Carefully, Sister Cecilia placed the box upon the table.

"feel free to look through them. If you'd like copies to take home, we can photocopy them for you." That was all she said.

Josephine and Isaac exchanged another glance before stepping closer.

Inside the box were several bundles of copied letters secured with metal clips. Each bundle bore an archive number, a date, and a brief note describing the condition of the original document. Beneath them lay several high-resolution 5R photographs of the original letters, preserving every detail—the yellowed paper, the weathered folds, and even the fading strokes of ink worn away by time.

Isaac immediately picked up one of the photographs. His gaze slowly traced the handwriting that filled the page, studying every line of ink with barely concealed curiosity. Meanwhile, Josephine picked up the top bundle of copies. She turned the first page. Then the second.

She had read only a few lines when her eyebrows gradually rose.

"...This..."

Almost simultaneously, Isaac, still staring at the photograph of the original letter, froze as well. Without saying a word, the two of them looked up at exactly the same moment and met each other's eyes.

The Letters That Were Never Sent: Newly Discovered Archives of His Grace Leonard Mitchell Reveal the Legend's Personal Side

By Josephine L.
December 18, 202X
10:30 A.M.

For historians, the name His Grace Leonard Mitchell requires little introduction.

He is remembered as one of the most influential figures of the late Fifth Epoch. a clergyman, poet, and historical figure whose name continues to endure throughout the records of the Cathedral of Evernight. His poems have been republished countless times over the decades and remain subjects of literary study to this day. Meanwhile, the story of his devotion to the Goddess has been passed down from one generation to the next, placing him somewhere between history and legend.

Among scholars of mysticism, Leonard Mitchell's name carries even greater weight.

Numerous historical sources describe him as more than a high-ranking deacon. He is believed to have ascended to the rank of an angel in service to the Evernight Goddess. Although most records concerning the mystical world remain under the strict supervision of both the government and the Churches, his name continues to appear as one of the most frequently discussed figures in modern historical research.

Very few of his personal belongings have ever been made available to the public.

Until now, Leonard Mitchell has largely been known through his officially edited and published works, as well as historical documents that have undergone the Cathedral's careful process of review and preservation.

That situation, however, may soon begin to change.

During our editorial visit to Saint Samuel Cathedral in Backlund, cathedral officials confirmed that approximately one year ago, a collection of old documents was discovered during the reorganization of the cathedral's archive room. Among various administrative records and reports of ecclesiastical service were several personal letters believed to date back to the closing years of the Fifth Epoch.

According to the cathedral, the original documents have been secured for conservation and further scholarly examination. Our editorial staff was granted access only to officially verified copies.

The most remarkable aspect of this discovery is not the age of the letters, but rather their contents—and their intended recipient.

Every letter was addressed to someone identified only by a single initial: "K."

As of the publication of this article, the identity of K. remains unknown. No full name, title, or accompanying information has yet been found that could conclusively identify the recipient. (See the appendix at the end of this article for excerpts from the letters.)

Nevertheless, judging from Leonard Mitchell's choice of words, several historians within the Cathedral believe that K. was more than merely a colleague or fellow member of the clergy.

The relationship between the two appears to have been considerably closer.

The letters are filled with expressions of concern, longing, and conversations of a far more personal nature than any official correspondence previously known to the public. Even so, they contain no explicit statement that could conclusively define the nature of their relationship.

What makes the discovery even more intriguing is another remarkable fact. Not a single one of the letters was ever sent.

Some remain neatly folded, while others were never even sealed with wax. It is as though the author completed every sentence, only to decide, in the end, to keep the letters to himself.

Were they intentionally left unsent? Or did the circumstances of the war prevent His Grace Leonard Mitchell from ever delivering them to their intended recipient? The answer remains a mystery.

The Cathedral of Evernight Goddes has stated that the cataloguing process for the entire collection is still ongoing. Further research is expected to require considerable time before additional information can be released to the public.

For historians, this discovery offers a rare opportunity to understand Leonard Mitchell from a perspective that has scarcely been seen before—not as a saint, a hero, or an angel preserved in legend, but as a man who once wrote letters to someone who meant a great deal to him.

Our editorial team will continue to follow developments surrounding the research of these newly uncovered archives and will provide readers with further updates should the Cathedral choose to release additional documents in the future.

Appendix A

Selected Excerpts from the Unsent Letters Attributed to His Grace Leonard Mitchell

Translated from the officially verified archival copies provided by the Cathedral of Evernight Goddes.

To my dear K.,

For several weeks now, I have intended to write this letter, yet each time my pen has stopped before I could even finish the opening sentence. It is rather amusing, considering that people are forever praising me as a poet, as though arranging words were as effortless as drawing breath. They have never known that every verse I have offered the world was born from long hours of struggle, while a single letter addressed to one person has proven to be the most difficult thing I have ever attempted to write.

Backlund entered winter earlier than usual this year. Weather like this reminds me of your habit of complaining about the cold while stubbornly insisting on wandering outdoors all the same. I can only hope that, by now, someone equally stubborn has forced you to take better care of yourself.

May the Goddess keep you under Her protection, wherever your path has led you.

As for me... little has changed. There are still worshippers who come seeking answers to questions that even I cannot answer. Sometimes I wonder whether serving God means always knowing the road for others, even while finding oneself standing at a crossroads.

— L

To the One I Cherish, K.,

This morning, after accidentally knocking a book from one of the library shelves, I found myself smiling at the memory of something that happened many years ago. Do you still remember it?

I was so absorbed in searching for an ancient manuscript that I nearly dismantled the entire bookshelf, while you stood behind me looking far more amused than sympathetic.

Without saying a word, you reached up to the highest shelf, retrieved a single book, handed it to me, and asked why I always searched in the most difficult places before checking the nearest one. To this day, I have never found a satisfactory answer.

There are so many small memories that remain perfectly clear in my mind, while the grand events of my life have slowly faded with time.

I still remember how you always brewed tea far sweeter than I thought necessary, how you would quietly leave a box of pastries on my desk whenever you realized I had forgotten to eat because I was buried in my work, and how we so often walked home together.

How strange. The world probably will remembers me for war, for poetry, and for the miracles I am said to have performed. Yet when I look back upon my own life, it is trivial moments like these that come to mind instead.

Perhaps that is simply how memory works. It does not preserve life's grandest moments, but rather the ones that make a person feel at peace. I hope you, too, still possess a few memories worth keeping... Though I have never known whether I am among them.

— L

My dear K.,

My days pass much as they always have.

The mornings begin with Mass, followed by meetings that cannot be postponed, and then the signing of another mountain of reports that never seems to grow any smaller.

This afternoon I was asked to inspect the construction of a small chapel on the outskirts of the city, and tonight the publisher sent someone to ask about the manuscript of poems I promised them long ago. I told them that inspiration is a guest who keeps no schedule.

Perhaps no one realizes that whenever this pen attempts to give birth to another poem, it is your image that arrives long before the words themselves.

How troublesome you are... Even from miles away.

— L

K.,

I tried writing poetry again today. It has become one of my unfortunate habits to begin each attempt believing that, this time, the words will finally come as they ought to. Yet, as has happened so often of late, the pen stopped before the first stanza was even complete.

I managed to write only a few lines.

If the night were willing to lend me a single star,
I would place it upon the road you walk,
So that, should you ever glance behind,
You would know...

How laughable, isn't it? A poet praised for touching the hearts of countless readers cannot even finish a few lines intended for someone who may never read them.

I don't think I will ever find the courage to send this letter to you.

— L

My dearest K.,

I once convinced myself that time was the cure for everything. That with age, with responsibility, and with the ever-lengthening journey of life, every feeling that had taken root uninvited would eventually fade away. Now I realize how mistaken I was.

There are seeds that bury themselves more deeply the longer they remain hidden, and the harder one tries to conceal them, the more quietly they continue to grow within the heart.

I know all too well that feelings such as these could never be granted an ending worthy of them. The road you walk and the road I have chosen were never destined to meet at the same destination. So allow me to keep this as a secret known only to Goddes and to myself.

As long as you are able to live your days in peace...

Let me bear the rest alone.

— L

To My Beloved, K.,

If, in years to come, the world remembers me only as a poet, a deacon, or a servant of the Goddess, then let it remain so. No one needs to know that among the countless prayers I have offered throughout my life, there has always been one name I never dared to speak aloud.

Perhaps it is better that this letter remains hidden inside my desk drawer until the ink itself fades with time. There are feelings that become more beautiful precisely because they never reach the one for whom they were intended.

And perhaps, that is how Goddes chose to teach me how to love you.

— L

Ⅱ

"Layla! Wake up!"

The person in question merely grumbled from beneath her blanket.

She had stayed up all night finishing a paper for her Nuclear Physics course. She hadn't managed to submit it until just before dawn, and today her schedule was practically empty—only a single class at three in the afternoon. So, if given the choice, she fully intended to spend the entire morning sleeping to her heart's content.

"Stop shaking me..." she muttered, lazily swatting away the hand that kept nudging her shoulder.

"No!" the voice replied without the slightest hint of guilt. "You've already slept for six hours. That's enough! Get up, you bat! You have to see the latest article about His Grace Leonard!"

At the mention of that name, Layla finally cracked one eye open.

Peering out from beneath the blanket, she found Hannah—her roommate—crouching beside the bed, practically shoving her phone screen into Layla's face.

Layla squinted.

"I'm myopia, not hyperopia," she complained. "Hold it a little farther away if you actually want me to read it."

With an exaggerated sigh, she dragged herself out of bed, reached for the glasses lying on the bedside table, and settled them onto the bridge of her nose.

She and Hannah had been friends ever since high school. They had both chosen to attend the same university—Layla majoring in Physics while Hannah studied Literature—and eventually decided to rent a small apartment together as roommates.

They also shared much the same interests: history, particularly the parts that intersected with the world of mysticism. Amid the countless archives still sealed away by the government and the Churches, there were always fragments of history that had vanished, records that had been deliberately edited, and mysteries that had never received definitive answers. To Layla and Hannah, it was precisely those gaps that made history feel alive—and endlessly fascinating.

That said, their favorite historical figures couldn't have been more different. Hannah was an ardent admirer of His Grace Deacon Leonard Mitchell.

Well... It wasn't exactly difficult to understand why.

The surviving descriptions portrayed Leonard as a man of almost flawless beauty. Combined with his legendary heroism, his heart-wrenching poetry, and the countless stories surrounding his unwavering devotion to the Evernight Goddess, it was hardly surprising that he had amassed such an enormous following—especially among women.

Layla, on the other hand? Her favorite historical figure was unquestionably Gehrman Sparrow.

In her opinion, no historical account could possibly rival the excitement of sailing across the seas, hunting pirates, exploring mysterious islands, and repeatedly finding oneself at the center of events that would eventually reshape the course of history.

Besides She was a believer of the Church of the Fool. Why would she go out of her way to idolize a figure from the neighboring Church?

Once her glasses sat comfortably on her face, Layla finally turned her attention to the article Hannah had been showing her. Her eyes moved swiftly from one paragraph to the next.

"...Huh?" Layla froze.

She reread the appendix a second time, just to make absolutely certain she hadn't misunderstood what she'd read.

Several seconds later, she slowly turned toward Hannah with an expression as though her entire world had just collapsed.

"...What do you mean Leonard Mitchell had a lover?!"

Ⅲ

Forum: MythNet
Thread: New Article About His Grace Deacon Leonard Mitchell. Have You Guys Read It Yet?

@historyjunkie

📎 [Article Link]

So... what do you all think about this?? 😭🙏

Apparently they found a collection of Leonard Mitchell's personal letters addressed to someone identified only as "K." and people are already speculating they were... an old flame? a crush? a lover??

AND HE NEVER SENT A SINGLE OF THIS LETTER.

I'm still speechless.

💬 12.4K Comments

@moonlitcat
THIS HAS OFFICIALLY RUINED MY ABILITY TO SLEEP. 😭😭😭

@emotionaldamage
Breaking news: I have become emotionally attached to two people who died centuries before I was born.

@coffeepowered
The Church really said,
"Here's some historical documents."
Meanwhile the entire internet:
"Congratulations, now we're all emotionally unstable." 😭

@SaintOfNight
Sorry, but I honestly think this has gone too far.
Leonard Mitchell is a holy figure. Not everything needs to be twisted into some romance gossip just to generate clicks.

     ↳ @archivenerd
     The article never says His Grace definitely had a partner.
     It only says that, based on the contents of the letters,
     some Church historians suspect the relationship was unusually close
     And those letters came from the Church's official archives

          ↳ @SaintOfNight
          That doesn't change anything.
          People are still going to jump to the wrong conclusions.

@libraryrat
HISTORIANS ARE HAVING A FEAST TODAY. 🗣️🗣️🗣️
Do you guys have any idea how insanely rare it is to get access to a personal archive from a Fifth Epoch historical figure?
This is literally a massive discovery.

@itslayla
I literally just woke up.
And now I'm questioning everything I thought I knew.

@EvernightBeliever
If the letters are authentic and have been verified by the Church...
Then it was the Church itself that chose to make them available to the public.
I think it's best to wait until the full research is published before jumping to any conclusions.

@romancenoveladdict
SO YOU'RE TELLING ME HE KEPT WRITING LETTERS TO SOMEONE...
AND NEVER SENT A SINGLE ONE????
I'M GONNA CRY. 😭😭😭

@copiumdealer
Guys, relax.
K could just stand for "K(C)athedral."

     ↳ @everyone
     💀💀💀Bro is reaching so hard.

@shipcaptain99
MY SHIP JUST SANK.
I'VE BEEN SHIPPING LEONARD × MIRACLE ANGLE FOR YEARS
AND NOW THERE'S SOME RANDOM PERSON NAMED K. 😭😭😭

      ↳ @fandomlurker
      LEONARD × THE MIRACLE ANGEL WILL NEVER LOSE. 🗣️🗣️🗣️

          ↳ @holycross77
          Can we please stop making a joke out of religion? This is honestly getting really disrespectful.

               ↳ @fandomlurker
                Huh? I was just joking around about the fandom. I wasn't insulting the Church or anything.

                    ↳ @holycross77
                    You're turning a holy figure into the subject of "shipping." Do you honestly think that's funny?

        ↳ @randomreader
        Come on, it's just a fandom term.
        Lighten up a little.

        ↳ @forsT_Tale
        I do think it's better not to treat religious figures like characters to pair up in ships.
        Whatever the truth may be, we should still show His Grace the respect he deserves.

        ↳ @historymemes
        This thread went from memes to a church tribunal in under five minutes. 😭

        ↳ @shipcaptain99
        I respect His Grace Leonard too, okay? Please don't report me to the Church. 🙏

@poetrylover
I don't know why, but after reading that article... His' poems, which I always thought were beautiful, suddenly feel heartbreaking instead.
If those letters really were never sent...
Then maybe a lot of the words that never reached their intended recipient eventually found their way into his poetry.

@skepticalreader
I don't even care who he was in love with.
What I do care about is... WHO THE HELL IS K.??

@churchwatch
Damn... what kind of heartbreaking love story is this? Somebody please tell me they actually ended up together.
Or at the very least... that they weren't separated because K. passed away.

     ↳ @hannah_lovesleo
     I hope so too.
     It's truly heartbreaking. 💔

@JusticeForSaints
I think this article has crossed a line. If those letters are being interpreted as evidence of a romantic relationship, that could amount to defaming a historical figure.
Leonard Mitchell is a holy figure revered by millions of people.

     ↳ @newspaperreader
     Did you actually read the whole article? It repeatedly uses words like "suggests" and "appears to," not definitive conclusions.
     Besides, the source is clearly the Church of Evernight itself.

     ↳ @JusticeForSaints
     It doesn't matter.
     Most people aren't going to care about words like "suggests."
     All they're going to hear is, "Leonard had a lover."

     ↳ @lawstudent
     From a legal standpoint...
     Defamation laws generally protect individuals or entities that are still recognized as legal subjects. This is historical research based on archival documents. The real debate should be about the credibility of the sources.

     ↳ @historyjournal
     And the source isn't just "someone said so."
     The article explicitly states that these are official copies of letters released by the Church of Evernight.

     ↳ @JusticeForSaints
     Even so, the interpretation was made by the reporters.

     ↳ @editorwatch
     Not really.
     They simply reported what was in the archives and clearly stated that K.'s identity remains unknown. The romantic speculation is coming from the internet, not from the article itself. 😭

     ↳ @JusticeForSaints
     So now we're just supposed to believe everything that gets posted online?

     ↳ @holyarchive
     That's not what anyone is saying.
     But when the source is the very Church that has preserved the original archives for centuries, it's obviously more credible than random internet theories.

     ↳ @waitingstatement
     What surprises me is that the Church of Evernight still hasn't released an official statement about the public reaction. All they did was open the archives. Everything that's gone viral after that... has been driven entirely by the internet.

@randomguy
I just wanted to read a new article.
Why has my timeline turned into a courtroom and a religious debate?

@historymemes
His Grace Leonard: writes a letter.
Also His Grace Leonard: "...Nah, never mind."
Historians hundreds of years later: 🧐🧐🧐🧐

@nightingale
The saddest part isn't K.
It's the fact that those letters were carefully kept for hundreds of years.
It's almost as if His Grace intended to keep them with him for the rest of his life.

@conspiracyguy
Has anyone else noticed this?
His Grace Deacon Leonard Mitchell served in Tingen for several years before being transferred to Backlund. Previously released Church of Evernight archives also mentioned that he had a colleague whose initials were K.M.

What if... K. from the letters is actually K.M.? 👀

This comment has been removed by a moderator.

@mod_mythnet
Please do not connect identifiable individuals to the newly released archives without verifiable evidence. Please refrain from posting speculation that could contribute to misinformation.

@bookstoreowner
Bookstore update.
Every poetry collection by Leonard Mitchell is SOLD OUT.
And the historical novel by F.W. is getting absolutely flooded with restock requests.
Thanks, internet. 👍

@hannah_lovesleo
As someone who's been a Leonard fan for ten years...
I don't care whether he loved a man, a woman, or anyone else.
The part that breaks my heart is...
He never got to send those letters.
That's already enough to make my chest ache. 💔

@archivehunter
Okay, hear me out before you roast me. 😭
If you look at his historical timeline...

• his poetry,

• the Sonia Sea expedition,

• and the several times he served as the Church's representative at the Conference of Bishops...

There's one person whose name keeps showing up in the same records during all those periods.
I'm not naming names, but... That person also has the initial K. I'm just saying it's... interesting. 🤷

     ↳ @historynerd
     Dude, there are at least five major historical figures whose names start with K. 😭 Besides, it's only an initial. We don't even know whether it's a first name or a surname.

          ↳ @archivehunter
          WHICH IS EXACTLY WHY I SAID IT WAS JUST A CRACK THEORY. 😭

     ↳ @forsT_Tale
     no way.

@oldpaperlover
I actually don't think K. was a colleague.
The letters repeatedly express how much His Grace missed them.
It sounds more like someone who was constantly traveling or living far away than someone serving at the same church.
I don't know...

     ↳ @bibliophile
     I agree.
     If it were just a fellow clergyperson, he could've simply sent an official memo. Why write letters that long?

     ↳ @historystudent22
     Or... Maybe the person was no longer someone he could ever meet again. 😭

     ↳ @mysticismfan
     But then why does one of the letters say,
     "May the Goddess keep you under Her protection"?

          ↳ @bibliophile
          It could simply be because His Grace was a follower of the Evernight Goddess.
          It wouldn't make much sense for His Grace to offer a blessing in the name of another deity, would it? Besides, just because two people both followed the Goddess doesn't mean they necessarily served in the same place.

@foolarchives (replying to and mentioning @conspiracyguy)
@conspiracyguy Well, if we're doing crack theories anyway...
Some archives from the Church of the Fool also mention that His Grace Deacon Leonard had a fairly close relationship with the Miracle Angel.
There are even several travel records showing that they appeared in the same locations within similar periods of time.
WHAT IF K. IS ACTUALLY THE INITIAL OF ANOTHER NAME—

     ↳ @forsT_Tale
     Please don't drag the Church of the Fool into this discussion.

         ↳ @foolbeliever
         Huh? Who was it that started the crack theories in the first place?

     ↳ @moonchurch
     It finally happened.
     Evernight 🤝 Fool
     Fighting over history.

     ↳ @hannah_lovesleo
     Your theory actually isn't bad.
     I just don't want to believe K. was an ordinary person. They had to have been an angel too... right?

     ↳ @churchhistory
     Their historical records do intersect on several occasions.
     That doesn't automatically mean every pair of historical figures who crossed paths had a romantic relationship.

         ↳ @foolbeliever
         Hold on, it's just a theory. When Evernight fans make crack theories, nobody says anything. But the moment someone mentions the Miracle Angel, suddenly we're told to stop? 💀

             ↳ @forsT_Tale
             Because now you're talking about revered figures from two different Churches. Even a small amount of misinformation can easily give people the wrong idea.

     ↳ @historymemes
     Historians: "Let's examine the primary sources."
     The internet: "THEY WERE IN THE SAME CITY ONCE, SO THEY MUST HAVE BEEN DATING." 😭

@poetrydetective
GUYS.
I just realized something.
If those letters are really authentic...
What if we've misunderstood Leonard Mitchell's poetry all this time?

     ↳ @bookworm
     What do you mean?

     ↳ @poetrydetective
     Go read Twilight Hymns for the World again.
     For years, everyone assumed those poems were about the Goddess or about faith.
     But now that these letters have surfaced... Why does it suddenly feel like almost every poem is addressed to one specific person?

     ↳ @literaturemajor
     WAIT.
     "I never asked you to stay, for the heavens had already chosen your path."
     "I keep your name as the night keeps stars that dawn can never touch."
     ...DOESN'T THIS SOUND SUSPICIOUSLY LIKE A LOVE POEM NOW? 😭

     ↳ @churchscholar
     Just a reminder: religious literature often uses the first-person perspective when addressing God. Let's not rush to conclude that every poem is about K.

     ↳ @poetrydetective
     I'm not saying they definitely are. But after reading the letter where he says he struggled to write poetry because K. always came to mind before the words... it feels like some of his poems carry a completely different meaning now.

     ↳ @cryingreader
     So we've spent centuries crying over poems we thought were about faith... When all along, there might have been one person the poet was secretly longing for.
     I can't handle this. 🥲

@mod_mythnet
Reminder to all users: You're welcome to discuss the newly released archives.
However, please do not identify or associate other historical figures with the letters based solely on speculation or "connecting the dots" without verifiable sources.
Any thread that begins to incite conflict between Churches or becomes no longer conducive to constructive discussion will be locked.

❤️ 148 rb suka