After all, letters were for people far away—or for things too hard to say in person.
But she saw Sinyeong constantly. Incessantly. And every time they met, they talked each other’s ears off—no filter, no boundaries.
So what exactly was she supposed to say in a letter? Wouldn’t it be faster to just talk, like always?
Grumbling to herself, she glared at the blank page, brush still in hand. Just then, Sohwa brought over the ink and asked hesitantly, clearly concerned.
“What are you trying to write that has you so worked up?”
“A letter.”
“A letter?”
“I told you earlier. His Highness kept pestering me, so I said I’d write one—but I’ve got nothing to say.”
“...I’ve been wondering, actually... why did His Highness ask for a letter?”
