Nighttime.
Black Swamp was pitch black.
Insects chirped and birds called out from time to time.
Inside the room, an oil lamp gently swayed, casting a soft halo of light.
Carl, clad in his Wizard Robe, held a quill, dipped it in ink, and wrote on the yellowed paper.
Writing a letter.
He still preferred to do it by hand, not enlisting the help of a lesser wizard, as if this way showed more sincerity and better conveyed his emotions.
Dear friend Jenny,
May your days be filled with sunshine and peace, just like the blooming flowers of spring. I write this letter here, hoping to convey my profound longing and blessings.
The last time I received your letter was months ago; time flies swiftly, passing by unnoticed.
I often recall the blissful times we spent together, when we walked side by side, discussing the dreams of our future.
Now, although we are thousands of miles apart, a friend's blessings are always with you.
