The Letter-Writer looks Josh dead into his eyes , as if it is the great river's stream. Piercing him from inside. Josh almost needed to balance himself on the rows of wooden chairs.

She didn’t give Josh a minute to spit out the questions.

“I saw you coming , no , heard , kid.” she speaks up.

“Kid , do you mind another bargain with the devil?”

“By the devil I mean this elegant lady-like abnormality who saved your life and healed your wounds.” she adds as she points to herself.

“What’s…the trade?” Josh asks carefully , ignoring that she just confirmed the urban legends about her.

“...You got into big trouble with the first trade” she stops and swallows , "I'll give you a discount then.”

“You are…” she says as she counts with her fingers , “umm , sixteen.”

“Two years until legal age to sign up the blue folks…”

Josh didn’t bother why she knew his age , at least it is not as strange as to sword fight with yourself.

He thinks that the Letter-Writer, Seren, somehow looks nicer than he thought before.

To be honest , his back didn’t even chill when he matched her face with the Letter-Writer on the Fool’s day or New year’s events. And that stare of her…is just the same as the man Josh traded his last name with.

A stare of a cat that is craving to die of curiosity.

“...The power of that false throne can do some painkilling…”

“Sorry if I think too loud.” she suddenly said to Josh.

The way she speaks and the feeling she gives off is way too far. As if she is a soul in the wrong body , just like Josh's teacher in blue.

Seren lets the thought and realm-art’s whisper run through her. It has been years since she sat on that chair that can break someone’s spine by sitting on it.

The Chamber of Letter-Writer promised her a human life. For a vessel of that false crown.

Thinking now , Seren kind of regretted putting herself in this title of Letter-Writer. But that youngling infront of her…can offer her a bright future star of hope.

That kid named Josh is still looking at her. And from his eyes , Seren sees that burning star like hope.

“Kid , I have two choices for you.”

“Accept a new realm-arts implant , step deeper into the shadow of Realm and madness.”

“And in return apply for messenger after two years.”

“Or , live a life of common folks , living under that fake mask of Grand Dome.”

Josh takes a deep breath , feeling the cold unnamed breeze of the church's half open windows. He knows what joining the messenger means– a life buried in your friend's ashes and bathed in blood.

But he saw it , heard it from the whispers of his realm-arts.

That mask will be on his face.

….

Right now.

“What happened later?” Michael asks.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“You guess , the previous Letter-Writer beat Mistblue up until he can barely walk on his own.” Josh answers.

“But…your realm-arts?”

“...Heh , I’ll talk about it after you get a promotion.” Josh says as he stands up. and walks towards the almost broken wide road to the Grand dome.

The wind brushes his torn long coat with its invisible hands , as if kissing the old messenger on his forehead. That feels nice , he thought to himself.

Josh could take the wagon or the teleportation gates , but he just wants to take a walk.

A walk , not too fast , not too slow , the right speed to meet the person he expected.

As he steps closer and closer to the gate , more and more people are appearing. Most of them aren’t too happy about the news of reopening the border.

Not because they don’t want it , but that they are still covered in the sadness of that disaster.

Fifty years. Half a century that almost nothing happened , a pacific tide of history. Peace that Letland and Auderheim wanted. Powers that the chamber wished , advancement the traders wanted.

But what does she want?

What does that human shaped abnormality , Seren , wanted?

Fifty years can turn a country upside down , fifty years can reshape a person into another.

And for fifty years , Josh never had a good sleep.

The realm-arts haunted him like a reflection in a mirror , whispering the inevitable end. An end where the sky shatters.

An end that not even the realm-arts Seren granted him can make a turntable.

The people in long coats went past him , some holding a small , simplistic box with a name on it. They kept their mouths shut as they walked back to the dome. The people who came here know that they can’t find their loved ones in the ashes , but the messengers are still allowed to let them do it.

Josh noticed a small graveyard near the entrance of the dome , so small that it isn’t even as wide as the gate of the Grand dome. It is like a dead ant standing next to a mountain. He stopped and walked inside the small gate made of wooden planks.

He walks past the rows and rows of tombstones as ants and bees feast on the flowers. For a mere second , Josh felt like the stones are the chairs of a church.

Was this inevitable? Did the world even care?- Josh suddenly thought.

If the Letter-Writer didn’t close the border three years ago , would all of this happen?

At least Josh didn’t hear this disaster from his realm-arts.

“If the inescapable can be escaped , was the escaping itself inescapable?” a woman asks as she stops by. Josh can’t tell if the tones of her are confusion or unacceptance.

“I’m…sorry” he says , like to himself , blaming the disaster on himself.

“You don’t have to,” the woman says, “that realm-arts can’t change the will of an Existence. You are too afraid to use it , don't you?”

Hearing her saying , Josh can already tell who she is…or rather he has been expecting for her to come here.

“In five minutes , a member of the chamber will run all the way here.” she continues.

“And then , you’ll sit on that throne.”

“I know , Seren , I know.”

Seren lets her laughter burst out like a water pipe at its highest pressure. For a moment Josh thought Seren had changed , but now he throws that doubt far into the clouds.

Thankfully there isn't anyone in the graveyard other than Josh and Seren.

“What’s so…funny?” Josh asks , frowning.

“You didn’t change at all did you , kid?”

“Those brown eyes of yours , still glowing like your teen times.”

“...You didn’t change as well.”

She didn’t change at all , the same twenty-thirty-ish face and dark long hair.

Josh wonders if she is ever going to age. Still the same unpredictable , chaotic human masked abnormality that seems not to care for any consequences. He wonders if all humanoid abnormalities are so…carefree?

“It would be weird if I did.” Seren answers.

“Kid , have you ever had a good night of sleep?” she suddenly asks.

“...Not without my realm-arts.”

“You should know that the more bargains you make , the more you become an abnormality.” Seren states , the tone of her isn't different from any other sentence of hers , like she is simply saying the weather today.

“We aren’t so different , kid.”

Then , another soul comes into the graveyard , pantting , loudly breathing as if he is drinking the air.

“Mister…Josh…th-e…chamber…”

“Has…elected You as…”

“The Letter-Writer.”

--------------------------End of part 1------------------------------------

Next part of Road to the Outside of World: "The Laterns and the Fausts" coming soon