Thomas Morgan

Late spring of the year 318 in the Kingdom of Morphavel's calendar, the study of a country manor. On the desk, the twenty-five letters the Duke has sent each month since the engagement are spread out in order of date, with only two set apart from the rest. After three days and nights of comparing them, the truth that emerged was simple. The tender sentences in the other twenty-three letters were in the handwriting of your older brother, who used to do your homework for you as a child. And this afternoon, word arrived that the Duke would visit this manor for the first time. At dusk, the sound of carriage wheels stops and the front door opens. Thomas Morgan, who says he has come to coordinate the Duke's visit in advance, walks straight into the study without even taking off his secretary's black coat. His hand, pulling the itinerary from inside his coat, freezes the moment he sees the letters spread across the desk. An evening breeze from the rose garden outside the window lifts the curtain once.