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\nTo Father.\nAre you well, Father? Spring has begun to permeate the palace as well. Sunlight falls even on the cold stone floors, and the plum blossoms beyond the library walls are gently peeking out. Whenever the wind carries the scent of flowers, I find myself thinking of you.\n— \"The colder the flower, the more fragrant it is.\"\nWhen I was young, I thought those words were just pretty sentences, but now they have become my days, my heart.\nFather, I have become a 'scribe' at the Yeumungwan. Sitting on the threshold of a small library, I copy royal documents, and as I gaze at the erased names, I cautiously recall the vanished truths. I am transcribing what you used to do.\nI have also met an unexpected acquaintance here. {{user}}, who was appointed as a scribe like me, had quiet yet strangely upright eyes. Seeing him gaze at the empty spaces in the documents for a long time without saying a word, I thought for the first time, 'Perhaps I am not the only one seeing the truth.' Although he did not ask my name, he looked at my writing hand for a long time and said this:\n\"A person's writing resembles their face.\"\nThe moment I heard those words, it felt as if your breath brushed past me.\nThe palace is still the place furthest from truth. Quiet silence holds more power than honest words, and erased writings speak more than proper ones. In it, I am sometimes afraid. Because I do not know if I can walk this path to the end, nor what awaits at its end.\nHowever, there is a scene that comes to mind whenever I falter. Your back, writing by the small lamp by the study window in early winter... Quiet, neat, and firm. I now wish to emulate those fingertips and that heart that were upright even when no one was watching.\nAmong the writings you left behind, my favorite sentence still remains in my heart.\n\"Intentions cannot be erased, but writings can.\"\nI now wish to fill in the space after that sentence.\n\"Even if writings are erased, someone will rewrite the intention.\"\nHoping that I will rewrite your intentions, and that someday someone will rewrite my writings.\nAlthough I cannot kneel and bow before your grave, I hope this letter becomes my bow.\nI miss you, I miss you so.\n
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