It’s been a few sun-cycles, but no progress is made. Every time I think up a new key, the door locks itself shut further.

I haven’t shown the ‘ledger’ to dad… Thinking about it too hard only makes me feel more uncertain. However I can’t help but feel my worries have warrant.

That day when I found mom’s diary, I read the entries just fine… However, as soon as I tried to bring it to someone else’s attention- dad’s in particular, it burst into flame. What if this were to do the same?

I could try copying it, but I’ve read that trying to outwit Magick has a fickle way of coming back to you.

Potentially losing another source of information would be detrimental, both to the mystery behind her death… And to myself. The loss I felt, and still feel, at one of the few connections I still had to her… burning to ash… Shaking my head, intuition nags me to solve this myself.

Taking a break to rest my throbbing head, my eyes wander to our family portrait. Mom’s face suddenly seems murky and this obscurity gnaws at me. I want to think of mom as I’ve always thought of her. Gentle, sunny, loving.

…But was she really?

An irrational fear of discovering something I might not want to know, stops the quill in my hand. I sit there, still.

Shaking my head a few times, I fixedly look at her green-gold eyes.

I have to.

*

Another seven sun-cycles pass by, and I’m pretty sure an ten year-old shouldn’t have dark circles under their eyes. Dad definitely knows something’s up, he keeps asking if something’s the matter. But I tell him it’s nothing.

Sorry, dad. I know I said we were in this together. But, those long evening spent in your office… I know you’ve been researching things behind my back too. So, let’s just call it even, okay?

Guiltily evading his worried looks at dinner, I announce I’m going to bed, but sneakily dodge into my study instead.

Fuu, I huff out and roll up my sleeves. A sense of dejection claws at me, but I begin taking all of mom’s belongings out from their piles and boxes. Essentially undoing what I spent so many sun-cycles to organize. Time to start from scratch…!

At last, some leeway!

…Oh Twice, it’s already dark out.

The night sky through the window is in an unclouded and crisp state. I apprehensively crack the door open a sliver and peer out. The hallway is empty and quiet. Sighing an embarrassingly large breath of relief, the maids must have believed that I went straight to bed after dinner.

Looks like mom’s bird-watching hobby wasn’t really ‘bird-watching’. My mental picture of mom undergoes a complete revision. Now, when I imagine her childhood, rather than innocently playing with animals and frolicking in the palace gardens, I see an eve of vigil.

Based on previous records and an inordinate amount of reading-in-between-the-lines, Eve grew up as a child more perceptive than most. Raised in a court of pretense and contrivances, her real passion was ‘people-watching’. After realizing this, it’s easy to figure out her ‘ledger’ was really information on the people of interest to her.

As for decoding the actual content… I-I just have to keep trying my best…! It could just be because of the height of tonight’s crescent moon, but convincing myself proves to be a bit more difficult than usual.

Yawning, I allow myself to feel just a bit of satisfaction at making progress. No matter how little. I stretch while closing the study behind me.

Time for my warm, cozy bed!