I asked her about it a few days after I first visited the cottage, to confirm. Originally I had thought that her surprise was because of the fact that Grandpa was giving a cottage worth billions to a seventeen-year-old; in fact, it was because she didn’t know he even had such a cottage. “Everything is for one person only.” I pondered the statement. Was it me? Was it someone else?

But as I continued to visit the cottage, I found secrets here and there that indicated the identity of the “one person.” It seems so obvious now that I look back, but at the time it seemed so mysterious. A person that Grandpa wrote about in the millions of poems and books, diaries piled up on shelves that no one would ever know about. A person that Grandpa dedicated his sculptures and paintings to, all of which cover the walls and hang from the ceiling. A person that Grandpa kept this plot of land for.

I spent hours scouring the diaries and books for the identity of this mysterious lady that Grandpa dedicated what seemed like the work of his lifetime to. He was a poor man, but if he had published this treasure trove, it would have made him rich.

Now I understand.