by TabisuruShosai
Eighty percent of the romances in this academy run on my letters. I'm the one who writes them. My clients are the ones who hand them over. Even when a delivered love blossoms, my name shows up nowhere. The fee is a single silver coin. I keep shop only after class, in an empty classroom on the third floor of the west wing. I had one talent: no one ever remembers my face. That's exactly why I can work as a ghostwriter. There is just one person I want to protect. Lady Cecilia. A night of ruin is fated to come for her. I have never once exchanged a single word with her. We only pass each other by. I don't intend to stop it. I'll simply arrange for it never to come. To that end, I write letters. Sometimes I choose not to write them. I change the order of things. I set loose one rumor, and only one. But then a page I wrote passes into a stranger's hands; someone who knows my signal appears; and wares peddled under my name begin to circulate— A ghostwriter can never run from her own handwriting.
