I. The Last Hand
"Four of a kind! How did the rest of you fare?"
"A full house... Oh dear, it seems I've lost this round," Marie sighed softly, though her smile remained bright.
"I'll avenge Nefertari! Marie, look! A Royal Straight Flush!"
"My goodness! Shana, that's incredible! The perfect hand!"
"Now then... what does Shiki-chan have?"
Shiki chuckled, her eyes dancing with amusement. "A pity. I believe this is called... five of a kind?"
"I lost?! As expected of Shiki-chan... a total 'Super Big Sister' who can do anything!"
"Thank you," Shiki replied, her voice warm. "This is truly wonderful. What should we play next?"
"I have this game called 'The Game of Life' that I received from Rameses," Marie suggested.
"A game where you experience the lives of the common folk? I like the sound of that! I want to be an astronaut!"
"Then after that, let's play Fou-menko! Watch Fou flip! Flip, Fou, flip!"
Shiki smiled at the younger girl's enthusiasm. "You really do seem happiest when it involves Fou-kun, don't you, Ea?"
"Of course! I love Fou! What about you, Shiki-chan? Is there anything you want to do?"
"Let me see... I suppose I—"
Shana suddenly stiffened, her expression shifting. "Oh! Sorry, everyone. I have to go for a moment."
"Oh? A summons?"
"Yeah. I'm going to go have a little chat with Mr. Andersen."
"Be careful, Shana. We'll finish this when you get back."
"Vive la France! Ciao!"
"See ya! Nefertari, Marie, Shiki-chan! See you later!"
"Take care," Shiki called after her. "And don't trip on your way there, alright?"
II. The Author and the Masterpiece
Day by day, the renovations continue. A paradise is built not in a moment, but through the steady accumulation of single days.
In the quiet of the study, Andersen sat across the desk from Ea, sipping the coffee she had brewed for him. He adjusted his glasses, his gaze piercing.
"I see. So you are the 'Heroine Princess.' The reason the King of Heroes is in such a foully good mood... the keyword that reveals you as the core of this entire story."
"Yes," Ea replied, bowing her head deeply. "Thank you so much for writing 'A Story for Your Sake.'"
Her gratitude was sincere. Her ascension to the 'Grand' rank was largely due to the influence of Andersen's Noble Phantasm. A Noble Phantasm, when fully realized, grants the subject their desired form. By using that effect as a foundation and layering various treasures upon it, she had finally grasped that power. Without his creative genius, this conclusion would have been impossible.
"I don't need your thanks," Andersen scoffed, though he didn't look away. "I did a job, and you received the finished product. That is the only relationship a reader and an author need. An author has no inherent value; value only exists in what they create. Instead of thanks, you should be telling me to hurry up and lay the groundwork for the next happy ending."
"I disagree," Ea said, meeting his cynical gaze with a gentle smile. "Without the author, the story would never be born. Even if there is a gulf between the creator and the reader, I believe it isn't strange for hearts to be connected through a single work. So please... let me thank you."
Andersen's sharp irony was like a breeze hitting a mountain—it simply washed over her. When it came to speaking with a smile and genuine gratitude, no one surpassed Ea.
"...Respect and affection. Is that the answer you found?"
"Yes. That is the precious compass I carry in my heart."
Andersen fell silent, lost in thought for a long moment before reaching into his coat.
"That's—"
It was a single fan letter, written by the Heroine Princess long ago in London. It had been passed from Andersen to the King of Heroes, kept safe, and had now found its way back to these hands.
"I'll give you my thanks for being a devoted reader," Andersen said. "Usually, I'd have a biting remark ready, but even I haven't rotted enough to spurn the words of a loyal fan."
He opened the envelope, took a pen, and scrawled a signature across the 'Anonymous' stationery.
"Here. Take it. A writer is a creature who can only offer such trifles in exchange for a Princess's longing. Feel free to be disappointed."
He tucked his 'favorite pen' into the envelope and handed it to Ea.
"Are you... are you sure?!" Ea's eyes went wide. For a writer, a tool like this was...
"I don't mind. It's a pen that's finished its work. It's the one I used to write until the very final page was turned. There's no greater honor for a pen than to be held by you."
Andersen smiled, a rare, genuine expression. "The signature is just a bonus. I was going to throw it away regardless." He paused, his tone turning serious. "I generally dislike humanity, but you are... a bit of an oddity. I can afford a little fan service. You called yourself the Heroine Princess, yes?"
"Y-Yes!"
"Listen well," Andersen said, his voice steady. "There are stories waiting to be read by you. There are stories that look forward to giving you something. There are stories that will only be spun because you are there. Never forget that. You are both the reader and the author—a singular existence that draws others in while you learn."
"..."
"Countless things are waiting for you. Walk forward without forgetting that. A story like yours is too precious to end in a single volume. As for what the next story will be... you must decide that for yourself."
It was more than advice; it was a blessing. Decide your own way of life. Never settle; keep moving. It was the ultimate encouragement for one who walks the path of the storyteller.
"Yes... Mr. Andersen."
"Good. I've said my piece. You have work to do, don't you? Go on, get to it. If you're ever bored again, I might just write you another book."
"Really?!"
"My pen moves differently for you than it does for that 'Melon Ridge' back there. It's a shame I can't find anything to criticize, but once in a while, a sugary-sweet ending isn't so bad! More importantly, the story of you and him isn't half-bad. No matter what I write or how I describe it, the story carries its own conviction. That's a fine thing."
With a wave of his hand and a playful smirk, Andersen turned back to his desk.
"Live as you are. I'll be here to record it in the most entertaining way possible. As long as you're allowed to, just keep moving. Walk your irreplaceable life and become my best material. I might even write an exclusive about you someday."
"Yes! Mr. Andersen!"
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