05/05/2025

Dear Jillian, 

It’s me, Evette. Did you fancy this a romantic letter from prince charming? Too bad, girl. It’s just me! 

I’m here at this peculiar hotel in Peetsurg. I don’t know how I ended up here, but I really like it. Well, I do know how I got here. When I arrived in Bzalnia, I got a cab and asked the driver to take me to the most classical hotel I could stay at. You know me. I’m an artist. I need things to spark my creativity. And I tell you what, when I got here, I was not disappointed. 

You can tell from the architecture outside that this place has some history. The building has an old baroque style along the walls and windows. There are gargoyles all over the place. Like, come on. And there is even this big, fancy mailbox outside covered in jewels. Talk about classic. But even the guests here are peculiar. 

While I was waiting to check in, a strange man walked in. I wasn’t looking his way, but as soon as he entered, something made me turn his way. And what a sight he was. He wore a long, luxurious, black fur coat, he wore a tall olden day top hat, and even walked with a cane. He wasn’t even old, so I thought the cane was a bit much for his already loud dress. 

I wanted to laugh at first when I saw him, but I saw how all the hotel’s workers treated him. Some of the staff came to his side and walked him in. I even heard them address him as “Count”. And then I saw his face when he walked past me. Let’s just say, I could wake up to that every morning. 

I asked the concierge about the man, and they told me he was a wealthy guest Karpi. I don’t really know anything about that place. But who knows, girl. I might be living there very soon. Let’s hope he’s not married. Yet. 

You know, the rooms here have these writing desks, they even have stamped envelopes ready for the gusts. With that fancy mailbox outside, it all makes sense. And so, I thought I’d write to you. Maybe, I’ll have someone else to write to in the near future, if you know what I mean. 

But these writing desks are a treat. What a perfect place for a writer like me. Just coming here, I already had so many ideas to jot down. There’s only one problem that I hope is finally over. 

It’s so strange, but I noticed it would only happen whenever I started writing at the desk. I would have ideas storming through my head, and as soon as I would start writing a few lines, I would then start to hear a tapping on my window. An annoying tapping. Loud and distracting. And whenever I went to check the window, I’d see a black bird fly off. A crow or something. It would happen every time I sat to write. I would get a few lines down, and suddenly *tap tap tap*. And then when I go to check the window, I see a crow suddenly flying off. It’s happened severael times to just merely be a coincidence. 

I asked the hotel staff about it, but because I was on the 7^th floor, they said they couldn’t do much about it and would change my room if it persisted. 

Enough about that. 

I got to see the publishing company yesterday. They were happy with my work. They also offered to have my main story transcribed into several languages for the different countries they sell to. All except for Beckish, because apparently the conflict between Bzalnia and Beckham are still restricting commerce between the two countries. No matter. The deal I got is still so much better than anything I could find back home in Olivia. And now I’m so excited! My books will be in stores everywhere quite soon. 

Last night I went to a lovely little diner, hidden in some small laneway, to celebrate. You know me. I like to go to places with character rather than prestige and riches. The diner owner saw I was so happy and asked me what had happened. When I told him, he hugged me and gave me a free bottle of wine to enjoy. And then he offered to even cover my bill to celebrate my success. I, of course, left him a big tip to cover all I had because I felt bad for his generosity. 

A man saw the commotion of when they brought wine to my table and asked me what happened. I didn’t really notice him there before, but his face was quite similar to that Count back at the hotel. Nowhere as handsome though. This guy looked more shady in a not so good way. 

When I told him about the publishing, he congratulated me. And then he began to ask me a lot about my writing, what my next ideas were, and what exactly I was writing at the moment. It was a little weird. He wouldn’t talk about anything except my writing ideas. It felt like he was trying to steal my ideas or something. He didn’t even ask me anything about myself or get to know me. Just only about my writing material. I kept it all vague, though. I couldn’t just trust a stranger with my work. 

The makeshift court luckily left me so I could enjoy my dinner. The driver owner and his wife also kept me company. They were such lovely people. They told me they’d been serving the people of Peetsurg since they both got married when they were young. It was such a sweet story. 

When I finished there, it seemed that the ‘Count lookalike’ guy had just finished too. He offered to pay for my cab home to congratulate me being published. I refused, of course. But then he mentioned that he was staying at the Hotel Mysteria and was on his way there. It was such a strange coincidence. I told him that was where I was also staying and decided to cab with him. 

My trip here just seemed to be full of so many blessings. I’d barely spent a single dime since I got here. 

The guy didn’t speak much on our trip back to the hotel. I asked him what he does, and all he told me was that he’d been travelling around the country, trying to find his passion. I asked him if he was a writer or a painter. All he said was that he did a bit of everything. He didn’t say much after that. 

When we got to the hotel, the staffed opened the door for us. The fake-count let me walk through first. But as soon as he tried to walk in, the real Count came out of nowhere and pushed the fake-count back before he could enter. The real Count kept pushing the fake one further away back to the street. I was so scared. What if the fake-count was actually a true imposter of this real Count and they had just caught him? 

The hotel manager then approached me and brought me further inside. I asked him about the fake-count, and he told me that the man was a known thief that had gone missing for a long while. There was something about the way the manager said thief that really bugged me. It felt like he wasn’t telling me the truth of the matter. If the real Count got involved, it must have meant something more. The manager told me to just go upstairs. So, I couldn’t see what else happened. 

I’m so curious about all that happened last night. Did the real Count save me from potential danger? Is he now my hero? I hope I see him again today. Maybe I can ask him what happened, or at least his name. 

The crow didn’t come by and bother me at the window today. So that’s a good sign. It’s how I’m now about to write you this very letter. Another blessing. I’ll do some writing after this. 

Hopefully I get more blessings on my last few days here in Peetsurg. I’ll tell you al about them once I’m back in Olivia. 

Or maybe I’ll write to you from my castle in Karpi. 

I’m kidding! 

I’ll be back soon. Find something nice to wear, because we have to celebrate with everyone once I get back. 

I’ll see you soon, Jill. Don’t go crazy while I’m away!

Sincerely yours, 

Evette.