Chapter 1: "The Letter Between Pages"

The bookstore smelled like old stories and quiet rain.

Ren Kazuki stepped inside, shaking droplets from his jacket. It was the same little shop he’d been visiting for years — tucked between a closed tea house and a faded laundromat. The bell above the door gave a soft chime, unnoticed by the elderly owner asleep behind the counter.

Ren liked that. The silence. The comfort. The way the shop felt untouched by time.

He ran his fingers along the spines of books, looking for something he hadn’t read yet—or maybe something familiar enough to feel safe. He paused when he saw an old copy of Norwegian Wood. The corners were frayed, the cover faded, but something pulled him to it.

He opened it, and a folded piece of paper fluttered out.

Curious, Ren knelt down and picked it up. The page was soft with age, edges wrinkled like it had been touched too many times. A faint water stain curled along the top, as if it had once been soaked in rain.

The handwriting was neat but trembling. There was no date. No name.

“I wonder if anyone hears the thoughts we never speak. If silence is just another kind of screaming. If missing someone you’ve never met is even possible.”

Ren blinked.

He read it again. Slowly.

Something about it gripped him—not just the words, but the feeling behind them. As if someone had opened their heart in ink, folded it shut, and left it to be found. It wasn’t a love letter, not exactly. But it felt personal. Intimate.

He turned the letter over. Nothing on the back. No clue who had written it.

And yet... it felt like it was meant for him.

---

The next day, it rained again.

Ren returned to the bookstore. This time, he searched on purpose. He wandered the aisles, choosing books at random, flipping through the pages.

And there it was.

Another letter.

Tucked into The Bell Jar.

“I see you sometimes. Walking past the window. You never notice me, and that’s okay. I think I wouldn’t know what to say anyway.”

He exhaled, heart quickening. Was this a game? A journal someone had scattered across bookshelves? A secret?

He didn’t know who was writing them, but it was like each letter was breathing — warm, vulnerable, and alive.

---

At school, everything felt the same… except Ren didn’t.

He started to notice things more. The way people talked. The way they avoided silence. He wondered what kind of words they kept locked inside.

And then there was her.

Yuna Saito.

She sat near the window in their literature class. Quiet, always. She took careful notes. Never joined in gossip. And sometimes, Ren saw her staring out the window like she was trying to remember something from a dream.

He wondered…

Could it be her?

No—how could it?

Still, his eyes lingered.

---

Ren started saving the letters. He folded them neatly into a journal. He’d read them at night, over and over, wondering about the person behind the words. Someone who saw the world like he did. Someone who wrote pain like poetry.

He didn’t tell anyone. It felt too sacred. Too strange.

But inside, something was stirring. Something new.

A wish. A pull. A hope that whoever was writing those letters wasn’t just leaving pieces behind…

…but waiting to be found.

---To be Continued

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