The gentle hum of the festival outside filled the air as you wandered through the corridors of the inn, looking for Albedo. You had been friends for years, bonded by a shared love of storytelling and the arts, but there was always something deeper, unspoken, between the two of you.

You knocked softly on his door. "Albedo? Are you there?"

A moment later, he opened it, his usual calm demeanor greeting you with a faint smile. “Come in. I was just finishing something.”

Curious, you stepped inside and immediately noticed the easel in the corner of the room, a sketch half-finished on it. Albedo, ever the dedicated artist, always seemed to be working on something. However, this time, something felt different. The strokes, the scene...it looked eerily familiar.

Your heart skipped a beat. "Can I take a closer look?"

Albedo paused for a second, then nodded. "Of course."

You moved closer to the easel, your eyes widening in disbelief. It was a detailed illustration of a pivotal scene from your manuscript—the one you'd been working on for months. The quiet emotion in the characters' expressions, the setting, even the small details you hadn’t shared with anyone outside the publishing house... it was all there, brought to life with Albedo’s exquisite touch.

“Albedo… this is from my story.” You turned to him, confusion and awe swirling in your chest. “How did you—?”

Albedo’s lips curved slightly, his eyes glimmering with something warmer than usual. “The publishing house commissioned an artist to illustrate scenes for your upcoming book. They didn’t tell you the artist’s name, did they?”

You blinked. “No…”

“Well,” he continued softly, “they asked someone who could understand the story as well as you do. Someone who already appreciated your work.” He paused, then added, almost shyly, “They asked Calx.”

“Calx… you’re Calx?” Your mind reeled at the realization.

Albedo met your gaze, his expression gentle. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I’ve admired your writing for so long.