Chapter 6 — Pen Pal Advice & Revenge Plans
Over the past few days, I read more than I ever had in my life. I was buried in romance novels. Clara, curious, even came by to check if I had any crime novels.
Right now, I was in a carriage on the way to meet someone—but I wasn’t slacking off.
“This should work.”
I looked over a paper I had written with what I thought were effective ‘rules’ for how to act.
Rule #1: The main character usually has exactly one best friend.
“Perfect. I only have one pen pal friend, so check.”
Rule #2: That best friend is usually loud and knows all the latest gossip. Probably because exciting side characters help the story come alive.
“Well, I’ve never seen my pen pal’s face, but if I put on an act in front of someone with a big personality, it should still work.”
Luckily, I knew a few nobles who loved to overreact.
Rule #3: When the main characters first meet, they usually don’t get along. I think that’s an important part.
At the upcoming saintess selection ceremony, if Herace and I argue in public, that would check this box nicely.
“Even if Herace doesn’t follow my scenario exactly, he should at least go along with the setup.”
Herace Gray… Honestly, he was still a mystery to me.
Just the other day:
“Let’s cheat on him together.”
“That’s boring.”
Even this outing was because of Herace. Whether it’s cheating or revenge, if we’re going to do it, we should set a time limit.
‘But we’re talking about Whisler.’
As much as I wanted revenge, I didn’t want to keep chasing something impossible. I was realistic, after all. Still, it was smarter to have a Plan B.
So, for the first time in my life, I went to get advice—from my pen pal.
“We’ve arrived.”
I stepped out of the carriage looking completely unrecognizable. This wasn’t an ordinary meetup, so I was fully wrapped in cloth.
I wore a veil and even covered my mouth. While veils were common, covering the mouth wasn’t. And there were no rules saying I had to cover my eyes, but I did that too.
The coachman looked nervous watching me.
“My lady, please don’t do anything bad.”
He probably heard something from Clara.
“This outfit? It’s not even expensive.”
“That’s not what I meant…”
“I can reuse it. Besides, books said this is how you’re supposed to dress when hiding your identity.”
Despite my reassurance, the coachman’s face turned pale—like he’d seen a ghost.
People sure worry a lot. Maybe I should recommend meditation.
Inside the temple, I looked at the statue of Goddess Cynthia. Beautiful men and women stood around her, sculpted in devotion.
‘That statue… really does look like Herace.’
But the statue came first, so maybe Herace just looks like it. Either way, the feeling I had looking at the statue had changed from before.
“Mother, so you like younger men, huh.”
Oops—that was dangerous. Definitely a rude thought. I must’ve read too many romance novels lately—my brain’s fried.
“Goddess Cynthia, I apologize. Please forgive my foolishness.”
Still, it was an interesting idea. Most people say the statues are her sons, daughters, saints, or holy servants.
“Goddess Cynthia, I, Philena, pray once again today. Just like before—please make the male lead, Whisler, impotent… and protect me, a side character barely better than an extra, from dying.”
After praying, I wandered under the stained glass windows, their rainbow colors glowing, and sat in the last row of seats.
I could feel a careful presence behind me. My friend. Technically, the pen pal I had never met before.
I cleared my throat and lowered my voice.
“Nice to meet you, Melissa.”
“Nice to meet you too!”
I had to make sure she didn’t realize I was Philena. If she ran off, I wouldn’t get advice, and I’d lose someone who could help me build social skills.
I’ve always known my own weaknesses: I’m socially awkward and bad at adapting to surprise situations.
That might’ve been fine before, but not anymore—not if I want to survive.
I had already explained my reasons for hiding my face. I said I was shy and preferred distance.
“Did you get here okay?”
By the way, I found that beginner conversation phrases in language textbooks helped the most. “Hi, how are you? I’m fine, thank you, and you?”
“Yes! I tripped a little on the way because I was so excited. Isn’t it amazing how we met?”
I gave a small nod.
Our friendship had started with a single letter.
Back when I was still a homebody, I had gone out for a rare walk and found a torn-up, messy letter. Normally I would’ve ignored it, but for some reason, that day, I picked it up and read through the ten pages of heartfelt writing.
Maybe it was because I had just finished reading The Meaning of Letters.
‘With letters, you don’t need to show your face or reveal your identity, so I figured it would be safe.’
After thinking it over, I wrote back using the return address. At first, I was going to ask Clara to write for me, but she insisted I use the opportunity to make a friend—and even lent me her name.
From the start, I avoided lies and direct personal details. I just borrowed Clara’s name.
What I thought would be a one-time thing turned into something that continued all the way until today.
“Is there a special reason you wanted to meet?”
Melissa asked carefully. I guess it was surprising, since I rarely talked about personal stuff and had suddenly asked to meet.
“There is a reason. I’m hoping we can meet like this a few more times.”
“I’d love that!”
“I’ve been stuck at home too long. I really need to build up my social and speaking skills. This is a great chance for me.”
I pretended I was talking about joining a social club, without giving away anything real.
“I’m happy to help! I just moved here from the countryside, so I don’t have many friends either.”
“Good. It’s nice when both people get something out of the relationship.”
Mutual benefit is what makes relationships last. Maybe I just made a true lifelong friend today.
“They say friends are the ones you talk to about your problems.”
“My ears are always open. Go ahead!”
“So… I used to have a boyfriend.”
“I had no idea! You had a boyfriend?!”
“But he cheated on me.”
“What the f***?! What kind of scumbag—?!”
My eyes widened. I’d already sensed it a bit, but Melissa was way bolder than I imagined.
Trying to stay calm, I continued.
“My boyfriend did something unethical, so I’m planning to break up with him. But my friend said I should cheat back. Said that would be more fun than just breaking up.”
Now was the time to hear Melissa’s thoughts.
“I agreed that revenge is a good idea. But logically, I don’t think it’ll work. His social status is higher than mine.”
“Screw his status! What, is he a noble or something?!”
He was, but I couldn’t say that. Melissa thought I was a commoner, so technically, we were on equal footing.
“There’s a vague difference between us. That’s why I wonder—how long should I keep trying to get revenge? Should I give myself a one or two month limit?”
Silence. Then I heard her shift in her seat before she spoke firmly:
“Time limit? You follow him to the ends of hell!”
“But devoting your life to revenge… that’s like addiction. Isn’t that just as bad?”
“Of course not! That’s a completely different thing! You gotta go all in!!”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Absolutely! And if you’re worried about it, just change your perspective. Don’t focus only on revenge—just promise yourself you’ll do it someday. In these kinds of situations, the real win is to become someone way better than that jerk. If you succeed more than he does, then he’ll definitely regret everything!”
“So you’re saying… if I become more successful than him, then that is revenge?”
“Exactly! If he sees the woman he lost living her best life? That stings. He will regret it.”
Melissa’s passionate energy could be felt behind me like a heat wave.
“Anyway, revenge is the answer. Even if it’s not cheating—just make sure that jerk ends up miserable, and go succeed on your own! Take it slow if you have to. The satisfaction at the end will be so worth it.”
