Journal Entry 69

02.09.2026

Fräulein Heng—not only is she our family’s nanny, but I also consider her my therapist, my advisor, and, above all, my friend.

When I asked Fräulein Heng this morning if she would consider joining me for afternoon tea at Die Verborgene Tasse Tea Room in Eberbach, she took a deep breath and asked, “What have you done now?”

I smiled, wrapped my arms around her, and replied, “Nothing. I swear. But I may.”

Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, Fräulein Heng responded, “Ian, I am getting too old for your shenanigans.”

After kissing her cheek, I told her I would return at 1:00 p.m. for our tea date.

Die Verborgene Tasse has not changed a jot for as long as I can remember. Fräulein Heng and I have spent many afternoons in our favorite room, deep in conversation.

Today was no different.

“I have noticed a change in you, Ian. I sense a new life and direction; however, I am not blind. I know when something is not right.”

“You are correct on both counts,” I replied. “I request your assistance.”

“Always. You know I will do whatever I can to help you and the children.”

“I know you watched me burn the letter in the gazebo when King Jonas was visiting. I saw you peering out the window as you were closing down our home for the evening.”

“I wanted to make sure you were all right,” Fräulein Heng replied.

“I appreciate that very much. Beyond that, I want to talk to you about the letter. I will not go into too many details, but it was cryptic. When I left the gazebo, I wrote down what had been written on it. There were six lines to decipher.”

“You realize that Otto possesses the same ability, do you not?”

“I do, except this time, the use of my eidetic memory was warranted. I believe I have deciphered the first line, but I do not know how it relates to the others. I need your assistance with the second line, if you care to oblige me.”

“What was the first line, and what did it mean?”

“The less you know about the letter, the better. I must determine the meaning of everything that was written before telling anyone else. For everyone’s safety, of course.”

“What if the letter was a prank—or perhaps contained clues leading to something beautiful?” she asked.

“It is not. Trust me.”

“Why? Why are you immediately assuming the worst?”

“The letter was penned in blood, not ink.”