(Upon pocketing an undelivered letter from within Zero's desk, its illegibility heightens due to a few water spots, grammatical blunders, and scribbled notes. Despite this, decipherable words remain, penned in an elegant, cursive manner.)

(Below is a scan of the letter text.)
———

December 15th, 2030

Lelouch：

Last week they were like, "Writing a snappy missive about you could seriously turbocharge your recovery."Miss Berlin chimed in, "Chat about some current things, the weather, work, those fresh blooms popping up, or whatever random stuff pops into your head."Well then.

Yesterday witnessed overcast skies; however, today radiates warmth with sunlit clarity. Pendragon typically experiences inclement weather around mid-December. Today's pleasantness is uncommon. Garden flora, seasonally dormant, sparsely adorn our grounds. Sherry sent me a potted magnolia and put it on the windowill in my room. I'm not very good at taking care of things, so its leaves are a bit wilted and it looks like it needs to be rescued by the ladies.

As for the work..... Ha.

Haven't been to work for two whole weeks. Not much to say.

Strange, isn't it? A dozen years have slipped by without such dialogue – can we truly call this conversation? Quite refreshing. They persistently nudged for this entire year, yet I commenced writing just now. TBH, I didn't even think I could write this letter.

Two months ago, Schneizel ascended as king. In order for him to ascend the throne smoothly, we forged a letter with Nunnally's handwriting – of course was the omnipotent Sherry's work. Recently, I've been thinking about getting him married – or what will happen to the future of the royal family? This has sparked turmoil among the public and media alike, all questioning the fate of their crowned prince. Thus, no leisurely days have graced me for over a month.

I had no choice, Lelouch. It was my only remaining option. The world you left behind is not as good as we thought it would be.

I think you know that. I can also admit that I feel the same way. We share this view, although we have never confirmed it with each other. Human dreads errors and pain, yet thrives on conflict's influence - never learning from wisdom's lessons. Countless times, I've seen this echo in history, yet my heart remains open to their flaws. Yet, you stated otherwise, Lelouch. But if this, why did you sacrifice yourself for them?

(The writer had pushed too hard and a hole appeared in the letterhead. What follows avoids the hole by starting a new line, and the handwriting becomes neat again.)

I know you'd use Nunnally as an excuse. Just shut up.

Let's talk about something else instead.

Just two weeks back, an intriguing notion struck me. It was the day the Supreme Council was amending the law, and Westminster was bustling. I didn't need to appear - Zero was still regent while the king was healthy, and that would only fuel controversy. As I lounged in the Palace of Aries' armchair immersed in the pages, curiosity struck me: What level of blood loss might render me unconscious?

With a letter opener, I slashed my wrist. It didn't really hurt, honestly. Compared to the injuries I suffered in my early years, this level of pain was negligible. The wound was not deep and soon stopped bleeding. But I was stubborn, and every time the wound scabbed over, I would pick it up again - I could almost see my own pale wrist bone at the end. Did you notice anything?

Your curse, Lelouch. I seemed to have found a way to break it.

Geass won't sway me as long as I don't think "Oh I want to die". A shade over an hour elapsed when dizziness wrapped around my head, yet pain remained elusive. My arm faltered slightly, yet the wound continued to widen. I pushed boundaries akin to a child at play in the sand. An additional hour passed before I summoned Sherry due to my disoriented state, unable to navigate to the medical facility independently.

Both Sherry and Cecil haunted by my desperate attempt at self-destruction ordering me their seclusion in the Aries Palace till "recovery". Over the next fortnight, they confined me, confiscated all potential weapons, monitored my wellbeing thrice daily, and fed me even more medic.That's why I stopped working. I couldn't eat anything, and for half a month I survived on glucose solutions, so they had to give me intravenous injections. But it doesn't matter.

The important thing is, on my death attempt's eve, I dreamt of times past.

The date blurred - perhaps July? My stay at the shrine was brief. On a moonlit July eve, Nunnally slumbered while I ventured outside seeking you, enticing you to join me for a nocturnal hunt for fireflies along a serene brook nestled against the mountains. There were no high-rise buildings rising up next to the shrine (when I went back to Japan a few years ago that area was already bustling). Starlight sprinkled like grains of sand, subtly luminous in the dark heavens. You were small, dressed in a crisp short-sleeved white shirt and somber black shorts, your knees peeking out from beneath the hem. A gust of wind lifted your shirt, revealing your fragile frame. Your spine seemed visible through the sheer fabric. Together we stepped into the rhythmic waves, your hand clinging tightly to mine. Every dip of the river sent you into a delighted giggle.

You couldn't catch any fireflies. Childhood in the palace left you sluggish. So I lent you my jar. Remember? The fireflies would flock once imprisoned. Your tiny hands cradled the jar, mine held yours. It felt like magic as they encircled us, under the moonlit breezes. You looked enchanting, your face aglow, your irises dark and clear, pooling like moving waters. You laughed, "Look up, Suzaku!"

I never told you, but this was an everyday spectacle for me. The blinking lights of fireflies are ubiquitous in Japan's summer nights. Known only at daytime as unremarkable black bugs often mistaken for flies, they're inadvertently killed by maids.

But I haven't met anyone as pretty as you.

I helped you out of the river and onto the shore. We strolled across the emerald meadow, feet touching nature's velvet touch. You put the bottle on the ground and we sat in front of it, captivated by the serene moonlight. It was you broke the tranquil silence, ventured, "Suzaku, what do you wanna do when grow up?"

As an nine year old, Lelouch, I'd not considered this before; but I always felt compelled to live like my father. So I said, "I really should defend my country, shouldn't I? And how about you?" A tinge of trepidation gripped me as I asked, fearing your departure from Pendragon might mean losing sight of both you and Nunnally. Farewells are always tough on kids.

Thank goodness you didn't utter those words. Remember what you said?

(Ink blotting. The writer seems to be in a daze and therefore does not lift his pen for a long time. When he began to write again, he avoided the smudged space and started a new line.)

You mentioned that you haven't given it much thought, but most likely you'll remain by my side. You, me, Nunnally.

I glanced at your silhouette, and in the subtle glow, our eyes met. We lay down on the plush grass, and I playfully positioned your hands above me, teasingly tugging at your belly. You laughed, took deep breaths, and playedfully shook your head, urging me to stop this little mischief. Then your gaze remained steady, a tender smile gracing your lips, aimed solely at me.

When I caught a glimpse of your visage in my reverie, Lelouch, memories flooded back. Your hair's hue, your pouting lips, all came alive again. Yet, as I mused, you escaped my grip and scurried aside, triumphantly hoisting the jar aloft, angled ever so slightly. The fireflies burst forth, twinkling like stars, soaring into the distant sky and the unseen riverbank beyond the shore. After their release, we examined the jar. A faint glow remained, but it faded quickly. A lone spark bug clung on, its fate sealed. Warm-weather insects have short lives, fireflies only a week to shine. You were crestfallen, murmuring something to me. Then -

I jolted awake, my dream rudely interrupted.

Sorry, but my memory drew a blank after that.

Previously stated, writing a letter to you was not part of my plan. I've already squandered too much time and energy in my life, so I'm not keen on frittering away my feelings either. After Adam died......

(Barely legible scrawl.)

I didn't pack Adam's belongings after his passing. Shirley kindly took care of it.

Should I introduce him to you first?

He's a good boy, Lelouch. Intelligent, courteous, and benevolent, borne down by his tender age, still naive like us once were. Recall our struggles in our seventies? A nation in turmoil, an entrenched autocracy, a fractured world. Chaotic times indeed. The shifting landscape spurred our growth, yet candidly, we weren't quite ready then. We two were both eager to challenge the decrees of fate. Actually we were not all that dissimilar to Marianne.

I did what I do best in life.

(Paper is scratched.)

I killed him.

Did you bear witness to that disaster? If you......

(The word "you" was written so slowly that the ink smeared and made the word somewhat difficult to recognize. T he author restarted a line because of this.)

If indeed you returned, granting me acclaim in Adam's dying breaths, and if you really believed in the magnificence of my efforts for Zero Requiem, Lelouch.....

Then I would......

(A large water stain. The writing is all blurred.)

I couldn't sleep at night because of this. My life died, Lelouch, or rather, I had died long before. It wasn't Kouzuki who caused my demise – despite suffering burns on 30% of my body, it did not lead to my departure from this world nor did it inflict any harm upon me. Let me tell you what caused my situation: the screams of those I killed with firearms, with my own hands, with KMFs and FREYA, the chilling mockery and terror of the people of my hometown; your joy, your agony, your grown countenance, your visage concealed behind the Zero mask, your invectives, the projectile that nearly pierced my skull, the corpse of Euphemia li Britannia that you hurled towards me, and above all, the sword you bestowed upon me – it was these factors that brought about my demise.

Don't even think about washing away this accusation.

......We have digressed too much from the original subject matter. Let's go back to Adam. Posthumously, I declined assistance in sifting through his possessions.That day, a letter caught my eye, placed casually atop the table. Sherry told me that she had found an unsealed, pure white envelope under Adam's desk. The envelope was inscribed with the phrase "For Suzaku."

I never dared open it. It was probably a long love letter from him to me, I think. In fact, I did not treat him as well as I should have, yet he held me in too high esteem. I believe Adam wouldn't fault me, since he remained oblivious to his looming mortality then. Could it merely be a love note? Or perhaps, a broke up letter (albeit, the latter might alleviate this pang of remorse). I put it in a drawer next to your PC until the memory of its existence unexpectedly returned to me, the day before yesterday. I felt apprehensive upon opening it. The object was heavy, and its contents seemed to contain something beyond mere sheets of paper. With a trembling heart, I opened it and found something you wouldn't be familiar with.

That was the Knight's medal Euphemia gave me.

Adam didn't write anything. No last goodbyes, no parting sentiments, no heartfelt confidences, and no whispered endearments. When I touched it again after countless years, it felt strangely foreign in my palm. At the same time, a sudden pang stirred in my heart. The pain suddenly reminded me of one thing: I'm still alive.

I'm still alive, Lelouch. Although I am not living a brilliant life, I am still alive.

Now I am going to talk about what gives me the ability to keep breathing.

You must be thinking I'm going to nag at ya again, huh? You're probably expecting me to say that your "living curse" is why I can't leave, aren't you? "Ah, Suzaku Kururugi, the same old routine! "Nope, already broke that curse; or perhaps you think it's Euphemia that inspires me to go on. Euphemia, Cecile, Lloyd, Jeremiah, Sherry, they all care about me and I appreciate that. But you also understand that I would die for any of them. I would stand in front of bullets for innocent civilians on the battlefield, disobey orders for my friends, even though they may not fully understand me. I would grab my sword to take out an emperor, all because of a couple of Schneizel's words. Death and I have been in constant companionship for three decades. A gentle nudge, and voila, my wish fulfilled.

But I will live for you.

That's what I'm doing now.

You undoubtedly killed me inside, but simultaneously, a fraction of you made the rest of me survive. The youthful you, the small glass jar, your hand caressing the fiery sunflowers, the soothing touch of our playful tussle, the enchanting melody of your whimsical giggles......? Remember when I used to climb trees to catch sparrows? The avian creatures displayed a remarkable sense of determination. Trapped, they wouldn't eat till they died. You forbade me from hunting sparrows. You claimed,"Nunnally accidentally touched a dead bird once and was so scared she almost cried. Nightmares haunted her for days." Lie.

You and Nunnally - got snatched up when the war kicked off, and for a while, Kyoto was one heck of a mess and I had no one to take care of me. I was feeling pretty low (you can guess why rn) and didn't fancy sticking around at home, so I took off to the hills to climb trees. There, I encountered a sly serpent poised to invade a bird's nest and devour its young. Believing it to be a skylark's, I intervened by lobbing stones and branches and tenderly freed the newborn birds, wrapped in fragile flesh-red skins, barely feathering their wings. I popped those little rascals into a thermos and played nurse with a syringe, hydrating them every day and snuggling them up in towels while cradling them ever so gently in my palm. You won't believe it, Lelouch. After ten years, I finally raised a wild bird soundly. Unfortunately, the second night after she learned to fly, the maid opened the window in my quarters due to excessive heat. And off it soared. Gone.

It's like the same thing you did.

I've wondered about a strange thought - what if our paths had remained unchanged, remaining unmarred by maturity or separation? Might our story have unfolded differently? Could we still be together by the river where we vowed, you, me, and Nunnally? You wouldn't need to rush towards adulthood, Lelouch. I pledged to shield you all, for wasn't it the most potent "idiot's" promise? If you could remain blissful and gentle, with an innocent grin and Nunnally's hand in yours, then you wouldn't have flown away. I would never and ever let you fly away.

Feel free to call me selfish. I don't give a darn.

As I write now, a memory of the day we caught fireflies suddenly flashes back. I suddenly recall the words you said as we stared at one struggling to fly out of the bottle. It's really weird that I thought I would never recall anything so long ago. And that was......

"How pathetic," you sighed, "it's the only one left ."

Now let me ask you this question, Lelouch. How do I live my life?

You're dead, Euphy's dead, Nunna's dead. Shirley is dead, and so is my father. Shinku got a disease a few years ago and now he's gone too. People I know are dying one by another, what am I going to do?

Or did you even consider that it would be me who was abandoned?

I don't blame you. I've stopped blaming anyone on this issue since a few years ago. But if you ever came back and saw a tired, miserable, dead-alive me who has lost you a long-winded time; If you've ever really noticed all those, Lelouch. Answer me.......

I CHOOSE TO LIVE FOR YOU BUT HOW DO I DO THAT？！

......

(The paper from here on becomes crumpled and obviously wet with liquid. The subsequent paragraphs are written on the next sheet of letterhead)

I may actually have trouble remembering things from before, maybe it's because of the medication. I don't know what kind of medicine Miss Berlin gave me. Those capsules piled up like a mountain, maybe there's something in there that's causing my memory to decline.Recently, daytime lethargy and weakness grips me while my fingers quiver continuously.

......Don't think I'll write to you again. After all, I won't get any letters back, will I?

But that doesn't mean I'll forget you or forgive you.

Promise that I will live. I'll live until I can't live anymore, that's our deal.

Oh. Actually, I know what you left for me. You......

(Unrecognizable faint handwriting.)

......

Last goodbye.

......

......

Plus, thank you for the cake.

Yours,

......