The diary was slowly opened—
The ink on the first page had already begun to fade, but two names at the very top remained strikingly clear:
"To my children: Marcellus and Elias."
For a moment, the air seemed frozen in place.
"…This…" Elias stood stunned.
Marcellus's hand paused mid-air, his eyes suddenly darkening with depth.
They looked at each other, unsure whether to feel astonished—or afraid.
This diary—was left by their parents.
Never had they imagined that in the eye of this storm, their parents' shadows would quietly emerge.
"…Keep reading." Elias said in a low voice, an unfamiliar tension tightening his tone.
And so, they continued to read.
This long-buried journal would unveil a story none of them had anticipated…
The First Entry
I hope someday you'll read this diary.
If not… maybe that's for the best.
Today, we officially launched the first phase of the City Expansion Project, together with Edgar.
Its codename is "The Ring of Hope." As the name suggests, we hope to turn this city into a self-sustaining circle of peace—
No hunger.
No homelessness.
No crime.
This isn't just an expansion beyond the city walls—it's a cleansing and renewal within them.
Edgar, Celesta, and the two of us spent six hours in the planning room today. From extending the freshwater grid, to mapping out land for the new industrial zone—
Every street, every stone was simulated and debated over and over again.
We truly believed—if the four of us work as one, we could change this city's fate.
Our intention was to let those living in the shadows finally see the light.
To turn the forgotten corners into homes—into hope.
At the outskirts of the new district, we planned three public workshops, two elementary schools, and one training ground.
Begging could be exchanged for work.
Children could go to school.
Young people could be trained to defend the city.
We even proposed restoring the abandoned houses in the old district—transforming them into safe, low-cost housing.
I still remember Edgar standing before the city blueprint today, unusually quiet.
He said,
"If we succeed now, maybe no one else in the future will have to make… those kinds of sacrifices."
I didn't ask what kind of sacrifices he meant.
Maybe it was just a sigh.
But I sensed… he meant more than he said.
The central square was bustling today.
A new group of street performers was rehearsing, and as we passed by, we saw children laughing and chasing after them.
In that moment, I genuinely felt—what we're doing is right.
But I also know—behind every plan filled with light, darkness circles quietly.
The first shovel of earth has been struck.
May we never lose ourselves in the complexities of power and profit with every step that follows.
I will continue recording all of this.
Perhaps one day, when you're older, when you understand a bit more, you'll come back and read this diary.
And when that day comes—
I hope you will feel pride.
And perhaps, even forgiveness.
—Your Father (and Mother)
The Second Entry of the Diary
Progress… has not gone as smoothly as we imagined.
The expansion project ran into obstacles within less than two months of launch.
To be honest, I always expected this day would come—
I just didn't think it would come so soon, or hit this hard.
Funding ran into a serious shortfall.
The nobles who had originally promised to invest—
withdrew one after another the moment they heard we had no intention of creating any "privileged development zones."
Some of the old-guard officials in city hall paid lip service to our efforts, but behind the scenes, they blocked us at every turn.
Even the construction permits were delayed three whole days.
Even Edgar and I began to question ourselves:
Were we too idealistic?
As for Edgar…
He still shows up to the meetings every day,
but I can sense it—his gaze is no longer the same.
There's calculation in his eyes now.
He's been meeting frequently with the city council's conservatives,
and even keeping private contact with several noble houses.
He says it's to "keep them calm" so we're not left isolated.
I want to believe him.
But that faith… no longer feels as certain as it once did.
We were forced to dip into our personal savings,
even sold off that ancestral land we had once set aside for your coming-of-age ceremony.
Our household staff have started whispering behind our backs—
saying we're mad.
Saying our families won't even be able to afford a proper wedding in the future.
But you must understand—this city is your future home.
We've always believed:
If we don't change something now,
then one day, you'll grow up struggling just like we did,
caught between privilege and poverty,
never sure where you truly belong.
At night, your mother (or father) and I often speak of you in hushed voices—
Marcellus. Elias.
We imagine you walking down the very main street we're designing.
We picture the new workshops, the schools flanking both sides.
We dream of a life where you no longer have to confront the abyss behind this city—
Where you don't have to, like Edgar, pin hope on strategy and sacrifice.
We hope that by the time you're grown—
There will be no more poverty in this city.
That justice will no longer require sacrifice.
That dreams won't need to be hidden away in silence.
Maybe… maybe we really can't hold out for long.
But if one day, you find this diary—
Please know that for your future, we bet everything we had.
—Your Father (or Mother)