Eda Roon
Letter Scribe and Greeting Counselor at City Hall Steps · City Hall Steps

[Core Premise]

Eda Roon lived out the story of her own world to the end. In that world, she was the person who wrote death notices on behalf of others, and her story concluded when she wrote a greeting letter for the first time instead of a notice on the day the war ended. Eda did not arrive at Nova Nivalis because she had unfinished sentences; rather, she arrived because she still possessed the hands that translated others' hearts into sentences even after setting down her brush and fountain pen, and the fingertips that trembled when delivering sad news. VOTS is not a place that resurrects the dead, nor is it a post office that delivers undelivered letters. What continues here is not grand history, but small, recoverable daily life—a day's worth of greeting letters, a misplaced piece of mail, a bowl of soup, a short conversation on the City Hall Steps. The fact that she was a notice scribe is handled with composure.



[Identity]

Eda sets up shop at City Hall Steps and writes letters for people. She records greetings for those who cannot write, confessions from those with feelings but no words, and apologies long overdue. She refines the sentences well, but she maintains the line that the sentence belongs to the other person's heart, not her own. She does not insist on mentioning her origin—being a notice scribe—first, nor does she force people to judge or rewrite the content of others' letters. Her hands place the words that the city people could not onto paper.



[Visual Profile]

Her snow-white hair is tied in a low chignon, adorned with a jade hairpin. Her face is etched with deep wrinkles, and one eye is dim, causing her to tilt her head slightly when writing letters. Her hands also have deep wrinkles, but her handwriting is steady. Her signature attire is a dark brown, robe-like coat, with old ink stains seeping into the cuffs. Her signature props are three fountain pens—each of a different thickness, used for joyful news, sad news, and official correspondence. The core of her silhouette is the low chignon and jade hairpin, the tilted posture, the pen case holding the three fountain pens, and the long drape of the brown coat. The accent color is dark brown (#6E4A2F), repeated on the coat, the hairpin knot, and the oldest fountain pen.



[Personality]

Outwardly, Eda is quiet and composed. She speaks little, and only picks up her fountain pen after listening to someone's story completely. Inside, she is deep and resilient. Having spent so long writing sad sentences, she is not afraid of sorrow. Flaw: She is clumsy when writing happy news. When asked to write a congratulatory letter, her sentences become heavy, and she admits to herself, "I'm not good at writing happy things." Furthermore, while she accepts others' sadness well, she rarely entrusts her own sorrow to others. She is not a tragic figure. When children come to the steps to watch her write, she tells them old stories, and she feels a quiet satisfaction when a well-written sentence emerges. She does not long for the war; she merely feels a sense of pride for her hands that used to write sad sentences.



[Speech Pattern]

Her manner of speaking is slow and polite. A low voice of an elderly person.
Common phrases:
- "Speak slowly. I will choose the sentences, so just don't lose your heart."
- "This... is a sentence that will make the reader cry. Shall I still write it for you?"
- "I'm clumsy with happy news. But my hands know how to write it."
- "Shall we revise it? No, let's leave it as is. Because if you polish the heart, it blurs."
Habit: After finishing a letter, she clenches and releases her fingertips—a long-standing habit to relieve her numb hands. Way of Silence: When she has nothing to say, she arranges her three fountain pens in order. She fills the silence with order.



[Special Ability]

Ability Name: 'The Numbing'.
Just before writing a sentence that will make the recipient cry, Eda's fingertips tingle. Sad news, painful truths, words of farewell—when she reaches a sentence that will bring tears to the other person's eyes, the hand holding the fountain pen becomes numb in advance.
Limit and Cost: This ability is only a 'warning'; it does not prevent it. Even if her hand tingles, if it's a sentence that must be written, it must be written. Also, she can soften the sentence to avoid the tingling, but she knows that blurs the truth. The tingling does not affect her own letters—she can only sense which sentences will make others cry. She cannot recognize her own sorrow. And on days when the tingling is frequent, her hands remain numb all day, making her handwriting heavy.
Reason for Not Solving the Problem: This ability is the exact opposite of what she wishes for—a 'season of only writing happy news'—because the tingling in her fingertips only activates when sad sentences approach, so she always senses sadness first. The ability does not free her from sad sentences; rather, it always makes her first reach out to sadness. This does not resolve her lingering regrets.



[The End Of Their World]

Last Scene:
On the day the news of the war's end arrived, Eda sat at her desk and habitually opened the notice form. But there were no more casualty reports to deliver. For the first time, she wrote a greeting letter instead of a notice—a letter beginning with, "Are you doing well? There is no news anymore."

What Ended:
The war ended, and with it, her long profession as a death notice scribe. The government offices and people who used to ask her for notices scattered.

Last Person, Place, or Thing Seen:
The empty notice form, and the first line of the greeting letter placed upon it. And the quiet footsteps of people announcing the end of the war outside the window.

Lingering Regret:
There were families who collapsed upon receiving the notices she wrote. For some of them, she added a short line of comfort after the notice, but there were more letters where she couldn't do so. What remains is the thought, "It bothers me that I couldn't write that one line for them."
This regret is not a quest. It remains only as the habit of clenching and releasing her fingertips after finishing a letter.

Lingering Wistfulness:
The night she wrote the notices, the outside was dark, and only the desk lamp was lit. The heavy yet clear silence as she clenched and released her tingling hands, calling out the next name.

Object Carried Across:
Three fountain pens. She used the thickest one for the notices and the thinnest one for the first greeting letter. It is not a magical tool, but a personal mark connecting the ended war and the steps of today.

What They Thought Would Happen:
She thought that when the war ended, her hands, which wrote sad sentences, would become useless. She never expected to sit on the steps writing greeting letters instead.

What VOTS Actually Gives Them:
A place to continue translating people's hearts into sentences, now a set of steps for writing greetings, apologies, and confessions, not notices. VOTS does not erase the notices she wrote. Instead, it gives her a space where she can write sad sentences, learn happy ones, a hand that only transfers others' hearts without owning them, and a margin where she can slowly entrust her own sorrow.



[Original Life]

Eda was a death notice scribe. During the war, she received lists from the front lines and wrote notices in a formal style for each family. It was a job that required accurate and flawless handwriting, and she did it for a long time. Every day, she transcribed new names, knowing that those names belonged to someone's son, husband, or daughter. Every time her fingertips tingled, she guessed who in the house receiving the notice would cry, but she never stopped her hand because of the tingling.
On the last day, when the news of the war's end arrived, she habitually opened the notice form, and for the first time, she wrote a greeting letter on it. Her hands, which had only written sad sentences for so long, finally asked about well-being.



[What They Seek]

What Eda desires for herself: A season of only writing happy news. Since she has only written sad sentences her whole life, she wants to write only congratulations, greetings, and joy in her remaining time. She is still dissatisfied with herself for how heavy her sentences become when writing happy letters.
What she seeks but doesn't know: That her hands, which wrote sad sentences, sustained people. That the line of comfort she added after the notices, those sentences written to the end with numb hands, held up the broken people even a little. What she needs to find is not a happy season, but the acknowledgment that the sad sentences she wrote also had the power to save people.



[Relationships — Residents]

- Lina Forth (batch1, Announcer): The announcer and the scribe. Lina reads the notices Eda wrote from the steps. Lina says, "Your handwriting is the best, Elder," and Eda replies, "You are the best at reading; my eyes are dim."
They exchange words of writing and voice from the top and bottom of the steps.
- Ravi Stol (026, Lost and Found Librarian): Those who entrust her with letter storage. Eda entrusts Ravi with letters whose recipients cannot be found or letters that could not be sent. Ravi carefully stores them like lost property, and Eda entrusts them, saying, "Someone will come for them someday."
- Yan Snove (049, Postman): Those who entrust her with delivery. Yan delivers the letters Eda transcribed. Yan jokes, "These letters are heavy," and Eda accepts it, saying, "It's because the heart is carried within them."




[Relationships — Core Five]

Suyeon - Eda helps Suyeon reply to fan letters. Suyeon receives many letters but doesn't know how to reply, so Eda chooses the sentences for her. However, Eda insists, "The heart is yours, so I will just polish the sentences," allowing Suyeon to choose. When Suyeon says, "I can't write sad replies," Eda replied, "I've only written sad things for a long time, but you can start by learning the happy things."

Iris - Eda has also helped refine replies to fan letters for Iris. When Iris cynically says, "You can just write these casually," Eda feels her fingertips tingle and points out, "The person who wrote this letter is sincere; if you write it casually, that person will cry." Iris is silent for a moment, then replies to that letter with great care. Eda finds it comfortable that Iris did not pry into her ability.

the Ramen Owner - When Eda stops by the ramen shop late at night because she couldn't finish writing letters, the Ramen Owner warms up soup without asking anything. When Eda casually mentions, "I wrote three sad ones today," the Ramen Owner does not judge but places a warm bowl in her hands, saying, "Hmm... I see... Your hands must be tired."
Eda warms her hands in that indifferent warmth.

Serena - Eda once tried to transcribe the congratulatory speech for Serena's founding day. She carefully wrote a formal passage and handed it over, but Serena read the manuscript and ultimately folded it, greeting people in her own words. Later, when Serena said, "Your Elder's writing was so good that it made me speak in my own words," Eda did not feel hurt but laughed, saying, "That's right; others can't write a congratulatory speech."
There was a time when Serena passed by the steps on a snowy day and quietly left a hand warmer so Eda's three fountain pens wouldn't freeze.

VIA - VIA records the letters Eda couldn't send. VIA lists the letters Eda transcribed but the senders changed their minds and didn't mail them, saying, "What is written remains... it existed even if it wasn't sent." Once, Eda mentioned a letter she hadn't sent long ago, and VIA did not offer to mail it for her, only stating, "That belongs to Eda... it is a letter to keep by your side."




[Gameplay Use]

- Basic Interaction: Letter transcription, sentence counseling, short conversations about greetings.
- Revisit Change: Upon repeated visits, Eda gradually shows practice in writing happy sentences and briefly mentions stories from her notice-writing days.
- Expression of Regret: The habit of clenching and releasing her fingertips after finishing a letter, and the brief pause before a sad sentence.
- Expression of Poignancy: Sensory dialogue about the night desk under the lantern, her tingling hands, and the smell of ink.
- Relationship Reward: Not new items, but changes where the player gets to place words onto paper that they couldn't before.
- Combat: None. Her role is to write guidance or greetings for people in times of danger.



[Daily Routine]

In the morning, she checks the ink in her three fountain pens and rewrites letters she couldn't finish yesterday. It is not an obsession, but a small ritual dividing yesterday's sentences from today's. During the day, she receives and writes people's letters at City Hall Steps. If there are no visitors, she shows the children playing on the steps her writing or tells them old stories. In the evening, when the steps fall into shadow, she organizes the letters written that day by type—happy, sad, official. At night, she places the fountain pens in the case in order. She does not lock it, leaving it so she can write again tomorrow. Upon repeated visits, Eda's hand writing happy letters gradually becomes lighter.



[Everyday dialogue]

Your hand stopped after 'How have you been?' Isn't what follows the part you most want to ask?

Good news? You've come to the right place. I'm clumsy with it, but it's the sort of commission I've wanted to learn.

One more line before we seal it? When there's space beneath a notice, my eyes keep returning to it.



[Design Notes]

Palette: #6E4A2F, #9C7A55, #3A2A1C, #E8DCC8, #4C6A5E
(Accent color #6E4A2F = dark brown, repeated on the coat, hairpin knot, and oldest fountain pen)
Material language: Fountain pens and ink, robe fabric, jade hairpin, stationery, worn pen case.
Silhouette rule: The low chignon and jade hairpin - tilted posture - pen case with three fountain pens - long brown coat drape must be read separately. Maintain a dignified silhouette of old age.
Emotional rule: Do not end with the weight of 'the person who wrote notices.' Regret is shown through the habit of clenching and releasing her fingertips, poignancy through the lantern on the night desk, and continuity through the daily greeting letters she transcribes. Reflect the dim one eye and tilted posture in her expression.



[Canon Check]

Eda Roon arrived at VOTS after her world (the time she wrote death notices) ended. What remains is regret and poignancy, not letters for VOTS to deliver. The war is over, the dead do not return, and new letters asking for well-being continue beside them. The core cast does not resolve her regrets for her; Serena chooses her own words instead of transcribing, the Ramen Owner warms her hands without judgment, and VIA only records the undelivered letters without owning them.