"Well, there you have it," the rotund editor of the Yharnam Crier told Balyn. "Those are your job. Any one of them that included return postage gets a letter back. The rest, answer as best you can and the staff and I will pick the ones that make for the best reading to publish."

Balyn looked at the small mountain of envelopes that covered half of the battered wooden desk that would be his workplace for the next week.

"Are there really that many of them?"

"Look. When the Red Moon happened, about a third of the people in this city straight-up turned into beasts. Another third either went stark raving mad or got eaten by the ones who turned into beasts. So that remaining one-third, you can see how they might have some problems. The kind of problems where they could use a little advice. And that—"

"—is where I come in?" Balyn finished.

"No, it's where an experienced professional comes in, but Miss Emilly isn't here anymore."

"Beast, mad, or…?" Balyn hazarded.

"What? No! Good gods, what kind of monster are you?" The editor looked absolutely appalled at the suggestions. "She looked me in the eye, said 'I need to help people in a more direct way; there's more that I can do than just write letters,' and by nightfall she was out there with a tricorn, a greatcoat, and a saw cleaver. Which is fine and uplifting, but it leaves her chair here in need of filling by someone less dedicated and you seem to fit the bill."

"She sounds like she'd get along well with a doll I once knew."

"What?"

"Um, nothing."

"Well, if you've got time to stand around mumbling, you've got time to work. Get to it, Balyn."

"Yes, Chief!"

"And don't call me Chief! I was in the Army, not the Marines!"

Balyn hadn't known that Yharnam had a military. Maybe the editor was an outsider, too.

In any case, thinking about it wasn't going to get the job done. He pulled out the chair, plopped down with a creak of well-worn springs, and reached for the first letter on the pile, which was written in a delicate, feminine hand.

Dear Miss Emilly,

The recent conflagration that embraced our city was a time of great change for me. I find that my perspectives on things have greatly altered, and things that I took for granted no longer seem as simple and straightforward as they once did. In addition, I have adopted a child, a young girl who lost her family in the crisis and who, like me, has been forced to see the world in a different way than she had before the night of the hunt.

However, despite these events, I have decided that the time is right for me to resume dating.

What I wonder is, would it be appropriate to discuss my new philosophical outlook on cosmic and spiritual matters on the first date? I would prefer to be honest from the start and, if there are any objections, it would be better for us both to move on to other potential partners who could share our values. However, I also appreciate that first dates are rarely the time and place for such deep topics, and I worry that in forcing the matter I may offend otherwise agreeable partners and come off as unintentionally strident or even fanatical, which is truly not the case.

Therefore, do you believe I should raise the topic right away, or would it be better to wait for a few dates even if it means spending time in an ultimately fruitless relationship?

Balyn set the letter down. This was a tough one! A woman who'd taken on the responsibility of single motherhood and was looking for a serious relationship didn't want to spend her time going down dead ends. Yet going full Micolash on the first date was a good way to scare off even those who'd love to chat into the wee hours of the night once they got comfortable with you. And it looked like the woman had sent a return envelope as well, so she was owed a direct response. Balyn would have to think carefully about this.

Then he saw the address on the return envelope.

"Iosefka, you might as well come right out and say it, because I think that your date is going to pick up on that you might have a slightly out-there perspective."

~X X X~

A/N: Bonus points to anyone sufficiently old and crusty enough to recognize where Miss Emilly's name comes from! And the set-up of the protagonist ghostwriting her column, for that matter. Also, thank you very much, all of you, for your continued support of eldritch dad jokes as "Even an Omake..." cracked 200,000 views last month!