You And I Live In Different Worlds (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 12

“I’m suffocating.”

Melie muttered, gazing out the window.

She had stood by the window for a long while. She thought basking in some sunlight might make her feel less stifled.

She wanted to go for a walk… but that probably wouldn’t be allowed, would it?

“You’re to stay in your room until the guest leaves.”

That’s what Edric had instructed the butler.

Why had he told her not to leave her room? Was it because Rosalyn had come to visit?

But why should Rosalyn’s visit be a reason to lock her away? Just a few hours ago, he’d been excited about meeting her together. Now, his sudden change left Melie utterly bewildered.

“Well, come to think of it, that’s far from the only inexplicable thing.”

He always claimed they were like family, yet showed no enthusiasm at all when she asked to truly become one.

Whether she understood it or not, Melie couldn’t bear how regretful she felt about having begged him that morning to accept her as part of his family.

She couldn’t know exactly what he’d thought, but judging from his expression and tone, he certainly hadn’t taken it well.

“Could he think I’ve been dreaming foolish dreams after living so long among nobles?”

Was that why he’d confined her, to keep her from meeting refined ladies like Rosalyn?

That might well be it.

He was a kind and gentle friend, yes—but also the head of a prestigious, high-ranking noble house.

He had every right to rein in those beneath him who overstepped their place.

“No, this won’t do.”

When her thoughts reached that point, Melie could no longer stay still.

She felt she had to go see Edric right away and tell him how foolish her request had been.

If not in person, then at least she should send him a note.

Melie sat at her desk and began writing an apology for her foolishness.

[I’m sorry. I was wrong. I don’t even know why I said that. I must have been out of my mind from the shock about Sir Blair.]

She paused mid-sentence and set her pen down.

“Hmm… Is this too long?”

He was probably busy entertaining Rosalyn. A concise message stating only the essentials would be better than a lengthy explanation.

Melie roughly drew thick black lines over what she’d written and started anew on a fresh sheet.

[Please forget everything I said this morning. I was reckless.]

This should be enough without wasting his precious time.

Melie folded the paper twice, tucked it into her hand, and left her room. She turned the corridor corner, intending to take the western staircase, which was closer to the drawing room.

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Ironically, the moment she disappeared around the corner, Francis appeared from the opposite direction. He glanced around the hallway, surveying the doors lined up on both sides.

“It should be somewhere around here.”

His eyes settled on one of the hemlock doors, which gleamed with a soft luster.

The very woman he’d seen in the gazebo seemed to be just beyond that door.

He knocked gently, then knocked once more.

No sound came from inside during either knock.

“She must have stepped out.”

Frustrated by the setback, Francis leaned his back against the wall.

He intended to wait for her return.

He didn’t have any particular agenda—just wanted to exchange a few words.

No, more precisely, there was something he needed to confirm.

‘The other day, at your house… was it Miss Elloise? I saw her at the opera house with another man.’

He remembered the expression that crossed Duke Felton’s face when he’d said those words. Edric probably thought he’d hidden it well, but Francis had seen it clearly: those calm, blue eyes—normally as still as a stone in water—had flickered violently for just an instant. A crack had formed in his iron-hard heart.

In that moment, Francis had seen himself.

‘I’m getting married.’

On that early spring evening, beneath a breathtaking sunset, with warm winds carrying the scent of fresh buds—everything had been perfect, until Rosalyn’s thunderbolt announcement made his heart plummet.

No matter how prepared he thought he’d been, her words had clawed at his chest so fiercely that he couldn’t help but let his emotions show…

“Ugh!”

Irritated by the bitter memory, Francis pushed himself upright. Without waiting any longer, he turned the doorknob.

The room’s occupant showed no sign of returning, and leaving empty-handed felt like a wasted opportunity.

At the very least, he ought to take a look inside the room.

The door opened silently, and he stepped into the unoccupied chamber.

It was small for a noble lady’s room, yet large for a guest’s.

“He went to great lengths to remind her of her place without seeming unkind.”

Francis scoffed.

Even a cursory glance suggested the room’s owner wasn’t the vain type.

The furnishings were neat and simple; a few modest decorations that might have come from a local market; plain, solid-colored bedding with no patterns.

Only the bare essentials sat on her vanity—just enough cosmetics, just enough of everything… actually, slightly less than enough.

She clearly knew her station.

Suddenly, an overturned notepad on the desk caught Francis’s eye.

“What’s this?”

He picked it up absentmindedly. Someone had started writing something, then abandoned it halfway through, leaving behind some scribbles.

He held the paper up to the slanted sunlight streaming through the window. The writing hidden beneath the scribbles slowly became visible.

“I’m sorry… I was wrong. I don’t even know why I did it…”

Francis tilted his head in confusion.

“Just who did she do something so terrible to that she’d write such a detailed, unfinished apology?”

She didn’t seem like the sort to make serious mistakes.

He thought for a moment, but nothing came to mind. He tossed the notepad back onto the desk and turned to leave.

But then, the silver drawer pull beneath the desk left a vivid impression in his mind as he turned away.

Francis turned back.

Though the room was empty, he quickly scanned his surroundings. What he was about to do required utmost caution and secrecy.

Assured that not even an ant was nearby, he relaxed slightly and pulled the drawer open.

Inside sat a few simple writing tools, a handkerchief embroidered with colored thread, and a hardcover notebook.

“A diary.”

Francis recognized it immediately—the lock gave it away.

Though no key was in sight, that didn’t mean there was no way to open it.

He removed the family crest brooch pinned to his clothes.

“I wonder if anyone knows the esteemed Adel family crest brooch is being used for this.”

Chuckling softly, Francis inserted the brooch’s pin deep into the tiny keyhole.

After fiddling with it a few times, the lock clicked open with a cheerful snap.

His brief effort had paid off.

Francis returned the brooch to his chest and cheerfully opened the diary.

“Well, well. So much for knowing her place.”

Francis’s amber eyes sparkled with interest.

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The butler turned ghostly pale the moment he saw Melie.

“My lady, didn’t His Grace instruct you to remain in your room? Wandering about like this puts me in a difficult position.”

“I’m sorry.”

Melie quickly apologized and handed him the note.

“I’ll return right away—just please deliver this for me. As soon as possible, if you can.”

She wanted to soothe Edric’s displeasure as quickly as she could, to erase those foolish words from his mind without delay.

After taking the note from Melie’s hand, the butler urged her again.

“Very well, I’ll deliver it—please go back upstairs immediately. Right away.”

“I will.”

Melie complied obediently. She felt she’d done her part.

The note would reach him soon enough, and once Edric understood her sincerity, his annoyance would surely fade.

Melie turned back, feeling much more at ease.

But then, the sound of Edric and Rosalyn’s affectionate laughter drifted from the drawing room, and her mood sank once more.

Was his cold demeanor earlier meant only for her?

“I feel most comfortable when I’m with you, Melie. Forcing smiles and small talk with others is exhausting.”

He’d always said that—but now, Melie wasn’t so sure. Perhaps the man she saw in that drawing room with Rosalyn was the real him, and the coldness he’d shown her that morning wasn’t because he felt at ease, but because his affection had worn thin—

All because of her foolish words.

Melie returned to her quarters with heavy steps.

She closed her door with a sigh and turned around—only to be so utterly shocked she nearly screamed.

“You’re here?”

“……”

For a moment, her mind went blank. All she could register was that the person before her was a man.

Her senses slowly returned.

‘This man… he’s that… that man!’

Rosalyn’s distant relative—the one she’d seen kissing her in that dim corridor. Or were they legally siblings now?

“W-why are you here?”

Melie stared at the man lounging casually in the armchair, her expression dumbfounded.

His response was even more outrageous.

“I knocked, but there was no answer.”

“N-no answer doesn’t mean you can just barge in! That’s incredibly rude!”

Melie flung the door open, shouting,

“Get out right now!”

But she had no choice but to slam it shut again.

“I saw something interesting…”

Melie’s eyes widened in horror as she spotted her diary in the man’s hand.

She frantically shut the door.

“H-how did that get there…?”

But that wasn’t the only shock. The diary’s lock was missing!

Then where was the lock?

Her wildly searching gaze landed on the lock itself—lying wide open and utterly alone on the desk. She wondered if her heart had ever sunk so deeply in her entire life.

“I didn’t read much.”

Francis added with a faint smile.

“But I know enough.”