Chapter 23.1

Thump. Thump.

Roseline’s heart was pounding as she stared into Melchor’s eyes. She could feel her heart fluctuating wildly in her chest as he gazed back at her. The sensation that tickled Melchor’s chest began to spread throughout his body as he looked into her sparkling green eyes, which seemed to be struggling.

Her soft lips parted, sighing as the moonlight illuminated her disheveled red hair. Melchor’s gaze lingered on the collarbone visible through her white lace pajamas. He could feel a hook and a warm wind somewhere. Just seeing her slim body under the pajamas with soft shirring seemed to have left a sweet scent on the tip of his nose.

As he felt the urge to explore the shape of her chest, which rose and fell with each breath, Melchor reflexively loosened his hands and stood up.

“Hey, Melchor,” Roseline called out, flinching a little uncomfortably. Melchor quickly stepped back, realizing what he had been about to do.

The night was cold, and while Roseline had thought there was a warm wind earlier, now her spine was cool and her eyes were hot. Melchor was aware of what he had almost done, but a numb sensation overcame him. He bit his lower lip tightly, afraid that if he opened his mouth, a strange sound would escape.

Roseline looked at Melchor with worried eyes, then smoothed out the crumpled hem of her clothes, unsure of how to interpret his refusal to answer. She was still wearing her long pajamas because it was cold, but the skirt had ridden up to her thighs as she had fallen asleep on the bed. Melchor couldn’t help but look at the delicate hand that was lowering the skirt to cover her smooth thighs.

“You don’t like it, do you? I only resemble her, but not her,” Roseline said.

“No, Roseline. I…” Melchor started to say, but she interrupted him.

“No, I understand. I think that’s right, too,” she said.

Melchor didn’t know what she meant by that and couldn’t bring himself to ask any more questions. Instead, he gently touched her lips with his fingertips. He didn’t know why he couldn’t seem to form coherent sentences when he was around her. It wasn’t like this at first, but every time he stood in front of Roseline, Melchor felt like something was breaking down inside him.

“Now, really go back to your room. You have to go out at dawn tomorrow,” Roseline said, pushing him towards the door.

“Roseline…,” Melchor started to say, but she cut him off.

“Goodnight, Melchor,” she said, closing the door.

Melchor stood there in the dark, empty hallway, stunned by the closed door. He had only meant to check if she was sleeping and what she was up to, but he had also wanted to see her face.

They had talked on the balcony because Roseline was still awake. So far, so good. But now, as Roseline tried to lead him out of the room, saying it was late, he couldn’t help but feel like he was losing something important.

The problem started from then on. Since then, Melchor has felt like his body is creaking like a broken doll. They had only held hands, but Roseline’s reaction was strange the moment they did.

As he leaned in to look at her expression, she fell backward, and they fell onto the bed together. He could feel her slim and warm body through her clothes, and it was then that Melchor realized what he had done and let out a silent scream.

“I’m going crazy,” he thought to himself.

He resented why he had gone to Roseline’s room and why he was facing this kind of trouble. He didn’t understand her reaction when he realized his mistake and quickly got up. It wasn’t one of displeasure or shame, but something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

His heart was aching, and he felt like something was messed up, but he couldn’t figure out what was going wrong. Melchor let out a sigh, roughed up his hair with his hands, and went back to his room with a lot on his mind.

Roseline was lying on her bed, covered with a thick blanket. She was ashamed to see the moonlight shining through her window, so she closed her curtains.

“I never thought of this,” she thought to herself.

She had dated before, but she had always thought of it as a way to find a husband. She knew the basics of relationships, but she never imagined herself in such a situation with a man. She used to think that she was just young and naive, but not anymore. Now she knew how easy it was to let her thoughts run wild. It was then that Roseline realized that, no matter how contractual it was, it was still a marriage.

She couldn’t think of married life in isolation. The next head of the Postenmeyer family would be chosen through competition for successors, but the Grand Duke couple couldn’t produce an heir on their own.