Ugh, this formal tone feels so awkward.
Lin Yu instinctively matched the man’s politeness, nodding slightly and saying, “You’re too kind, sir. I, too, have been impolite.”
After speaking, both fell silent, the atmosphere growing awkward again.
Though the man had lowered his guard somewhat, he was still wary of Lin Yu, not fully trusting her words.
His stance, slightly turned and pressed against the corner, betrayed his caution.
As for Lin Yu, a transmigrator in someone else’s body, she didn’t even know “her” own name. Naturally, she wanted to avoid excessive conversation—too many words could lead to mistakes, a principle she understood well.
Tap, tap.
A brief burst of footsteps broke the uneasy silence.
Both people in the corridor turned their attention to the source—the left corner.
Lin Yu silently placed her right hand over her left sleeve, feeling the reassuring texture of the dagger’s sheath through the soft fabric.
“Please, both of you, stop. Don’t come any closer.”
“I believe keeping some distance while we talk is the better choice for all of us.”
Learning from earlier, the man spoke more diplomatically this time, though his tone still carried unmistakable wariness.
“Calm down, sir. We mean no harm.”
Due to her angle, Lin Yu couldn’t see the newcomer at the left corner, but the female voice felt inexplicably familiar.
“I’m Hannah Carter, daughter of Baron Newman Carter. If you follow the Glenn Daily, you might know of my father.”
Hannah Carter.
At the sound of the name, Lin Yu frowned, a flicker of pain crossing her face.
A fragment of memory, not her own, surfaced in her mind—disjointed and glitchy, like an old projector reel, broken and stuttering.
The original owner knew this person, and they were close friends.
What now?
Should she approach or flee?
Though her mind raced, only a few moments passed in reality.
Lin Yu made her decision. Running now would only confirm she was suspicious. Better to engage and adapt.
“Hannah?”
She softly called the name.
After a brief silence, rapid footsteps followed.
A youthful, slightly round face with a few freckles on the nose peeked out from the left corner. Light blue eyes widened upon seeing Lin Yu, sparkling with joy and concern, like dazzling fireworks.
“Rosie!”
The girl exclaimed, then, dragging her long skirt that reached her ankles, ran toward Lin Yu, clearly intending a big hug.
At the last moment, she recalled her etiquette lessons, restraining herself.
Hands clasped at her waist, she offered a gentle smile and spoke politely, “Are you alright? Mr. Sandek and I have been looking for you.”
Lin Yu was momentarily dazed—not overwhelmed by the girl’s enthusiasm, but because the name “Rosie” stirred her stagnant memories, unearthing waves of familiar yet alien information.
Rosie Moulton—that was her name.
She had just celebrated her coming-of-age ball.
After the social season ended, she returned from the capital, Bredek, to Glenn City.
Her days were filled with balls, parties, and horse races—a true noble lady.
But the memories of “herself” were vague, first-person glimpses, chaotic and unhelpful for her current situation.
She couldn’t let Hannah notice any drastic changes.
She had to fully embody Rosie Moulton—to fool others, she first had to fool herself!
Lin Yu—no, she was Rosie now.
Snapping back, she exhaled softly, adopting a relieved expression and speaking in a survivor’s tone, “I’m fine.”
“Hannah, I was so worried about you.”
Sorry.
As she spoke, Rosie silently apologized in her heart.
“You two know each other?”
The mustached man looked uneasy, realizing he was the only one left out among the four people present.
As a proper noble lady, Hannah’s upbringing shone through.
She quickly shifted from the joy of reuniting with her friend, turning to bridge the group.
“My apologies, sir, for neglecting our earlier conversation. That was rude of me.”
“Please allow me to introduce myself.”
Hannah raised a hand, palm open, gesturing toward her friend.
“This is Miss Rosie Moulton, daughter of Viscount Moulton, a city councilor.”
Viscount, councilor—such weighty titles made the man even more nervous about his earlier rudeness.
He removed his top hat, gave a gentlemanly bow, and said awkwardly, “Hello, Miss Moulton.”
What a headache, these elaborate manners.
Though she grumbled inwardly, Rosie remained composed, responding politely, “Hello.”
Once their greetings concluded, Hannah continued, “This is my bodyguard, Mr. Dennis Sandek.”
Rosie’s gaze shifted to the reserved man standing a few steps behind Hannah, subtly positioned between his employer and the mustached man.
He was around forty, with an unremarkable face, light blonde hair streaked with silver, a stern expression, and cold eyes.
He merely nodded at his introduction, acknowledging it.
Seems reliable, Rosie thought, assessing the bodyguard.
The mustached man didn’t dawdle, introducing himself, “I’m Donahue Bobby, a manager at an import-export company.”
With introductions done, they exchanged pleasantries, concluding the formalities.
Hannah glanced around the surroundings, pondered briefly, and spoke, “Mr. Bobby, Rosie and I were on a carriage heading to a friend’s tea party when we suddenly lost consciousness.
What about you?”
Donahue Bobby frowned, murmuring, “I left my company at five, planning to take the public carriage home on Dover Street as usual.
But on the way, I suddenly heard someone calling my name.”
“No.”
He raised a hand to his temple, his expression pained.
“I’m not sure if anyone was actually calling me.”
“It was a feeling, like something—or someone—behind me was drawing me in.”
“I turned around and saw—”
“A man with a small mustache.”
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