I Am Troubled That My Fiance Is a Villain

The separation my mother lived in was much smaller than I imagined.

In a discreet bedroom, in a living room with a compact type, the so-called upright piano, with a perfect back on the wall. A cozy kitchen that would only boil about tea. And a blue tile bathroom.

The condiments are also unified with white antiques rather than lavish ones.

Lucas, who arranged to stay away, just disappeared saying he had work to do until his dinner appointment.

I thought it would be sentimental to see my mother everywhere because it was about him, but it was a little unexpected that I went about explaining each room unexpectedly.

If you look around again, it's a tight detachment that makes the word girl hobby stick.

Is that why I don't engage somewhere with the image of my mother I was hearing from my father or stepmother?

"Surprise," it says on his face.

"My mother always thought it was a more luxurious place because she heard it was my fault."

"I mean, he must have been a very dedicated person."

"Why?"

"'Cause so is this piano, but bathroom tiles and stuff are so nice. It's small, but it feels like the taste of the people who lived here is jammed up."

"Lizzie likes this?

"I guess you like it. But living here all the time may be a little unsettling. Look, we're all brown stuff."

"Brown stuff, I think that's probably a great antique."

"Nothing compares to the one in Brunsmeyer's mansion."

No, I'd rather say the Reetbelf Mansion is winning in terms of the antiquity of all sorts of things.

That doesn't mean there's anything wrong with the value judgment on her stuff, so I guess it simply means she's too close and underestimating it.

If the Marquis Reetbelf hears, I'm worried he'll cry.

The dust rose like smoke as she breathed her full breath into the dust piled on top of the small piano lid.

It glitters in the white light as it plunges through a large window facing the garden.

"Can I play this piano?

"Isn't that nice? My uncle didn't say anything."

When the lid was opened, an old red felt was laid on the keyboard.

Lizzie folds it carefully and sits on the bench. The chair made a grunting noise, as surprised by the long-time player.

She put her hand on the keyboard and played some noise.

The sound of pawn and creaking.

"Hmm?"

Play the keyboard again, and Lizzie raises her voice in surprise again.

"What's going on?

"Something sounds weird to me. I wonder if it's because I'm not in tune."

Peeping in, Lizzie stopped by the edge of the chair to tell me to sit with her, so I would be grateful to sit in the chair with her.

"Play it on that end."

"What end is this?

"Yes, there it is."

Pressing the appropriate white keyboard made a low sound that often resonated with Bourne.

The sound is clearer and easier to hear than just now.

"That's crazy."

Her side, eagerly exploring the boundaries between where the sound creeps and where it doesn't, is serious besides thoughts.

But even though it's just the two of us, it's not funny if you're just passionate about the piano.

"Lizzie."

"Mmm."

Replying plainly raw, Lizzie slowly plays the white keyboard from bottom to top with a definite finger carry.

When did you practice piano?

"Turn around"

"What..."

You've gained too much momentum. Rather than overlapping lips, I feel like I'm going to bump into you. Lizzie raises a weird voice like a middle of nowhere.

When she grabbed my face with both hands and pulled it apart, she turned on me to look a little red and accuse me.

"What are you doing?"

"Why is that a tribute?

"Unintentionally, categorically disagree! As punishment, I ask you to open this piano lid!

"Are you gonna tell me you can't even ask me if I can?

"Then you can kiss me if you open the lid."

"Hmm. You're not going to tell me anything later."

Lizzie blushes even more and says embarrassingly when she presses caution with her hands on a firm piano lid.

"If you'll be nice to me, nothing..."

"Huh."

My hand slips all the way and the lid is about to fall off.

"Damn, it's dangerous."

I never got my hands pinched because Lizzie supported the lid loosely, but in another way my heart aches.

If you're going to be nice to me, do you know that?

Somehow, already, really...

No, I can't get the right word out.

Anyway, I'm only sure it was awfully destructive.

"Haaaaah......"

Cover your hot face with one hand and sigh grandly, okay? And I was worried.

It's not okay.

It's not okay at all.

Uh, I don't know, yeah. Let's calm down.

Calm down a little, then get your mind back on it and put your hands on the lid.

I tried not to think too much about what happened after I opened this.

When I opened it carefully because it should not be dropped again, the dusty air approached my face. The sweet smell of an old tree goes hand in hand, and you two gently spike it in.

Lizzie stretched her back and peered into the piano, fanning with her hands once again.

"It's dangerous."

I put my strength into my hand holding the lid so I wouldn't pinch her head.

She stretches out her arms with the impetus to stick her neck in, without worrying about what I'm doing.

"Almost... take it... take it!

And in her hand, whose face glowed, was a square twisted in a cloth.

Wrapped in a velvety fine black cloth, it's about the size of my palm and a little thick.

"This is what caused the sound to be weird?

"Probably."

Removing the dusty cloth, once again the dust broke in and Lizzie peeled the burner.

Open the window knowing that the room will be cold and shake the dusty cloth with a pat.

The powdery dust was transported to the wind immediately, and only the white bilload remained.

"What was in it?

"Something Booklike"

It was a book with black leather fittings.

But when it came to books, the size seemed small around the corner.

She seemed to be in a lot of pain, so Lizzie gently took the book and rolled the page gently.

The contents are filled with handwritten letters, which, from the finesse of the handwriting and lines, seem to have been written by women.

"I guess this is a diary."

Sounds like it.

My hands stop turning the page flat.

Lizzie was staring at a portion of the open page.

"Bernhardt"

I don't know why my name was called, I snap my neck.

And then I peeked into her hand and figured out why.

Lizzie's fingertips were definitely marked with my name in delicate dark blue ink.

"Could this be..."

We found a signature on the back cover of the diary, and we raised our voice.

It was just short there, Emilia, and it was just described.

The Duke of Notice Letger had no plans because of his busy schedule, and the three of us, Lucas and I, were going away for dinner.

The table was a little small for the three of us to surround, but the dinner proceeded in a soothing manner because no one had the personality to complain about it one way or another.

Flowers bloom mainly at events in school and old stories of childhood.

When I talked about being thrown into Snow Mountain for two weeks and hating beans because I could only have dried meat and beans at that time, I was very sympathetic.

Lucas, Teng himself, who hated me for beans, laughed at the pieces that had happened.

"Speaking of which, was that piano played by Mr. Emilia?

As soon as Lizzie asked me that, pointing to the piano behind me, the cheerfulness disappeared from Lucas' face.

He takes off his glasses and wipes the lens even though it's not even dirty, clouding the words a little.

He looks so much younger than his age. It's strange because when he takes off his glasses, he looks even younger, but rather much more like an adult than usual.

"Right. I wonder if she used to play the piano. Maybe he had a musical talent because he played songs he'd never even heard of at times"

When I told her about the diary or looked at Lizzie, she seemed worried about it, too.

For Lucas, my mother is a special person, and he has an unparalleled obsession with the existence of her.

I have no idea what would happen if he found out about the existence of a diary like that.

I haven't read the contents yet, but as much as I purposefully hid them in the piano. That content is not necessarily pleasing to Lucas.

I don't really want to think about what Lucas would do when it wasn't pleasant, and it's only obvious how much trouble it would be.

We should still revamp the contents ourselves once before we show them to Lucas.

When I faintly shook my head to the side, Lizzie nodded back as small as she was in trouble.

Then, until late at night, Lucas talked about her mother more than ever.

The fact that although he looked frivolous, his words and behavior were manly and often startled his surroundings.

That when my brothers hid the painting material, they immediately put that stash on me.

That he always looked like he was angry at something, disappointed.

"Sometimes when I was with her, it felt so strange that she and the world we live in was half a step off."

Sometimes Lucas' eyes spilled like that were a lot drunk, or he seemed moist, and I felt kind of annoyed.

Because, to my knowledge, my mother didn't think he was as nice a woman as he thought he would be.

"I heard my mother was a miserable man."

Though I thought it was bad to water it, I thought it had happened since I said that without being able to enjoy it.

To me, Lucas was a father like my brother, and I was worried that he might have said something to hurt his mood.

But unexpectedly, Lucas was not in a mood, but rather smiled with a tender face.

"... right. I won't deny that I had a hard time. Maybe she didn't care what others thought of her. I liked that kind of thing."

"Oh, I prefer to look like this and be swayed around or something"

Thanks to Lizzie getting her hands on it, the atmosphere just gets a little brighter.

"The favor of someone you like, you'd want to make it happen, wouldn't you?

Should I say that my nostalgia is wide enough for me to be with you?

But if I ask Lizzie's favor, I'm sure she'll want to make it happen.

Agreeing that's right, Lizzie voiced her disagreement for some reason.

"I hardly think I said anything."

"Lizzie's more of me, but I don't mind."

That's why I'm always a little worried that I'm just asking. [M]

And I want you to stop doing things that sometimes don't even clap, instead of usually saying what I'm trying to say.

"I'd ask you a favor, too, Lizzie."

Lucas says that in a jokingly tone when he regains his drunken upper mood.

"There's nothing like asking Dr. Lucas to do at the moment, so pick it up"

"Ha! Emilia told me the same thing. No, go home! Say."

We laughed like children at Lucas, a handful that drove him away.

It was when Lucas returned to the main building and was supporting him to sleep.

She pulled her sleeve, so I looked back and Lizzie with the diary looked at me upwards.

"You know, I guess Bern should really read it, not me... Can I read this diary first?

"Coming up?"

Lizzie stuffs her words when she tells her it will be too late at night.

"Because as soon as I read the first one, I'll be asleep"

Probably a lie.

Why don't you read it tomorrow?

That's what I tried to convince you, but I stopped looking at Lizzie's face.

She has long said that she will show stubbornness in unexpected places, or that once she has made her decision, there is something hard to give way to.

Now is the time.

You look like you've already decided to read the diary completely.

Whatever I say at a time like this, I get lazy, and eventually it falls that I can't refuse to ask you to do me a favor.

"Don't stay up too late."

Nodding with a strange face, Lizzie just disappeared into the living room.

I thought I'd come with you, but I thought it would get in the way of my reading, and while I was lonely, I snuck into bed alone.

The next morning, when I woke up early, Lizzie was still in the living room.

In the blue and white morning sun, the sleeping white back is dazzling.

I don't really want you to stay up all night because I've been up all night feeling sick when I went to the convent.

I just put my hand on her shoulder with a sinister face.

Lizzie was holding her diary and spilling tears quietly.

"What's going on?

I rushed for something to wipe but couldn't find it, so I'll wipe her tears with the sleeve of the shirt I was wearing.

Lizzie tinkled her nose softly and muttered good morning.

"You've been reading this diary and crying, haven't you?

I don't think it says anything like that that makes her cry.

Staring at the old diary with surprise, Lizzie gave it to me, holding it in her chest.

"I think you should read Bern too"

"... I am"

To be honest, I didn't really want to read it.

If you ask me if I don't want to know anything about my mother, I would say that's different.

But what if there's something in this diary about me?

If that's what you deny yourself.

Or I can't really think about it, but my mother loved herself, if what it was about.

What emotions should I have? [M]

"It's gonna be okay."

Lizzie gets lost. She takes my hand and leads me to the cover of the diary.

My mother's diary.

I felt slightly warm when I stroked the black leather cover.

I was open on the cover when I realized if Lizzie's words were holding me back, or if it was because curiosity prevailed not least.

Did my mother open the cover the same way when she started writing this diary? How dare you think that.

Because Lizzie read it once, or the page can wind up better than she thought.

Here's how the writing went.

It's been a week since a weird kid started coming to my yard.

I'm getting a little funny with a really weird guy, so I decided to keep an observation diary in my spare time.