Chapter 6: The Maid From Another World

When I arrived, my father’s sword was already plunged into the chest of a richly dressed woman. Her face was twisted in fear as she collapsed in a pool of blood. My father’s face was stormy, his whole presence radiating menace.

See? When he wants someone dead, no one but my mother could stop him.

"Father," I called.

He glanced at me coldly, unconcerned that his daughter had seen him kill.

"Father, let me handle things here, all right?" I said.

His cloak was splattered with blood, and as a stickler for cleanliness, he didn’t want to linger here. He wasn’t going to wait for the Duke of Wexley’s family to arrive.

So I took over, ordering the guards to summon the Duke of Wexley to collect his daughter’s body. Watching the duchess sobbing over her daughter’s corpse, and the duke’s red-rimmed, furious eyes, I couldn’t help feeling a little sorry.

If I didn’t know they were behind this, I wouldn’t believe it. With everything to gain or lose, they gambled—and lost. Now they’d lost their daughter, and soon, the entire family might be gone too.

Suddenly, I felt a strong gaze on me. I narrowed my eyes. As a martial artist, I was extremely sensitive to hidden stares. I looked over—it was a maid who’d come with the duchess?

But her face was far too striking—black hair, red lips, bright eyes. If she dressed up, she’d be a stunning beauty. Her gaze at me was strange and complicated—like longing, like relief, and… like a mother’s love for her child?

Me: "?"

I thought I’d imagined it, but when I looked again, she’d already lowered her head, blending in with the other maids—utterly unremarkable. Even I almost overlooked her. But she was from the Duke of Wexley’s house—nothing to do with me.

Once I finished up, I prepared to return to my residence.

"Tristan Valemont?"

A woman’s clear voice, surprised and uncertain.

"Holy crap, CEO? No, Director York!" Tristan sounded even more shocked.

Me: "?"

I quickly ducked behind a tree and saw the two of them facing off in a secluded spot. The man was Tristan. The woman—the beautiful maid from earlier.

In a short time, she’d changed outfits and her whole aura—now she wore a flowing white dress with a pale blue shawl, her beauty cool and ethereal, like a true noble lady. But she didn’t have the gentle, sheltered air of a young lady—instead, she carried a natural pride and coldness.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Tristan was so nervous he didn’t know what to do (I mean, running into your boss in another world—who wouldn’t be nervous): "I… I died in a car accident in the modern world, and when I woke up, I was here."

She frowned slightly. "I did hear from HR that you’d had an accident…" Then, sincerely: "My condolences."

Tristan: "Condolences for what? For myself?"

Me: "?"

What are you talking about? I don’t understand a word!

Tristan asked carefully, "Director York, you’re here too, so does that mean you…"

"I’m in my own body here."

Tristan’s eyes lit up: "I thought you died in the modern world too. This body looks just like mine did."

Listening to their conversation, I realized—they were from the same world?