My name is Mia. Just an ordinary woman with nothing to call my own. I was tired of life, bored of everything.
One day, a random ad for a novel-reading app popped up on my phone. I downloaded it out of boredom and picked a random story. The title was "Melmady, the One Who Captured Evan's Heart." Just reading the title gave me chills.
It was clearly a romance novel. I spent the whole week reading it and realized that good love only exists in fiction. The plot was predictable and cliché.
"Of course the hero has to end up with the heroine," I muttered before turning off my phone and going to sleep.
I had no idea how long I slept, but I woke up to sunlight and the sound of people talking—something that shouldn't be there. For years, the only sound I ever heard in the morning was my alarm clock. But today felt different. I slowly opened my eyes and saw a middle-aged woman dressed in a maid uniform. She looked at me and said,
"Miss Stella, it's time to wake up."
…Who's Stella? Confused, I looked around.
"Are you talking to me?" I asked, pointing at myself.
"Yes, miss. Are you feeling unwell?"
I got out of bed and walked toward the mirror. And then—
"Ahhh!"
The reflection wasn't mine. It was a beautiful girl with flawless features and long, silky hair—like someone out of a dream. Suddenly, a sharp pain hit my head, and memories that weren't mine started flooding in.
This body belonged to Stella Collin, daughter of Duke Asher Collin—an influential and wealthy man who supported the royal family, the Lincolns. Lincoln? That name sounds familiar... Wait—wasn't the Lincoln royal family in the novel "Melmady, the One Who Captured Evan's Heart"? If I remember correctly, Evan worked for them.
But... I don't remember seeing the name Stella Collin in the story. No way. Did I become a background character!? I was still standing there, deep in thought, when the maid asked again,
"Miss? Are you alright?"
"Um… I have a headache. It feels like I hit my head. And… I think I might be losing my memory,"
I said, pretending to be confused—then faked fainting to make it more believable. When I woke up again, the room was full of people gathered around my bed.
"My darling! You're awake! We were so worried," a well-dressed middle-aged woman said—probably Stella's mother.
"Who… are you?"I asked, keeping up the memory-loss act. She screamed in panic and called the doctor immediately.
"Did the young miss have any kind of accident?"
the doctor asked the maid.
"Well… she told me not to tell anyone, but… I didn't think it would be serious,She fell and hit her head on the fountain. I didn't think it was hard enough to cause memory loss. I'm sorry for ignoring it…"
Yikes… this really is serious. If no one helps her, she might get fired for this.
"Please don't blame her. I'm fine,"
"If you were fine, you wouldn't have lost your memory!!" the mother snapped.
Oops… Maybe I went a little overboard. Should I pretend to have a seizure next? I glanced at the doctor, silently begging for help.
"For now, let's just monitor her condition closely," the doctor said.
Whew... thank goodness. Good doctors can read their patients' minds.
After the doctor had finished examining me, he told me to get plenty of rest and not go anywhere for a while. I nodded in agreement—but curiosity always wins in the end.
I started going through Stella's belongings and stumbled upon her diary. I know it's not right to read someone else's diary without permission, but right now... I am Stella. So, I'll read it.
It seems Stella was the epitome of a noble lady. I assumed she was spoiled and hot-tempered, yet she also had the refined manners of someone born into high society. Her life seemed perfect. But if that's the case—why wasn't she mentioned in the novel?
I began reading from the first page, where she wrote about her life at twelve, and continued through to the present, where she is now twenty. Her writing matured with each year. It made me wonder—what kind of person was she really? She seemed to pour all her emotions into her diary. Maybe she wasn't the type to express herself outwardly.
"A model daughter, huh…" I murmured softly.
I kept reading, until I came across a line that made me pause:
"When will I be free of this family? How long must I remain a mere ornament for Father to parade around?" Wait—she wasn't close to her father? Was everything before just an act? I glanced at the maid behind me. She looked to be about my age.
"You there," I called out.
"Y-Yes, my lady?" she replied nervously.
"What kind of person am I?"
"I've only just started serving you, my lady… but from what I've seen, you always wear the same calm expression, as if hiding something deep inside. No one can read your thoughts. After returning from lessons or outings, you always go straight to writing in your diary," the maid explained.
"And what about... my family relationships?" I asked again.
"I-I wouldn't know, but I did hear rumors... that Lord Father used to scold you harshly about your behavior. But that was a long time ago. No one really talks about it anymore," she added, trying to offer some comfort.
So, I've become a better person now? I guess Stella was someone who kept everything bottled up, always presenting a composed and graceful image. I had expected a spoiled young lady who threw tantrums, but she was far from that. Maybe that's why she wasn't part of the original story. I looked back down and continued reading.
"Father asked me to attend the welcoming banquet for Duke Evans Fletcher in his stead. He doesn't think highly of the Duke—says he's arrogant and often disagrees with the Royal Council. The Duke's ideas are always… unconventional. Even though His Majesty embraces innovation, my father clings to tradition. And then I saw him for the first time. My heart pounded wildly. He looked like someone straight out of a dream—golden hair like sunlight, a handsome face, determined eyes, and flawless poise. The moment our eyes met, the world seemed to stand still. He approached and introduced himself. But I remained composed, the dutiful daughter who must protect the family's honor. Father would never approve of me harboring feelings for this man. Even if he had everything—title, wealth, fame—his bold ideas would be too much for Father to accept. I exchanged only a few words with him before politely excusing myself. I was there only to formally welcome the Duke's return."
When I finished reading, I was certain—this is the novel I've read before! But why was Stella never mentioned in it? She clearly knew Evans. She wasn't the villain, nor a side character. The antagonist of the story was supposed to be Lady Claire Sinclair, the noble daughter who endlessly pursued Duke Evans—until he revealed his love for Melmedy Owen. The more I think about it, the stranger it seems… Was Stella actually Evans' first love—but his father disapproved?
After reading through Stella's diary for a while, a thought struck me—surely someone like Stella would have a study of her own. Perhaps I could uncover something there, some clue to help me piece together the truth.
I quickly told the maid to help me dress. She looked a little confused by my urgency, but stepping out of the bedroom in nightwear hardly seemed appropriate. I asked her whether Stella had a study, and she replied that she would take me there.
The moment we arrived, I asked her to leave me alone. I needed some time to myself.
I sat at the desk, my eyes scanning its pristine surface. Everything was so meticulously organized, it almost felt like a secret was being hidden in plain sight. I began searching for letters—correspondences that might reveal more about Stella and those she was involved with.
There were many, but some had been set apart, as if deemed more important. Perhaps the fewer ones held more significance. I decided to begin with the smaller pile. Most of those were letters from House Fletcher—proof that they had been in contact for quite some time. I started with the earliest one. It seemed that Duke Evans had written first, merely offering a polite greeting. Stella's replies were formal, distant, and courteous. Yet the Duke continued to write, again and again. Until the final letter. In it,
he wrote, "We seem to get along well. Might there be a chance… for something more between us? There is no rush, if you are not ready..."
But Stella never replied—at least, not properly. She simply scribbled a short sentence at the bottom of the page:
"It could never be. Farewell." This story was supposed to be romantic.
So why does it feel so unbearably sad now? A love that could never be... I returned all of the Duke's letters to their original place and turned to the rest. Most were invitations to tea parties, likely out of obligation. Some were proposals of engagement—none of which she had responded to, nor hinted at anyone being special.
Except… the Duke's.
So, were the two of them still in contact? If I were truly important, someone should've told me about the memory loss… or that Melmedy had already appeared?
to be continued..
Message from the writer
Hi gays ,this is my first time writing this story. It may not be very well written, but I hope you all will continue to follow me.
See you soon.