To Choose You Eunho x YerimChapter 1:
The scent of lavender lingered in the sunlit sitting room, a fragrance meticulously chosen by Nam Yejun himself. Every corner of the Nam estate bore his stamp—immaculate, ordered, and exuding a quiet authority that mirrored its master. The light streaming through the tall windows caught on the intricate patterns of the embroidered cushions, creating a kaleidoscope of muted colors that danced across the marble floor.
Yerim sat by the open window, the embroidery hoop resting forgotten in her lap. Outside, the soft rustle of leaves reached her ears, mingling with the distant chirping of birds. The breeze carried with it the faint, earthy scent of freshly tilled soil from the gardens below—a sharp contrast to the suffocating order of the room.
"Yerim," Yejun's voice cut through her thoughts, steady and firm as ever. He stood in the doorway, a model of composure in his neatly pressed coat. His dark hair was slicked back, and his sharp gaze was already assessing her posture. "You're slouching."
Yerim straightened instinctively, a reflex born from years under her brother's watchful eye. "Good morning to you too, Oppa," she said, a faint teasing lilt in her voice.
Yejun sighed as he stepped further into the room, his boots clicking softly against the polished floor. The faint creak of the antique chair as he settled into it seemed deafening in the otherwise silent space. "I know you find these things tiresome, but appearances matter, Yerim. You've a reputation to uphold."
"My reputation is already flawless," Yerim replied, setting her embroidery aside. "Surely I deserve a break from being perfect for an hour or two."
Yejun's expression softened—just slightly. The sharp edges of his authority dulled whenever he spoke to her, though the weight of his expectations never fully lifted. He wasn't cruel or unkind; he was the opposite. A brother who bore the heavy mantle of responsibility for their family, who believed every decision he made was for her benefit.
But that devotion had its weight, and Yerim felt it with every carefully chosen word and disapproving glance.
"Speaking of reputations," Yejun said, crossing his arms, "I received yet another offer for your hand this morning. Viscount Lee seems... enthusiastic," Yejun said, though a flicker of doubt crossed his features. Even as he spoke of the Viscount, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered that none of it was enough—not for Yerim.
Yerim groaned, resting her forehead in her hands. The cool touch of her fingertips against her flushed skin did little to soothe her frustration. "Not again. Didn't you already reject him?"
"I did," Yejun said briskly. The soft scrape of the chair against the floor punctuated his words as he leaned forward. "But he's persistent. I trust you understand why these proposals are important."
"I understand that you want me married off like some prize," Yerim muttered, her voice muffled against her palms. The faint scent of lavender from the cushions only heightened her irritation.
"Don't be dramatic," Yejun replied, though his tone held a hint of exasperation. "You deserve a good match—someone who will protect you and provide for you," Yejun said, his tone softening. "That's my duty as head of this family, but also as your brother. I've turned away others before because I thought they weren't worthy of you."
Yerim lowered her hands, her gaze meeting his. For a moment, the sunlight caught on her dark eyes, making them glimmer with unspoken defiance. "I know you mean well, Oppa. But what if I want more than a 'good match'? What if I want... love?"
The words hung in the air, as heavy as the distant hum of the grandfather clock in the corner. Yejun's jaw tightened, the faintest flicker of frustration passing over his features. "Love is a luxury, Yerim. One few in our position can afford."
Before Yerim could respond, the faint creak of the hallway door signaled another presence. Heavy boots scuffed against the runner carpet before Han Noah appeared in the doorway, his hair slightly tousled from the wind outside.
Known to most as Lord Han, he was an upper-class noble in his own right but had long since embedded himself into the Nam household. Acting as an advisor and confidant to Yejun, he was as much a part of their family as any blood relation.
He carried the scent of fresh air and leather, a contrast to the carefully curated stillness of the room.
"Ah, the Nam siblings, hard at work ruining each other's mornings," Lord Han quipped, his grin widening. "Though I'd wager Yejun's just picky because he thinks no one's good enough for you, Yerim. Isn't that right?" he said, his grin as irreverent as ever. The morning sun caught on the edges of his coat, slung carelessly over one shoulder.
Yerim let out a relieved laugh and sprang to her feet, crossing the room in a few swift steps to throw her arms around him. "Noah! Perfect timing."
"Is it ever not?" Noah replied, striding into the room. His boots thudded against the floor, a deliberate act of defiance against the room's enforced quiet.
Yerim's quick embrace lingered, a warm reminder of the easy affection shared between them.
He flopped into a chair, ignoring Yejun's disapproving frown. "What's the debate this time? Another hapless suitor trying to win your favor?"
"Viscount Lee," Yerim said, wrinkling her nose.
"Ah, yes," Noah said, flopping into a chair with zero regard for decorum. "He's the one who always looks like he's smelling something unpleasant. You could do worse."
Yejun shot Noah a warning look, but the man simply shrugged, unbothered.
As Yejun began listing the merits of the Viscount—his lands, his connections, his impeccable reputation—Yerim's attention drifted back to the open window.
She could hear the faint murmur of voices from the gardens below: the servants tending to the flowerbeds, the stable boys laughing as they led horses to the paddocks. It was a world she glimpsed only from behind gilded curtains.
"Yerim," Yejun's voice snapped her back to the present. "Are you listening?"
"Yes," she said quickly, though her tone lacked conviction. "Something about the Viscount's impeccable breeding."
Lord Han chuckled softly, but Yejun's frown deepened.
"Yerim, this isn't a game. Our family's future depends on the decisions we make now. On the decisions I make for you."
The weight of his expectations pressed down on her shoulders like the tight laces of her corset, restricting every breath.
"I know," Yerim replied, though her voice was quieter. The light streaming through the window cast shadows across her face, half-illuminating the quiet ache in her expression. "I just... wish it didn't have to be this way."
Her words hung in the air for a moment, soft but unyielding. Even Noah, who usually had a quip ready, stayed silent. Yejun sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
"You're my sister," he said, his voice gentler now. "And I only want what's best for you. Even if you can't see it right now."
Yerim nodded, though her gaze wandered back to the open window. Beyond the gardens, the town stretched out in the distance—a world of noise, color, and life that felt so achingly out of reach.
As the morning faded into afternoon, Yerim found herself in the garden, her fingers brushing over the petals of a rose bush. The soft rustling of leaves above her mingled with the faint murmur of voices from the estate beyond. Somewhere in the distance, the bustling town called to her—a symphony of sounds she longed to be part of.
Her mind wandered to the stories she'd read, tales of love and adventure that felt so far removed from her reality. She remembered chasing fireflies in the garden as a child, Yejun and Noah laughing beside her, the three of them free for just a moment. Those memories made her yearning sharper, more vivid. Was it foolish to want something more? To believe that life could hold more than duty and expectation?
Her fingers stilled on the rose, its thorns pressing lightly against her skin but not breaking it. She closed her eyes, inhaling the faint, sweet scent of the flower. A breeze stirred the leaves around her, carrying with it the faint sounds of the bustling town.
Yerim closed her eyes, imagining for a moment what it might feel like to step into that world—to leave behind the walls of her family's estate. To step into a world untamed by duty and expectation.
To live.
Chapter 2
The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale glow through the tall windows of Yerim's room.
The faint murmur of crickets seeped through the cracks, the only sound in the stillness of the estate. Yerim sat at the edge of her bed, her hands clenching and unclenching the folds of her dress. The weight of Yejun's earlier words still lingered, pressing down on her chest like an invisible cage.
"You have to understand, Yerim. Your choices aren't just yours," Yejun had said earlier that evening, his voice calm but firm. "They affect this family, our legacy. You can't act impulsively. You have responsibilities."
Responsibilities. The word echoed in her mind, sharp and unrelenting. She'd heard it all her life, and yet it always stung the same.
She stood abruptly, pacing the room. Her eyes flicked to the window, where the faint glow of the town lights shimmered in the distance. Beyond the estate walls, life pulsed with freedom, unburdened by expectations. Her fingers itched to grasp it, even for a fleeting moment.
Her gaze fell on the small wooden box tucked away on her vanity. She hesitated before opening it, her breath catching as her fingers brushed over the familiar charm bracelet inside. Each charm jingled softly as she picked it up, its metal cool against her skin.
Memories flooded back: the time she, Yejun, and Noah had snuck out of the estate together as children. It had been Noah's idea, of course, to see the festival in the town square. Yejun had grumbled about the risk, but even he couldn't resist their pleading. They had slipped past the sleepy guards, giggling and holding hands as they ran down the cobbled path toward the distant music and lights.
The festival had been dazzling, with colorful lanterns swaying in the breeze and the smell of roasted chestnuts filling the air. Yerim had felt alive in a way she hadn't since, her world expanding beyond the estate walls for one magical night.
"When did I become so afraid of living?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible.
The bracelet felt heavier than she remembered, as if it carried the weight of a younger, freer version of herself. Her decision was made in an instant. She couldn't stay confined to this room, this life, not tonight. Tonight, she would breathe.
She threw on her most plain clothes, a simple dress that lacked the opulence of her usual attire, and fastened the cloak tightly around her shoulders. Its deep hood would help shield her face. Quietly, she slipped on her shoes and grabbed the bracelet, tucking it into her pocket as if it were a talisman.
With careful steps, she eased the door open, pausing to listen for any sign of movement. The hall was silent, the estate wrapped in the lull of night, save for the distant murmur of voices.
It was late, and she knew Yejun would likely still be in his study, poring over estate ledgers and correspondence. She had already told her maid that she planned to sleep early and didn't wish to be disturbed, ensuring no one would check on her.
Her only uncertainty was Noah. He could be with Yejun or wandering the estate; with him, it was impossible to predict.
She hesitated near the stairs, craning her neck to catch a snippet of conversation from the study. Yejun's steady baritone carried faintly through the door—he was still occupied. Satisfied, she crept down the servant's corridor, her ears straining for the telltale sounds of Noah's footsteps.
She prayed he wouldn't suddenly appear to ask why she was prowling the halls like a thief. She moved quickly but silently, her heart pounding in her chest as she navigated the familiar corridors.
When she reached the servant's entrance, she paused, her hand hovering over the latch. The faint rustle of leaves outside mingled with her own shallow breaths. She waited, her pulse hammering as she scanned the shadows for any unexpected movement.
Satisfied that the way was clear, she gently pushed the door open. The hinges creaked slightly, and she froze, her heart leaping into her throat. After a tense moment of silence, she exhaled and slipped through, pulling the door closed behind her. She pushed the door open, and the cool night air hit her face like a long-lost friend.
The world outside the estate walls felt different. The distant glow of the town lights shimmered like stars scattered across the earth, beckoning her forward. As Yerim paused on the gravel path, she took in the sight—tiny dots of warm light flickering against the dark horizon, promising a world of life and freedom she hadn't touched in years.
Her grin widened, a spark of thrill lighting up her features. For once, she wasn't confined by duties or rules. She wrapped the cloak tighter around herself and quickened her pace, her breaths quick and exhilarated as she made her way toward the market, her heart pounding with excitement.
The closer she got to the town, the more the world around her began to change. The soft gravel underfoot gave way to the cobblestones of the main road, the chill of the night air mingling with faint wafts of roasted chestnuts and spiced wine carried on the breeze. She could hear it now: the faint hum of laughter, the strum of a lute, and the lively chatter of vendors haggling with customers.
The town square unfolded before her like a painting brought to life. The hum of voices layered with the occasional burst of laughter created a symphony of life that swirled around her.
Lanterns hung between stalls in warm hues of red and gold, their light casting flickering shadows across colorful fabrics and the faces of vendors calling out their wares. Children darted between carts selling sweets, their sticky hands clutching candied fruits as their laughter rang above the clamor.
The scent of roasted chestnuts mingled with the earthy aroma of fresh bread, tickling her senses and making her stomach rumble. Yerim slowed her steps, her eyes wide as she took it all in. It was chaotic and beautiful, a stark contrast to the still, ordered world she had left behind.
Her heart swelled with exhilaration. The warmth of the lantern light and the vibrant tapestry of sights and smells enveloped her. For the first time in years, she felt invisible, free from the heavy expectations of Lady Yerim. Here, she was just another face in the crowd, untethered and alive. She pulled her hood a little lower, blending into the crowd as she moved closer to the vibrant scene. The market was alive, and so was she.
Her wandering feet led her to a stall draped with bolts of fabric in a riot of colors—scarlets, golds, and greens, each more vivid than the last. Yerim reached out hesitantly to touch one, marveling at its coarseness compared to the fine silks she was accustomed to. Her soft fingers, unmarred by callouses, glided over the material, drawing the vendor's attention.
"First time here, miss?" the vendor asked, his keen eyes narrowing slightly.
Yerim froze, her breath catching. She hadn't expected to be noticed, and the question sent a ripple of unease through her. "I—" she stammered, quickly dropping her hand from the fabric. "I was just looking."
The vendor tilted his head, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "No harm in that, but you don't look like you're from around here."
Panic flared in her chest. Her mind raced with the realization of how exposed she was, her soft hands and refined demeanor betraying her origins. She gave a nervous laugh, pulling her cloak tighter around herself as if it could shield her from the vendor's scrutiny. "I—I should go," she mumbled, her voice trembling as she stepped back abruptly.
Her heart raced as she slipped back into the crowd, her steps quickening with every second. The vibrant sights and sounds of the market seemed to blur around her, replaced by the sharp awareness of how out of place she truly was. "It wouldn't do any good if anyone found out I was out here alone at night," she muttered, her earlier exhilaration giving way to unease.
"Maybe I should have thought this through better." She forced her breathing to steady and pulled her hood lower, weaving through the bustling square with purpose, hoping to avoid any further notice. She kept her hood low, avoiding the curious eyes of passersby, as she wove through the bustling square.
Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed as the lively buzz of the market faded behind her. The stalls grew sparser, and the warm glow of lanterns gave way to dimmer corners, where the shadows seemed to stretch longer.
Her feet carried her to a quieter part of town, the cheerful clamor of the market now a distant memory. Dim alleys branched off from the cracked cobblestones, their shadows heavy and foreboding. The faint creak of a shutter in the breeze and the occasional rustle of a stray animal heightened the eerie silence. It wasn't until the solitude pressed in around her that she realized how far she had wandered.
Yerim glanced around, her earlier excitement now replaced with a prickling sense of unease. The cobblestones here were uneven, their jagged edges catching the weak glow of a solitary lantern swaying from a crooked post. Walls loomed on either side of her, damp and stained with years of neglect.
A faint scent of rot lingered in the air, mingling with the distant clang of metal against metal from a nearby workshop. Few people lingered here, and those who did stayed in the shadows, their gazes sharp and assessing.
A hunched figure shuffled past, muttering to himself, while another leaned against a wall, his eyes tracking Yerim's every move. She pulled her cloak tighter, the protective fabric feeling suddenly inadequate against the weight of their stares.
As she turned to retrace her steps, the silence was broken by a low, gravelly voice behind her. "Well, look who we have here," it said, dripping with mocking amusement.
Yerim turned sharply, her heart lurching as she saw two men step out of the shadows. Their clothes were worn and patched, their eyes glinting with something she couldn't quite name but instinctively knew to fear.
"Lost, are we?" one of them said, his grin revealing crooked teeth as he took a deliberate step closer. "A little late for a stroll, isn't it?"
Yerim's mind raced as panic bubbled just beneath the surface. She straightened her posture, forcing her voice to steady as she remembered what Yejun had always told her about facing danger. "I—I'm not alone," she began, her tone trying to mimic authority. "My brother is nearby—"
The man barked out a laugh, his voice echoing off the damp walls. "Oh? I don't see anyone around," he sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice as he stepped closer. He glanced at his companion, who gave an exaggerated shrug, his grin widening. "Must've wandered off, huh?"
The second man's gaze traveled over her cloak and soft hands, his smile turning sharper. "You know," he drawled, his voice oozing mock curiosity, "someone like you would fetch a good price in the right market. Bet they'd be lining up for a pretty face like yours."
They began to close in, their movements unhurried yet predatory, the space around her shrinking with every deliberate step. "You really shouldn't be out here all alone, little miss" one of them added, his tone almost playful, as though savoring her growing fear.
Yerim's mind reeled. She clenched her fists, the weight of her recklessness crashing over her like a wave. Yejun had always warned her about wandering unguarded, but she'd brushed him off, thinking him too cautious. Now his voice echoed in her mind: You're too naive, Yerim. You have to think things through.
Her throat tightened as she stumbled back, the men's smirks widening with each step. She really should have listened.
Yerim's facade began to crumble, fear flashing in her eyes as she stumbled back instinctively. Her throat tightened, and she could feel her earlier bravado slipping away like sand through her fingers.
She clenched her fists harder, cursing herself silently. She really should have thought this through. This was reckless, so reckless.
A hunched figure shuffled past, muttering to himself, while another leaned against a wall, his eyes tracking Yerim's every move. She pulled her cloak tighter, the protective fabric feeling suddenly inadequate against the weight of their stares.
As she turned to retrace her steps, the silence was broken by a low, gravelly voice behind her. "Well, look who we have here," it said, dripping with mocking amusement.
Yerim turned sharply, her heart lurching as she saw two men step out of the shadows. Their clothes were worn and patched, their eyes glinting with something she couldn't quite name but instinctively knew to fear.
"Lost, are we?" one of them said, his grin revealing crooked teeth as he took a deliberate step closer. "A little late for a stroll, isn't it?"
Yerim's mind raced as panic bubbled just beneath the surface. She straightened her posture, forcing her voice to steady as she remembered what Yejun had always told her about facing danger. "I—I'm not alone," she began, her tone trying to mimic authority. "My brother is nearby—"
The man barked out a laugh, his voice echoing off the damp walls. "Oh? I don't see anyone around," he sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice as he stepped closer. He glanced at his companion, who gave an exaggerated shrug, his grin widening. "Must've wandered off, huh?"
The second man's gaze traveled over her cloak and soft hands, his smile turning sharper. "You know," he drawled, his voice oozing mock curiosity, "someone like you would fetch a good price in the right market. Bet they'd be lining up for a pretty face like yours."
They began to close in, their movements unhurried yet predatory, the space around her shrinking with every deliberate step. "You really shouldn't be out here all alone, little miss" one of them added, his tone almost playful, as though savoring her growing fear.
Yerim's mind reeled. She clenched her fists, the weight of her recklessness crashing over her like a wave. Yejun had always warned her about wandering unguarded, but she'd brushed him off, thinking him too cautious. Now his voice echoed in her mind: You're too naive, Yerim. You have to think things through.
Her throat tightened as she stumbled back, the men's smirks widening with each step. She really should have listened.
Yerim's facade began to crumble, fear flashing in her eyes as she stumbled back instinctively. Her throat tightened, and she could feel her earlier bravado slipping away like sand through her fingers.
She clenched her fists harder, cursing herself silently. She really should have thought this through. This was reckless, so reckless.
"Bit late for sightseeing, don't you think?" The calm, low voice cut through the tension like a blade, startling both Yerim and the men. All three turned sharply toward the source.
A tall figure stepped into view, his crimson eyes catching the faint glow of the lantern above. Two-toned hair fell into a striking mullet—the upper half shimmering silver, the lower half a deep black—and his broad shoulders and deliberate stance exuded an unsettling calm. He shifted the weight of a sack slung over one shoulder as he regarded the scene before him.
"Who the hell are you?" one of the men snapped, his bravado faltering under the stranger's unwavering gaze.
"Just someone on my way home," the man replied evenly, his tone casual but carrying an unmistakable confidence. He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "But you're in my way, and I don't take kindly to delays."
The men exchanged uneasy glances, clearly unsettled by his commanding presence. "This isn't your business," one of the men growled, though his voice lacked conviction.
Eunho raised an eyebrow, his grin widening slightly. "It is when you're bothering someone who doesn't want to be bothered."He shifted his weight, dropping the sack to the ground with a thud that echoed in the narrow street.
The men hesitated, their earlier confidence crumbling under the weight of his words and the sheer authority in his tone. One muttered a curse under his breath before tugging at his companion's sleeve.
"Not worth it," he said, backing away. The other lingered a moment longer, glaring at the stranger, before finally spitting on the ground and retreating into the shadows.
The tension in the alley dissipated, leaving only the faint sound of the men's footsteps fading into the distance. Yerim's chest heaved as she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She glanced up at her unexpected savior, her wide eyes meeting his crimson ones. Her lips parted, ready to thank him, but before she could speak, he cut in.
"A noble wandering the alleys alone? Bold move," Eunho said, his crimson eyes flicking over her cloak and trembling hands. "Guess they don't teach common sense in fancy estates."
Yerim stiffened, her earlier gratitude evaporating under the weight of his words. "I didn't need your help," she snapped, lifting her chin as if to regain some of her lost dignity.
Eunho smirked, leaning slightly on the sack at his feet. "Sure you didn't. That's why you let them back you into a corner. Very noble of you."
Her cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and anger bubbling up. "I was perfectly fine. I didn't ask for you to interfere."
"No," Eunho said, his tone sharp yet calm. "You didn't. But watching someone waltz into trouble isn't exactly my idea of entertainment." He gestured to the now-empty street with a lazy wave. "And you were about two seconds away from being a real mess."
Yerim glared at him, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. "Who even are you?"
"Just someone who knows better than to stroll through alleys like a lost lamb," he replied, his grin widening. "But let's call it a free lesson. You're welcome."
She bristled at the condescension, her pride refusing to let him have the last word. "I wasn't lost!" she shot back, though the quiver in her voice undermined her confidence.
Eunho tilted his head, studying her for a moment before shrugging and hoisting his sack back onto his shoulder. "Sure, Princess," he said smoothly, turning toward the end of the street. "Whatever helps you sleep tonight."
"Stop calling me that!" she snapped, though the fire in her voice only seemed to amuse him further.
He paused briefly, glancing back at her with a faint smirk. "Go home," he said, his tone softer but tinged with a hint of annoyance. "Before you find yourself in even worse trouble. And maybe next time, remember to say thanks."
Yerim opened her mouth to retort, but the words caught in her throat. Before she could say anything more, Eunho disappeared into the shadows, his crimson eyes the last thing to vanish from view.
Yerim stood rooted in place, her fists clenched tightly at her sides as she stared after him. The nerve of that man. Her chest tightened with a mix of lingering fear and burning indignation, her pride stinging more with each passing second.
How dare he talk to her like that? Her gratitude had dissolved the moment he'd opened his mouth, his casual arrogance grating against every ounce of her , he hadn't even bothered to give her his name. She wasn't sure what infuriated her more—his condescending tone or the fact that he'd dared to walk away before she could come up with a proper retort.
"Rude," she muttered under her breath, brushing at her cloak even though it was spotless. Her eyebrows scrunched as she frowned, her cheeks still red from the stranger's comment. "Ungrateful. Insufferable."
Yet, despite herself, her thoughts kept returning to the way his crimson eyes had glinted with amusement, as if he found her outrage entertaining. It only made her angrier. She didn't need his help, and she certainly didn't need his smug advice. But she couldn't ignore the truth buried beneath his cutting words.
With a frustrated huff, Yerim spun on her heel and began retracing her steps toward the main road. Her thoughts churned, alternating between indignation and embarrassment. Her trembling hands betrayed the nerves she desperately tried to mask as she lifted her chin, determined to regain her composure.
If she ever saw that man again, she'd make sure he learned exactly who he was dealing with.
Chapter 3