(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The sunlight filtering through the high windows of the embroidery room cast fleeting patterns on the pale walls, moving slowly with the shifting breeze outside. The room was quiet save for the soft hum of distant birdsong and the faint tick of a gilded clock on the mantel. Shelves lined with spools of silk thread added a subtle vibrancy to the otherwise muted space, their colors gleaming faintly in the light.
Yerim sat in a stiff-backed chair, her hands absently working a needle through fine fabric. The faint scrape of the needle against the taut cloth filled the room, blending with the soft creak of the chair beneath her.
Her instructor, Madame Choi, a woman with an ever-present frown and sharp eyes that missed nothing, loomed nearby, her stiff posture mirroring the cold, unyielding lines of the furniture. The faint rustle of her skirts added to the heavy quiet of the space, broken only by the occasional creak of Yerim's chair.
"Focus, Lady Yerim," Madame Choi said, her tone clipped. "Your stitches are uneven."
Yerim's fingers stilled for a moment before resuming their work. "Yes, Madame," she murmured, though her voice lacked conviction.
Her mind wasn't on her embroidery. Instead, flashes of the previous night lingered at the edge of her thoughts—the bustling market alive with the scent of roasted chestnuts and spices, the eerie stillness of the deserted streets where the chill bit at her skin, and the unsettling encounter with those men whose voices had dripped with malice. And then there was him—the man with crimson eyes, whose mocking tone and sharp gaze still made her bristle.
"…and I expect this piece to be finished by the end of the week," Madame Choi's voice broke into her thoughts.
"Of course," Yerim replied quickly, realizing too late that she hadn't heard a word of what was said.
"Lady Yerim," Madame Choi said, her sharp tone cutting through the room like the edge of a blade, "you are clearly distracted. If you cannot focus, we may as well end this lesson now."
Yerim flushed, her hands tightening around the embroidery hoop. She hated the sting of reprimand, especially when it came from someone who already seemed to look for faults in her. But Madame Choi was right—she was distracted.
Her thoughts drifted back to the stranger. His taunts still echoed in her mind, sharp and unrelenting. Guess they don't teach common sense in fancy estates. The nerve of him. But even as indignation flared, she couldn't shake the sting of truth in his words—she had been reckless and painfully unprepared.
"My apologies, Madame," Yerim said, her voice carefully composed. "I will refocus."
Madame Choi sniffed, clearly unimpressed, but she resumed her pacing.
As Yerim forced herself to focus on the delicate floral pattern she was stitching, her mind continued to wander. The stranger had been right about one thing: her actions had been naive. But that didn't mean she would give up. No, she would simply be more prepared next time. She wouldn't make the same mistakes twice.
She glanced out the window, where the sunlight bathed the sprawling gardens in gold. The carefully trimmed hedges and perfectly aligned flower beds seemed more like a display for others to admire than a place to belong.
The estate was beautiful, yes, but its beauty felt suffocating, like a painting hung too high to touch—a perfection that held her at arm's length
Her fingers tightened on the needle. She needed to find a way to step beyond these walls again. And this time, she would do it on her own terms.
After her embroidery lesson, Yerim found herself in the family library, a cavernous room where the faint crackle of the fireplace blended with the hushed stillness. Towering shelves of leather-bound tomes stretched to the ceiling, their spines glinting faintly in the sunlight that slanted through the tall windows. The deep reds and golds of the velvet curtains lent the room an air of warmth, though the cool stone floor beneath her feet was a stark reminder of the estate's unyielding grandeur.
The air carried a faint trace of old parchment and the soft tang of lemon polish, mingling with the earthy aroma of wood smoke curling lazily from the hearth. She had barely settled onto a velvet chaise with a book she didn't intend to read when the sound of familiar voices reached her.
"Noah, put that down. You'll spill it everywhere," Yejun's voice, steady and commanding, broke the library's quiet as he eyed the precarious balance of a half-full glass of wine and an open book in Noah's hands.
"You worry too much, Yejun. See? Steady hands!" Noah's light-hearted tone followed, accompanied by the clink of glass.
Yerim turned as her older brother and his best friend entered, the two of them an incongruous pair: Yejun's formal posture and dark, impeccably tailored suit contrasted sharply with Noah's relaxed gait and slightly rumpled shirt.
"Yerim," Yejun greeted her with a nod as he approached. His sharp eyes took her in, narrowing slightly. "You seem distracted."
Noah grinned, plopping down into a nearby armchair with a glass of deep red wine in one hand and the open book he'd been balancing in the other. He set the book down on the small mahogany side table with an exaggerated flourish, sending a faint clink of glassware echoing through the room. "She's always distracted. Probably daydreaming about—oh, I don't know—running away or something."
Yerim stiffened, heat rising to her cheeks. "I am not!" she shot back, glaring at him.
Yejun sighed, taking a seat across from her. "Your embroidery instructor was less subtle in her complaints." His tone softened slightly, though his expression remained serious. "Yerim, is something on your mind?"
The thought of telling him didn't even cross her mind. If Yejun found out she had snuck out, his disappointment would be unbearable—his anger, even worse. Instead, she shook her head. "I'm fine. Just… tired."
Yejun studied her for a long moment before nodding. "Make sure you're getting enough rest. The spring banquet is approaching, and you'll be expected to represent our family."
"Of course," Yerim murmured, lowering her gaze to her lap.
Noah, ever the opportunist, leaned forward with a mischievous grin. "And here I thought you were distracted because of a secret suitor or some grand adventure." His words struck a nerve, the teasing tone eerily reminiscent of the stranger from the night before. Yerim's shoulders stiffened, and a flicker of irritation crossed her face. She hated being treated like a naive child, whether it was by Noah or by that infuriating man with crimson eyes.
Yerim rolled her eyes. "Not everything is an opportunity for your terrible jokes, Noah."
He chuckled, raising his glass in mock salute. "You wound me, Yerim."
"Enough," Yejun said, though there was a faint hint of exasperated affection in his tone. "Noah, don't encourage her daydreams. Yerim, remember your responsibilities."
Yerim bit back a retort, her fingers curling against the fabric of her skirt. The reminder of her gilded life stung, and for a moment, she pouted, leaning toward Noah where he sat beside her. "You're insufferable," she muttered.
Noah grinned, clearly delighted by her reaction. He rested an arm casually along the back of his chair and glanced at Yejun. "See? This is why I'm her favorite."
Yerim immediately nodded, mischief lighting her eyes as she stuck her tongue out at Yejun. "Yeah, Noah is my favorite. He doesn't bore me with endless talk of responsibilities, and he's sweet to me."
Yejun's brow furrowed as he crossed his arms, the faintest hint of irritation flickering across his face. "Ungrateful brat," he muttered, feigning offense. "I'm sweet to you too, you know. Who ensures you have the best tutors? Who manages this household so you can sit here and tease me?"
Yerim's grin widened as she leaned back smugly. "Yes, yes, you're very sweet, but Noah is just more fun."
Yejun sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up. "See if I defend you the next time Madame Choi comes complaining."
Yerim didn't miss a beat. "I wouldn't need defending if you didn't insist on those lessons in the first place," she shot back with a grin, leaning further into Noah's chair.
Noah laughed, raising his glass with exaggerated triumph. "You see? I'm clearly the superior choice. She knows it too."
Yejun rolled his eyes, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. "You're both impossible."
The conversation shifted to estate matters, but Yerim's mind wandered once again. This time, though, it wasn't just the memory of freedom that called to her—it was the challenge. She would find a way to balance the expectations placed on her with the life she wanted to taste, no matter what it took.
The afternoon sun poured through the lattice windows of Yerim's room, warming the tiles beneath her feet as she paced. With her lessons done for the day, she had nothing but time—and time meant thinking about how to escape again.
Back in her chamber, Yerim's mind raced as she moved restlessly between the window and her writing desk. She also mentally added a small pouch of gold to her list. If she was going out, she wanted to bring something back—a trinket, a token, something just for her, as a reminder of the outside world. The faint hum of birds outside only sharpened her sense of confinement, the estate walls feeling taller and more stifling with each step she took. She stopped at her desk, her fingers brushing over an empty journal. Maybe, she thought, she could bring something back next time—a token to remind her that the world beyond the gates wasn't just a dream.
The idea of sneaking out again made her heart flutter with both excitement and apprehension. She couldn't be careless like last time. No fine cloaks, no wandering into quiet alleys. This time, she would blend in. And for that, she needed help.
Her thoughts turned to Hana, her maid. They were of similar height and build, and Hana's position gave her access to the kind of clothing Yerim needed to pass unnoticed. But would she agree to help? Yerim chewed her lip, rehearsing how to approach her.
When the clock chimed softly from the corner of the room, Yerim squared her shoulders and left. She found Hana in the servants' hall, folding freshly laundered linens with practiced efficiency. The scent of lavender and soap filled the air.
"Lady Yerim," Hana greeted, pausing with a folded sheet in her hands. "Did you need something?"
Yerim hesitated, then smiled. "Actually, yes. I need your help with… something." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Something secret."
Hana arched a brow, her hands stilling. "Secret?"
Yerim leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, her eyes alight with both excitement and mischief. "I want to sneak out," she said, her words careful but brimming with determination. "I want to see the market, the streets, everything they always tell us about but never let us experience. But I need your help to do it right."
Hana blinked, her brow furrowing deeply as her hands froze mid-fold. "Sneak out? Lady Yerim, you can't be serious," she said, her voice tinged with disbelief. She glanced around the hall as though Yejun himself might appear from the shadows. "If Lord Yejun found out—or worse, if something happened to you—"
"He won't," Yerim interrupted quickly, shaking her head. "That's why I need you. You can help me blend in, make sure no one recognizes me."
Hana set down the linen she was folding and crossed her arms, her brows knitting tightly. "It's too risky. The town isn't safe, especially not for someone like you. What if someone recognizes you, or worse, something happens?"
Yerim straightened, determination flaring in her eyes. "Hana, please. I can't stay cooped up here forever. I just want to see it—just once."
"It's not about wanting," Hana replied firmly. "It's about what's smart and what's safe."
Yerim stepped closer, her tone softening but losing none of its resolve. "I understand the risks, I do," Yerim said, her voice steady but tinged with urgency. "But you know me, Hana. If I don't do this with your help, I'll find another way. And you know as well as I do that it might not be as safe—or as thought out."
Hana sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly as she looked at Yerim. "You're stubborn, my lady. Stubborn enough to drag me into trouble." She shook her head, her voice softening despite the worry etched in her features. "I still think this is a terrible idea… but fine. I'll help you. Just this once."
"I am stubborn," Yerim admitted with a radiant smile, joy bursting across her face as she threw her arms around Hana in a sudden hug. "Thank you, Hana! You're the only one I could trust for this." She pulled back quickly, her voice now bubbling with excitement.
"Alright, we need a plan," Yerim began, her tone growing serious despite her excitement. "I'll sneak out during the day—it's safer. You know Yejun is usually busy with estate matters in the afternoons, so he won't notice I'm gone right away. If he asks for me, you can tell him I'm in the garden or taking a nap in my room."
Hana sighed, crossing her arms again. "And what if he wants to check? Or if something unexpected happens?"
"We'll plan for that too," Yerim said, her voice quick and assured. "If it comes to that, you can say I wasn't feeling well and wanted to be left alone. Just keep him distracted long enough for me to get back."
Hana frowned but nodded slowly. "And how exactly are you planning to leave the estate unnoticed?"
"The side gate," Yerim replied confidently. "It's quiet, and I've seen the delivery schedules—there won't be anyone there at the time I leave."
Hana hesitated, still unconvinced. "And you're sure about this?"
"I'm absolutely sure," Yerim said with a smile, her voice brimming with confidence. She reached for her small pouch of gold from her desk and held it up with a playful grin. "And who knows? Maybe I'll reward you handsomely for your help." She leaned in closer, her tone turning teasing. "Think of it, Hana—you, the hero who helped a lady escape her gilded cage."
Hana's lips twitched, though her worry didn't fade entirely. "A reward isn't going to keep me out of trouble if Lord Yejun finds out."
Yerim's expression softened as she stepped closer. "I know it's a lot to ask. But I promise, Hana, I'll be careful. I couldn't do this without you, and I'll make sure you're never caught in the middle."
The market unfolded before Yerim in a burst of color and motion, a stark contrast to her nighttime excursion. Vibrant stalls lined the streets, their awnings fluttering in the breeze. Merchants called out, their voices weaving together into a symphony of lively chatter, the occasional burst of laughter punctuating the noise. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with spices and the faint tang of leather from newly crafted goods.
Yerim's heart swelled as she stood at the edge of the square, her gaze flitting from one corner to the next. In the daylight, the market felt alive, almost too overwhelming in its brilliance. She took a cautious step forward, adjusting the scarf Hana had tied carefully around her head to hide her hair. The simple cotton dress she wore felt scratchy compared to her usual silks, and the worn shoes pinched slightly at her toes, but it didn't matter. For once, she felt invisible, just another face in the crowd.
She passed a stall displaying rows of colorful pottery, her fingers itching to touch the delicate designs. Nearby, a child ran past her, giggling, as his mother called after him, clutching a basket of fresh produce. Yerim couldn't help but smile at the scene, a warmth blooming in her chest. This was the life she had always imagined—bustling, free, and vivid.
As she moved deeper into the throng, the gold coins in her pocket jingled softly, a reminder of her mission. She wanted something tangible, something to bring back as proof of this adventure. Her eyes landed on a vendor selling carved wooden trinkets—animals, flowers, and even miniature carriages. She approached slowly, her fingers brushing over the smooth wood, marveling at the craftsmanship.
"First time here?" the vendor asked, his tone friendly but curious.
Yerim's heart skipped a beat. She glanced up quickly, her smile widening to mask her nerves. "It's… not my usual market," she replied carefully, keeping her voice steady. "Everything's so beautiful."
The vendor chuckled, nodding toward the trinkets. "Go on, take your pick. You won't find better anywhere else."
Yerim hesitated before selecting a small wooden bird, its wings outstretched as if caught mid-flight. It reminded her of freedom—fragile but exhilarating. "How much for this?" Yerim asked, holding up the small wooden bird.
The vendor smiled, his tone friendly. "Three coins."
"Three coins?" Yerim's eyes widened, her voice carrying a hint of incredulity. "That's so cheap! You should sell it for more."
The vendor blinked, then chuckled, shaking his head. "You're a strange one, miss."
With a confident smile, Yerim reached for her pouch of gold. The moment her fingers brushed the leather, a blur of movement passed by her. Before she could process what had happened, the weight of the pouch was gone.
"Hey!" she cried, her voice rising in shock. She spun around to see a figure darting through the crowd, her pouch in hand.
Without thinking, Yerim bolted after the thief. The market became a chaotic blur as she dodged startled merchants and weaving children, her heart pounding in her chest. "Stop! Thief!" she yelled, her voice getting lost in the noise of the crowd.
The thief darted through the crowd, weaving between carts and stalls with practiced ease. Yerim's lungs burned as she pushed herself to keep up, narrowly avoiding a stack of crates that toppled in her path. A merchant yelled after her, but she didn't stop. The shouts of startled shoppers and the clang of falling wares filled the air, blending into a chaotic symphony that only fueled her frustration. Her heart thundered in her chest, and her scarf slipped slightly, but she didn't dare stop to fix it.
Just as the thief rounded a corner, a tall figure stepped into his path with unerring precision. The thief collided with the man's solid frame and stumbled backward, dropping the pouch.
The man caught the pouch easily, his movements fluid and deliberate as if he'd done this a hundred times before. His eyes flicked downward at the item in his hand, his expression indifferent—until he noticed its weight. Curiosity flashed across his face as he opened it slightly, revealing the glint of gold within. "Who in their right mind carries this much around here?" he muttered to himself, his brow furrowing in disbelief.
Before he could do anything more, a familiar voice stopped him. "You!" Yerim's sharp tone cut through the chaos as she skidded to a halt, her chest heaving from the chase. Her cheeks burned a deep red, a mix of exertion and embarrassment flooding her face as her scarf slipped slightly, revealing strands of her hair.
His head snapped up, recognition dawning in his crimson eyes. "Always in the thick of trouble, aren't you?" he drawled, his tone laced with both amusement and surprise.
Yerim opened her mouth, ready to snap back—I'm not the one causing trouble! Why do you always have to appear at the worst times?—but the words caught in her throat as his smirk widened. Her cheeks burned redder.
He smirked, tossing the pouch lightly in his hand. "You have a knack for finding chaos. Or does chaos just follow you?"
Yerim stormed toward him, stopping just short of colliding with his chest. Her hand darted up, but He was quicker, lifting the pouch higher as an amused chuckle escaped him. "Give that back!"
"Not even a thank you?" he teased, his crimson eyes glinting with mischief as he tilted his head.
"Thank you," she snapped, her tone anything but grateful. She took a step closer, her fingers brushing the edge of the pouch as she jumped again.
He shifted back, leaning slightly as though to keep their game alive. "You're going to hurt yourself if you keep that up," he said, his grin widening.
Around them, the crowd moved like a lazy current, merchants shouting over the din while a few curious passersby cast glances at the peculiar scene—a flustered girl and the tall man teasing her.
Yerim's face burned brighter as she stepped closer, her gaze narrowing. "You're insufferable!" she hissed, her voice low but sharp. She stamped her foot for emphasis, her scarf slipping further and revealing more strands of her hair that gleamed in the sunlight. Her breaths came quick and uneven, but she refused to back down.
His brows lifted slightly, and he tilted his head to examine her more closely. "Careful, Princess," he said, lowering the pouch just slightly, "you're drawing more attention than you might want."
She froze, glancing around quickly. Her hand shot up to fix her scarf, her frustration now tinged with embarrassment. "Give it back already!" she demanded, her voice lower this time.
"Who in their right mind carries this much gold around here?" he asked, his brows furrowing as he glanced inside the pouch. "You're practically asking to be robbed."
Yerim bristled, her embarrassment deepening. "That's none of your business!" She jumped again, her fingers just brushing the edge of the pouch before he moved it away.
He tilted his head, his grin softening into something closer to bemusement. With a small sigh, he finally lowered the pouch, placing it into Yerim's waiting hands. "You know, you make it far too easy for people to take advantage of you," he said, his tone a mix of teasing and genuine concern.
Yerim clutched the pouch tightly, her glare unwavering. "Why'd you let the thief go?" she demanded, her voice firm despite the lingering embarrassment in her tone.
He shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "It was just a kid."
Her eyes softened slightly at the revelation, but she didn't back down. "That doesn't make it right," she retorted. "He needs to be taught that stealing isn't acceptable."
His smirk faded, his expression hardening as he studied her. "Taught?" he echoed, his voice carrying an edge. "Spoken like someone who's never had to worry about running on an empty stomach, Princess."
Yerim's face fell briefly, guilt flickering across her features. But she lifted her chin, refusing to yield. "Maybe so," she admitted, her voice quieter now. "But that doesn't mean it's an excuse."
His crimson eyes narrowed slightly, his tone cooling. "Not an excuse, but a reality," he said, the words laced with something she couldn't quite place. For a moment, they stood there in silence, the bustling market noise around them a distant hum.
"You can't fix everything by lecturing people," He added, his tone shifting back to teasing, though the edge in his eyes remained. "The world doesn't work like that, Princess. But don't let me stop you from trying to fix it one lecture at a time."
Yerim crossed her arms, her glare unwavering. "Someone has to try," she shot back, her voice firm despite the heat rising to her cheeks. "It's better than doing nothing and shrugging like it doesn't matter."
He took a step back, his gaze briefly flicking to the bustling market behind her. "Well, it's been fun, Princess. Try not to lose that pouch again."
Yerim tightened her grip on the pouch, her frustration flaring. "Stop calling me that," she snapped, her glare sharpening. "I have a name, you know!" she added, her tone sharp.
His amusement deepened as he tilted his head, his crimson eyes glinting with mischief. "If you've got a name, Princess, why not share it?"
Yerim blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Her lips parted, but she snapped them shut, quickly regaining her composure. "You first," she countered, lifting her chin in defiance. "I asked for yours before you started calling me ridiculous things."
His laugh was low and rich, the kind that made her irritation spike further. "Nice try," he said, stepping back with an easy shrug. "But I think I'll pass. See you around, Princess."
Yerim clenched her fists, her glare sharp enough to cut as she watched him retreat into the bustling crowd. "Infuriating," she muttered under her breath, clutching the pouch like it was the only thing keeping her tethered. Her cheeks burned brighter, a mix of humiliation and frustration swirling in her chest, her breaths still uneven from the chase.
She glanced down at the pouch in her hand, the weight of it a sharp reminder of how close she'd come to losing it altogether. With a sharp exhale, she squared her shoulders and turned back toward the vendor's stall, determined to salvage what remained of her day.
The market buzzed around her as she retraced her steps, the noise of merchants calling out their wares and the chatter of shoppers weaving into a chaotic melody. The trinket vendor greeted her with a knowing smile, his eyes flicking toward the crowd where Eunho had disappeared moments ago.
"Quite the excitement earlier," he said with a chuckle, his tone warm but curious. "Your friend handled things pretty neatly."
Yerim bristled, her grip tightening on the pouch. "He's not my friend," she said quickly, heat rushing to her face again. Picking up the wooden bird she'd admired earlier, she traced its smooth wings with her fingers. "How much was this again?"
"Still three coins," the vendor replied with an easy shrug. Yerim handed over the coins without meeting his gaze, her focus on the trinket as she tucked it carefully into her pouch. Its small weight felt oddly comforting, a tangible reminder of her adventure.
As she turned to leave, Yerim exhaled deeply, adjusting the pouch securely against her side. Her legs still felt heavy from the earlier chase, and the idea of walking through the bustling market any longer suddenly felt exhausting.
With the wooden bird tucked safely away, Yerim decided it was best to head back to the estate. This excursion had been enough excitement for one day.