Oneshot

Even though her crowning as the tsesarevna had marked the beginning of the social season that year, Kahei, of the royal Wong family, could barely believe it.

Staring at her own reflection, she could barely believe what she saw, a stranger facing her in the golden mirror - hair recently bleached to a light shade of brown, bangs curled and set to the side, framing her face with two strands in loose curls, the rest of her hair in an intricate braid that was meshed with a gold chain where small amethysts showed between the tresses, neck decorated with a golden choker with an amethyst the size of a quail’s egg, her shoulders visible thanks to the dress’ design, fabric in a light lilac color draping over itself two or three fingers below her clavicles, and then, what seemed like a small ocean’s worth of purple silk, shining in the yellow-ish gas light the lamps offered. Silver and more lilac offset the dress, breaking it at the corset’s edge with lace, forming a structure that reminded her of an upside down rose in purple, long tongues of the same color forming the end of her skirts, separated in pieces by silver lace that tied the dress as a whole. At the back, a small train followed her, the loose fabric tied every so often in knots with silver bows, cascading down her back to the ground. Her eyes, a soft shade of brown that reminded her of fawns, seemed too big, the makeup applied on her making her cheeks blush with a false naturality.

Kahei felt a bit like a child wearing her mother’s things, but she supposed that it was because this was the first event she went not as a Grand Duchess, but as the official crown heiress. Before the crowning, it all felt so easy - just appear on a ballroom for a few hours, socialize with the other nobles she knew since they were just a bunch of brats prattling around, and then go off to her room, back to reading and learning. But now...

She shook her head, putting her gloved hands (silver silk and purple brocades, freshly sewn for her use only) on her face, trying to regain her calm, and her mark warmed up her face, even through the fabric.

The memory of her soulmate mark, hidden from view to avoid fake claimants, comforted her somewhat, warm and telling her her soulmate was alive. She wished she could see it more frequently than it the few spare moments she was alone, but the reminder she wasn’t a lone creature was enough. Tracing with a finger the drawing - a deer’s horns, a bird flying in the middle -, she hoped her soulmate wouldn’t mind having her, sighing at the comforting hum. But why would they? After all, she was the heiress, now, the fully fledged tsesarevna, who would have to assume in case her father died.

Kahei had hoped her older brother would’ve been chosen, but alas, he had shirked his duty for love. All very romantic, yes, Kahei had expressed it to him when it had just been a mere possibility, a hypothesis, he raised to her during tea time, but that had been when she thought the crown would go to her brother Yukhei. But now, all she felt was something akin to contempt for him. To shirk your duties to the crown for someone else; Kahei could never.

She grabbed the mask she was to wear for her cousin’s ball - metallic, a half-mask with amethysts at the sides and lace to cover her eyes -, and put it on her face.

The stranger on the mirror smiled, mockingly so, and Kahei sighed. It would have to do for tonight’s ball.

Haseul stared at the dress she had put, while Heejin, on her knees and with a needle in between her lips, gave the final adjustments to the dress.

Behind her, Hyunjin stood with mademoiselle Kyungri, keen eyes watching Haseul. The dress, she knew, was pretty: an empire waist dress in a soft baby blue, with a thick golden belt with an intricate design sewn in, off-shoulder with pale yellow lace tickling her clavicles, bouffant sleeves with gold thread sewn in in thick lines. On the hem, fleurs-de-lys Haseul herself had sewn, in several lines, each the size of her palm, and more gold thread behind it, in lines, until it reached the hem. There was even a court-length train to the dress, pooling off behind her as she would move. Haseul felt ridiculous on it, a child on her sister’s too big hand-me-downs.

Supposedly, said the mademoiselle Kyungri as she gave them the patterns, this was the fashion on the Continent. Haseul herself thought this was too avant garde for the Empire’s fashion sense. Besides, the mademoiselle hadn’t been in the Continent in forever! How did she know what was fashionable there, anyway?

Alas, she wasn’t one to discuss it with the mademoiselle. She was just her apprentice, learning the job on the tailor shop the mademoiselle had. Heejin and Hyunjin were also apprentices, who had come to the job a month or two after Haseul, but they were all in the same level, ability wise.

The difference between her, Heejin and Hyunjin, however, was that Haseul’s family did not have the money to pay for her food and board at the shop anymore. When she told the mademoiselle Kyungri she would have to quit the apprenticeship, the mademoiselle protested, and said they’d work something out.

It had come to this, in the end. The mademoiselle usually hired a few girls to be walking advertisements for the shop during parties, wearing freshly sewn dresses and socializing for the night. Haseul knew this: she had helped sew many of those. Now, however, the mademoiselle had ditched the models, and made the apprentices themselves model the clothes. As such, they were all decked to party, looking like they were people above their station, even if Haseul couldn’t shake off her shoulders the sensation she was a pretender.

“Alright, it’s good to go!” Heejin hummed, rising, dusting her knees - the white dress, with the wheat sewn in in gold and small flowers peppering in between, hadn’t been the best idea to wear while adjusting, but they were ready to go and it was, after all, last-minute adjustments.

“Thank you, Heejin.” Haseul said, putting a strand of her short black hair behind her ear, her mark passing by the corner of her eye. She left the podium she had been standing on, with a helpful hand from Heejin, and did her best to not fidget with the skirts. She did not match the dress; it was too fancy for her, just like the intricately made barrette that decorated her hair, a piece of spun glass that shone like diamonds with every dance of the candlelight.

The mademoiselle stared at her, quiet, one hand under her chin, other hand on her waist, eyes rapine. She was to go to the party as their chaperone, and that was it. Haseul just hoped it would be a short party, clasping her hands together, her soulmate mark warm and comfortable, familiar, almost, the drawing of a bird between a deer’s horns something she could trace with muscle memory only. Was her soulmate touching it as well, she wondered?

“You three look fantastic.” The mademoiselle decided, which made Heejin and Hyunjin grin. “Now that you’re ready, Hyunjin, the masks, please.”

Hyunjin nodded, grabbing from the shelf near the back a trio of masks - one white, in the shape of a moon crescent, another one green, imitating twisting vines, and the last one, a lace mask in a powder blue, beautiful and delicate.

Hyunjin passed the masks around, Haseul receiving the blue one, and she tied it in the back of her head, sighing wistfully as she glanced at herself in the mirror. The girl there barely looked like herself, a mockery of something she would never be. While they put it on, the mademoiselle explained the rules, the regulations, the dos and don’ts, the time they were expected to go find the mademoiselle so that they could head back to the atelier - a brief explanation on how rude it would be to have advertisements on the ball after midnight, something Haseul barely paid attention to, too busy feeling sorry for herself.

“Shall we go?” The mademoiselle asked, and Haseul nodded, because what else she could say?

Kahei stared at the entrance of Jackson’s palace from the safety of her carriage. She did not wish to go in, the sounds of faint music haunting her.

It was her nerves, Kahei knew, and not rationality that made her wish so. But, since it was her first official party, she might as well go, right? And if things went wrong, she knew the layout to Jackson’s home by heart; there was always a small, hidden niche she could hide herself decompressing, pausing.

Gods, Yukhei would’ve been a better heir. Or her older brother - but no, now Kahei was the tsesarevna. This was her burden to bear.

Shaking her head, Kahei knocked gently on the door, the footman opening it barely a second after. She thanked him quietly, and went inside, the chilling cold winds hitting her face for a mere second. Lucky for her, the fur-lined cape she wore hindered the worst of the chill, but it did not stop the mask from being cold. A design flaw; she made a mental note to say something to the royal dressmaker later.

At the door, her cousin, dressed in his navy military uniform, the mask that half covered half his face black and shining with a deep blue color in the light, reminding Kahei of an owl’s face. He waved at her, and Kahei waved back, a soft smile playing in her lips as she picked up speed, trudging through the lightly snowed in path until she reached him.

Jackson offered her a bow, but she knew it meant nothing; when outside official functions, there wasn’t one serious bone in his body.

“Your imperial highness.” He said, voice too pompous on purpose. Kahei scoffed at that, and he righted himself up, laughter dusting his features. “What? It’s your proper title, my dearest tsesarevna.”

“I don’t want it to be. If I’m truthful, this party is giving me some sort of anxiety. No offense, of course, I’m sure it’s quite the lovely party.” She rambled, hands moving on their own, and he grinned even more. “You look like a madman, smiling like that.”

“Well, this doesn’t have to be your first engagement as the crowned heiress.” He kept his grin, and Kahei looked at him, inquisitive. “This, dear Kahei, is a masquerade. You shall be... Lady Viian for the night. A cousin of mine, coming from the Continent after a long stay there. How about it?”

Kahei blinked once, twice, and then laughed. Let it to Jackson to help her, even if just a little.

It was a masquerade. Kahei did not need to be herself, and honestly, not being the tsesarevna right now sounded nice.

“Alright, I’m in. What’s the worst that can happen?” Kahei shot back, and Jackson offered her an arm to her him. She accepted, head high, ready to face a world she knew like the palm of her hand.

Haseul sipped the punch, a concoction that shone on the gas light (gas light! Even the mademoiselle’s atelier did not have it!) in a bright green hue. She was sitting on a small couch, huddled in a niche to hide herself, watching as the most esteemed guests danced around. She could see Heejin and Hyunjin take part on the polonaise, even if their dancing wasn’t quite to par with the fancy aristocrats that permeated every nook and cranny of the palace; still, they kept up, laughing and smiling as they went around.

With a sigh, Haseul kept drinking. She knew she was supposed to be at the dance floor, showing off her dress so that she could keep paying her studies, but she could not bring herself to dance.

For starters, she didn’t even have a pair! And what noble would like to dance with a girl such as herself? And in second place...

“Oh!” Said a soft voice, surprise shining between the slits of the girl’s metallic mask as she looked at Haseul, interrupting her line of thought unknowingly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think this place would be occupied.”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I will take my leave, then.” Haseul said, making a move to rise, but the masked girl shook her head, the light shining purple on the small jewels that dotted the mask. She rose a hand, gloved in silver silk (how rich was she?), and Haseul stopped.

“Please stay. I’m trying to keep away from... Grand Duke Wong. If he sees me…” She smiled, playful, and Haseul looked behind her, seeing the Grand Duke dancing on the dance floor. He seemed to have fun, dancing around in circles with some pretty boy in a red mask, and Haseul averted her eyes back to the lady in purple in front of her.

“Is he a persistent suitor of yours?” Haseul asked, moving only to make space for the girl, who seemed mildly horrified at the suggestion. “Or something akin to that?”

“Something akin to that.” The girl conceded. She offered Haseul a hand, gloved silk shining. “I’m… Lady Viian Wong. Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”

Oh, Gods, the girl was a lady, and Haseul wasn’t even in the bottom of the aristocratic food chain, not even a footnote at it, just a merely apprentice.

“Lady Haseul, from the Jo family.” She lied, aware that there was a Jo family in the continent. Her mother liked to say they were their richer cousins, who sold their soul for money, but Haseul did not buy it - it was just a mere coincidence. Many people had the same surname and no familial relation. “But you might call me Haseul.”

“Then you might as well call me Viian, Haseul. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Viian replied, smoothly, picking up her skirts to sit by Haseul’s side.

It was a pretty good sewing job, Haseul noticed. It seemed a bit like mademoiselle Pyo Hyemi’s work, the stitching perfect and almost unnoticed, but Haseul very much doubted it; considering the mademoiselle was part of the royal tailor’s patronage, she wouldn’t have time to make a dress for a lady that wasn’t part of the royal family.

Although, if she was avoiding the Grand Duke Wong, then maybe...:? No, impossible. What were the chances she was a part of them, after all? Perhaps a cousin, or just close to someone who knew the mademoiselle. Maybe Haseul’s theory of lady Viian’s running away from the Grand Duke because he was her persistent suitor had some truth to it.

“What brings you here? A pretty girl such as yourself doesn’t seem like she has come without some arm candy.” Viian asked, smiling too softly, and Haseul could feel her heart beating against her ribcage.

She, a pretty girl? No, impossible. Haseul was plain. Milquetoast. Mild. Pretty wasn’t even in the realm of possibility for her - that was an adjective reserved for girls like Hyunjin and Heejin, vivacious and wild, not people like Haseul, who stayed in corners while others danced and had their fun.

“My friends have brought me here to keep me company. Alas,” Haseul gestured to the dance floor, where Heejin spun around Hyunjin like it was nothing. Viian’s eyes followed the trajectory Haseul’s hand set, and chuckled. “, they’ve gone dancing and forgotten about me.”

“Don’t you wish to dance?”

She wanted to. Unfortunately, Haseul wasn’t the best dancer. Her mother said that the children did not have time to dance, play, and so on - they weren’t nobles to be attending festivals, she had said - and all Haseul had to do was sew and work, and it wasn’t like the mademoiselle offered many opportunities for dancing lessons; Heejin and Hyunjin knew it because they always ended up sneaking out with their friends to the commemorations of a god or another, and Haseul choose to stay, to divert the mademoiselle’s attention, to be prim and proper.

“I don’t know how to, if I’m honest.” She told, which Haseul noticed was a social faux pas immediately, because the girl frowned. If she was supposedly a highborn lady, then wasn’t she supposed to know how to? Taking a quick breath, Haseul tried to make amends. “It’s just that I’m so out of practice, I’m afraid I’ve forgotten how to dance.”

The music died down, quiet for a moment, and most of the pairs left the dance floor as the string quartet started to prepare another song, the sound of pages turning the loudest thing in the ballroom for a moment.

“Well, then let me help you.” Viian said, rising, smoothing her silken skirt. “If I’m also honest, Haseul, I think I’m too nervous to dance. That’s why I’m running from the Grand Duke - I know he would like to dance with me, if he saw me alone. Would you accompany me?”

“What if I embarrass you?” Haseul asked, keeping herself firmly sitting. She couldn’t bear the thought of causing laughter other nobles would have over the lady’s partner being awful.

Viian smiled, offering her a hand, shining in the gaslight.

“Then we embarrass ourselves together, but that surely won’t be the case.” She proclaimed, so self-assured, so certain that Haseul wouldn’t get every step wrong that Haseul almost believed her. She accepted the offer, rising up with Viian’s help, and Viian guided her to the dance floor where pairs congregated, side by side, waiting for the crescendo of music to start.

They sneaked in between a lady in pink and another in creamy yellow, Viian’s hand on her own, softly. Her mark kept humming, softly, a measure of happiness welling into Haseul’s chest. Someone wanted to dance with her; that was new.

When the violins started, Viian slowly started to walk forward, letting go of her hand, in perfect timing with every other person on the dance floor. She stepped in front of Haseul, curtsying timidly, a playful smile on her painted lips. Haseul curtseyed back because she saw, out of the corner of her eye, everyone else doing that, so it was the right thing to do, probably?

No matter. Viian righted herself up, still with that smile on her face as she put one gloved hand on Haseul’s back, gently, as if afraid to touch her, another picking up her right hand and rising it slightly.

The musicians started to add in other instruments, and Viian, seamlessly in time, started to move.

“Just follow my lead, and don’t look down.” She whispered, giggling like a child as they started to move around, three steps clockwise, three steps straight, three steps counterclockwise, repeat, slowly, but surely, dancing, like a clockwork in perfect synchronization. Haseul had to focus on keeping her head up, doing her best to not look down.

Viian, Haseul had to admit, knew what she was doing; she didn’t even grimace when Haseul accidentally stepped on her toes.

“You’re a natural!” Viian exclaimed, after a particularly dizzying spin, when Haseul returned to her arms. Haseul felt herself blushing. “You must’ve been classically trained.”

“In stepping in people’s feet, maybe.” Haseul retorted, and Viian laughed. “Come on, I’m not that good. I know I’m not.”

“You’re nervous; that tends to make people clumsy.” Was Viian’s reply, as they spun around the dancefloor, glitter and gold the only things Haseul could truly notice, other than Viian, whose smile seemed genuine, like she was truly having fun, even though her dancing partner was someone with two left feet. “I assure you, you’re not bad. I’ve danced with some terrible people.”

“Name one.”

As if Haseul was in any position to make demands, but maybe it was the mask, or Viian’s voice - sweet, polite, but every word she spoke she meant it - that made her bold.

Viian laughed, gently, in return.

“You must know of Lord Zhou.” She said, spinning Haseul around, stopping right for a moment in front of the referred lord, sitting on a table near a window, watching, and then going back to the dance. Haseul hadn’t known of him until a few moments ago. “He isn’t… Particularly good, if I’m truthful. Many times he stepped on my feet.”

Haseul stole a glance at him again, as Viian guided her around the dance floor, the song slowly ending, if the way the musicians started to bring down the tone with practiced manners. With a sigh, she allowed herself to sway with the music, almost willing that it never ended.

“Would you like another dance?” Viian asked, as if she had read Haseul’s mind. She cocked her head, thinking for a moment, before speaking slowly. “I think that it’s a galop.”

Haseul knew what a galop was enough to know she would be absolutely horrible at it. She looked at Heejin and Hyunjin, who were looking at her, whispering between themselves, hiding their faces with their hands and she looked at Viian.

“I think I’d rather skip that.” She said, and Viian nodded, sagely. “If I’m already awful at a slow dance, imagine at a fast one?”

“Then shall we have a drink? I know a spot with a marvelous view to the gardens.” Viian suggested, and Haseul, who liked a stiff drink and spots with views to gardens, nodded. The taller girl guided her away, one hand in the small of her back, which felt intimate. Haseul wasn’t going to protest it so soon, not with the way her mark was warm and content.

Gods, that was weird: to feel so close to a girl whose face she didn’t know fully, a girl to whom she’d been lying through her teeth about her family and aristocracy. But if it was for just one night, then why not have some fun? It wasn’t like she would ever see this girl again, anyway - most of the elites had a maid send in the measurements and the catalogue choice, and then the dress was shipped to the family that had paid for it when it was done -, so Haseul really should enjoy the party.

And if enjoying the party also meant enjoying Viian’s company, then, well, sure. Besides, what were the odds this girl was her soulmate, anyway?

Kahei had never heard of a Lady Haseul from the Jo family before, but then, it could also be a case of someone lying about their name, such as she was doing.

But then, for one night - what was the issue? Surely nothing, especially not the way Kahei’s heart beat faster on her chest, nor the way her mark seemed warm, almost burning through the silk of her gloves. During the entire waltz, she had fretted over if Haseul would’ve been able to hear the beating of her heart, but luck seemed to be on her side, tonight: Haseul did not indicate that she was hearing the thump-thump-thump sound that seemed louder than the musicians, the warmth reminding Kahei of a toasty room in a particularly chilly winter evening.

As she guided Haseul to a small veranda whose entrance was almost unknown by anyone who didn’t know the layout of the house well - Kahei, back when she wasn’t tasked with being the future tsarina, had spent many afternoons running through the halls, causing mayhem, Yukhei hot on her heels just like she was chasing Jackson -, she almost wished the night wouldn’t end.

She grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and handed it to Haseul, who seemed surprised, for a second, before accepting it gingerly. Kahei grabbed another flute for herself, sipping the pale pink colored liquid for a moment as they walked, the bubbles tickling .

Kahei led her through a small hallway, secluded from the exterior by a curtain that blended in with the pale cream of the walls, a quick glance to take see if they weren’t being followed. Jackson, who seemed to be watching her, offered a smirk before going back to the conversation he was having, and Kahei did her best to not roll her eyes at him.

They walked through a darkened hallway for a few moments, before emerging on a secluded veranda that showed the expansive rose garden Jackson so carefully took care of, the smell thick and yet not overpowering, even at this point of the night. At the edge of her hearing, Kahei could hear the soft notes of the music, distant and yet understandable.

“Wow, it’s beautiful.” Haseul said, approaching the ledge to see the garden better. Kahei followed suit, sitting on it and watching Haseul, champagne flutes forgotten, who seemed half in love with the sight of the flowers in front of her, all piled high on their carefully sniped bushes. The gas light illuminated her gently, soft and angel-like, giving an ethereal peculiarity to her face.

“No more beautiful than you are.” Kahei said, and Haseul whipped her head to look at her, a faint blush dusting her cheeks.

“Don’t - Don’t jest with me.” Haseul protested, changing the weight of her body from one foot to another. Kahei inclined her head, cat-like. “I’m not pretty. I know this.”

“Then surely all the mirrors on your house must be broken.” Kahei leaned in, putting away a strand of hair from Haseul’s face. Haseul gave her a soft gasp and a step back. Kahei let her hand fall, dejected, mark burning her skin. “I’m sorry if I offended you, I meant no harm.”

“No, it’s not that.” Haseul shook her head, and then sat up on the ledge, hands carefully gripping at the marble. By experience, Kahei knew it wouldn’t be too much of a fall - there was a tree a few meters down, and it would soften the blow. “I… I’m not pretty. Beautiful. Whatever. I don’t like being led on, that’s all.”

“You are, though. What reason do I have to laugh?” Haseul shook her head, unconvinced, and Kahei decided to take a more drastic measure, standing up on the ledge. “Then may the gods struck me from this ledge, if I’m found to be lying.”

Haseul gasped as the wind coincidentally picked up, but Kahei stood firm, planted on the spot. When she bent down to smile at the girl, showing she was intact, Haseul gasped, holding her hands, pulling her down.

The two swayed dangerously for a moment, but nothing happened, just them, and the not-so dangerous fall below. The crystal flutes tittered, dancing for a second, before stabilizing themselves, as the mark on Kahei’s palm went a fire-hot inferno, making her bite down a hiss as she sat down once more.

“That was dangerous!” Haseul chided, still holding Kahei’s hands. She put her arms down, and intertwined their fingers as she set them down, carefully, as if Kahei was the finest crystal to be offered, on the ledge to nothingness. One hand left hers, and Haseul put it to Kahei’s face, warm, comfortable. “Don’t do that again, I beg of you.”

“If it’s your wish, then I shall comply.” Kahei replied, leaning her head in, forehead touching gently Haseul’s forehead for a mere moment, before letting go, Haseul’s hand retreating from her face. Her eyesight was caught by something on Haseul’s hand, a blue-inked mark of deer’s horns and a bird, flying gently.

“Your mark, my lady.” Kahei said, too soft, and Haseul looked down, panicking, hiding it from view with her hand. She smiled. “We share the same one.”

A pause, from Haseul, this time. Kahei took off her glove, revealing, under the pale moonlight, the same mark, which made Haseul gasp, looking from the once-black inked mark on her skin to Kahei’s eyes.

“What are the chances…?” She muttered. Out in the ballroom, the music changed, a waltz yet again. Kahei jumped from her spot, curtsying once more to Haseul, glove forgotten on the balcony like a snake’s shed skin.

“I know it’s not proper manners to have a dance two times in a row with the same lady, but would you offer one more dance?” Kahei asked, looking up through her eyelashes to Haseul.

“Of course.” Haseul replied, smiling. Kahei almost wished the night would never end.

They had been dancing, quietly accompanying the music that came faintly down from the windows. Haseul was being guided down the steps by Viian, but it was more so that they weren’t still, moving quietly through the veranda with no motivation, her hand still touching Viian’s bare hand, the glove long forgotten, mark against mark.

“I wish I could’ve met you sooner.” Viian sighed, twirling Haseul gently, shoes clacking softly on the stone ground. Haseul, looking up at Kahei, sighed as well.

“Me too.” Somewhere else, at least, she wished. Somewhere where she could see more than Viian’s brown eyes, somewhere where they could meet - but where? Haseul was a sewing mistress apprentice and Viian was a noble lady. There was no place where they could meet and be happy, like some romance soulmate book. Taking her courage, Haseul took a deep breath. “May I kiss you?”

Maybe it was a bit bold - after all, they’d had known each other for less than a couple hours -, but Haseul at least wanted a nice memory out of this entire ball affair. One good memory of her soulmate, before disappearing back to her life, back to her sewing, and Viian was free to do whatever noble, highborn ladies did.

Viian looked at her with surprise in her eyes, but nodded, leaning in, and Haseul -

Haseul knew enough about those fancy royal balls to know that the fireworks marked midnight, the sounds of explosions making her jump in place as color filled the night sky. She panicked, letting go of Viian, looking around as the reds and blues of the fireworks illuminated their world.

“I - I have to go, I must, I…” Haseul said, slight panic in her voice, and Viian picked it up immediately, nodding.

“Then go.” Viian replied, barely blinking, and a small smile took her face. “I hope our paths meet again.”

Gods, so did she, but she knew better than to dream above her station. Haseul nodded, barely aware of doing so, and set into running, grabbing her skirts so she could run faster, cutting through people and not caring about who she hit or not.

When she reached the mademoiselle, it was at the entrance, after having passed through what seemed like half of the capital to get there. The mademoiselle looked as perfect as she had come, while Heejin and Hyunjin’s hair was half-ruined because they had danced so much.

“You’re just on time.” The mademoiselle said, and inclined her head, staring at Haseul, who did her best not to fidget under the mademoiselle’s stare. “You look positively glowing. Many suitors, I assume, but don’t get your heads on the clouds, okay? These people only see poor folks as toys. Take it from me.”

The crash of reality was welcome; Haseul best keep Viian out of her thoughts, for it would bring nothing to fruition whatsoever, soulmate mark or not. The mademoiselle was right, Haseul thought, one hand over her mark, warm and comfortable.

Kahei paced in her room, the following day, the book she had to read - a dull affair, something or another about the geographical importance of the river that crossed the capital, something she was supposed to know and in any other occasion would interest her - thrown aside carelessly in her bed. Her mind was filled with thoughts of the girl in yesterday’s ball. In her gloved hand, she could still feel the touch of the other girl’s hand, as the memory of the almost kiss that never had happened singed her skin.

Who was she, this girl with the same soulmate mark? Kahei had taken a moment, earlier, to find the records of the Jo family so she could keep talking with the girl, and found that there weren’t, currently, no members of the royal house of Jo in the country - just in the distant Continent. Kahei very much doubted that a Jo family member, famous as they were, could sneak into the country unnoticed just to go to the ball.

The girl who Kahei had talked all evening and good part of the night wasn’t, probably, Haseul from the Jo family, but someone else entirely. Then, who?

Kahei very much doubted someone had been able to sneak in - Jackson was a Grand Duke, for gods’ sake, he had one of the best security teams around, especially so when he knew that the Tsesarevna was coming to his house .

She kept pacing, waving away the maid who called her for lunch, her daily messages on its silver platter, and mid-motion she stopped. One wax seal called her attention; black wax and silver dusting the small figure of a heron.

Jackson really had the best post-party management, huh? The party had been over around four in the morning, and now, at roughly noon, all the “thank you for coming” letters had already arrived at its destinations. She thanked the maid, grabbed Jackson’s letter first and foremost, and paused once more as Kahei’s mark reminded her of its presence on her skin.

Jackson probably knew every person in that ballroom, didn’t he? If Kahei went over the guest list with him, he’d probably be able to say were so and so had been, right?

“Wait a moment, please.” She told the maid, as softly as possible, and the maid offered a curt nod and bow. Running (but not doing so because that would be impolite and ladylike and Kahei now really had to be a delicate society lady, yet still fierce enough to be respected, which was a conundrum on itself) to her writing desk, she penned a quick note to Jackson, asking if he might join her to this afternoon’s tea, and if he might please bring in the invite list for yesterday’s ball. She sealed it off with her new wax seal - the royal family’s deer, but with her own crest: several small flowers decorated the animal’s horns - and told the maid to have it delivered most urgently to the Grand Duke’s estate.

That done, she hummed yesterday’s waltz, picked up the rest of the letters she had to read, and went for lunch.

“Golly, it’s the fifth time you sigh today, Haseul, and it’s not even…” Hyunjin squinted at the old cuckoo clock on the wall. “Well, it’s not even five in the afternoon, I guess.”

Heejin looked at the pocket watch she carried everywhere, open by her side while she sewed a dress, an old silver little thing that she had gotten from a pawnshop a few months back.

“It’s broken again. It’s three.”

“Well, that makes it worse.” Haseul politely pretended not to hear the duo speaking, busy sewing the finishing touches on Duchess Yeh’s dress that had been sent in for repairs. Hyunjin poked her, and Haseul looked at her. “Come on, tell us more! You meet a fancy lady, and you’re keeping it to yourself?”

“Yeah, go off.” Ryujin said, sitting by the window, looking through the catalogue. Ryujin was a friend of theirs, a palace maid who had the day off today, and as such, came and visit.

Haseul sighed once more, the mark accompanying her, and shot a glare at Hyunjin when she mouthed off “sixth”.

“She was wearing this purple silk dress, probably by mademoiselle Hyemi, and we had the same soulmate mark.” She started off, and Ryujin looked up for a moment, before going back to the catalogue. “Her hair was this light brown color, and she had the most wonderful of voices. There, are you happy?”

Haseul did not mention the almost-kiss, the warmth of Viian’s skin. That was hers alone.

“Uh, yes? If it’s a dress by mademoiselle Hyemi, Yena works under her, we can probably have her steal the list and see who asked for a purple silk dress.” Heejin said, not looking up. “Purple silk is expensive, though, and hard to work, so probably it’s someone really rich.”

Hyunjin scrunched up her nose at that. Haseul couldn’t help but notice there was a crumb of bread stuck to her hair.

“So there’s a high chance it’s a confidential information, then?”

“Probably.” Ryujin looked up again, cocking her head, and Haseul used the momentaneous silence to keep doing the last stitches on the brocade; it would do well to make the stitches that had closed the rip fade in the background.

“Y’know, the Grand Duchess Kahei…” Started Ryujin, and Haseul did not look up, barely listening, too focused on the sewing.

“Tsesarvena.” Heejin chimed in, helpful as ever.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, okay. The tsesarevna, she had a tyrian purple silk dress, which, like, I know isn’t the same as purple, but you know. What if the girl you met last night was the tsesarevna?” Ryujin suggested, and that made Haseul break out of her trance-like state, scoffing. She knew that one of Ryujin’s duties was to organize the tsesarevna’s closet, and that was how she could say the difference in color, but come on. That was just plain ridiculous.

“I think everyone in the ballroom would’ve known if the tsesarevna was there.” Haseul replied, and sighed again. “Lady Viian knew, at least, that the Grand Duke Wong was there.”

A pause, from the three girls. Haseul looked at them.

“What?”

“Haseul, I really don’t know how to break this to you, but it’s a masked ball. Unless the lady knew really well the Grand Duke to recognize him by anything other than his face, then, well…” A sly smile took Ryujin’s face, and she gave Heejin a light slap on the arm. “Oh gods, what if it really is the Grand Duchess?”

“Tsesarevna.”, Heejin piped in.

“Impossible. I think I’d know this country’s crown heir, wouldn’t I? Besides, what are the odds that me and the tsesarevna have the same mark? Don’t be ridiculous.” Haseul shot back, and Ryujin opened to speak something else, when they all heard the mademoiselle Kyungri clearing . Four pair of eyes shot to the entrance of the room, where the mademoiselle was, impeccably well dressed as always, standing against the door frame.

“Girls. Please keep it down - a few clients are whispering about ghosts.” She said, a smile on her face that said nothing good, and Haseul felt her face burning with shame, the mark reciprocating this feeling.

“Yes, mademoiselle Kyungri. Sorry, mademoiselle Kyungri.” They said in union, and as the mademoiselle left, the conversation about the mystery of Lady Viian’s identity ended as well.

“It’s useless, how come she isn’t on this list?” Bemoaned Kahei, after going twice through the list Jackson had brought. It had been of no use - Jackson could pinpoint where every girl there had been, and nothing about Kahei’s mysterious soulmate came forward.

“Hmm, seems like I’ll have to give a security check…” Jackson sighed, eating the small cookies the kitchen had provided for their tea. “Hadn’t I seen you with her, I’d have thought your anxiety had created you a companion.”

“If I’m honest, I, too, can barely believe she was real.” Kahei, passing a hand through her hair, which still smelled like the sweet air of Jackson’s palace, had to bit in a sigh herself. “But yes, a security check would be good. Good gods, how does this even happen?”

“There’s a reason we call them intruders, Kahei.” Jackson tapped his fingers on the table, and stopped for a moment, before shaking his head. “Who knows who she was? That is a mystery.”

Kahei didn’t want a mystery. Kahei wanted the girl who was her soulmate, found through a coincidence, their marks in unison for a few moments. She already could’ve guessed that she wasn’t nobility - even if she had checked the records just to be sure, unaware of how Continental fashion worked -, because nobility usually covered their soulmate marks. But still...

“Unless, of course, you throw another party. Maybe she’ll come?” Kahei shot, hopefully, and Jackson shook his head. Kahei had to agree. “Yeah, sneaking in in the same party twice is just asking to be caught.”

“Yes, but…” Jackson started, and Yukhei entered the room through a side door, half distracted by a letter he had in his hands, and he stopped in his tracks. He seemed half-tempted to turn around and go, but Jackson rose, smiling brightly. “Yukhei! Join us, please. Kahei has found a mystery, and we need as many brains picking at this.”

He hesitated. Kahei could see his eyes going from Jackson to her, and then back to Jackson. All she wanted was to reach out and say sorry for taking what he must’ve been expecting for so long, but she couldn’t - the words escaped her tongue, floating in the air without ever reaching him.

“Please, Yukhei.” Kahei forced herself to say, smiling placidly. She gestured to the tea set, and his eyes went directly to the biscuits she knew he enjoyed. “Join us.”

“If you so insist, tsesarevna.” Yukhei said, breaking Kahei’s heart just a little. She wished she could tell Yukhei he didn’t need to call her that, but wouldn’t that be seen as a weakness of hers?

He sat down with them, and Jackson explained him the basics of the situation as he nibbled on a cookie, a servant bringing in hurriedly more tea and finger sandwiches as he did so.

“... And that’s where we are currently, with no idea of Kahei’s mystery soulmate’s identity.” He summed up, and Yukhei, with a nod, finished his third cookie. He looked at Kahei for a second, and then, eyed the list that sat in front of her.

“Well, sister, can’t you draw her? I do recall you being quite good at art. Maybe if we can see what she was wearing, we can jog our memory? Perhaps remember if we have seen her before?” Yukhei suggested, and Kahei and Jackson looked at each other, baffled.

“It was a masquerade.” Jackson said, as Kahei requested some paper and ink. Yukhei huffed, a slight pout to his lips.

“Yes, but if we have some sort of visual aide, we can see if someone recalls seeing Kahei’s lady.” He looked at Jackson, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. The servant brought the required items, and Kahei cleared some space on the table, quickly sketching what she remembered Haseul wearing.

The three of them stared at the dress in the paper, foreign to all but Kahei, who could still see it, clear as day, in her mind.

“That’s Continental fashion.” Jackson said, inclining his head. “I think I saw cousin Yiren wearing something akin to this, after she went to visit that girl, wasn’t she?”

Kahei took a moment to remember the last time she had saw cousin Yiren, a girl from a distant branch of the family, more closely related to Jackson than to Kahei, and then nodded. Yes, the dress had quite a similar shape.

“And that in her hair, is it an accessory?” Yukhei added, pointing to the crystal barrette. Kahei nodded. “You can ask around jewelers and dressmakers, see if they have sold something akin to this recently, and then if they have, you can pry them for the information on who.”

“Yukhei, you’re a genius.” Kahei grinned, smiling to him as warmly as he could, and he grinned back. “Jackson, can I ask you to do this?”

He looked at the clock, rising up and giving her a polite bow.

“Of course, your highness. Matter of fact, I should be going.” He grinned, and Kahei had an inkling of what would come out of his mouth. “I have places to be. None is better than your company, surely, but…”

“But I’m sure that there’s a party to go.” Kahei completed, gaining a shy smile from Jackson. She waved him off. “Go on. Have fun.”

“I’ll make sure to discover the jewelry maker. If you’ll excuse me.” Kahei nodded, watching for a moment as Jackson bowed to her and left. When the sound of the door closing faded, she looked at Yukhei, sitting straight as a pole, watching her carefully.

He seemed anxious. Kahei knew her brother well enough to know his moods and tempers. Taking a deep breath, Kahei slowly started to pile up her courage, trying to find her voice to tell him to not hate her for taking what was his. Gods, she hoped he did not.

“Yukhei…” She started, slowly, but he rose. Panic overtook her, rendering her quiet as he grabbed the drawing carefully, analyzing it for a second, before turning back to her with the most polite of smiles, almost unfamiliar on his face.

“I’ll go ask around the royal dressmaker to see if she knows who might make a dress such as these. I can spin it around as being a gift for you.” He said, bowing, breaking Kahei’s heart just enough to make her shot to her feet, rising in a gracefully ungraceful manner. “Kahei?”

“Do you hate me?” She blurted out, awkward and just a touch unhinged, wringing her hands together as her mark warmed itself up, angry like a bunch of wasps. “I understand if you do, since I took what was rightfully yours, but father was the one who chose me, I did not ask…”

“Kahei!” Yukhei called, scandalized, eyes huge. She looked at him and he grabbed her hands, softly, like she was still his big sister who took him around the palace, running around wildly and with no other care in the world. “Kahei, of course I don’t hate you. Besides, I didn’t even want the crown, gods forgive my tongue. I was… Just not sure how to act around you.”

“You?” Kahei said, baffled beyond measure. Her brother did not know how to act? “I’ve seen you convince father of excuses that were, frankly, out of this world, and you don’t know how to act?”

“I feared you’d try to be too formal, so I…” He let go of one of her hands to scratch the back of his neck, like the child he’d always be to Kahei. “So I may have overcompensated a tad. But no, I don’t hate you. In fact, I think you’ll be a wonderful Tsarina, when the time comes.”

“Me?” That made him giggle, childish. Kahei was still confused. She didn’t see herself as a good Tsarina, or even an average one. She was too nervous, too anxious, too everything.

“Oh, come on, Kahei. You always had a penchant for ruling. You just don’t see it because it’s natural for you.” He smiled at her, but Kahei was still unable to understand. “You’ll see. Now, how about both of us go bother the royal dressmaker over this?”

“Very well.” She replied, and smiled at him. “But we won’t bother her too much, okay? She oversees who makes your clothes, and you know what would happen if the accident happened again. Remember that dress shirt?”

“Don’t remind me, Kahei.” Yukhei bemoaned, which made Kahei laugh as they went on their way.

It had been a week since the ball, and Hyunjin had started to keep a tally on sighing using sewing chalk and scrap pieces of fabric while Heejin kept track of the time. It rarely went more than two hours, and even the mademoiselle was eyeing her carefully.

As any other day, the girls had been sewing their morning share, doing the finishing touches on any dresses that were to be sent off that afternoon. They had been chattering - no noble lady came before noon, anyway -, and Haseul was ready to retort on Hyunjin’s commentary about the rain when the bell downstairs rung, resonating through the atelier.

That made them stop, like it had been planned, them straining their ears to listen in, catching some snippets here and there. It sounded like the mademoiselle was talking with someone, voice quiet and low as so to not let them hear.

“Do you think it’s some fancy lady?” Hyunjin whispered, leaning in, sewing forgotten. The dress for the Archduchess Chou was a simple repair, so Haseul did not tell her to keep sewing, instead straining to listen in as well. Heejin looked at them, and then, setting the military uniform she was repairing, she went to the door, opening it until the spot they know it would start to creak and thus alert the madam.

“... Please, Kyungri. I know we aren’t the best of friends anymore, but I know a design of yours when I see it.” The voice begged, and the trio looked at themselves, surprised for a moment.

“I’m impressed.” The mademoiselle replied, warmly. There was a sound of moving fabric - the mademoiselle was moving to meet the owner of the voice. “But what do I get out of this?”

Hushed whispers. A laughter, from the mademoiselle, candid and nothing like the calculated coldness of her usual tone of voice. Haseul wondered if something had happened in the mademoiselle’s past to make her act like that.

“Very well, Hyemi.” The girls looked at each other, surprised - Hyemi, as in, the mademoiselle Hyemi who worked for the royal family? What was she doing in their atelier? They had been just recently allowed to be a patron to archducal families, so there was no territory to prey upon -, and heard steps approaching their room. They scrambled to pretend to be working again, and managed just in time, watching as the shadows loomed in closer.

The mademoiselle opened the door more, revealing the famed mademoiselle Hyemi, short hair contrasting with the mademoiselle Kyungri’s long one, her dress airy and sweet against the mademoiselle’s usual stiff outfits, long sleeves and high collars. Although Haseul would be lying if she said she didn’t see the same soulmate mark on the mademoiselle Hyemi’s neck as the one that Haseul had caught a glimpse of on the mademoiselle Kyungri’s neck, but she politely pretended not to see. It wasn’t, after all, any of her business.

“Pick and choose.” The mademoiselle said, gesturing to the girls who were pretending to work, peering curiously. “Girls, I’ll be lending one of you to mademoiselle Pyo for work today, since you know the pattern and measurements needed for a Continental dress like the ones at the party.”

The mademoiselle Hyemi looked at them, eyes watching the trio, before locking eyes with Haseul. She then turned to the mademoiselle Kyungri, smiling too softly, and the mademoiselle did the same.

Haseul wasn’t even aware the mademoiselle’s lips could turn upwards like that.

“The short-haired one, please.” The mademoiselle Hyemi said, and mademoiselle Kyungri gestured for her to rise, which made Hyemi beam up like a sun when Haseul did so, setting aside her sewing and dusting her skirts. “Please treat me well.”

“Hyemi…” Sighed the mademoiselle, smiling. Haseul nodded and did a small curtsy to the royal patron, and followed them through the small hallway that led downstairs, turning back and waving at Hyunjin and Heejin.

The mademoiselle let Hyemi go in front, stopping Haseul just before they went to the main shop.

“Get some of her contacts for us.” The mademoiselle drawled, before letting go, and Haseul had to take a deep breath, mark warm against her skin.

They walked through the closed store, the mannequins with the ready-made dresses (also known as: dresses ladies asked for and didn’t have it delivered to their houses in time, so they were now for sale) casting shadows on the store. Haseul’s least favorite duty was closing shop for a very good reason.

The mademoiselle stopped at the door, a carriage waiting for them. The door opened, and revealed Heejin and Hyunjin’s friend Yena, who looked at the mademoiselle. A quick yell made her look up, smiling and waving at the single small window to the outside the sewing room they stayed in had.

The mademoiselle gestured for Haseul to come in, and giving a last look to the mademoiselle Kyungri, she did, sitting with Yena and another girl Haseul did not recognize.

“This is Yena,” Started the mademoiselle Hyemi, and Haseul stood straighter, paying attention. Yena smiled at her, kind. “And this is Yuri. Girls, this is Haseul.”

“A pleasure to meet you. I hope we work well together.” Haseul said, as the carriage started to run through the streets, toward the royal palace.

“It’s useless.” Kahei said, one gloved hand going through her hair. At the table, Jackson and Yukhei, stumped over it as well, lunch forgotten, growing cold by the minute. “While the dressmaker has been seeking that specific Continental fashion all over with the help of mademoiselle Pyo, the jewelers haven’t done such a crystal piece. How is that possible?”

“Perhaps she got it from an apprentice?” Yukhei suggested, looking over the list. Kahei had spoken to the dressmaker about the dress, given her the sketch, and Yukhei had smiled sweetly and taken the dressmaker aside when Kahei had purposefully gotten distracted by the military uniform of her battalion, saying that he’d really appreciate it if she could find it soon. No one had resisted Yukhei long, the woman all but throwing herself on the job.

For naught, it seemed. All they had managed was getting mademoiselle Pyo to do a similar-looking dress for her. Not like Kahei was complaining - the mademoiselle had been dressing her since she was thirteen, so she was used to it -, but she really wished to find her mysterious soulmate.

Alas, it seemed like it was not meant to be. Didn’t mean Kahei was satisfied with it, though; she was close to getting some sort of soulmate mark directory to open, but that might be too dictatorship-like. Imagine having the state regulate who was soulmated with whom? It would be madness!

A knock resonated on the door. Kahei told the person to come in, and a maid entered, all prim and proper. She gave a quick bow, and Kahei waited for her to announce whatever was to come.

“Your imperial highness, mademoiselle Pyo is here to take your measurements for the dress.” The maid said, sober and solemn, and Kahei smiled to avoid showing she was startled.

She had forgotten about that, although Kahei was unsure why her measurements needed to be taken again - maybe the dress was sewn differently? -, so she nodded.

“Very well. If you two will excuse me, gentlemen.” Kahei asked, rising, which prompted Jackson and Yukhei to do the same. She left the room, following the maid to the room used as a dressing room, silent.

She wished she could cancel the dress, now that it was obvious it wouldn’t lead her to her soulmate, but it had been “Yukhei’s gift”, so it wasn’t like she could go to the royal dressmaker and tell her to send the mademoiselle Pyo back to her atelier. Besides, it felt a bit rude. The woman came this far, so why not get a new dress?

A set of guards opened the doors to the dressing room, an airy and spacious room where fabric all but littered every shelf available, catalogues of every dress that had ever been offered by mademoiselle Hyemi’s atelier and of others past Kahei’s time. On the center, stood a small stage, two steps guiding to three mirrors so that anyone could see themselves from any angle, and Kahei knew by experience that one of the mademoiselle’s girls would bring another mirror to her, so she could see herself from the back with ease. Big glass panes showed her the gardens, where the royal family’s deer grazed at the grounds, the sounds of birds singing entering through the open windows, some chairs nearby so that whoever was accompanying could sit down for a few moments and relax.

“Your highness.” Mademoiselle Pyo greeted, curtsying slightly, the three girls (odd; usually she just brought two) following her lead. Then the mademoiselle righted herself up, grinning. “Or should I call you your imperial highness now?”

Kahei wanted to incline her head, feeling her mark warm itself too suddenly, but that would be seen oddly by the mademoiselle.

“Anything’s fine by me, mademoiselle.” Kahei replied, nodding to the woman as she went to the stage. When she passed by one of the girls, her mark warmed itself more, and Kahei stopped in her path, looking at the girl who still kept her head bowed, just like the other two. Her hair was cut short, her eyes were cast low, and in her hand -

“... Haseul?” She asked, stopping in her tracks, making the girl visibly panic. The mademoiselle, the maid, and the two girls on the mademoiselle’s entourage were also panicking, but Kahei dismissed it, pretending not to see, staring at the girl in front of her. “You can rise your head, if you want.”

That prompted Haseul to do so, eyes huge, panicked. Silence hung between them, thick in the air.

“L… Lady Viian?” She asked, trembling, almost. “Oh my gods, you’re the tsesarevna. Oh my gods, my...” Haseul put a hand on her soulmate mark, dark blue, equal in the way only marks could be.

She put a hand on Haseul’s wrist, and turned her face to the maid.

“Could you please give me a few moments alone with lady Haseul, please? I won’t take too long.” She asked, and the maid bowed clumsily in surprise, quickly taking everyone outside of the room except for the two. The deer grazed outside, placid and unaware of the tension inside the palace.

When the doors closed, final and loud on the silence of the dressing room, Kahei let go of Haseul’s wrist, putting her hands in front of her body, clasped hands stopping the mark from being viewed by prying eyes. Haseul passed a hand through her short hair, nervous in every gesture, before returning her hands to their place.

“So, you, uhm…” She started, slowly, and looked at Kahei. “You’re lady Viian, right?”

“Yes. And you’re lady Haseul?”

“Just Haseul is fine. Can we sit? I think I’m going to fall.” Kahei nodded at this, and guided her to the small seating area, helping her and only then sitting down. “Thanks. So, you’re the Tsesarevna? Grand Duchess Kahei Wong? Am I getting this right?”

Kahei nodded.

“You are. I’m sorry I lied to you. I was… Feeling very anxious over Jackson’s party being my first official engagement as the heir, so he suggested I pretended to be someone else. I didn’t think I’d meet my soulmate.” She smiled, at the end of the dialogue, lips turning up without her wanting to. Haseul blushed, faint pink on her cheeks, and bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry if I caused you distress.”

“You’re causing me distress by being…” She gestured at Kahei, and shook her head. “Sorry. Is that treason?”

“Mildly, but I won’t tell if you don’t, too.” Kahei replied, jokingly, and Haseul cracked a smile, which made her grin. “You’re finally smiling. You look as pretty as I remember, Haseul.”

“Don’t flatter me.” Haseul answered, automatic, and put a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Gods, what do we do? I mean, I’m me, and you’re, you know, the heir of this country.”

Haseul blushed, once more, and put her face on her hands, saying something that vaguely sounded like “I went to your coronation parade…”. Kahei politely pretended she hadn’t heard a thing.

“Well, usually this means that I should court you. Would you like that?” Kahei suggested, which made Haseul take her face off her hands.

“I’m not a titled noble.”

“Titles are given all the time. How do you feel about, let’s say, marquess? Some lands and a keep?” Kahei knew that there were some small castles who needed a lord or lady to come and give it some order, to return them back to their proper state, and she started composing a list of which were closer to the Capital in her mind.

“What?” Haseul blinked quickly, shaking her head. “No, thanks, I like my job. I could, you know, visit. That’s cheaper.”

Haseul fidgeted in her seat, biting her lower lip for a second, before looking straight into Kahei’s eyes.

“May I kiss you? We weren’t able to do that, you know.” She echoed from a lifetime ago, and Kahei nodded, rising, which prompted Haseul to do the same. With care, as if Haseul was a thing prone to breaking, Kahei put her hands on top of the other girl’s, fingers intertwining without a second thought as the marks warmed themselves in a comfortable temperature.

“Of course.” Kahei answered, softly, and Haseul finally could kiss Kahei.

“Haseul, the tsesarevna you got lucky with is here!” Called Hyunjin, from her spot on the window, and Haseul stopped sewing, setting it aside and going there, peering curiously. A carriage - discreet, common - waited downstairs, and Kahei was at the door, dressed in her military uniform, hair in a low ponytail. She looked up, smiling brightly and waving, and Haseul felt her heart fill itself with warmth. “Oh my gods, you two are so cute. Just go, we’ll cover with the mademoiselle for you.”

“Not like she’ll notice, anyway, she’s been spending quite an awful long time with mademoiselle Hyemi lately.” Heejin drawled, and Haseul gave them a pointed look, before the girl rose up her face, smiling brightly. “Just go, your royal lady is waiting.”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Haseul replied, gathering her skirts, getting off the windowsill and looking at them. “You two better work, okay? I’ll cover for you two tomorrow on the festival.”

The two girls nodded, sharing an excited grin, and Haseul giggled softly before going downstairs, taking care to avoid the mannequins. She knew that mademoiselle Kyungri was in the back, doing gods’ know what, and she really did not wish to trip her seemingly magic sensor.

When she made her way out, she waved at Kahei, who crossed the three steps between them to reach Haseul, grabbing her hand and intertwining their fingers, mark to silk-covered mark.

“Hello there.” Kahei greeted, polite as usual, the smile on her face betraying the warmth on her words. “Working hard?”

“Of course. Have you?” She poked the well-made military uniform, smiling when she saw the small fleur-de-lys tailored there. Haseul knew those stitches; she had made them, after all.

“All to see you, my lady. Shall we go? I have dinner waiting for us.” Kahei replied, guiding her to the carriage with a kiss. Haseul couldn’t ask for a better life.

“Sure. I’m starving.” Was her answer, marks warm against each other.