Two years later

“There she is!”

“She has the same nose as the Marquis,”

“And the same eyes as his wife!”

Of course, Chaeyeong looked nothing like the wealthy couple. The peasants admiring her in the golden carriage knew it as well. But they made remarks and comments that they knew the Marquis would enjoy hearing, regardless of whether it was true. It also didn’t make sense that the supposed ‘heir’ was already fourteen years old, when, five years ago, the Marquis’ wife was still having trouble giving birth. The peasants ignored that too.

But secretly, late at night, the proletariats gathered in cheap bars to gossip about the happenings of the day. They laughed at the crooked nose Chaeyeong had inherited from her parents, not the Marquis. They spoke of her as an animal; a savage thing that shamelessly begged to be adopted. She was now living the lavish life that any other aristocrat possessed. The fine silks she’d worn while parading around Marseille surely cost an entire year’s wage for the poor. A lucky child indeed.

“Ya know, sum peopl’ jus’ born bettuh den udders,” the drunk Jacque loudly bellowed. The man caught nearly everyone in the bar’s attention, including Taehyung. Minors weren’t allowed to hang around such wild places so late at night, but no one cared about an orphan lurking in the shadows.

“But when ya ain’t so lucky, ya gots tuh make the opportunity yaself,” the man continued, “lak dat devil’s child,” He finished with an ecstatic cackle, hunched over in his drunkenness. Everyone else joined in, delighting in his mockery and foolish nonsense. If there was anything the poor were good at, it was ignoring their helplessness and opting to pretend. When the world was asleep, so was reality. Wine washed away the bitterness of the day, and the poor relished in the little scraps of happiness they could collect.

Taehyung watched emotionlessly at the side. He didn’t join in the humor, and neither did he feel the urge to. The men and women were useless, living lame fantasies that only made their self pity flourish in the light of day. “I’m going to be different than all of you when I grow up,” he whispered to himself, quietly stepping out of the tavern.

*

“Sit straighter, you mongrel,” the Marquis spat at Chaeyeong, who was sitting the straightest she could manage. It was the day after her parade around the city, and Chaeyeong sat rigidly in front of the Marquis. He scrutinized her under his gaze, scanning for any miniscule detail to scold her for.

“You should be extremely grateful that I had saved you in time before Monsieur Legrand sentenced you to death. You do realize that thievery is a grievous crime punishable by death, don’t you?” the Marquis scoffed. There was an undeniable sardonic undertone from his trained speech. Every word was pronounced with perfect delicacy, taunting her for her lack thereof.

Minah’s betrayal stung like a bee sting that never went away. Chaeyeong had been framed by one of her best friends as the thief who scrambled through the trash behind Monsieur Legrand’s mansion, if that can even be called thievery. In exchange for Minah and Suga’s own safety, Chaeyeong was turned in as the scapegoat.

“You will do your best to become the lady of this household, despite your proletarian background. Everything needs to be changed: your atrocious posture, your lame walk, your peasant tongue, and everything in between. Also, you are to be educated as a proper lady, seeing as you’ve never had any private tutoring in the lowly…what, fourteen years you’ve been living? It matters not. Go meet Madam Collect for your dress fittings upstairs. Chaeyeong, be good dear,” the Marquis babbled before promptly leaving to his studies. What studies he actually tended to, Chaeyeong had no idea. But she was to follow orders if she wanted to survive in this household, so she left to go see Madam Collet.

Dinner was at 6:30 pm, not a moment later was Chaeyeong to arrive. She only made that mistake once. At 6:31 that night, Chaeyeong rushed downstairs to meet a furious Marquis who slapped her across the face twice as soon as she’d come down.

“You are absolutely not to disobey my orders ever again. See what I’ll do next time,” he yelled into Chaeyeong’s ear, leaving her deaf in her horror.

“Now sit,” he commanded her, “and eat only when I tell you to,”

Chaeyeong meticulously followed his every bidding. Only in the dead of night an hour after the Marquis had fallen asleep in his room did Chaeyeong dare to whimper in her bed. It was too risky to cry, too painful not to. She couldn’t imagine how the Marquis would punish her if he’d been awoken from her cries. So she clamped down on her jaw and sat still through the starless night.

*

The word ‘suffer’ couldn’t even begin to describe the life Chaeyeong was forced to lead. The Marquis was ruthless in his biddings and ensured that everything about her was molded and shaped into the perfect daughter figure the public would look up to. After surviving two months of her new life, she could barely recognize herself in when she looked in a mirror. The girl that looked back was proud: condescending in manner and regal in her posture. She had become the kind of girl that the peasants praised by day and gossiped about by night. They would talk down her new persona to make themselves feel better about their pitiful lives. But inside jealousy would boil from their hearts like a kettle. The peasants were far too prideful to admit it, yet they would give up the world to trade places with Chaeyeong. She knew because she once thought the same way.

Chaeyeong observed herself in the mirror once again. Yes, she had developed an important aura around her. But she’d become no more than a walking doll. Her eyes, which used to be such a vibrant and exhilarating blue, dulled into little more than a lifeless ocean. Other than the droning beat of her heart, Chaeyeong wasn’t living anymore. A life wasn’t defined by the organ pumping blood throughout one’s body; it was defined by experiences. Laughing. Crying, Feeling things and spending time with loved ones. At least when Chaeyeong was a filthy orphan, she had Minah and Suga at her side. They had relied on each other to survive, built a bond stronger than money could pay for. Although the three of them starved and slept huddled together on the cold streets, nothing could compare to the pain for being alone. Alone in a place where Chaeyeong’s life depended on her obedience to supposed ‘father figure’ who acted as a slave master. In a heartbeat, Chaeyeong would give up all the riches in the world to return to the grimy dirt where her friends slept.

“You will behave exactly as I have taught you in front of the guests. No noise will come from you unless you are asked to speak. When you do, speak only with the proper tongue of a noble woman. None of that street slang all you uneducated mutts use. A step out of line and you will never see the light of day again. Chaeyeong, be good,” the Marquis warned, forcing Chaeyeong’s eyes down with his gaze.

Madam Collet and a few other ladies (whose names Chaeyeong forgot) spent the day preparing Chaeyeong for the dinner party that was to be held in the evening. She stood straight as a needle, allowing the ladies to fuss with her appearance. The exquisite dress she’d been squeezed into already flattered her stick thin figure, but apparently it wasn’t enough. Her long messy waves were arranged elegantly in a pile on top of her head, giving her a headache from how tightly the hair was pulled. The loose powders and cosmetics would surely irritate her sensitive skin once they were taken off, but for the time being, her face was painted flawlessly white. Chaeyeong hated every bit of who she saw in the mirror.

“You look absolutely stunning Ms. Moreau! So regal, like the queen herself. I’m sure Sir Moreau will be delighted to have such a beautiful daughter sitting by his side tonight,” one of the ladies who touched up her rogue commented. Chaeyeong noticed the way she was referred as ‘a beautiful daughter’, not ‘his beautiful daughter’, making a mental note of it. These women and the people working under the Marquis saw her in the same light: a poor peasant who begged her way into higher social standings.

“Sir Moreau will call you down shortly. Don’t be too nervous dear!” Madam Collet said with a tight smile. She and the other ladies swiftly made their way to the door, pretending like they weren’t trying to hurry. Not that Chaeyeong was going to complain; she was so tired of all the fake high pitched voices and false lies flowing so easily out of the upper classes mouths.

It would be hours before the Marquis finally called for his beloved daughter, and Chaeyeong knew it. She was the icing on a cake. The final hair ribbon on an extravagant up-do. He’d call for her when he desired. So for the first time in too long, Chaeyeong leaned her head out the window and stared below. She allowed her longings to fantasize in her wake, pretending her bare feet could kiss the cold pavement of the dirty streets. She saw herself running wildly above the rooftops with Suga at her side. He’d catch her arm before she got too excited and ran straight off the roof, laughing at her recklessness. Chaeyeong missed him so much. The way he managed to make her full when they hadn’t eaten for days. His kind and loving smile that always lifted her spirits and warmed her heart when the streets were freezing in the dead of night. How he never did anything he didn’t want to and lived true to himself. Suga would be so disappointed to see her now in the hands of a puppet master who coordinated each and every one of her moves.

The evening breeze left goose bumps along Chaeyeong’s skin, making her shiver. The ominous atmosphere left a cold pit in her stomach, and she had a hard time filling it up. Just as Chaeyeong felt it was time to close the window, a pale hand reached from outside and grabbed a hold of her arm. Before she had any time to react, the dark figure had pulled itself inside and silenced her with a quiet hand. Chaeyeong’s blood pulsed through her veins irregularly, racing through her heart. The logical side of the girl’s brain willed her to remain calm and collected, but it was easier said than done. Chaeyeong struggled uselessly under his strong hold.

“Shhh. I don’t wanna hurt yuh,” the man said, his voice surprisingly young for a thief daring enough to break into the Marquis’ house. The man’s face from the nose down was covered with a black mask. His forest green eyes pleaded for her to remain silent as Chaeyeong stared into them, lost in their depth. They were so alive, young and spirited for whatever faith planned for him next. She envied his freedom, his boldness that made him believe he could get away with the break-in. If she had his mindset, she would’ve been long gone from this insufferable life. But then again, she would also be dead.

“Don’t say a word, and I’ll release yuh,” he said, slowly pulling his hand away from her lips. How strange for a robber to be so civil during his heist.

“You won’t get what you’ve come here for. The Marquis hides his money well where no one, not even his wife could find it,” Chaeyeong whispered despite his plea.

“Could? Why do yuh speak of her in the past tense?” the man observed, watching Chaeyeong in curiosity.

“She…” Chaeyeong trailed off, knowing if word got out, the Marquis would surely kill her on the spot. But the man nodded in understanding and let her off the hook.

“Well, Miss, long as yuh stay in yuh room tonight, nutin’ bad will happen to yuh. I have orders to keep yuh here,” the man said, getting comfortable in the chair beside her bed.

“Like I said, whatever your plans are will surely fail. Your concern for my safety should be meant for yourself, young sir,” Chaeyeong said quietly. She’d seemed to have lost her voice in the short time of beginning her new life. It was barely used, and only by the commands of the Marquis.

The man laughed. It was a lovely summer breeze in the coldness of a winter night, and it warmed Chaeyeong up not unlike the ways Suga had. The man shook off Chaeyeong’s concern and instead propped up his feet on the bedside table.

“Oh, they’ll be alright. The guys that ah work for are professionals. They know how to break into the palace in their sleep,” he said nonchalantly, “what happened to yur arm?” The man reached over to pull up Chaeyeong’s sleeve up to her elbow.

Large, ugly welts had begun to form on Chaeyeong’s forearm. Underneath the heavy wool sleeve of her dress, they were nearly undetectable. However, this mysterious man managed to see them. She couldn’t even remember why the Marquis beat her this time; each punishment was for some nonsensical problem that never existed. What was the point of remembering?

“Nothing,” Chaeyeong mumbled, gently tugging her arm out of his grasp. But he held on fast, observing each little cut that had swelled over her skin.

“Who did this to yuh?” he asked, digging through his pockets. His hand pulled out a clear tube containing a gel like goop.

“It’s nothing,” Chaeyeong insisted. Against her protests, the man spread the gel evenly across Chaeyeong’s forearm. It stung in direct contact with her skin, but immediately left a cooling sensation that distracted her from the pain.

“A thief shouldn’t be so kind, should he?” Chaeyeong asked softly, watching the man work. He also produced some gauze from his pockets and promptly wrapped up the wounds. The sudden acts of kindness shocked Chaeyeong. The man held her arm as if it were porcelain that would shatter in an instant. His delicate fingers grazed along her skin lightly, afraid to exacerbate the pain.

“Not all thieves are barbarians,” he laughed, a lovely sound that became music to Chaeyeong’s ears.

The man retracted his hand, suddenly aware of how close he’d been to her. Suddenly aware of their class difference, and that they were from two different worlds that weren’t meant to intermix. The poor were always meant to cluster close together in foul smelling taverns while the rich held parties with class, albeit wasting their nights in the same manner. Never had France been any way but this.

“Th-thank you sir,” Chaeyeong said, “If it’s alright, would the kind gentleman mind telling me his name?”

The man stiffened, and she immediately regretted asking. “We aren’t supposed tuh tell anyone who we are,” the man said carefully, “but my code name is V,”

“V,” Chaeyeong repeated to herself, “I like it,”

V smiled under his mask, and the earlier tension relieved itself. For the first time in two months, Chaeyeong could breathe. How strange it would be in a locked room with a stranger, rather than this new home that had given her a father. Her world no longer made sense.

Chaeyeong caught V’s eyes trailing the line of her bodice, and she was suddenly very aware of how the bold dress emphasized her figure. The Marquis wouldn’t put her in a scandalous outfit; no, that would hurt his reputation. But at the same time, he didn’t settle for modesty either.

“Yuh look very lovely for the party,” V commented, his gaze still lingering. Chaeyeong scoffed.

“I hate it,” she said, as though the dress itself was making her bolder, “I look like a porcelain doll that doesn’t do anything except sit on some spoiled child’s shelf,”

“Well, the public sees yuh as little more than that,” V said, approaching her like a lion stalking his prey.

“They don’t know the half of it,” Chaeyeong answered breathlessly. She shifted uncomfortably, nervously watching as V brought his face far too close to hers. His lips suspended above hers, only a hair-breath away.

“Then what’s the other half?” he mumbled into her ear. V’s velvety voice so close set off a warning alarm in Chaeyeong’s head. Everything she’s been taught urged her to get away, told her trouble would come if this continued. Before she had the time to decide, V covered her eyes and removed his mask, gently closed the gap between them. Even his kisses were soft caresses against her lips: so full of passion, yet tender in their delivery.

The only thing Chaeyeong did since starting her new life was follow the guidelines set up for her. Never once did she go against her orders, yet she’d receive punishments regardless. What difference did it make if she really did defy the Marquis once? He would never even know, judging by the commotion that could be heard from upstairs. It was passed two in the morning; the hour of drunkards and rebels. Chaeyeong fell into the latter category.

 V broke off the moment after what seemed like an instant. He held her tenderly in his arms, brushing away a few strands of hair that had fallen loose. When was the last time someone had shown Chaeyeong so much affection? Even if this was only for one night, the memory would be burned into her heart for the rest of time. No one ever really forgot their first kiss. When the worst of times fell upon Chaeyeong, she would call upon memories like these and hold them dearly for comfort.