When That Door Opens - Chapter 1
Yvonne’s mother had been a hostess at a bar on the outskirts of the imperial city, and would come home drunk on especially hard days. She would then grab her young daughter’s shoulders and mutter.
“You must know your place, Yvonne. Chasing empty dreams will only hurt you.”
Yvonne was too young to understand those words, so she vaguely thought her mother seemed incredibly sad. As she grew older, she came to understand the reason behind that sadness.
On the rare days when her mother was in a good mood, she would sit Yvonne down and brush her hair, telling her a love story between a man and a woman. The young, astute Yvonne guessed that the story was actually about her mother and her biological father, judging by the happy reflection of her mother in the mirror.
However, the story never had an ending. Her mother would always stop halfway through. It was likely because Yvonne’s father, the eldest son of a famous merchant family, had abandoned his lover who was carrying his child to marry someone chosen by his family.
Even when her mother couldn’t finish the story, Yvonne never pestered her for the ending. Instead, she would take the comb in her small hands and brush her mother’s hair, just as her mother had done for her. Then, her mother would hug Yvonne tightly and whisper.
“Yvonne, my daughter. Don’t live like me.”
Whether Yvonne wanted it or not, that whisper burrowed deep into her core. Though her mother had long passed away from illness and was no longer by her side, the whispers remained.
Not wanting to follow in her mother’s footsteps, plagued by alcohol and men, Yvonne had taken up sewing at a young age. Fortunately, it suited her well. Under her meticulous and delicate touch, fabrics quickly turned into dresses, and colorful threads blossomed into beautiful floral embroidery.
Now a grown woman, Yvonne owned a respectable clothing shop. Although it was located in a corner of the market district and frequented mostly by commoners, Yvonne’s embroidery was exceptional enough to occasionally attract young ladies from noble families.
While others might have boasted about such an achievement, Yvonne did not. When the neighboring merchants teased that she might become a famous designer sought after by the nobility, she simply smiled and shook her head quietly.
Knowing one’s place and not harboring vain hopes was the safest way to avoid getting hurt, as far as Yvonne knew.
However, there was one thing Yvonne coveted in her life.
“It should be time for him to arrive.”
Seated at her vanity in her chemise, brushing her hair, Yvonne murmured to herself. The click of the comb being set down was the only sound in the stillness. She held her breath, gazing at her reflection in the dark night.
Her red hair, inherited from her mother, glowed in the moonlight. Other than those drunken lessons, it was a legacy from her mother. A soft sigh escaped her parted lips.
Turning away from the mirror, she meticulously inspected the room for any mess. The living quarters above her shop were small and old. Though Yvonne cleaned and organized every day, there was a limit to what she could do.
Despite this, Yvonne made considerable efforts to make the humble interior look presentable. Thick curtains hung over the drafty windows that let in the cold winter air, and a bright-patterned rug covered the creaky wooden floor. Recently, she had even draped a small table with a white cloth she had embroidered herself.
These changes had all begun around this time last year.
Knock, knock.
A crisp knock echoed through the house. Yvonne’s heart started pounding in sync. Instead of answering, a slow smile bloomed on her face. The person outside didn’t wait for a response and opened the door.
A man in a black robe stepped inside, the hem of his robe flowing gracefully around his ankles with his movements.
Closing the door firmly behind him, he looked at Yvonne. Though his face was mostly hidden by the deep hood, his well-shaped lips curved into a charming smile.
“Yvonne.”
A low voice called her name.
“Sorry, I’m a little late today.”
The affection in his voice made Yvonne’s cheeks blush helplessly. Seeing this even in the dark, the man let out a small chuckle. He took long strides toward her.
“Yvonne.”
He called her name again softly as he removed his hood. With the sound of the fabric rustling, his golden hair and brilliant blue eyes shone in the faint moonlight.
Ah, ah. Yvonne couldn’t help but swallow her involuntary gasp.
Like a statue crafted by a renowned artist to embody beauty, the man knelt before her without hesitation and asked in an achingly sweet voice,
“Did you wait for me?”
