It took a while but Sienna returned eventually. She looked exhausted yet triumphant, flanked by a horde of staff members struggling to haul in four tracks, each of which groaned under the weight of the racks' contents. One was filled with dresses, another with suits, the third with shoes, and the last one was filled with accessories arranged carefully.

  "Apologies for keeping you waiting, Young Master, Young Miss!" Sienna said panting as the staff busied themselves with setting everything in place.

  "Good work," Lev replied impassively. "Call for stylists from the nearest salon. Use my identification plaque if necessary."

  Before anyone could respond, the same woman who nudged him earlier stepped forward with an eager smile.

  "There's no need for that," she said. "I've already contacted Salon Lapana and their stylists are on their way as we speak."

  With a half-smile, Lev looked her way mildly pleased. "Excellent job as usual, Amelia."

  I blinked, glancing between them. First-name basis, huh? Hmmm, how curious. Then again, I too would remember competent employees.

  Amelia's face lit up as she lowered her head ever so slightly.

  "Of course! I'm paid to do well after all."

  Something about the way she said that struck me as odd and... was she... blushing? It was subtle, but I can recognize small details—an ability I developed no thanks to years of trying to please my older sister and escape her abuse—and that flustered expression definitely meant something. Lev on the other hand, remained entirely unaffected, I don't think he even noticed her blushing.

  How fascinating.

  Her eyes turned to me and for a moment I thought I could see her glaring at me.

  I arched a brow at her, what was her problem?

  Before I could prod into this little dynamic future, the store's tailor Marcel stepped forward and cleared his throat.

  "Since the musical you will be attending is an adaptation of a classic love story, we have selected ten outfits that fit your preferred designs and are not only fashionable but fit the theme of the evening beautifully!"

  I nodded, listening with half-interest as he began presenting the options. It wasn't that I didn't care—I enjoy shopping, don't get me wrong—but I was exhausted.

  Also, I found it amusing that for the second time today, I was choosing an event I'd be attending with Lev, earlier it was for out wedding, now it was for our first date.

  The first five ensembles were all beautiful and well-designed. They were neither ostentatious or plain, they were just right. I woudln't mind wearing any of them.

  Marcel stepped aside and revealed the sixth pair and unlike before he seemed a little unenthusiastic.

  "Tbe next outfits are quite similar to the first and second sets in design and color. The suit is a regal ensemble of green and purple, designed with golden chains and a *veyr brooch. The dress is a beautiful shade of purple with green accents, featuring a fitted bodice and flowing sleeves."

  Seeing the clothes, my mind went back to the catalog.

  "These two aren't a set, right?" I asked, tilting my head. "I remember seeing them in the catalog earlier. They come from two different collections."

  Marcel's smile widened, looking pleased that I'd caught on. "Right you are, Young Miss! These two pieces come from different collections but we selected them because they complement each other so well that, without prior knowledge, one would never assume they weren't designed as a pair."

  Lev met my gaze, it seemed we were both thinking the same thing.

  "We'll go with these two," I said.

  Marcel was taken aback, "Are you certain, Young Miss? Are you sure of this, Young master? Perhaps you'd like to see the next—"

  Lev cut in smoothly, "Yvette's right. This pair is what we'll wear."

  Marcel hesitated but his curiosity won out, "May I ask why? I mean no offense, but the suit is similar to the first option, and the dress to the second. Why these specifically?"

  I chuckled softly, "It's because that pair reminds us of our relationship.

  Marcel's confusion deepened so I had to elaborate.

  "In a way, aren't we like that pair? Two outfits from different collections in the same store, were chosen because they make a good pair and fit the occasion. Like it, we're two people who come from different cliques in the same social circle, who somehow ended up together because others thought it would be convenient and beneficial given the circumstances of our territories."

  Lev's brows lifted slightly as he turned towards me, "Seems more than fitting for us."

  I gave a slight nod, lips curling.

  "Exactly."

  ?

  Changing into the clothes was done quickly—efficient, even. Lev and I barely had time to admire the outfits we chose before the stylists arrived and came at us like *cairns. Given the time crunch they couldn't waste any time, moving swiftly with precision.

  I appreciate their competence. If only Haetsal could work as fast as them. Give the boy a deadline and he'll still do it last minute.

  As one of the assistants finished styling my hair she suddenly beamed at me.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "You look beautiful, Young Miss!" I would've been touched—had she not immediately followed up with, "You're almost as lovely as Her Radiance!"

  My smile froze in place. Thankfully though I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Because of course it wasn't simply enough to acknowledge that I look good—no, it had to be framed in comparison to her!

  Yvonne. Yvonne. Yvonne.

  Even when she wasn't here, it still seems like she is. Lurking in the edges of every conversation I have, a persistent stain that refuses to disappear.p

  I inhaled deeply, forcing away my irritation.

  Deep breaths Yvette, it's nothing new right? You've long since accepted that this world wouldn't see you because for them you are only a dim and bratty reflection of her.

  Good self-peptalk.

  Still, it never fails to make me want to gag.

  The final touches to my makeup were completed and I stepped out from behind the divider, refusing to stay with people who unknowingly irritate me.

  My eyes immediately landed on Lev, standing by the window, the sunlight gleaming over him.

  The suit fit him so well. The deep purple with green accents emphasized his lean frame. He was adjusting his cufflinks and gloves ever so casually, the cravat around his neck still untied. The setting sun was probably paid to accentuate his features.

  I can already imagine the reaction he'd get when we arrived at the theater. The press is going to have a field day with him.

  I tilted my head and smirked.

  "Who are you trying to impress looking that fine?"

  Lev turned and a smirk curled at the corner of his lips. He leaned lazily against the window, still fixing his cufflinks.

  "My fiancée, actually," He answered. "I'm told she fancies handsome men. Think this ought to catch her attention?"

  I snickered. "Oh, you'd definitely catch her attention. In fact, she's probably calculating how much she'll profit from setting up meet-and-greets with your fans as we speak. She'll be rich overnight!"

  Lev let out a soft chuckle, "She better give me my cut of the money, though."

  I hummed and tapped my chin thoughtfully, "She'll think about it."

  I closed the distance between us and pointed at his cravat, "Mind if I help you with that?"

  Lev's smirk lingered, "Not at all, go right ahead."

  Taking the fabric in my hands, I began tying it with ease. My fingers worked deftly, looping, and pulling to make sure it looked good.

  Midway through, Lev's hand suddenly moved. A lock of my hair had fallen out of the half-up half-down style the stylists did and he tucked it behind my ear.

  His fingers brushed against my cheek, his touch feathery against my skin.

  "You look beautiful, by the way," He said.

  "I always do."

  Lev huffed out a laugh, "People usually say thank you after a compliment."

  I looked up at him acting clueless, "Do they?"

  He was stunned at my reaction and let out a laugh, "I have a feeling that winning against you isn't going to be easy."

  I tightened the last loop of his cravat and smoothed it down before arching a brow,

  "You? Win against me?" I scoffed, tilting my head with a slow smirk, pulling his cravat, and drawing his face closer to mine. "Don't make me laugh, honey."

  ?

  Lev remained where he stood, his fingers absently lingering at his throat, his cravat that Yvette had just tied. His eyes stared blankly, fixated on the spot she stood moments ago, the lingering scent of seryn in the air faint but distinct.

  What was it?

  What was it about her that was so enthralling?

  Strange...

  She wasn't the first woman to be bold around him. Not the first to be disinterested in him romantically, nor the first to tease him with sharp words and an even sharper wit.

  He had met plenty—nobles and commoners alike—who carried themselves with confidence, women who couldn't be bothered to care or scurry for his favor.

  None of them ever stuck. None left an impression beyond the moments their words were spoken.

  And yet, here he was, standing like an idiot, replaying their exchange in his mind.

  "I have a feeling that winning against you isn't going to be easy."

  "You? Win against me? Don't make me laugh, honey."

  Yvette teased him with a smirk and walked out of the room with the air of a victor. Her little chuckle lingered like a melody in his mind.

  His younger sister teased him plenty of times like that and so did his close female friends so from experience he expected—he thought—he'd be irritated. But no, he wasn't. He found himself entertained. Amused.

  It had just been a day since their engagement and just a few hours they stumbled into each other in the middle of a crime scene.

  Her attendant took charge of the medical situation assisted by her brother and the rest of them worked to secure the scene. Yvette, however, worked in the background maneuvering through the chaos. She didn't make a spectacle of what she as doing to help, and her efforts had actually gone unnoticed by most, but Lev?

  He was hyper-aware of her, keeping her close by—not letting her be away for more than an arm's length.

  He rationalized it at the time saying he was doing it to keep her out of trouble and safe but Yvon—her twin brother who was practically attached to her by the hip, overprotective of her—was right there.

  And Lev knew Yvon would sooner jump in front of a moving carriage than let harm fall on Yvette.

  So why? Why pull her close? Why keep her beside him?

  Before he could even find an answer to that, she had disappeared.

  It was long but it had been enough for Yvon to nearly lose his mind and enough for unease to settle in Lev's chest like a slow-burning fire. In the midst of the crime scene she vanished and only when they found her could they breathe properly again.

  And as if the day hadn't been absurd enough, they ran into Countess Dulcenia.

  Lev had met formidable women before—he was living with two of them: his mother and sister—women who commanded rooms and played people like toys. But Countess Dulcenia Oryx?

  She was in a league of her own.

  The fact that her daughter had been a witness to two separate violent crimes didn't stop her from saying the two should go on a date.

  A date.

  After a murder scene.

  Even a child could probably see the absurdity and ridiculousness of the situation. But what was the point? He knew the Countess well enough to know that talking to her was akin to talking to a wall.

  Yet somehow in the midst of all that chaos, Yvette made him laugh.

  Not a forced huff. Not an exhale of a polite chuckle. But an actual genuine amusement.

  There she was, teasing him effortlessly, calling him by name.

  "Lev it is then."

  Such a small thing, but it felt... different.

  And it wasn't even because she reminded him of her.

  For a long time, Yvonne had occupied his mind—whether he wanted to or not. Even after she married Haneul, Lev felt like shaking the weight of her presence would be an impossible task.

  But today in the hours he had spent with Yvette, Yvonne didn't even cross his mind.

  Not once.

  It was only Yvette.

  That realization settled over him like a shock followed by another realization.

  Lev exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

  "You've got to be kidding me..." He muttered to himself, "It's only been a day since we got engaged and you've managed to occupy the thoughts in my head."

  "Young Master?"

  A hesitant voice broke his thoughts. He turned to find Amelia— a woman he'd known for years, fully aware of her secret feelings for him but never once entertaining them—standing near the doorway.

  "The carriage is waiting for you. Uh... Are you alright?" She asked, concern laced in her voice. "Because you're looking a little red. Do you have a fever?"

  At first, he was confused but a quick glance at a mirror made him realize what he was talking about.

  He composed himself, expression impassive, rolling his shoulders back.

  "Must be the heat," He answered, already walking past her.

  She just hummed, "Mm. Right. 'The heat.'"

  Normally he wouldn't have given her words a second thought, her teasing would've just faded in the background. But not today, not now.

  Amelia had always been bold, teasing, and confident, and yet even with all her sharp wit and forwardness Lev never really took notice of her. He was never really curious or captivated with her.

  But Yvette had him enthralled.

  And he wasn't sure why.

  Why was she so different?

  Why did she stand out?

  Lev didn't know the answer.

  But talking to her was like seeing the sky clear after a long storm. Like the dark clouds that were suffocating his skies were finally disappearing.

  And for the first time in a while—he didn't mind being under the sun.

  ACE IN THE HOLE GLOSSARY

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