I feel the dress...hanging limply in my hands, the fabric cool against my fingers as I stared down at it. I had truly thought… hoped… that I’d get a decent price for it. A gold piece would have been life-changing, enough to cover several weeks of food, maybe even a new pair of shoes to replace my worn, patched-up ones. But I was wrong. And it stung more than I could put into words.


The sting of rejection still fresh, I stood frozen for a moment in the center of the busy market square, feeling the world whirl around me. I could almost hear the mocking laughter of those twin girls, their sharp voices echoing in my mind. “Barely worth a copper,” she had said. I felt my cheeks flush hot as the memory gnawed at me, like a bruise I kept pressing on.


Before I could dwell too long on my disappointment, a flicker of movement caught my eye, drawing me back to the present. At the far edge of the square, a carriage appeared, emerging from the street with an air of grandeur that made everything else around it seem dull and ordinary.


It was unlike anything I’d ever seen—made of polished wood and intricately carved with golden filigree, every curve and detail designed to catch the light and dazzle the eye. The wheels were lined with shining brass, and even the horses were adorned with delicate silver chains that clinked softly as they moved. People parted like the sea, murmuring in awe and surprise as the carriage rolled through. I could hear the hushed whispers spreading through the crowd around me.


“Wait...isn't that the Prjona crest?”


“They say the duke’s son, having completed his rigorous training in both diplomacy and knighthood, now stands ready to take his place among the noble ranks. Could it be him?”


"I wouldn't say for sure… but perhaps the young Lord Ashon is soon to be promised to a noble lady from a respectable house?"


My heart raced as I watched the carriage glide past, a strange sense of wonder and awe swelling in my chest. A carriage like that belonged to people from an entirely different world—people whose lives were lined with velvet and luxury, who moved through the world without a single care for survival or hunger. And here I was, clutching a dress I could barely hope to sell for a few silvers.


But then, through the small, gilded window of the carriage, I caught a glimpse of someone—a young man about my age, his face turned towards the window. His features were sharp and striking, a sculpted jawline softened by the warm hue of his skin. He wore a faint frown, his dark eyes gazing out at the crowd with a quiet intensity that seemed to draw everything around him into focus. For a moment, his eyes met mine, locking me in place. I felt a strange pull, as if the entire bustling square had disappeared, and it was just the two of us, staring at each other through the blur of faces and noise.


The moment was brief, barely a heartbeat, before he turned away, his gaze returning to whatever world lay behind those carriage doors. I felt my heart flutter as the carriage moved past, heading towards the Earl’s estate in the distance. It vanished around the corner, leaving a strange, hollow feeling in my chest.


Shaking myself from the spell, I remembered why I was here. I wasn’t a girl who could get lost in fantasies about handsome noblemen and golden carriages. I had a dress to sell, and if I dawdled any longer, I’d miss my chance to find a willing buyer before Madam Therrow returned. Taking a deep breath, I turned away from the street where the carriage had disappeared and fixed my gaze on the market stalls once more, determined to make the best of the day.


As I wandered through the square, holding my dress out for people to see, I began to notice the quick glances, the murmured conversations. Most people barely spared me a second look. Some cast wary glances at the green fabric, muttering things like “too plain” or “not enough lace.” My shoulders slumped with each rejection, the hope I’d started the day with dwindling bit by bit.


And then, as I turned towards the edge of the square, I spotted her. She stood out instantly, like a jewel among stones. She was about my age, perhaps a year or two older, with a radiant beauty that seemed almost unreal. Her hair was a cascade of golden curls, falling in loose waves over her shoulders, and her eyes were the color of spring leaves, bright and full of life. Her dress was simple yet elegant, a pale blue gown adorned with delicate pearls along the neckline, the kind of gown I could only dream of sewing.


She noticed me staring and offered a warm, open smile, the kind of smile that felt like a ray of sunshine on a cold day. “Is that your work?” she asked, nodding toward the dress in my hands.


I blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Y-yes, it is. I made it myself,” I stammered, feeling a bit silly under her kind gaze.


She stepped closer, examining the dress with a discerning eye. “The stitching is lovely,” she said, her fingers brushing lightly over the hem. “And the color… it’s so rich. It would look beautiful with a touch of lace, don’t you think? Or maybe a few small pearls along the collar?” Her gaze lifted, meeting mine with a sparkle of excitement, as if she were sharing a wonderful secret.


I nodded, swallowing down the nervous lump in my throat. “I… I thought about adding lace, but I didn’t have any to spare. Pearls too,” I said, forcing a weak smile. “I suppose I could add them if I found some.”


She laughed softly, the sound light and musical. “Well, perhaps I could help with that,” she said, reaching into the small, embroidered pouch at her side. To my astonishment, she pulled out a fine purse of coins, the golden tassels catching the light as she opened it. She counted out several gleaming gold coins, placing them gently in my hand.


“This should cover the dress,” she said with a warm smile. “And perhaps you can find yourself some pearls to add for the next one.”


I could only stare at the coins in disbelief, my fingers trembling as I clutched them tightly. “Thank you… thank you so much. I… I don’t know how to thank you.”


“No need,” she replied, her smile never wavering. “You’re very talented. Keep sewing, and maybe one day, people will line up just to buy one of your dresses.” She gave me a quick wink, as if we shared some wonderful secret, before turning to leave. I watched her disappear into the crowd, still feeling the weight of those coins in my hand, warm and heavy and unbelievably real.


For the first time that day, I felt a glimmer of hope, a sense that perhaps my life didn’t have to be defined by hardship and rejection. The market square, bustling and chaotic, suddenly seemed filled with possibilities. As I clutched the coins in my hand, I could almost feel the dreams I’d buried rising to the surface, bright and full of promise.


Maybe, just maybe, there was a future for me that was more than just survival.