The morning light filtered through the thin curtains of Ashley's rented room, washing the cracked walls in pale gold. She lay still for a moment, listening to the distant honking of car horns and the hum of the city she was still learning to navigate.
Yarnat was nothing like the palace, no marble floors, no hushed whispers of servants waiting on her hand and foot.
Here, everything was loud, busy, and unforgiving.
Ashley sat up, running a hand over her face. She hadn't slept well. She kept waking, heart pounding, certain she'd heard footsteps outside her door. It was irrational, she told herself. Paranoia from months of living in the shadows. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, like some presence lingered just beyond the thin walls of her room.
She forced herself to get up, walked into the small bathroom. The cracked mirror reflected a pale, drawn face of hers, but somehow different. She splashed cold water on her cheeks and ran her fingers through her hair. It would have to do.
She'd arrived in Yarnat only the day before, and already the weight of her decision was pressing down on her. The city had greeted her with a cacophony of sounds and smells, traffic roaring down broad avenues, towering skyscrapers with digital billboards flashing endless streams of advertisements, and crowds that moved with the urgency of people who didn't have time to look twice at a stranger.
It had been overwhelming, but also, strangely liberating. No one knew who she was here. No one cared. She could be anyone. That thought gave her a sliver of hope as she stepped into the chilly air of the morning.
—
She started her job hunt early, determined to find something, just anything to keep her afloat. She walked for hours, her worn flats aching against the pavement. She paused at every storefront with a "Help Wanted" sign, her heart lifting only to sink again when the manager shook their head and told her to fill out a digital application she didn't know how to navigate.
At a small café on the corner, she ordered a cheap coffee she could barely afford and sat by the window, watching people rush past. The world moved so quickly here, everyone glued to their phones, tapping out messages or scrolling through news feeds. Ashley felt like she was wading through water while everyone else was flying.
She pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper where she'd written down job leads from the night before. One by one, she checked them off, only to add a new line: rejected.
By midday, she was exhausted, both physically and mentally. She stopped at a small employment agency, her last hope for the day. The woman behind the counter looked her up and down, her eyes lingering on Ashley's nervous fidgeting hands.
"Experience?" the woman asked in a clipped tone.
Ashley swallowed. "None. I mean—I worked in a house…doing some cleaning, but—"
The woman cut her off with a sigh. "That's not enough. You'll need references, experience with digital systems, at least some idea of how things work here."
Ashley's shoulders slumped. "I can learn," she whispered, her voice tight. "I'm a hard worker. I just—please."
The woman's expression softened a fraction, but she shook her head. "Come back when you have something concrete. I can't help you right now."
Ashley thanked her quietly and stepped back onto the sidewalk, her mind reeling. She'd known it would be hard, but she hadn't realized how quickly desperation could set in. She pressed her hands into her coat pockets, feeling the last of her money, and wondered how long it would last.
—
She wandered for a while, too numb to think. When she finally returned to her small apartment, it was late afternoon. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, the room still cold from the morning. She sank onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
She tried to tell herself this was just the beginning, that she'd find something, but the rejections echoed in her head, a litany of no, no, no. She felt small in this new world, so far from the girl she'd been in the palace. The girl who'd known how to smile politely and keep her head down. Here, that girl was useless.
—
In a sleek apartment across the city, Damon watched the surveillance feed in silence. He'd seen her leave at dawn and return only minutes ago. Her shoulders were hunched as she moved around her room, her movements slow, as though each rejection had chipped away at her energy.
She looked so fragile, so breakable. But he knew better. He'd seen the steel beneath that delicate exterior. She wouldn't give up, no matter how many doors were slammed in her face. That stubbornness was part of why he watched her.
He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. The soft glow of the monitors bathed his face in cold light, but his expression was unreadable. He was patient, methodical. He didn't want to scare her, not yet. He wanted to understand her, understand how she moved through the world when no one was watching. How she adapted, or failed to adapt.
In one feed, he saw her sit on the edge of the bed, her hands buried in her hair. She looked so alone. His grey eyes were glued on her. He just didn't know why, he had felt a tug in his chest ever since that day. He wanted to know more about her, wanted to be very close with her, but he just didn't want to scare her away.
He saw her rise up to go to the bathroom. He leaned back into his chair and waited till she came out of the bathroom, dressed in a night dress. She tied a towel on her head as she walked to the edge of the bed. He did not know what she was doing, but he saw her with a book and a pen writing down some things.