Yuxuan (REMASTERED)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I looked at myself in the mirror once again.

It had been days since I'd had a decent bath. Washing myself in a river wasn't the most comfortable, or easiest. I missed the feeling of hot water and the smell of perfume.

I stared at myself, observing the dress that Mr. Jack Brinly had stored away in one of his old chests. Thanks to his trading business, he owned several stacks of clothes from London, France, and other parts of Europe.

And to my surprise, they fit me well. But as I twiddled with my long skirt and straightened my shoulders, I noticed how different I looked in my reflection.

I lost weight. Don't get me wrong, the corset was still a pain in the arse to put on, but my face looked less round. Not in a bad way, but it was still shocking to see. 

My recent diet, or lack of it contributed to it. I also noticed some new growth in my hair. It was starting to tangle again.

I grabbed one of the combs and separated my damp coils, but stopped before I raked the tool through them.

If Yuxuan were here, he would've detangled it quickly.

Guilt crept up my nerves.

Those dastards took him away, and I was sitting here in the comfort of a small room tidying up after a bath. I should've persisted more. I should've known that Peterson and James were up to no good.

I slammed the comb onto a nearby nightstand and huffed. As the hours went by, I couldn't sleep because I kept thinking about the events that unfolded earlier.

Why did I let my guard down so easily? Even before being stranded on this land, I had a bad feeling about those two. But I lost my focus and allowed them to forcefully take Yuxuan away from his home.

I felt like an idiot.

I let my greed of wanting to return to London cloud my judgment. Homesickness was no excuse for how I reacted.

I should've done more to prevent it. And now, I was stuck in the position to compromise to whatever those brutes commanded. My status didn't matter to them, as they already decided that my father would pay them so long as my feet stepped again on English soil.

I wanted to cry.

I tried to remind myself that Hansel would have it under control, but who was I kidding? Hansel was probably struggling while trying to negotiate with Peterson.

I couldn't sleep like this. I needed some fresh air.

I walked out of my room and down a short hallway that led to the storeroom that was near the exit. The walls were very thin, made of small wooden planks forced together.

Honestly, with a bit of stone and polish, this place would look like my father's shop by the docks back in London.

As I reached the door that would bring me outside, I heard a soft grunt and someone clearing their throat.

"A little too late for a Lass like yourself to be roaming the streets, don't you think?"

I whipped my head around. I thought it would be James, or Peterson, perhaps Jack. But no, it was neither of them.

Behind me stood an older man with small round glasses and very thin. His hair was wavy and dark brown with grays streaking through the strands.

He was dressed in a beige trilby hat, brown jacket, and baggy slacks with some loafers. There was a small brightly lit lantern in one hand, and a cane in his other.

He limped forward slowly and raised the light so he could see me clearly.

"You look familiar." He smiled.