The Birth of Yua
My body felt as if it would shatter from the pain. The cold alley floor dug into my flesh, and the acrid stench of the sewer clawed at my nose, forcing bile up my throat. The wet, sticky sensation on my thigh was blood. My whole body trembled. It was freezing. I was starving. In the distance, faint footsteps echoed. Who could it be? Fear seized my heart. If I stayed like this, I would be beaten again, dragged away, or worse… I might die. The thought made me curl into myself even tighter.
The footsteps drew closer. A light fell across me. I squinted. A man stood before me. His face was hidden in shadow, but his presence wasn’t savage or greedy like the people at the banquet hall. A low, calm voice reached me.
I couldn’t answer. I had no voice. All I could do was huddle tighter and gesture for him to leave. Don’t come near. Please, just walk past. But he didn’t retreat. Instead, he knelt on one knee and met my eyes. Up close, his gaze remained steady in the cold night air. His clothes were clean, his face gentle. Curiosity flickered in his eyes as he looked down at my frail body.
I shook my head. I couldn’t speak. I never had.
I nodded, slowly and with great care. I can hear you. I hear every word. If only I could tell you mine.
He seemed to consider something, then pulled a small notebook from his pocket. Thin and plain.
I glanced at the notebook and pen. Writing. Yes, I could write. It was the only bridge I had to the world. Yet I still couldn’t trust him. My eyes returned to his face, full of suspicion and wariness.
He didn’t force me. He simply stepped back and waited for my choice. After a long hesitation, I reached out with a trembling hand and took the pen and notebook. I opened it and, with painful effort, wrote a single word.
My gaze dropped to the torn hem of my skirt. The wet, sticky feeling remained. Blood kept flowing, refusing to clot. I knew I had already lost too much.
I shook my head. I had no strength left to move. If I closed my eyes now, everything would simply end.
Cold.
The moment I wrote the words, my body shook harder. The man paused, thinking, then spoke in that same low voice.
He reached out. I flinched at his touch; every bone screamed.
Without hesitation, he lifted me into his arms. Surprise flooded me, followed by a strange, overwhelming sense of safety. Being pulled from the freezing ground and held against a warm, solid chest was something I had forgotten existed. Instinctively, I pressed closer. His warmth sank into my bones. And then… a faint floral scent drifted from his clothes. It didn’t belong in this dark, stinking alley—an odd, captivating fragrance. Like a single beam of light piercing the dark.
He carried me through the cold night, choosing only narrow, shadowed paths. My heart hammered each time lamplight brushed us, but his hold never wavered. His embrace was safety itself. The safest place I had ever known. I clung to him and breathed. I was no longer alone.
When we finally stepped inside the mansion, servants lining the corridors froze at the sight of us. Every gaze locked onto me. I couldn’t escape their stares, but he never set me down. He carried me straight to the nearest empty guest room.
A warm, soft bed. He lowered me onto it with care. The moment my injured leg touched the mattress, pain tore through me again. My whole body shook violently. I still clutched his sleeve, refusing to let go. He gently pried my fingers free, placed the notebook back in my hand, and spoke softly.
I wanted to scream at him not to leave. My hand trembled as I scribbled.
I was terrified he would abandon me. Terrified of being alone again.
He spoke gently and called for a maid. At that exact moment the door flew open. A loud, terrifying voice thundered through the room.
A cold voice. It sent ice down my spine. I turned to see a large, imposing man standing there in formal attire, his golden eyes fixed on me. They were freezing. Terrifying. Beside him stood a gentle-looking woman. She widened her eyes in surprise when she saw me.
The frightening man’s face twisted with cold fury. His voice cut like a blade, piercing straight through me. I shrank smaller. My body wouldn’t stop shaking. It felt as if I would die at any second. He continued to berate Leo. I couldn’t understand the words, but the hatred and contempt in his tone and expression were unmistakable. My body grew even more rigid. Was this man being scolded because of me? Because I was here?
I lowered my head, trying to disappear. It felt as though the anger of the entire world was crashing down on me. I was so frightened I couldn’t even breathe. The gentle woman caught the frightening man’s arm. Her voice was calm yet resolute. Her gaze touched me—fearful, but carrying a trace of warmth. The frightening man shook her off roughly and added in an icy tone.
With that, he turned and left without another word. His footsteps faded. Only Leo, the gentle woman, and I remained. She approached the bed and laid a hand on my forehead. I flinched, but her touch was impossibly soft.
She turned to Leo, eyes still heavy with worry.
She couldn’t finish. With a short sigh, she turned and left the room. Now only Leo and I remained. In the silence, the hand holding the notebook wouldn’t stop shaking. He approached carefully and covered my free hand with his. It was still ice-cold.
When I looked down at the notebook, beneath my earlier words a new line had been written in small, neat script.
He nodded as if he understood my fear, then placed the pen back in my hand.
I held the pen but didn’t know what to write. A name? I had never possessed one. All my life I had simply been “child,” “the abandoned,” or “the mute one.” No one had ever asked for my name.
At those two short words, his eyes wavered with sadness. He took the pen again and wrote carefully on the page.
Yua. My eyes locked onto the letters. Yua. My name. For the first time in my life, I possessed a word that meant “me.” On the cold alley floor where my life had begun, a name had finally been born. Those two syllables felt like a spell that breathed life into me. An unknown emotion swelled inside my chest—faint bewilderment, vague curiosity, and a tiny fragment of light. Tears gathered in my eyes. They weren’t from fear. They weren’t from sorrow. They were simply warm. It felt as if the small light that now carried my name was sparkling within them.
His voice. The first voice that had ever called me by name.
Just then the guest room door burst open. The head maid and a physician rushed in, the latter’s bag clinking with medicine bottles. I shrank back again, terror rising at the sudden appearance of strangers. But Leo—the one who had just given me my name—took my small hand once more and blinked slowly, reassuring me.
Yua.
I repeated the word inside my heart. Now… I had a name, too. I, too… had become someone’s “flower.”