[Short Story Collection] Like the petals in the wind
The Temptation of the Black Rose (de la escala pentatónica cor)
蓮月연월
2020.08.24Views 14
"Did you come alone?"
They say the sweetness of apples attracts insects. Her perfect appearance was enough to capture the attention of the men at the next table. They met eyes with a familiar expression and gave a gentle wave. The vast, warm gaze surrounding them helped to relieve the thirst blowing from the bitter wind. I was completely absorbed. If only I could escape hell like that. If only I could be saved, there was nothing I wouldn't do. Everyone judged me by my appearance, so the only way to gain their approval was to become an old-fashioned black swan. She smiled, gazing at her body covered in black feathers, at her long, elegantly flared neck, at her vicious lips whispering sweetness and betrayal.
"Why is a bitch like you my daughter? I can't stand the sight of you, so get out. Go earn some money!!"
The sound of shattering glass lingered thickly in her ears, clinging to her. The soju bottle, neatly placed in a corner of the table, toppled over with a crash, then ripped open a raw wound in her pale flesh. Blood flowed from her knees, staining her toes crimson. Before the blood could clot and new flesh could grow, before the wounds could heal, new wounds appeared. Before she could perfect herself, her body died, one by one. With her body's death, the soul that yearned for love also perished. The mouth that had so desperately yearned for eternity crumbled, leaving only a tongue that was constantly being trampled. The other side of her splendid appearance was miserable, ugly, and painful. Her father had imprisoned her in the years that had passed, gnawing at her. She wanted love. She wanted to be loved. Sadly, God had denied her the opportunity. He had simply cruelly thrust her into a desolate society, forcing her to witness the happiness of others. To her, who had nothing, received nothing, and therefore had nothing to give, those who had everything were nothing less than idols. She longed to be that perfect. She wanted to make everything her own, even if it meant borrowing others' possessions, eyes, and souls. She wanted to be a black swan, called alluring, rather than a swan, called beautiful. If only everyone could look at her, and thus be happy, filled with love, and admired by everyone. Memories of the past, long gone, would vanish, intoxicated by the infinite comfort and happiness. Already, her palms were sweaty, her eyes strained. For some reason, her heart pounded. Finally, she left home. Leaving her father's voice behind her, she gathered up all the family's money and took it with her. Freed from the pit of hell, her steps were brisk, as if on fire, and her eyes sparkled with a radiant light. She had regained a comfort she'd never felt before, and though the unforeseen future seemed distant, she believed she would somehow find happiness. She adorned, adorned, and altered herself with money. Before the mirror of the world, she was a perfect black swan. Her appearance was complete. Now, she just needed to find prey to fill her inner self. A provocative and lewd prey that would set her needy heart racing. Someone snorted, thinking, "How can someone so ignorant of the ways of the world say such things to me, someone who was destined for perfection?" With an expression that seemed to say, "You?" So she cut off the breath that had stabbed her hand with a dagger. With red lips, projected with ash-colored shadows, she crushed foolish souls.
"What's wrong? Are you feeling inspired now?"
She abandoned the wounds that covered her entire body to the sorrowful souls. She placed a black rose in her mouth, letting the hard thorns tear their mouths. Their blood tore through their lips, dripping down, staining the white floor. The more they suffered and agonized, the more her body became light and joyful, almost floating. The black rose had its effect. As the straight thorns kissed their lips—their souls, entranced by the scent of the black rose, easily yielded to its sweet temptation and clung to it. Like a sin they knew they could not let go of, like fools who didn't know they were wrong from the start.
"Did you come alone?"
"Yes, as you can see."
Pushing her golden hair back behind her ear, she slowly sat down beside him and poured him wine. A slurp, a final cry foreshadowing a miserable end. The sound of the wine glass being filled was more majestic and sorrowful than ever. Her red lips pursed, she grasped the rose she'd kept hidden in her bag. She gently pinched the tip to avoid prickling him, then raised the corners of her lips. She planned to tease him slowly, then nibble. A hand tinged with rose-colored perfume wrapped around the man's waist. Her eyes burned with even more yearning at the trembling, startled reaction. "Now you'll only look at me. Because my black rose will make you that way." Just the thought sent a surge of excitement through her body. The solitary desire within her had long since surfaced. The boat rocked back and forth on the waves she'd created. Soon, a storm raged, and a thunderstorm descended from the sky, battering the ship. The moment the ship was about to capsize, the once calm blue sea turned red, and she, who was swirling a wine glass in her hand, took out a rose.
"I like that one. Can I take a picture?"
"Are you curious? About me? Should I close my eyes?"
The man, hearing her words, closed his eyes as if thrilled. The rose was completely removed from her bag, and it filled with the breath of the world, becoming the source of a nightmare. Her hand moved to the man's mouth. At that moment, his eyes opened and the rose fell to the floor with a thud. Her hand trembled, having lost the rose. The black swan, deprived of its fragrance, was imperfect. It could not receive the gaze of everyone. Her appearance, revealing the inner wounds she had never shown anyone, was no longer beautiful, elegant, or antique. It simply looked ugly, grotesque, and painful. The mirror reflecting her was no longer an illusion. At this very moment, it was endlessly revealing its past self. Fearful, she fled the wine bar as if she were running away. The rose, crushed and crushed between her pointy high heels, was now glaring at me, mocking me. Even the path she walked every day felt like a thorny field, making it difficult to maintain balance. The fingertips that had once captivated countless souls were vanishing from the very tip. Blood flowed from her head. The truth she had hidden countless times until now was torn apart, soaking the floor. She had tried so hard to hide it, to avoid being discovered. It was futile. She had sacrificed everything for perfection, and there was nothing she wouldn't do for Rose. Tears flowed ceaselessly from her eyes, still slumped to the floor. All malice was washed away, and the wounds finally healed. There was no reason to be a black swan anymore. No, she couldn't be. The vain woman she had been, trapped in her illusions, was no longer human. She died, drawn instead by the countless souls she had possessed.