- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐘 ¡

--------

𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗦𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗢𝗪 ᵎᵎ

ꗃ

❛﹒ı𝗹﹐  Even though she did not know how to work, she knew how to̲ get worked up, and so she was to̲dɑy.

"If you can't even provide me with nice clothes and a better living space, what can you even do?!" Da-som raged, not caring if the neighbors could hear her.

"Dear, I'm sorry. Please let me know what you want and we'll try to get it right away!" Jeong-ho coaxed his furious daughter, carefully veiling the fact that he was on the verge of a crisis.˖ ❟

"No, love," Hye-rim reprimanded her husband, who seemed as if he would bring the moon for their daughter if she had asked for it, "You have done everything in your power to make her happy. She should learn to be grateful for at least having a nice house to live in, three meals a day, clothes more than she could ask for, and above all, a family who cares. Several people would give anything to just be in your place, Da-som."

However, Da-som just stormed outside. She marched up to the first bench she could spot and plopped into it. As she was sulking, she felt a presence beside her.

"You should really appreciate them more," said a fragile, croaking, feminine voice, "While you still can..."
She looked up to see the retreating back of some old lady, who was walking away after stating what she had to.

Da-som scoffed at the lady's audacity and decided to head back home. When she did, she found her parents standing in the doorway, smiling at her sadly. Her mother informed her that they would be going on a trip outside the town, and they cannot bring her along to it. She opened her arms, indicating an embrace, but Da-som pushed past her in rage and locked herself in her room.

If she had ever known it would be the last time she would be seeing their faces, she wouldn't have even imagined reacting in the manner she did. And while she was being stripped of every luxury she was so accustomed to, the old lady's words resonated in her ears. ꒱

--------

𝗥𝗔𝗩𝗔𝗚𝗘 ᵎᵎ

ꗃ

Beom-seok slithered through the alleys, almost perfectly camouflaging with the eerie shadows that loomed over the entirety of the streets. His jaw was clenched, his eyes ever-agile, and his countenance painted with immense determination and perhaps... malice?

His left hand caressed his pocket, feeling the hard edges of the dagger over the cloth. He was brisk in his tread, but stopped abruptly when he could make out a figure in the dimly lit alleyway. Though no trace of the countenance could be gathered, it was evident in its masculine demeanour that the man was nonchalant, a striking contrast to Beom-seok's tense state.
"You would regret this," the man spoke in his deep, serene voice.

If Beom-seok was astounded by this comment, he did not show it. It sounded like the man knew exactly what he was up to. But he knew that it wasn't a possibility. He had never voiced his plans to anyone.

"I beg your pardon?" Beom-seok's voice cracked a bit.
However, instead of answering, a deep and dry chuckle was heard. "Look before you leap" was all that was heard before the man dissipated among the shadows. Beom-seok did not pay much heed to this utterance. He resumed his journey, and at the dead end of the street, he could spot the back of the figure of the man whom he considered his dearest friend. However, now that he has figured that he is nothing but a mere traitor, he will be dealt with as all traitors should be. Lifting the dagger high, he thrust it right into the man's chest.

He did not wish to see the man's face, distorted by pain and shock. He did not wish to listen to his heaves and cries of despair. But even so, he could not help but pick up the two letters that lay beside his now lifeless form.

One of the letters was anonymous, wherein the man was offered a large sum of money if he could kill Beom-seok. The other letter was written by the man himself, wherein he refused any sum of money and threatened the recipient to stay away from Beom-seok.
The mysterious man's reverberating laughter was the last thing Beom-seok heard before he pushed the dagger again, but into his own chest.

--------

𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗗 ᵎᵎ

ꗃ

Since she was young, Cassandra thought that she knew exactly what she wanted to live in the palace. She would always pass by the palace, eyes twinkling and mouth gaping in admiration and desire. However, this admiration soon morphed into an obsession. And this obsession drove her to immense toil, treachery, betrayal and several other things she thought she was never competent of doing.

She was now the most trusted handmaiden to the queen, and she had done everything in her power to make herself trustworthy in the queen's gullible eyes.
One ordinary, tiresome day, Cassandra was rummaging through the queen's discarded belongings. Among those belongings, an immaculately ornate object grasped her attention. Taking it in her hands, she realised it was a lamp. She wondered if it was the same magical lamp her mother had talked about when she was young. Taking her chances, she rubbed the lamp, and sure enough, she was enveloped by a pink mist.

"Tied to you by servitude, I shall grant any one wish my mistress makes," boomed a feminine voice, peering from the eventually clearing pink mist.

Cassandra looked around to ensure that no one was snooping. Then, with a determined countenance, she looked ahead and declared, "I wish to be queen."
"Be careful what you wish for," the figure subtly warned. Though this warning sufficed to make her think twice, it did not succeed to deviate from her aspiration. Soon enough, she was the queen ruling over the town. What happened to the former queen? She did not know; nor did she care.

Things derailed rather quickly when Cassandra realised that being a queen implies embodying a vast number of qualities, none of which she possessed. She was exhausted by people criticising her for every decision she made, for every verdict she passed, for every muscle she moved.

She wanted nothing, but for all of this to end. As she gathered quite painfully, she should've been careful about what she wished for.

--------

𝗘𝗣𝗛𝗘𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗟 𝗥𝗜𝗗𝗘 ᵎᵎ

ꗃ

"Woo-sung! Can't I atleast get a hug?"

"Sorry, love. Later. I'll miss my train."

It was a warm and gloomy October evening. The trees, subjected to inevitable abscission, reluctantly parted with their beloved leaves, while in one of the desolate cottages of the alley, a man was reluctant to part with the person who taught him to love. Nothing but sobs and sniffs were mingled with the dead silence prevalent in the cottage.

"You know, Woo-sung," Hyo-rin began weakly, "I always wondered when that later would arrive, but it never did."

Woo-sung wasn't in a state to protest or reply, as she just buried his head in the crook of her neck and grasped her hands tighter than ever, sobbing uncontrollably. It was as if he was trying to snatch her away from her inevitable death that her disease would bring upon her.

"I'm afraid," Hyo-rin continued in her barely audible voice, "I'm afraid that there might never be a later."

Saying this, she joined Woo-sung in his convulsive sobbing, knowing too well that it might be the last few moments they would spend in each other's embrace.
He always thought he could love her later. Now it is 'later', but she is not here.

He was no longer concerned about missing his train, because he knew that he had missed the only train that ever mattered. Their train.

--------

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗠𝗕𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗧 ᵎᵎ

ꗃ

It was a bright, jocund morning, and a customary day for everyone in town. On such a customary day, a seven-year-old girl stood on her toes, with her violin clasped in one hand, and her other hand reaching high, trying to retrieve the bow that was placed on the highest shelf of the room. When all her attempts seemed futile, she stood on a rather flimsy stool and once again reached for her bow. However, right when she could wrap her fingers around it, the stool gave away and broke. The girl braced herself, expecting to land on the harsh, cold floor of the room, but was met with her mother's warm embrace instead.

"Vivian!" her mother yelled. "What on earth do you think you are doing, young lady?"

"Sorry, mommy!" Vivian looked down, fidgeting with her fingers. Pointing to the bow that was now slightly misplaced by her attempts on the shelf, she said, "I was trying to get my bow."

Her mother sighed. She fetched the bow for Vivian and placed it in her little hands. "Not too far, love, or you'll be drowned."

Vivan's features morphed into pure vexation. "What does that have to do with drowning, mother?"
Her mother did not reply. Instead, she gently combed her hair, with the hopes that one day her daughter would understand what she meant.

The young, fragile girl of seven was now a confident, independent and ambitious woman of twenty-three. In fact, she had risen to be one of the best violinists the town had ever known. She was everything people aspired to be, and yet, she was not content with what life had blessed her with. She went insane with her ambitions, ever poised and willing to destroy anything that comes between her and her ambitions.
But alas, those who leap at the sun must be burned.

The fate which she often forgot to thank for her accomplishments placed her in a peril so grave that she could never make it out of it. She never understood how plagiarism scandals or immense popularity could completely crumple an artist before she had to confront them herself. She no longer pondered over her mother's words, for now she understood them better than anyone else.

--------

𝗕𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗨𝗥𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗘 ᵎᵎ

ꗃ

Thud.

Seo-hyuk had lost count of how many times he had been pushed to the floor, been kicked in the gut, and been punched in the face. As if this wasn't bad enough, Dae-jun brought a stick, so that it would be even easier to annihilate his already battered victim.

"A piece of shit like you does not even belong here," Dae-jun gritted out between his teeth, never lessening the blow of his punches. "As if that wasn't bad enough, you had the audacity to talk to us?"

Seo-hyuk was coughing out blood now. The pain was too intense now. He had endured all slurs and physical abuse with a nonchalant face, but for the first time in his life, he had started fearing death. He wanted to live. He had to live for his parents; his father who toiled all day in the fields so that he could make the ends meet, and his mother who would do everything she possibly can to keep her family happy. He wanted to fight back, but he couldn't get up. He wanted to defend himself, but he was immobile.

Then suddenly, all of it stopped. Dae-jun dropped the stick next to his immobile form, and drawled with a smirk: "I wouldn't wanna dirty my hands by killing some stupid dog who doesn't even belong on the streets."

Ending with a last kick to Seo-hyuk's ribs, Dae-jun turned around and walked straight home, without even sparing a second glance to his victim's piteous state. He confidently strolled down the road, a feeling of accomplishment bubbling into his being.

"Wait up!" A feminine voice halted his tread. He whipped around to find a girl around his own age. She was dressed in black and had short hair that strikingly made her all the more attractive.

"Can I help you?" He asked sceptically.

"Yes, you sure can!" The girl yelled in glee.

The next few moments were hard to process for Dae-jun. In the blink of an eye, he was shoved to the ground and brutally thrashed with a force so immense that it was impossible for it all to emanate from a girl with a build so slim. The pain started to numb him. He could barely keep his eyes open, before it all stopped abruptly.

"I would kill you, but I don't wanna get my hands dirty," was the last thing he heard before he passed out.

──────────