Love.
An emotion so subjective... yet substantial in the minds of people.
Throughout my life, I have never understood this subtle emotion called love.
But upon my hands... The front cover of this book shows the tale about the fleeting love of two people.
A handsome male with midnight hair dances and holds hands with a beautiful woman with pure-white hair underneath a cherry blossom tree. Their faces are close to each other as they gaze deeply into one another's eyes.
When I first read this book that narrates the story of these two people and how they express their love, I begin to wonder...
How would it feel to love someone like that... be it to family, or a significant other?
Is there a person out there who would show an emotion like that to me?
Still... who exactly are the two characters that I'm talking about?
They are the main protagonists from a well-known novel:
Ways of the Mystic.
A popular romance novel that caught the attention of the young adults on the Korean peninsula. A story filled with romance, fantasy, swords, and magic. Compiling explicit drama through a journey resonating a medieval era. The main couple of the novel included the Heroine, Seraphina Blakestey, the only daughter of one of the four Grand Duke families in the Izora Empire, and the prince of the Izora Empire, Augustus Rutherford.
The first fateful meeting in the book introduced the eight-year-old Seraphina Blakestey.
The young girl was sitting on the porch of the Ducal Family Garden, deep in thoughts that readers couldn't hear.
Her wavy-long white hair reached her underarm, emphasizing her pale skin that resembled snow. Her iris mirrored the luster of ruby. Eyelashes fixated and invoked that any woman wishes they had with a pointed nose and an arched and pointed eyebrows.
As she sits on the porch, her sharp eyes that view the garden can pierce right through anything. Her posture deemed the quality of elegance, and attitude that showed confidence towards anyone despite her age.
Indeed... the perfect definition of winter was displayed.
It was the prologue that gave the fated meeting between her and the ten-year-old prince, who visited the ducal estate this fine evening.
The young girl turns toward the direction of where the boy was walking. The young boy she saw mesmerized her.
Delicate, brushed back-blue hair that represents night itself. With sapphire-like eyes. Sightly tan skin that showed substantial training under the sunlight while practicing the sword. A pointed nose, with a sharp narrow eye that showed indifference towards everything, and medium-thick eyebrows. Wearing a bright smile that displayed confidence as he walked the passageway.
The ten-year-old prince turned towards the direction of the garden and saw the elegant girl sitting on the porch, admiring the beauty that surrounded the young girl. Both children interlocked gazes with each other and neither blinked until the ambassador that accompanied the prince called out to him to return to the carriage that they came from.
This chance meeting was the start of their love, and the beginning of the story.
As the story progressed, their encounters became more imminent, and their relationship deepened. Encounters soon became expected between the children as they slowly aged, wondering about each other every step of the way.
But behind one of the pillars was ten-year-old Lysander Blakesty, hiding and watching the scenery unfold. The splitting image of Seraphina is embarked on Lysander. Short wavy-hair, skin as fair as white, the left irises being light hazel brown, while the right being completely white, waiting and observing the interaction between the two people.
With continuous traumatic and unnerving events, he became the cold ruthless villain in the story.
Lysander Blakesty was one of the three villains of the story.
His role in the novel was to create chaos and devastation within the empire, all for his personal goal.
Deliberately creating events that would shatter the respect of the citizens, create economic crisis, and in the end, try to create the downfall of the Izora Empire. He created all sorts of devious plans to bring chaos to the Empire. Be it political or economic. But every time he does such things, it will inevitably end with bloodshed.
The main cause as to why he did such poignant things was never revealed. Maybe it was from a personal grudge towards the Empire. Maybe he was just a sadistic person who enjoys the agony of other's...
Among all, people speculated about how Lysander wanted to use Seraphina's unique power to accomplish his goal.
Seraphina was loved by the spirits because of her mana. Her mana was so pure that no magicians would be able to use.
But by having pure mana, she was unable to use magic, but in return received the blessings of the spirits.
This ability to summon any spirit on command was inevitably impossible for other people to imitate. One had to be chosen by the spirits themselves if they wanted their blessing.
But Seraphina was able to borrow and be helped by multitudes of spirits with no contract at all.
After her gift was known to the world, many tried to use her power for their lofty goals, and many speculated that Lysander was one of those people that wanted to use her.
At the age of fifteen, Lysander Blakesty took the rights of the Blakesty Ducal Family seat and became the new heir of the Ducal estate after allegedly murdering his own father, eliminating anyone under the formal duke, and those against him.
Shortly after attaining the position, Lysander locked up his own sister. Many nobles wanted to use her ability to gain wealth, power, and fame.
People suspected that he also wanted the power of the spirits to spur chaos in the Empire, crumble it into pits and leave it as a desolate land. But not once did he ever use the power of the spirits for his own benefit. For some reason, he always thought differently than what other people suspected...
During his childhood, his mother was assassinated under the direct order of her own father, Count Avington. The duke became heartbroken knowing that his one and only wife was murdered.
But this incident brought immense grief to the heart of the duke. That same grief was what brought him to his downfall. Soon his personality changed drastically.
He began to avoid anything that resembled her characteristics, including his children. After neglecting his six-year-old son, Lysander was targeted by many other assassinations attempts by the same person who assassinated his mother for reasons never foretold. But for some reason, the duke never took actions towards those who harmed his son.
Nobles who knew of the duke's neglect aimed at the future heir and manipulated the boy into doing crude deeds for their own benefit, yet not once did his father care about the suffering of his own child...
Once Lysander became fifteen, his father was cruelly murdered in his bedroom, and during the crime scene, Lysander was there carrying the corpse of his dead father. Lysander soon took the ducal seat, imprisoned Seraphina, and became the cold person he is.
Rumors began to spread throughout the whole kingdom of how he murdered his own father to attain the duke position, and a being that wished to bring the empire into total chaos.
But after being locked up for three years, the fifteen-year-old Seraphina decides to run away with the help of her fellow summoned spirits. She escapes the hellish place filled with terrible memories of his brother's misfortune, and the negligence and the death of her father, and runs away to a nearby village with nothing in possessions.
With no place to go to, she wandered the street for weeks, sleeping on the roads, and almost starved to death until she finally met the prince again in a fateful encounter. The two reminisced about the past, their love growing stronger.
The prince decided to take Seraphina into the palace to help in her dire state.
But even when the prince hid the young girl from his brother's grasp, she was soon found by the duke's wide network.
Confrontations after confrontations between the prince who wanted to protect Seraphina, and the crazy duke who wanted her back, they decided to finish this dilemma with a single match with their life on the line. They fought on an empty plain, swords clashing against each other with no rest. Slashing each other with no sign of stopping. In the end, the prince won with a final stab in the duke's heart and ending the life of Lysander.
It was a story with multiple combinations of genres.
Of course, the story doesn't focus nor end with the crazy duke, Lysander. It was just a plot that increased the leading couple's relationship, power, and influence. There are many more parts than this that other readers keep referring to, like war, magic, and all other sorts of fantasy plots.
But... the young duke stood out to me.
He faced many hardships, but in the end, suffered miserably till his death. His actions were of course considered inexcusable, but he quite reminds me of myself...
Someone who was neglected by his parents. Someone who thought that the whole world was against him...
Yes... I'm just another reader of this romance novel.
Just someone called Choi Do-Woon.
But...
I don't think there will be anyone who will remember me.
Diagnosed with an incurable illness, I'm destined to die on this hospital bed.
As I slowly stood from the hospital bed, I looked out from the small window. Gazing into the glass... I see my thin, shriveled body. The messy brown hair that I have not touched for God knows how long, and the deep-brown dead eyes that showed no sign of life or meaning...
The more I gaze towards my near-dead self, the more I remember how I got here.
My own parents abandoned me in this forsaken hospital. The same parents who are supposed to nurture and guide their child abandoned me in this hospital without remorse...
Ever since I could remember... I knew that I was...
Different.
My ability to express emotions, or even feel them, was non-existent.
Times where I was supposed to show a smile, I was unable. In a situation where any normal child would usually cry was impossible for me to imitate. Little moments where I had to display anger just wouldn't click to me.
I...
I was just unable to show them...
Yes... I was just like a human doll, unable to show any human emotions.
Unable to understand the actions of people caused by instances rather than logical causes. Unable to understand the human concept that makes them who they are. Everything in my life was like a gray world of misery, where I suffered this accursed fate given to me.
But with the cost of my emotions, I gained intelligence.
Everything was so simple to solve... everything was so simple to learn... Whatever little thing I saw, It will stick in my mind without forgetting. Whatever I read, I would recall the exact text with a simple thought. Whatever I heard... I could easily recall it word by word.
I was young and naive when I first showed my intelligence to them, thinking that they would be happy with this intelligent trait. But... unfortunately, the opposite occurred.
"Mother! Look what I did!"
As my mother was cooking dinner in the kitchen like any other evening, I showed her a piece of paper, filled with complex mathematical equations that were only taught in college.
I was playing outside the house to relieve my boredom, when I saw a piece of paper land down near me, crumbled up as if to vent their frustration.
I picked it up, and soon... these mathematical problems in the paper mesmerized me.
I had never seen so many numbers, or even letters, in one place before. I tried to understand the topic with provided context and written attempts, and was then able to solve it. I showed my mother, whom I thought I trusted at the time, to see if what I did was impressive.
"What is this..."
But rather than showing a happy reaction, my mother's face distorted. She covered her mouth before angrily tearing the paper in front of me before yelling at me to go to my room.
I wonder... Why did mother react like that?
I keep asking that question even now. After that incident, both my parents began to treat me differently...
As I grew older, they noticed this intelligent, yet emotionless, trait of mine. They despaired over my unchanging face whenever we did something as a family, from going to the park, to going to the store, to even just walking down the road hand in hand.
All they wanted was a son that they could love, play, and have fun, create unforgettable memories together, and live a happy life. But what they got.... It was something that lacked human integrity.
They saw me as a monster.
Every time they see me, they look at me with disgust. Their facial expressions showed no sympathy. Unusual movements of their bodies showed hesitation and animosity. The rigid and forcing of their facial muscles was noticeably clear to me.
Ah... I can see it.
They don't love me.
They despise me.
Yet... even knowing that, I couldn't respond back. I know that I'm supposed to feel some sort of lingering anger, but I didn't.
I know that I'm supposed to feel... sad because they don't love me.
But I didn't...
I just felt empty.
One night when they thought I was asleep, they began conversing about me in the living room. The lights woke me up, and I heard the voice of my parents resonating through the door. As I slowly opened the door of my room, I walked towards the living room.
Standing behind a wall to hide myself, I could clearly hear the way that mother talked about me with absolute disgust.
"We've tried everything—games, toys, even therapy!" She then scratches her hair with utter frustration. "But nothing changed! He never smiles, never cries. He only sits there, reading those impossible books... Why can't he just be normal?!"
My mother continued to rant about me towards my father, crying on his shoulder as if my existence only showed despair to them.
"Don't worry, we can always try again."
As I continued to eavesdrop on their conversation, I could hear them saying how they wanted another child that was not me. How cruel of them to abandon their child for another one.
But even so... I continued to feel empty.
It was at the age of around two and a half... That my mother gave birth to twins. One boy and one girl. I remembered looking through the glass window on their incubators in the empty white hospital where they were born. The size of their body was remarkable to see... how can a human grow so big from a size this small?
I... Thought that at this moment, I was finally going to experience my first emotion: Hatred.
They were going to replace me, and my parents were going to abandon me. That's the same though that went over my head over and over again.
Yes... That's what I initially thought.
But... After seeing their faces that showed abstinence towards the world they were just born in, I knew I could not blame them for this petty reason.
When I saw their smiling faces, I felt my chest slightly warming up, my mouth slightly curving up... As I looked up to stare at my own reflection through the incubators window, I saw my own face smiling...
Rather than hatred, my first emotion was happiness.
I don't understand... Why am I feeling happy?
I kept trying to reject this feeling. But... I wanted to enjoy this warmth.
This feeling... puts me at ease. It opened my eyes out of that gray world that I was in.
But it only lasted for a moment... My parents came to me as if something were bothering them. Once I saw them my world became gray and empty just like before.
"We finally have children that will be normal, I do not want you to mess this up. I do not want you to fill their heads with craziness just like you. So, start acting like a normal child."
What they wanted me to do was simply play pretend. I needed to act like a lovable brother. They thought that by hiding my true self, we could become a perfect family.
But to be able to fulfill that order, I needed to actually show emotions, even if they're fake. Expressing emotions to these people when I can't even feel them myself was an impossible feat for me.
But... it was the first favor that my parents have asked of me.
"If I do this, they'll start trusting me more..."
I said that aloud, hoping to gaslight myself into thinking it's true.
I quickly began to read books to accomplish this goal. I thought that by studying emotions and acting, I could show them something—even if it was fake.
Yes... words upon words, manual after manual. I watched the people's faces as they walked past me on the road...
It took a long time to create this perfect facade. Reading, putting it into action. I would see and practice my learnings without fail to see if I achieved what I wanted to do.
I created a new me with emotions so real... yet so fake. I created this perfect impression of a "dependable brother" for my siblings.
As they smiled brightly at me whenever we hung out, I would respond to it with a forced one. But... every time I do, there seems to be a sort of reaction occurring in my heart...
Every time I see them happy, my heart aches, my body turns cold, and I avoid their eyes. It felt wrong to see them this happy for someone that is acting.
Yes... that is when I noticed, this is what they call guilt... An emotion that brings negative meaning to oneself, and hurts the person mentally as they did something wrong...
My first memory of guilt... was truly unpleasant...
Despite this awful feeling... I thought that my parents would start feeling some sort of gratitude for fulfilling this favor, and that they will finally accept me for who I am.
Naive.
They remained distant towards me as they did when I was a child, still showing signs of hatred and disgust.
How ironic... Even when they continued to reject me out of their lives, I still didn't express any sadness, or anger. That's when I realized...
"Maybe... I should give up on earning my parents love, and earn my siblings..."
Even if it's fake, I want to continue showing these fake emotions to them. If I can make them happy with my facade, then I can at least serve my purpose as a brother they can depend on.
So, to achieve this goal, I decided to read more books about such topics.
The more I read, the better I understood the subtle needs of my siblings. The more time I spent with them, the more I felt the need to be around them, and the more I felt pleased by them being with me.
Before I knew it, I had already graduated college with a master's degree at the age of fourteen. They considered me a "prodigy".
A human who knows everything and acquires knowledge with ease. People thought that my parents and siblings were proud of my accomplishments. But it was clear that these accomplishments made my parents hate me more.
"A child like you could not even make their parents happy with a simple smile. What makes you think this will?"
"Knowledge is only worth celebrating to those who know how to use it. Obviously, that does not pertain to you."
Those types of words would normally hurt a person... but to me, they were just... words.
Yes... that's what I keep telling myself to think...
But shortly after graduating, I began feeling weaker and weaker.
My body started giving up on me and would constantly make me feel dreary. I went to the doctor to see what was going on. Sitting in the office, looking down at my chair to see what my verdict is.
"It seems that you have cancer, and at the late fourth stage no less. We can hospitalize you and try to slow down the process, but..."
"..."
Cancer... I thought so.
No, maybe not... I did feel like it was a serious illness due to the symptoms, but it was more serious than I thought.
"... I see..."
They cannot cure me, it was inevitable. I rarely took care of my body, so this wasn't a shocking matter.
But why does my heartache about the thought of me dying, and leaving my siblings behind...?
Soon... the doctors hospitalized me and began my treatment, leading to the present.
But I refused to let my illness keep me at bay as I wait for false hope. I began reading, and reading, and reading...
I tried to fill my head with all the world's knowledge to ensure that there could be life in this broken body till the very end.
Reading was my only way to know the world around me. It had the answers to every question I had, and the lessons to everything I wanted to learn. It made me comprehend this cruel world that made me so different...
Every day and night, I would continue to read any books to help me understand the values that this cruel world is built upon.
But countless days of just flipping through countless random books just didn't uphold me any sort of justice anymore.
Why should I continue to read when death is near? What sort of knowledge will help me realize the cruel thing I already know about myself? What new things will help me become a real human being?
I soon gave up on the idea of attaining knowledge, and simply had no other thing to do, other than to look outside the hospital window with my lifeless eye. Looking at all the people and cars that travel by, seeing the infinite faces and expressions that I can never replicate, even if I try....
Waiting for the darkness to engulf me—and then maybe I can sleep eternally... and not be a bother anymore.
All alone...