Into the Rose Garden Novel - Chapter 1.2 Past and Present

Aeroc smiled. He didn’t need to force it. Just an inexplicable joy and excitement overflowed, creating a bright smile across his entire face.

Working and earning coins was a privilege granted to only a few. The meager few odd jobs went only to those who advertised their abilities and sold themselves. There were more days of hunger than days of eating. For a person reduced to bones and scarred skin, even simple errands to earn two coins were not properly given. Yet, he could survive without starving because there were generous people who would buy even his scabby body.

He hid deeper into the dark shadow to avoid having the half-eaten bread taken away. He folded his legs and squatted in the corner, and just as he was about to chew the freshly baked bread, a sharp pain, as if his intestines were tearing, erupted. He struggled to keep his vision from turning black and collapsed onto the ground. Then he curled his body. This was the third time.

The first time, the pain was so excruciating that he thrashed, scratching the ground until his fingernails tore off, and even fainted. But from the second time on, it was merely a chilling sensation in his heart, bearable. It was common when selling his body on the streets. Just terribly painful.

Amidst the agonizing pain, like a knife stirring his insides, he crawled into a deeper, more secluded alley. The crotch of his already filthy trousers was stained with a foul-smelling yellowish liquid, flowing with the red bodily fluids that govern life. With trembling hands, he pulled down his trousers and placed his gaunt buttocks on the cold stone ground. He bit the bread, his face contorted in a grimace, and screamed.

A while later, a black clot of blood emerged, pushing through the swollen, everted red flesh. Encased in a sticky, glistening membrane, it was a person the size of his palm.

He must have lost consciousness at some point. When he lifted his dizzy head, he saw the sky dyed rose-colored. He lifted his upper body with trembling arms.

Roll.

The hardened bread, so mangled it was hard to recognize its shape, rolled away. He dragged his stiff legs, which had been lying on the cold stone ground, closer. With numb hands, he pulled out what hadn’t fully emerged. After experiencing it several times, something plopped between his legs with a terrible foreign sensation. He unconsciously let out a cry. His gaping throat expelled air like a broken flute. With that hollow sound, which couldn’t even moisten, as a dirge, he gathered what had barely formed in his hands. Even this blood clot shed red tears from its unparted eyelids, yet nothing flowed from his own eyes.

Barely steadying his swaying legs, he pulled up his clothes and walked, carrying the corpse of a person who knew how to cry. Towards the place where the tears of the sky gathered and flowed. So that it wouldn’t be born like this next time. He moved his lips, unable to bring himself to speak, and bid “goodbye,” sending the red rose-petal-like thing adrift on the river.

The way back was a kaleidoscope. A flower-like sky, cool shadows, black stone paths, and a quietly flowing river. Everything mixed and spun. His dry eyeballs felt stiff. So he couldn’t keep up with the world that laughed and danced.

He couldn’t think of anything, where he was going, or if this was the right way. The murmuring noise in his ears was filled with incomprehensible curses. He couldn’t distinguish whether it was a real human voice or an imagined hallucination. His body, which had just created a person, had nothing left and was pushed by even a wind that couldn’t stir a single leaf. His body, like a dry fallen leaf that had evaporated all its fluids, rolled and rolled until it reached a certain alley.

He heard the powerful sound of hooves on the stone path, along with the fast-rolling sound of wheels. He looked up and saw several black carriages passing by. The place he had reached, disoriented, was the end of a labyrinth connected from the bottom, a grand plaza. The plaza, leading directly to the nearby riverside, also served as a crossroads for numerous carriages.

There was usually a lot of movement, but today was exceptionally busy. He stood there blankly, staring at the colorful seals emblazoned on the carriages. Among them, some were quite familiar. Baron, Viscount, Duke, Count, and sometimes even royal ones—all remained the same.

The long time during which once noble beings had become mere lumps of refuse, worse than trash, was but a fleeting moment for those ancient families with their long histories. Nothing had changed. Only he had changed. Only one family, brought to ruin by his foolishness, had disappeared. For others, today was just another unchanging day.

No matter how long he looked, his fingertips could no longer reach that world of light. Even if his hand reached, only his dry extremities would be ground away by the terrifying speed. He had to turn back. The reason he couldn’t turn immediately wasn’t due to lingering regret. It was simply because his body wouldn’t obey. Before turning his hunched back, he managed to lift his foot and step, then slowly turned his shrunken shoulders, and finally, tried to turn his blank head. Just then, a black carriage sped towards him from afar.

Why did the four horses with glossy manes and the sturdy, solemn-looking carriage seem to glow, when they were no different from the others? His head, which had just begun to turn, snapped back to its original position. The fiercely galloping carriage tore through the wind, narrowly brushing past him. That’s when he saw it. A clear silhouette amidst the blurry figures.

Inside the carriage’s transparent window, unmarred by even a fingerprint, was a person he could never forget. With his dark brown hair neatly swept back, he embraced a blonde child who laughed happily on his lap. The child’s bright blue gaze met the gaze of a beggar staring at him.

Ah.

He knew that child. That lovely angel. And the man who held the child so tenderly. He knew those two beautiful people, whom he could never reach, no matter what he did, crawling at the bottom.

Aeroc was in a terrible mood. The hall of the Count’s grand mansion, where a lavish banquet was being held, was filled with people laughing heartily, but among those cheerful faces, no one possessed what Aeroc desired. The person he was looking for was someone who looked at him with a furrowed brow, without a smile, and a hint of anger.

“Aeroc, you look especially beautiful today.”

“Excuse me.”

A man whose face he vaguely remembered approached him, acting overly familiar. Exuding a strong body odor that could rot a nose even from a few steps away, he gave a greasy smile and overtly flirted with Aeroc. He didn’t care that they were both Alphas, or that they were both men by gender, a taboo once set by God, though it now held no meaning.

Rather, he was a very low-class man who followed the vulgar trend of casual encounters between Alphas or Omegas, free from any responsibility. The man showed no wounded pride even when Aeroc pushed him away with a cold smile. Instead, he seemed pleased and immediately approached an Omega with the same loose, vulgar gaze as his own.

After seeing him say the exact same words to the Omega that he had just said to Aeroc, Aeroc felt like vomiting just from breathing the same air for those few seconds they stood together, so he left. Yet, his gaze never stopped scanning the crowd.

Where on earth was he?

As he lingered, his hands clasped behind his back held an invitation he had written a few days ago with a pounding heart. The specially handwritten invitation had been collected at the entrance. It meant he had come. But hours passed, and he was nowhere to be seen. He couldn’t let him leave without saying hello. This entire banquet was merely an excuse to meet him.

Finally, he dispatched footmen to find him. They quietly moved around the banquet hall, carrying out their master’s orders. Soon, one of the footmen who had gone out to the garden returned and reported that he was on the path leading to the cedar grove. The Count’s complexion, which had been as cold and expressionless as a marble statue moments before, now flushed with joy, like ink spreading in a drop of water. Aeroc walked almost at a run towards the cedar grove.

The path, illuminated by blue moonlight, was lit by orange lanterns beneath each tree, adding a subtle ambiance. Originally, this path was not to have any decorations, but since he seemed to like the cedar path, Aeroc had specifically ordered it to be lit. Of course, he also had separate footmen subtly diverting guests so that no one else could enter. Aeroc calmed his pounding heart and regulated his breathing.

His pride still wouldn’t allow him to openly display his emotions and act like a dog meeting its master. He was already aware that he was losing his composure little by little. He knew well that it would be unsightly to act so agitated when the other person showed no meaningful words or actions. At the same time, there was resentment towards the person who made him so anxious. Couldn’t he act friendly for once?

When everyone flattered him, who possessed wealth, fame, and authority, he showed not the slightest interest. No, he pretended not to. If he truly had no interest, why would he have accepted the invitation he sent? He must have had some goodwill.

He deliberately brought out the invitation he had sent to him. He thought he would use the invitation as an excuse to make a light joke, in case the atmosphere became awkward again. Something like, “Do I really have to send a handwritten invitation for you to accept?” Or, “How about gifting me ink and a pen for my upcoming birthday?”

Of course, considering his humble financial situation, he had already researched suitable items and artisans within a reasonable price range. The quick-witted butler would discreetly inform him as he handed him his coat. He wanted to sit next to him at the birthday dinner, which was a month away.

Light flickered through the cypress wall that separated the not-so-distant rose garden. A silhouette appeared. Aeroc tried to firm his slightly loosening expression and deliberately slowed his pace. It was to avoid letting the other person know he was approaching. He wanted to see his natural expression.

When he had asked him why he always had such a serious expression, he had replied that he truly furrowed his brow and looked stern even when no one was around. Seeing him, with his large physique and serious expression, waiting for someone, would be quite an interesting sight. Aeroc stepped lightly, feeling the small pebbles beneath his soft leather shoes.

The tall figure, illuminated by the dim lantern light, was clearly visible. The distance quickly closed, and now only a single tree with countless small leaves stood between them. He was muttering to himself. Imagining him talking to himself with a serious gaze made Aeroc feel a laugh bubbling up. Unable to hold back any longer, Aeroc quickly rounded the tree and revealed himself.

“We meet again here, Kloff.”

Perhaps surprised by his sudden appearance, Kloff’s eyes widened slightly, and he turned his head to look at Aeroc. The moment their gazes met, Aeroc couldn’t believe it. The deep eyes that had always held a sharp gaze were now slightly wrinkled, and the mouth that had always been tightly closed, barely uttering necessary monosyllables, now formed a soft curve. Kloff was smiling.

His carefully constructed defenses collapsed all at once. The Count’s rather pale face instantly flushed a faint rose color. That boring, serious man was smiling. Could it be because of him?

Aeroc barely managed to suppress the urge to run to his side immediately. His chest swelled with emotion. It wasn’t a one-sided feeling after all. It couldn’t be one-sided. Every Omega in the world, and even most Alphas, desired Aeroc Teiwind. There was no way a low-ranking noble with such a brilliant mind and handsome physique but no distinguished background would reject him. Aeroc was so overjoyed at the thought of finally having him that he unconsciously beamed and approached him.

“Aeroc.”

“You issue an invitation like this, and then the person doesn’t show up, so I had to come looking for you. Do you really only come when I send a handwritten invitation? Isn’t your nose a bit too high for someone without a title?”

The man’s rarely smiling expression became serious again. It was almost as if he had a chronic condition that made him serious whenever he saw Aeroc. But since Aeroc had just confirmed that it was all an act, it seemed fine to slowly peel away his facade over time. Aeroc naturally encroached upon Kloff’s polite personal space and approached him. He was about to ask him if he was interested in the first edition of the Interpretation of the Bill of Rights that he had recently purchased at great expense.

But he couldn’t. Just as he was about to grab Kloff’s arm, still smiling, he belatedly realized that Kloff was not alone.

On the other side, hidden by the Alpha’s large physique, stood a small man with blonde hair and blue eyes, similar to Aeroc. He was slightly flustered upon seeing Aeroc but greeted him with quite polite manners.

“Hello, Count Teiwind. Thank you for inviting me to the party.”

Aeroc knew him. He was the son of a distant relative whom he had seen only once when his father passed away, a cousin to Aeroc, the eldest son of Viscount Westport. His name was probably Raphiel. Aeroc didn’t recall inviting him, but it seemed he had been added to the Count’s basic invitation list after the funeral.

The Omega had his hand on Kloff’s waist and was leaning slightly against him. And the strong Alpha’s arm was wrapped around his small shoulder. Only after looking between the two of them did Aeroc realize. Kloff’s smile was not for him, but for that Omega, and the frown on his face now was not merely an act, but genuine.

A wave of unbearable shame and humiliation surged through him. Aeroc’s lips parted as he looked between the two, then he quickly turned away. He, the master of this mansion, had fled from his guests.

His mind was filled with unattainable fantasies. They were the remnants of his humanity, forgotten somewhere while he rolled on the cold stone ground. The fantasies were fleeting yet so beautiful that they made him forget time. He squatted, setting his knees, and placed his hands neatly on his knees. He pressed his cheek against the brittle back of his hand again.

He tried to imitate the happy smile of the man who had left an unforgettable mark on him and the child who inherited his blood. Even in such misery, an overwhelming emotion welled up in his chest. Could life be a blessing again? Could it lead him to light again?

Under that cedar path, would he ever see him again?

Someday again. Yes. So.

Live.