Chapter 27: Choices & Consequences
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CW: Explicit language, vomit, mental illness/trauma, self-harm, mentions of sexual/physical abuse, ableist language.


This early release is thanks to the kindness of Funny2333! Thank you so much for your ongoing support~ ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)

Please go and check out their BL story at:  https://www.scribblehub.com/series/369233/the-simple-farming-life-with-a-ger-bl/


He stumbles drunkenly through the bustling hall, back hunched and head hanging low. Tangled locks hang from the murk of his hood, obscuring any discernible features. The foul, acerbic stench of smoke clings to the figure like a second skin, scattering the Roses as he lurches through their midst. His shoulder hits the wall and he sags, legs shaking, as if his strength were about to give out at any moment.

When Poppy approaches with a faux smile and a bright greeting on her lips, he slams his fist into her face, sending her crashing into another Rose. She picks herself up, scowling and shaking, a barrage of vitriol already edging from between grit teeth. But one look at that ghastly visage, and she’s scampering away with the others, tail between her legs.

Soon, the hall is void of life. The distant hum of the dining hall and stage, a lightyear away.

Only one remains, watching silently from afar.

Bucky enters the night drenched room and she knows exactly what’s happened. Closing the door behind her, she steps into the gloom and pauses to let her eyes adjust. There, collapsed beside the bed, is a hooded figure. He’s kneeled and clutching onto the sheets as if he were about to drown.

She quietly pads over and kneels beside, reaching over to carefully tug the hood from his head. A gentle hand pushes the sooty hair from his face. He blinks at her, sweat glistening upon his ashen skin. There’s a hollow look in those black eyes, dark and sticky like tar.

“Oh, Rin,” she sighs, tears pricking her eyes.

“...what do you want?” He slurs his words like a drunk, but there’s only the stench of smoke upon his person.

Bucky frowns and leans back on her haunches, curling her hands into loose fists upon her lap. “I want to make sure you’re alright.”

“Why? Think you’re my mother?” he laughs, high pitched and giddy. He sounds mad. “I already have one and she’s fucking useless. Don’t need another.”

“She made you do it, didn’t she?” Bucky tries to catch his eyes, but those tar pools flit about anxiously, never once looking her way. “Was it…” She pulls in a shaky breath. “Was it Duri? And Delilah?”

Sweat blurs his sight and he flinches, pushing the heel of his palm into his eyes. When he drops his hand, they are red rimmed and sore. He releases a hard breath and glances at the shadows on the ceiling. “Delilah’s sister,” he says, softly. “She looks just like her. Only her eyes are bigger. And she has a rounder face.”

There’s a sharp intake beside him. He bares his teeth in a bad impression of a grin. “The man beside her. He seems young. Looks like a pushover. But he’s rich. Really rich. The house they’re all hiding out in...it looks like it belongs in the High District. But it’s a little too small to be a manor.”

He palms his face, pushing hard against his narrowed eyes. Thick globs of tears seep from between his fingers and drip down his cheeks. But his voice remains hushed and steady, as if he were simply recounting a story. “They’re having a meal. For a bunch of traitors, they don’t seem very guilty ‘cus they keep smiling and laughing. They don’t smell it. Maybe they’re too drunk. Maybe they’re too wrapped up in each other. The window doesn’t even have a proper lock. And the oil...it pours like syrup. I thought it would be harder. Thicker. But it splashes everywhere. By the time they notice, they’re already on fire.”

Warm arms wrap around him and pull him close. Their bodies touch, their heat becomes one. He feels her plump cheek, pressed against his chest.

“Bucky,” he croaks, breath hitching. “Did you know...that when people burn, they shrink?” A wild laugh bursts from his mouth. “They just...curl up...as the liquid's being boiled right outta them. And you don’t even know if they’re still screaming...how could you when their vocal cords are melting--” He lurches forward, twisting out of Bucky’s embrace. His body convulses and ripples before foul liquid splatters across the ground.

Ragged pants scorch his lungs. Tears mingle with sweat as he hunches over his sick, shivering uncontrollably. “I’m the Perfect Rose,” he rasps, drunkenly swiping his sleeve over his mouth. “I did it for Her. And now She won’t...question my devotion.”

“Rin,” Bucky’s voice is thick, shaky. She reels him back into her arms, clinging onto him tightly. “Rin, it never ends. This isn’t the last time. She’s going to keep testing you. She wants to know how far she can push you. And she’s not going to respect your limits. Rin. She’s going to break you. In more ways than one.”

“No…” The raven raises his head, blenching in shock. “She said. If I just do this...then I would be Her Perfect Rose. I can’t...I don’t know if I can…” I don’t know if I can do this. Not again. 

Bucky rubs his back, hoping to soothe his trembling. But it goes beyond a simple chill. “Rin. You have to think about that someone in your heart. The one you call ‘little lord’. If you keep thinking about him, you won’t have to do this ever again. That I can promise you.”

It’s too dark to see those spectral goldens. The little lord...he seems like a lifetime ago.

“You have a choice, Rin. You always have a choice, even if you can’t see it right now. The little lord...he’s the choice you can make. The one that’s not this. This mask. This living death. You can have something more. You just need to remember.”

“No...I don’t want something more. I don’t need it. As long as I have Her--”

“You’re wrong. She will always see you as a Rose, and nothing more. You’re barely human to her, Rin.” 

Bucky draws back to catch those pitch eyes. She latches onto them with a fierce glare, as if she could force her truth directly into his skull. “You need to listen to me, Rin. The Rose Palace is nothing more than a holding pen. The Roses, all of us, we’re just animals for slaughter.”

Rin’s uneasiness swells under that intense stare. “We’re not being slaughtered.”

“But we are. Think about all the Roses who have disappeared. I think they’re being used as test subjects for something Madame Kahin and Father Blossom are working on. And none of the Roses ever come back, do they? What do you think they do with the ones they have no use for anymore?”

“What...what are they working on?”

“I don’t have all the details yet. I did manage to find out more about Father Blossom’s identity. He used to be a scientist in the North, but due to a scandal he went underground. And the scandal just so happens to be related to human experimentation. Now why do you suppose he’s here in Hanjuyang? And why is he working with the Madame? It doesn’t take much to put two and two together.” She gives the raven a hard shake, trying to bring him back to his senses. Her greys hold a desperate light, an unwavering hope long cultivated. “Rin, do you understand what I’m saying? The Madame - she’s killing us. And she’s going to end up killing you too.”

“She didn’t kill you.”

Bucky smiles grimly. “She did not. But she will soon.” 

Her words, her accusations and revelations, they attack him mercilessly, giving him no reprieve. His first instinct is to reject everything the Rose has said, to report her and send her for retraining. But something, an inexplicable something, tells him that she’s telling the truth. That there is something wrong with Father Blossom. That those missing Roses really won’t come back. Ever.

Rin sags in her arms, dropping his burning brow upon her shoulder. He’s suddenly exhausted. So exhausted that he can no longer bring himself to think. “...I won’t betray Her.” He’s hardly coherent. Barely cognisant.

Her voice is distant, floating about untethered.

But she has betrayed you.

***

The Perfect Rose stands in front of the mirror, staring at himself with a gilded aurelian mask fixed upon his face. Though Kahin has been gone for hours, her scent remains. Like the nauseating stench of the smoke.

He bares his body. Inspects it with cool detachment. Bruises, scars, marks. They adorn him like tattoos. Territorial claims to flesh that has never been his own. He slowly turns to expose his back. Glances over his shoulder.

The one thing he can claim upon his own body, is the ugly scar marring his back. A disfigurement that he quietly treasures. There’s a reason why he never lets his clients see his back. Their bare hands have never touched that tender scar tissue. Never once encroached upon his territory. No, this place belongs to him. And only him.

He reaches up his back and strokes the delicate pink skin with his fingertips. Draws a line from his left hip to the middle of his spine. Something clogs his throat. Blurs his vision. He quickly turns away and pulls on his robes. Maybe he doesn’t deserve even this.

When he walks into the dining hall, the Roses and workers are preparing for that evening’s event. Dancers and musicians mill about on the stage. Others wipe down the tables and set up the chairs. Clusters of Roses take a moment to relax, voices and laughter rising to the high ceiling of the hall. But as more pairs of eyes turn towards him, the quieter it becomes. By the time he reaches the centre of the hall, not a single voice can be heard.

Rin pauses, mid-step, and glances around. With the gentle cherry blossom robe draping from his body, he exudes a mild and graceful aura. But if one is to gaze upon that cold and distant face, and those pitiless hellebores, that tenderness would become illusory, a shallow welcome to fool the hungry.

The Madame’s favourite has gained a lethal edge and no Rose wishes to be cut from their stem.

“What are you looking at?” His voice is curt and clear, slicing through the thick tension in the air. No-one dares respond. Frightened eyes are cast towards the ground, as if it were enough to shield them from his ire.

Rin narrows his eyes at the spooked Roses, unable to fathom their reaction. When his eyes land on a familiar hulking figure, he strides over and knuckles her shoulder. It’s hardly a tap but the Rose flinches as if punched.

The raven frowns and glances at his fist. “Poppy. Why aren’t you being a pain in my ass like usual?”

“Oh...hah...sorry, Rin.” Poppy dares to glance up at the Perfect Rose, before blenching and ducking her head. “I...I won’t be a pain anymore.”

“Are you drunk?” Rin scowls and this time, he punches her in the shoulder. Hard. She stumbles back into the wall. The Roses on either side scatter like marbles, whispering frantically to each other. “Did I tell you to stop? Why are you acting like this?”

Poppy grits her teeth, but she keeps her head ducked. Strong fists furl into tight fists on either side.

“I asked you a question.” Rin punches her again, skin flushed with sudden prickling heat. Her bruised shoulder bangs into the wall, but only a low grunt leaves her lips. Vermillion ire seeps into those hellebores, swirling in their lightless depths like blood cast in restless waters. “Answer me!

Poppy’s chest rolls with quickening breaths, cold sweat beading her forehead as she reluctantly meets his torrid gaze. She loses the last bit of colour in her cheeks. “We...heard what happened. With...y-you know.”

“No. I don’t know. Why don’t you enlighten me, Poppy.” He presses a hand onto her shoulder, digging his fingers deep into her flesh. The woman barely suppresses a wince.

“We know you killed them. Delilah and-and Duri. We know you burned ‘em to death. And Liana too.” Poppy swallows, lips twisting in fear-borne hatred. “Liana was pregnant. That’s what they’re all sayin’ out there. Three months along she was and you burnt her to a fucking crisp.”

He jerks back as if electrocuted, reeling his offending hand to his thrumming chest. “I...didn’t do shit--”

“We all saw you,” Poppy sneers, gaining strength from seeing him shaken. “The night they died, you came back reeking of smoke. Acting insane.” She pushes herself off the wall and leans in, sniffing his hair. “Gah. You still reek! Are you still gonna act dumb?”

Rin throws his glare around the hall, meeting pale faces holding various expressions. Mostly fear and loathing. Those who can’t meet his eyes are simply impassive. Hoping not to stir his ire. He bares his teeth and whips his head back towards Poppy, breath unsteady. “I had to do it,” he seethes, pulling his lips back into a savage grin. “The Madame saved Duri but he couldn’t even sit through his punishment. He killed a Minister’s son, Poppy. Do you think She was going to just tell him go? It is Her will and so it shall be - or do you think otherwise?

The auburn flexes her shoulders, knuckles cracking as if readying for a fight. “It is Her will and so it shall be,” she echoes grimly. “Sure, Duri shouldn’t have done that. And he should have taken his punishment. But Delilah? Liana? Her unborn child? Did they deserve to die? Was that Her will? Or yours?”

“Since when do you care?” Rin barks a laugh, twisting around to direct his question at the other Roses. “Huh? Since when do any of you give a shit about each other? Why does it matter now? I’ve seen you stab each other in the back every fucking day. And now you care?” Meeting no response, he turns his wild visage upon Poppy. “If you want the golden mask so bad, then prove your worth, Rose.”

He spreads his arms out to the sides in invitation, red tinged eyes glittering with mania. “Go on. I’ve spilled five bodies worth of blood for this mask. What have you done to earn it?”

Disgust and trepidation contorts Poppy’s features. Her fists tremble and whiten at her sides, as if she were itching to throw them into his face. “You don’t deserve it,” she mutters, baring her teeth.

“Oh?” Rin giggles and sweeps forward, ringing his arms around her neck. He brings his face in close, smirking. “And why’s that, Poppy? The Madame chose me. Lila chose me. Don’t you know that Her word is law? What She says is. The beginning, the end, the whole fucking thing.”

Poppy’s jaw creaks at that name, such an intimate word used in such a careless and easy manner. The sour note of fear is washed away by the heat of loathing, turning her flesh, her glare, to brimstone. She grabs him by the front of his robes and spins, slamming him into the wall with brutal strength.

The raven gasps airlessly, winded and sore. He squints against the pain, blinking tears from the corner of his eyes.

Little lord,” she hisses, crushing his chest with her twisting fist. “He’s why you don’t deserve that mask. You betray Her every single day and She has no idea. Do you know how long I’ve been a Rose? How hard I’ve worked to just get into the palace? I worked my way up from a discard Rose in the godsdamned Slums to where I am now by my own fucking efforts. And you come along, a defect. Some rat from the gutters. And within months you are made the Perfect Rose?” She sneers as she grabs his mask and tears it from his face. The silken ties snap against his temples, but he hardly flinches. “Who is he, Rin?” she says, loud enough for all to hear. “Who is the little lord?”

Red engulfs his vision. Fury so stark it scatters into an eerie stillness. He wraps everything up in snow, insulates himself in the cool dark cave he’s made. If he forces himself to be nothing, he will give them nothing.

Guards.” The word rings clear and sharp. Three dogs come loping towards him, recognising their second master. He snatches Poppy by the throat and squeezes with a brutal strength, crushing her gullet within his fist. Her eyes bulge. Blood vessels burst. An airless scream escapes between her chattering teeth. Though she outweighs him, his monster’s ire is unmatched.

“Take her to Madame Kahin.” When the guards pry her off his body, he releases her with a sudden splay of the hand. He gives the loathsome Rose a smile as hollow as his eyes. “Report to the Madame that this Rose is guilty of harbouring traitorous thoughts. Tell Her that I recommend retraining. Starting today.”

And as Poppy is dragged off, shrieking profanities and curses, every single Rose stares at him. Whispers turn to murmurs turn to a restless hum of anxious chatter.

If he can get rid of Poppy, he can get rid of any of us!

He’s gone insane. Thinks he’s all powerful just because She gave him a golden mask.

Why did he lie about Poppy? She said he was the traitor, right?

Little lord? Who’s that?

Who does he think he is?

Be careful, he might hear you!

I don’t want to be retrained!

Rin rushes from the hall, crashing through the main doors and into the cold morning air. Sweat beads his face and his complexion is wan, as if he’d never recovered from his illness.

As he stumbles through the grounds, numb and unfeeling, he comes to stand beside the higan cherry tree. Vibrant pink blooms spill over the branches and kiss the lush green grass.

He sways and crumples at its roots. Fingers dig into the soil. Solaris has no bearing in his world - he withers away into the murk, catching fire. But the murk, it turns to gloam. An aureate glow. Giving him back to himself.


Jun will be returning in the next chapter aaand it's going to be a big one! Sorry it took so long for him to appear again... (˃̥̥ω˂̥̥̥)

Also, did you know that Tapas is having an Inksgiving event? :blobmelt:

If you'd like to see the reward tiers and/or support, please head to: https://tapas.io/iseul

See you on the 19th with the next chapter!!

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