#chapter:conjurer

Why should I model, again? It's not like it's only for interview, mother.

They hired you a year back, right before the scandal. The president still insists on you being their model.

You can still decline on my behal—

You are modelling for them. No objections.

The snap of the camera continued on and on, echoing in the female's ears as the lightning blinded her vision every few seconds. It's been too long since she took on the job of being a model, but it didn't seem like she had lost her touch at all. But how could she, when she acted out a role every second of her life? Modeling was also in a way acting. Acting with your body, showing emotions... Emotions. That one small spark in every human that ignited their actions and drives. Love, hate, resentment, longing, loneliness.

Being able to display all those freely was why Hyosung once loved modeling.

She could freely display her anger, her grief, her loneliness, and no one judged her. She even got praised, praised for showing the box of packed emotions she stored every day of her life. She could freely let out her annoyance about a hairstyle she didn't like on herself, like the dark red color she was having at the moment along with the huge difference in length of her hair. A decision made by her stylist, and one she won't be able to oppose anytime soon. She could let that annoyance out, let it take control of her eyes, make them more sharp, more hard. And to get the perfect effect the photographer wanted she let out just a small portion of her loneliness, to give that hard look a melancholy feeling. And that, that was perfect.

After her eyes played it all, the rest of the emotions sipped into her face. They curved downwards and parted her lips, they took a shadowed veil over her face. The grieving mistress that no one saw outside of the photoset. That was Hyosung, that was her real face. A grieving, helpless woman that wore her smile like the hardest armor there is. Weak and vulnerable, but strong and hard to take down.

"Perfect!" the photographer's voice echoed, and as soon as it was said, the mask got back on, pushing again the other emotions inside the box. A bright smile replaced the lopsided curve of her lips, and a spark took place in her arching eyes.

"Thank you for the hard work!" her chipper voice soared around, mixing with the fumbling of the stylists and make up artists who came to her immediately. Making sure her make-up was still top notch and they had done their job right. She still had more of the photoshoot, but there was a long break before it. "Where is my bracelet?" she asked the main stylist, as soon as the woman came into view, and the elder one handed her the old fashioned silver band, which she had to take off for the shooting.

Now, that was something, the only thing, Hyosung wouldn't like in modeling.

It hasn't been that long since this started, at least Hyosung didn't feel like it was that long. But time was a measure that slipped between her fingers like water managed to slip between rocks. She could never grasp it, and if she could — it was for short periods of time. After that it started slipping again... actually even during that time it slipped past her. In small drops. One by one. 

She always missed something, always managed to lose connection with the world and forget that her life was not only work and practice. She isolated herself from everything and just tuned herself off. And the woman was used to it, as bad as may people find it if they knew. She was used to it and she was fine with it. She also felt void about it, but she often felt void, didn't she? The sadness, displeasure, regret and bitterness she used to feel towards people from time to time also ceased for the past year. She just didn't mind it anymore, didn't put much effort in even trying to feel those emotions. After all Hyosung was better off without them.

There were even times when Hyosung started to feel as if ice was running through her veins and not the warm liquid of red that actually kept her body going. Because most of the time nothing could get to her, not even the bitter tone of her friends, not even the judgmental remarks of her mother. The ice needles piercing her skin and the cooling feeling wrapping around her palm caused by her airy blue flame also stopped occurring with each passing day, with each new practice. 

Yet, there were those times, those rare times, when she would feel the warmness burning up her veins. She would feel her blood flow through her limbs; through her body, and she would feel hurt, regret, loneliness... longing. The last on the list was something she hadn't felt for years now, and it confused her every time it surfaced. And in those moments, when she felt like her whole body was caught on fire; when she held up an outstretched ice forged bow with an arrow to it. At that moment she would let it go. Let her magic crumble to minuscule flakes. She would close her eyes and hug herself, because those were the rare times when cold did matter.

     Red was not of Hyosung's favored colors. The cardinal color brought redundant memories to the female's consciousness. It evoked recognitions of crimson fluid dripping down ivory complexion and pale rose nails. It rewind memories of seemingly perfect night clogged with reminiscence of caresses and kisses, of velvet touches and whispered lies that left a bitter taste in her mouth. Splashes of red pictures flashing before her eyes blurred her vision and hazed her mind, making the purple haired female fall into trance.

     For Hyosung, red reminded her of a long lost friendship, of a night club's interior and vivid lights dancing on the walls. Red brought to her the feeling of fear; that was the last association the female related the vividness of the color. She associated it with a late night talk, with shivers crawling up her skin, with her hairs standing up and her efforts to keep her porcelain mask on.

It was late in the evening, the sky giving its light color to the night and letting the hours taint it little by little. It was a day when Hyosung got home from work on time, but she still didn't feel like doing anything else than practice. She knew she could label her obsessiveness to learn fast with a maniacal disorder probably, but she couldn't step back from it. So instead of dressing up and going out clubbing, something Hyosung would've done on any other day, she went up to her room, dressed comfortably and grabbed her bow. No arrows.

Just her bow, and she skipped quickly down the stairs and out in the yard, her grey beloved pet following her every move. "Ace, do you think I can do it?" she asked the fluffy animal, taking a stance before the target and bringing the bow up, drawing the string and taking a deep breath. She heard her dog bark once, twice, and after that drew a smile on her lips, the female closed her eyes and let her mind wander.

She needed to concentrate, to gather her thoughts... to imagine it. And she did that. Feeling the usual rush of energy that usually gathered around her fingers, forming an icy cold arrow that she had to fire. But this time, it was not the same. The feeling was the usual one, but much more intensified, so instead of continuing what she did, Hyosung snapped her eyes open, only to feel the arrow in her hands bursting up and shattering around her. The pieces were hard, sharp and they cut the skin on the fingers of her right arm, the skin of her left forearm and even a light cut on her cheek.

Your father loved it.

My father?

The real one.

Oh… What was he like?

A very interesting man.

…You loved him.

No, I didn’t love him. I still love him.

Where is he now?

Why the sudden interest, Hyosung?

Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I lived a lie for the past sixteen years?

Don’t be snappy. It doesn’t suit you.

…

She was left alone for the whole day, even her pet was not around, and as much as she would usually worry over him, what she had on her head right now was something far greater than she thought she can manage. Her memories of her childhood were brought back onto her with the words “You’ve grown enough to know the truth.”, though… remembering her mother voicing that out only brought anger up in the female’s chest. She was old enough? That sounded like a mock sent her face…

And how old enough was she to actually take all of this silently as if it didn’t matter? The fact that her memories from before she turned eight were deep concealed into her and the fact that her mother apparently did all she can to avoid their revival until ‘it was time for it’. The fact that apparently she was nothing she so far believed herself to be. She wasn’t his child, she wasn’t just any normal human, though… One thing remained and that was the fact that she was the only heir the Yeong family had.

For generations the Yeongs are truthful and loyal to the family, you, despite all the times I doubted it, proved to be a true Yeong at the end. Never leaving and always doing what was needed to keep the family name clean… On most cases.

Remembering those words caused a light laughter to echo inside the spacious and empty room, a laughter that soon turned more loud, more vivid, and reflected on the walls, sounding even more loud than it really ways. That’s when the female sat up in her place, her hands combing back her long hair and her lower lip getting trapped between her teeth, in a way to make her stop laughing. It seemed all too surreal, but it’s been a few days, and there was no way she would label this as being a mere nightmare.

Suddenly, the memories of her eight year old self returned to her and her eyes started watering again. Having those memories concealed for so long, caused them to come back more than needed, but after the fourth time of remembering the yelling between her parents… between her mother and her supposed father, the young female managed to swallow it all, even if it was a thick bite to do so. She was not the daughter of the man she called ‘father’, and her mother did a damn good job to hide that from her, though she wondered how her mother kept her fath— that man’s mouth shut, about how she was not his child…

She wiped her eyes from the tears, and a small sniffle could be heard as she did so, before she stood up from the bed and walked towards the make-up table in her room, that currently had nothing else on the surface but a small silver bracelet with four white gypsy stones lined along the thin band. It was not shiny, and it could be told that the bracelet was old, but it was hers. It was her great grandmother’s actually, before it became hers… and before it was taken from her. Slender fingers traced the silver band, before they picked it up and she brought it before her eyes. This is what was taken from her, along with her memories of why she needed it. This was who made her who she was, what was the key to returning her to what she was supposed to be. The thing that was going to determine if she will one day be the head of the family or no.

And as much as she was afraid of it, as much as she wanted it too. Because that was what she is, and this will get her what she wants.

Hyosung had all sorts of things stored in a few metal boxes, and the most precious ones were kept away in a wooden box, that was hidden in one of the drawers of her wooden makeup table. It was a simple box, with no decorations or engravings, it wasn’t even painted, but it was a box that appealed to the female when she was buying it. And once in awhile she took it out, to take some of the pieces of memories and remind them to herself.

"You brought your daughter, Mrs Yeong?" a tall old man asked her mother once she and Hyosung approached him. It was not a man the little girl like, but she didn’t really like any of the people her mother met so far, especially because all of them seemed surprised to see the girl and inspected her like she was something not ordinary. And she was, in fact, though the eight years old couldn’t really understand it back then. A child at a night high class party meant mainly to create business connections. In such an environment, Hyosung was not in place and everyone noticed it.

"Yes, she begged me to come, I couldn’t say no." her mother spoke, petting her head and Hyosung only pouted her lips. She didn’t beg to come. Yes, she remembered she asked once about it, but she never begged, and during the whole night, and after her mother said it to every person who noted Hyosung’s appearance, the little girl tried to remember if she had ever begged to come.

"I’m sure I saw Mr. Yoon’s son around, he is the same age, maybe she would enjoy his company more, compared to ours?" the older man asked, as he leaned towards Hyosung and gave her a smile. He still looked scary to her, and she still didn’t like him, but at that very moment he seemed more likeable, because unlike all the other unpleasant old people she saw this evening, this one was giving Hyosung a small reason to flee. She looked up at her mother, her round dark eyes blinking a few times and waiting to get the signal to go, and when her mother did give a nod, the little Yeong’s smile grew wider and she quickly turned around, taking the quest to find the boy her age.

But it was hard. There were too many people who were twice her size, and finding someone else her size was a hard task, seeming even impossible to the little girl.

Just when she was about to give up and walk again to her mother, her head hung low, a small movement, one unnoticeable by all the giants, caught her eyes and she walked towards it. It was a glass ball with some weird purple pattern inside, that she couldn’t describe into words. Was it yellow she would’ve said it looked like a gold fish, but it was purple and the color prevented her from making any association with it. But the glass ball came from under the table and it picked the girl’s curiosity, so she walked towards it and pulled the tablecloth up, peeking under it, only to see a boy her age playing with a lot more glass balls like the one she had.

"Quick before they see!" he hurriedly said and pulled her under the table too, bringing his finger up to his lips and making a shushing sound. "They shouldn’t find my hiding place." he explained, at which Hyosung could only nod with her lips pressed together and look down, straightening her skirt. "I’m Doojoon." came again the boy’s voice and she looked at him, a bright smile on his face and his hand extended towards her.

"I’m Hyosung."

The grown up woman laughed at the memory as she held the marble thanks to which she had found her friend up to her eyes. She never ended up returning him the glassy ball, but it was something she held dear, so she doubted she was ever going to do it. Suddenly a thought came to her mind and she reached for her phone, typing a quick text.

High heels, elegant black dress, hair pulled up, and diamond earrings dangling down adored the female’s frame. A priced silverware and fine china plates, along with crystal glasses was what stood before her carefully painted eyes… everything nicely complimented with the suffocating silence in the room and the company of two statues. That was Hyosung’s Christmas, or rather that was the usual family dinner the female had to live through every now and then.

A nice package holding a rotten apple. That was her family.

As she dug the knife into her piece of steak and made slow movements to slice a small peace of the meat, the female’s mind wandered off. Her eyes lost their focus and she imagined that she was far from here, far from the farce her family was and to somewhere more cozy, somewhere where she could stay in her hoodie and jeans, with a warm cup of cocoa and a blanket to keep her warm.

"How is the business going?" her father’s voice suddenly sliced the silence that suffocated the young heir and she brought her eyes to him, just to see at who of the two females the question was directed, and as she saw the old man’s eyes set on hers, she gave a rather fake and stiff smile at him, before she parted her lips to answer.

"Good. On your side, father?" The male only hummed and gave a nod of his head, which caused the ex-model to press her lips together, displeased by the sudden cut of the conversation. But she knew better than to not pry further in, especially since last time she was told to stop asking too.

"Hyosung." came her mother’s voice and as she drifted her eyes to her mother, she simply gave a light nod of her head, noting that she took the hint and returned again her perfect facade.