•Fly high, my pretty angel...•|A jongsang story|

•🦢🌿10.The Face of Beauty🌿🦢•

Jongho stumbled into his room, the quiet of the castle offering a stark contrast to the noisy revelry he'd just left behind. The hallway outside was bathed in moonlight, casting long shadows on the walls as he made his way to his desk. He felt a peculiar mix of exhaustion and restlessness, his mind still preoccupied with the night's events.

He sat down at the desk, the comforting weight of the chair beneath him feeling oddly grounding. The memories of Yunho and San's drunken antics and Yeosang's calm demeanor were pushed aside by a more persistent thought-one that had been haunting him since that fateful day at Swan Lake.

Pulling out the crumpled piece of paper from his drawer, Jongho stared at the half-finished sketch. The face he had drawn was of a person who had captured his obsession-a face with golden hair and delicate features, reminiscent of the swan's ethereal beauty. He picked up his pen, his hand trembling slightly as he started to write.

The ink flowed freely as he scribbled down his thoughts, his words a mixture of confusion, longing, and an inexplicable sense of attachment.

---

I can't stop thinking about this face. It's haunting me. It's not just a pretty image-it's like something inside me is reaching out, trying to make sense of it. Every time I close my eyes, I see that face. The swan, its lifeless form... I killed something beautiful, something that seemed so pure.

Why am I so fixated on this? It's not just a drawing; it's become an obsession. I feel drawn to it, almost like I'm searching for something in it, something that connects to my own fragmented feelings. It's weird. I don't even understand why I care so much.

There's a part of me that feels guilty, that wants to make amends for something I don't even fully grasp. I wish I could just talk to that swan, understand what it meant to me. Maybe then I could find some kind of peace.

But I can't escape this feeling. It's like the swan's spirit, or whatever it was, is still lingering, trying to tell me something.

And now, this face-so vivid, so beautiful. It's more than just a memory; it's a part of me that I can't let go.

---

Jongho stopped, his eyes scanning the words he had just written. The emotions he had poured onto the paper were raw and unfiltered, revealing a deep-seated conflict within him. The face in his drawing had become a symbol of something he couldn't quite articulate, something that connected back to the swan and to the guilt he felt.

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. The night was still and quiet, but his thoughts were tumultuous. The drawing was more than just an artistic exercise; it had become a reflection of his inner turmoil. He was haunted by the beauty he had destroyed, and now he was captivated by the image that seemed to embody that beauty.

Jongho closed the sketchbook, setting it aside. He tried to push away the thoughts that still swirled in his mind, but the sense of attachment to the face lingered. He knew he needed to find a way to reconcile these feelings-this obsession with the face and the guilt over the swan. But for now, he was left with his thoughts and the unanswered questions that would have to wait until morning.

He finally stood up, feeling a heavy weariness settle over him. The night had been long, and though he had tried to understand his emotions, they remained tangled and complex. Jongho sighed, making his way to his bed.

As he lay down, the soft rustling of the paper and the face he had drawn seemed to echo in his mind. The night was filled with unresolved feelings, and though sleep came slowly, Jongho couldn't shake the feeling that the face was a part of him-a symbol of something deeper and more profound that he needed to understand.