a study on kang seulgi
kang seulgi sees no purpose in life.
the heiress to the famous kang corporation keeps her heart in an impenetrable safe for no purpose, because she sees none in doing so. she seeks to end her own life for no purpose, because she sees none in doing so. why do we live? she would ask. why live when you can disappear? she would ask after that. she is the emptiness, she is the void.
to seulgi, life is a pointless feat. through her ever so calculative grey eyes, exhausting is all that life is, all that life will ever be. the universe is in black and white, dull hues that reflect her desaturated outlook on the enigma known as life. whenever she wakes up to blaring sunlight that threatens to tear through her eyes clean, her fingers automatically grasp a nearby pocket knife, ready to savagely cut it into her throat, itching to spill red all over dull white sheets.
however, as the only heiress to the corporation, her father is ever so quick, always thought lightyears ahead of her. after several unforgettable mishaps, daddy dearest sends many strangers to watch over her and took all her million-dollar toys away, to keep her from escaping the prison known as life.
so, with her only chances of breezy getaways taken away from her, seulgi takes it slow.
her body is a canvas which she paints with scars, with hopes that one day she'll die from cutting too deep, cutting too much. she learns to weaponize everything around her, from the hand mirror that lies on her vanity all the way to the papers that lie dormant on her writing desk.
the people around her feared her for her 'suicidal' tendencies, and it greatly baffles her every single time; for why would anyone feel so much misplaced fear towards a young woman who only wants to see at least a little bit of color (red, in her case) in this world of grey?
the world is boring. she wants to leave it behind and sleep for eternity, rather than wake up everyday to a duty she never wanted.
everyday, she shuffles through paperwork, adding more scars using the razor edges of her documents to do so. when her father questions the red on her papers, she only shrugs, not offering any helpful answer. sometimes, when she goes out, she tries to hide from the guards, runs around and tries to find any means of committing suicide.
being a corporate heiress, she's blessed with mountains worth of fortune; with it, she hires others to end her life for her, but her father always catches on, restricting her from everything that could possibly help her escape. it will be a long time until she can finally escape life, and by then, she will probably be dead from the repetitive routines that came with each following day. seulgi doesn't want to die grey of old age and natural means; she wants to die red, of tragedy and sudden gruesome twists.
(lately, kang seulgi has been dreaming pretty dreams. she fantasizes about a knife wedged through her heart, bathing in the most vibrant red she has ever seen. it is exhilarating. living in grey her whole life, red fills her with a happiness nothing could give her.)
indeed, kang seulgi wants to die, but everybody around her doesn't quite allow her to.
this is true agony, she learns.
sometimes she wishes the world could just explode, dying in one grand supernova or a spectrum of colors she has never seen before, and she could perish, drift away and enter a dead paradise with at least something to do, and a purpose to live by.
"why do we live?" a younger her would ask her sleeping mother, the woman's alabaster skin shimmering like gossamer under the light of the sun, which seeps through the glass dome above them and showers the mother and daughter pair with fiery warmth.
mother doesn't answer, still sleeping in her comfortable mahogany coffin, high on the sweet, sweet flowers her relatives had thrown into the deathbed with her. mother does not move, still like a doll. her lips are paling and chapped, no longer the luscious eden father would brag so much about visiting. mother's hair is splayed all over her shoulders like waterfalls cascading down a hill, dark strands dry as they rest on the hollows of her collarbones.
"ma, why do we live?" young seulgi would continue to ask, six times. when mother still doesn't answer after the sixth, she sighs and puts on her polished shoes, waddling out the church with a bodyguard holding her hand.
father never told her that mother hung herself.
why do we live? it is a question that kang seulgi asks herself every passing day, every time the prickling sharpness of a blade touches the surface of her wrist, cutting into ruined veins.
she stares at her kaleidoscopic reflections on the broken mirror with a bleak blankness, empty of fire and empty of color. she stares at her reflections with unrestrained envy, green and rolling off of her like ocean waves at dawn. her reflections can disappear when she leaves the mirror; her reflections can die when she leaves the mirror, so why can't she?
kang seulgi wants to die.
seulgi wishes that she could choke on all the money she swims in, useless dollar bills folded at the tip of her tongue as she drowns in her father's greed. she wishes that the coins and gold and diamonds she swallows cuts into her insides and blooms into pure poison, toxic like the death she wants to feel, wants to have. she wants to drive her own car and guide it off a rocky cliff, charred glass from broken windshields impaling her porcelain skin, dripping crimson honey while the airbags suffocate her whole.
seulgi wants to leave this world, so very badly. she wants to leave this world with a bang.
when she weeps, she wants to weep the brightest of vermillion rivers, not the clear transparent disappointments people call tears, trickling down layers and layers of petty masks, ever so breakable and unreal. seulgi wants to weep pain, not measly woes after useless summer flings and colorless melodramas. kang seulgi wants red, red and red.
-which is something that is long beyond her reach, continuously slipping through slender and pale fingers which yearn to dip themselves in murky vermeil.
she'd blow a bullet through her skull anytime if she could, yet-
yet
yet
she stayed.
for there are a number of elements that submerges her black and white reality in the most eye-pleasing red.
°
a/n: so seulgi's character is really interesting to write!! clashing it with jimin's is gonna be super fun :-))) please try to vote and comment if you can!!
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curtain call • seulmin
Short Storypark jimin is an artist, in his own morbidly twisted kind of way, a virtuoso in the art of ending lives. ©jjk-kyr