June

49. The Virgin Suicide

처녀 자살

ACT III.
SCENE I. 

Waited and waited, that's all the Prince had done since the last time Moon granted his wish, his very last one. It was as if he pushed his life aside, stayed focused on the happenings in front, and when nothing appeared, all he could do was leave a long heavy grunt. 

One day, wrapped in disguise, he took a walk down the river and couldn't believe his own eyes. Just right there, standing before him, was a beautiful young woman, her expression somewhat grim. 

And closer the Prince gets, there's a small bow and a greeting his mouth then sets. ''Why does a woman, so beautiful, stand here all alone? Without a man by her side, walking can be dangerous when done on your own.'' 

The woman scoffs, slightly. ''A princess doesn't need a man to protect her, I'm telling you that politely.'' 

Shades of red spread across the Boy's cheeks and his head drops down, for redemption he seeks. ''My apologies. I haven't even introduced myself.'' 

Then she turns around, eyes locking with his. ''You don't need to, your Royal Highness. This town talks, its trees, and wind spread words of the beautiful, but rapacious Prince.'' 

Heavy weight steps on his lungs, and he makes a step or two, unsure of what to say and certainly not ready to unleash his tongue. ''Is that so?'' 

Nothing is said. Hands wrapped in bright white gloves, the Princess stays composed. Though the Prince is persistent, feeling rather opposed. 

''Do you believe them?'' He asks, ''Do you believe what the town says?'' 

''I do'', it rolls off her tongue, ''and I don't at the same time as well.'' 

''Let me prove to you,'' the Prince began kindheartedly, ''let me show you the real me. Without wealth, without the power and the throne's excellency.'' 

A soft laugh could be heard. ''A charming proposal.'' Though the cherry tinted lips of hers are stiff, molding a firm line. ''But I'm afraid I'll have to say no and go back to where I belong, the kingdom of mine.'' 

''Stay here, with me, and I promise I'll make your life as wonderful as it can be.'' 

''You think it's that simple, but love doesn't work that way, why can't you see?'' 

Out of his mind, the Prince tries everything not to leave this love behind. ''Will you show me then? Will you show me how to love?'' 

She moves a strand of her long black hair behind an ear. ''When you wish for someone to love, it is not really love, but infatuation in some way.'' Across the river she looks, trying to grasp the meaning of this all. ''You're in love with the idea of love, but that, your Highness, you have to battle on your own.'' 

So much his conscience whispers in his ear, which none of it he wanted to hear. A goodbye said from the Princess' lips and with a fetched breath, away his heart sinks.

ACT III.
SCENE II. 

With sadness rushing through his veins, hurt and heavy his heart still remains. Head up high and feet stomping down, the Prince comes back home, back to his royal crown. 

But nothing good is left for him there, only spoiled things about which he does not care. Neglected his whole kingdom for his own three wishes, he left the Queen and the throne for something so malicious. 

The plague had arrived, it swallowed them all, the tall blue walls were ready to fall. And he was not here, it was all too late, he could not save them, could not escape the fate. 

So the Prince comes back up, stands on the balcony, asks, ''Are these the consequences that came here so rapidly?'' 

But the Moon says nothing, it remains numb, a satellite it has always been, leaving the Prince feel dumb. 

''Why aren't you speaking, can't you hear me now?'' 

Silence goes again, his heart is angry somehow. 

''No! You cannot do this, you cannot leave!'' 

Down on his knees, the Prince starts to grieve. 

''This is all your fault, all your doing. For having me believe you and all of this fooling.'' 

Now he is crying, clutching down on his unbuttoned blouse, because the friends, his wealth and the love were all just a chouse. Foot over the golden fence, lips remain stiff, his mind starts to think only about the what if.  

His legs are shaking, his body unable to feel, he cursed his life and how all of it was real. Pathetic, isn't it? How fast it all was gone. Nothing was left for hope to look upon. 

A wish for a heart, three, two, one,
a jump in the darkness, and then there was none.    

As the curtains started closing, Jimin's heartbeat accelerated. Centre-stage, he stood with his back arched, hand stretched to the sky. The lights turned dim and the melody of the music left his pulse. Only then could he stare in the eyes of the mass.

Liars.

Optimists.

Critics.

But all of them are clapping as if creating a sound of tiny raindrops hitting the top of the roof. Then it turns into thunder– the crowd's cheering, and the feeling was euphoric, but oddly enough calming. He did not think about Jungkook, or rehab, or his father, not even about June because in that moment, he felt nothing. Nothing but complete calm that danced within him, carrying away all the worries left to be felt. Addicted to the feeling, Jimin bowed down then. He looked at the dimmed lights one more time, and let the curtains close shut.

1 chouse (verb.) meaning to defeat someone through trickery or deceit.