There are Many Flowers in Seoul

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Once upon a time, Rose had loved modelling. It wasn't just because it meant that she could be close to her mother, but she basked in the glow of the smiling adults around her, the ones who told her how talented she was and how far she could go in the industry. Now that she thought back on those days, Rose understood most of the compliments were insincere. No one could determine how successful her future might be based on how well she could pout into a camera at the age of six, and the sycophants who'd said otherwise had only been trying to stay in the good graces of her parents who were worth a fortune.

That said, she had enjoyed the company of the other girls she'd thought were her friends. Rose was always the first to be invited to their birthday parties, the first to be waved over to join in a game, and the first that they whispered their secrets to and hugged when they saw one another after a few days off work. The only person who hadn't fawned over her had been Mariko.

From the moment they'd met, Mariko and Rose had been rivals.

Perhaps it was silly to have a rival at such a tender age, but it was how they'd seen one another. Whatever Rose tried to do; Mariko tried to do. If one had scored a job modelling for a website selling children's clothes, then the other would get a spot in a commercial. The only real difference between them was that Mariko came from a relatively poor family – a single-parent household – and had been pushed into her job as a child model as a baby when her mother entered her into a contest and won her daughter a spot promoting diapers for a locally owned factory. Since then, Mariko had seen her name written down for every job available and fought off stiff competition to make a name for herself.

It was difficult for Rose to picture an infant climbing through the ranks of modelling, and yet, Mariko had done just that.

When they'd first met, Rose had very little experience of modelling. Her mother posted photographs of her on a private social media account intended to keep their overseas friends and family up to date with her progress through childhood, but that was the limit of her talents as a baby, by which time Mariko had already become the face of several brands. It was only because a sitter let them down and Lily had brought Rose to work with her on a shoot that she got her shot at stardom. After that, Lily began to sign Rose up for anything in her own company which might require a child be present in a shoot – a family scene, an attempt at a children's line of clothing, an adorable shot of a little girl trying on her mother's wedding shoes – and her family's well-established and well-respected name drew the attention of other companies who wished to sign her. With almost no effort on her part, Rose became a rising star and looked set to overtake Mariko as she cashed in on her connections to win over judges and agents.

At first, Rose had wanted to befriend the girl. She was so accustomed to being universally loved that she hadn't considered the true difficulty of making a human connection with someone else, nor the notion that the other girls weren't really her friends and had only approached her because their parents had told them that it would secure their futures if they were connected to Rose's family.

'No,' Mariko had said when she'd been asked if they could be friends, 'I hate you.'

No one had ever told Rose that they hated her, and it was something that she didn't know what to do with. And, so, Rose persisted in trying to make friends with the girl, assuming that she only felt intimidated or was confused by the idea of working together to succeed. Time and again, Mariko refused the proverbial olive-branch of peace, and continued to work hard alone. The girls were matched in terms of progress and desirability as models, but it was clear to anyone willing to look hard enough that Mariko was the superior of the pair. She had an aura which drew in the gaze of strangers, a natural, raw talent that Rose could never hope to match.

Then, inexplicably, Mariko's attitude changed.

From the moment Mariko was first signed to Silver Lilies, she became an amiable, warm, welcoming child who implied that the reason she'd denied Rose the friendship she so desired was because she was competitive and hadn't meant any harm by it. The naieve Rose was so desperate to be loved that she bought into this lie without question and the pair became firm friends throughout the time they spent working with one another.

That is, until the shoot came to an end.

Brief though their friendship had been, Rose had thought it might be forever given how many years they'd spent in one another's company, even if their relationship had been turbulent from the outset. It was her own foolishness which had blinded her to the manipulative nature of strangers, and made her believe that she was more than just an heiress whose only appeal was monetary.

As they were all making their goodbyes and thanking the crew for their hard work, Rose asked Mariko when they could next play or see one another, if she might be able to go to her house or if they could go to the park.

'You didn't really think we were friends, did you?' Mariko had asked with an air of utter disdain for the girl.

Yes, she had.

'You're spoiled, Rose Porter-Abe,' Mariko had said. 'You're a spoiled Princess and people only let you have your way because you're rich. If you had different parents, you'd never be a model. You should quit before you embarrass yourself and your family.'

From a real friend, such hard truths might have been easier to swallow. Rose might have taken stock of the words and made it her mission to work harder to prove people wrong and to dispel such rumours about her supposed success in the world of modelling.

Instead, Rose cried.

She quit.

She retreated into herself and realised that the only people she could trust were the people she'd been raised with – Yuta and Hitomi – because they were equally wealthy and influential, and had nothing to gain by being her friend. Since then, she'd tried to turn herself into someone other than Rose Porter-Abe – someone who was simply Rose and nothing more – in a bid to appeal to normal people and to gain some honest affection and friendship. She'd forgotten who that trusting little girl was – the girl who'd so loved to wear pretty things and stand in front of a camera while her mother smiled and encouraged her simply because it was fun – and had become someone who tried to be useful and needed, smart and plain, and who wouldn't be favoured over anyone else just because of what she might inherit one day.

The friends she'd acquired in high school and her useless ex-boyfriend Keiji were proof that this plan of hers had backfired spectacularly, and she carried her famous name around like a weight around her neck, letting it drag her down and keep her from standing proudly, head held high, and achieving anything of note.

And now – now that she was finally remembering what she loved about being a model and grasping at the broken fragments of the life she used to have – she was faced with the woman who'd shattered her dreams and hopes into a million pieces.

The woman who'd shattered her heart and made her cold.

Mariko.