Fundamentally Good

Remember Me

Day 20 Cloytober: Memory

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Memories are often a finicky thing. Finicky in the sense that what one remembers, another may not. If humans were God, well...let's just say that their memories would encapsulate every millisecond of their whole existence, including every minor detail that made one who they were. But they aren't...

In a sense, memories are like the world's greatest puzzle. It takes a few to piece the bigger picture together since one human alone will never have all the pieces needed to complete the puzzle.

And this phenomenon only exists amongst humankind because each human values a moment differently.

By putting different weights on each moment, what makes it into our vivid memories, in the end, are the moments that mean the most to us. The life-changing moments.

Humans can experience the same moment but remember vastly different things about it in their memories. That was the beauty of memories in the human world.

Sadly, not all memories are made to be beautiful.

Memories rooted deep in hatred, revenge, negativity often makes a human cold. The atrocities a human could commit then was one that even the devils weren't capable of.

Yet, these humans could relish in those memories with pure satisfaction from time to time. It was truly nauseating to think that someone could be happy causing misery to another and still look back on that as a fond memory. But alas, humans are inherently flawed.

In a skyscraper overlooking Seoul, a woman dressed in a red suit looked out of the glistening windows, swirling the flute of champagne in her hands. Occasionally, she would draw a long sip from the flute, taking her sweet time to savour the delicate liquid before she would snicker.

It was their death anniversary today.

And to think a year ago, she had to fake that smile when she met them at that piano recital.

Nothing was more annoying to the monster personified than the memory of the family in their own happy bubble.

That should have been her. That should have been the life that she should be enjoying. The luxury, the wealth, the happiness. Those belonged to her, not them.

Happiness could only come with wealth, after all.

Who would have known that the Yoon patriarch would choose Yoon Seri, the illegitimate child, out of his own sons? Things would have played out differently if the man had chosen her husband; a husband who didn't want anything to do with her anymore.

"Well, revenge is sweeter when you get to enjoy it alone," Sang-ah muttered to herself before finishing the rest of the bubbling liquid in the flute.

Strutting over to her leopard-print couch, Sang-ah sat down with her usual air of arrogance, cackling as she thought back to that night a year ago.

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A year ago – The night of the accident

It was the prime of the night. Guests from all walks of life sauntered out of the theatre in their overtly ostentatious gowns and suits, having just witnessed another beautiful night of song and grace.

Some were raving about their favourite pianist while others were lecturing the people around them on the intricacies of each masterpiece. The air was alive, a phenomenon carefully curated by the people's love for classical music.

Amongst these guests were a family of three, dressed humbly in their show of support for the pianists under their programme. Donning matching smiles on their faces, the Ri couple greeted some familiar faces, naturally striking up a conversation or two as they gradually moved out of the hall to get to the car park.