Passion & Cigarettes || taejin

Passion & Cigarettes | 1

There were always whispers in the village about the strange woman who lived in the deepest part of the woods; no man or woman wanted to venture into this part of the forest because of the rumors they heard. To most people, she was just another eccentric old lady with wild, tangled dark hair, long skirts that swept the ground, and hands that seemed never still. But to Seokjin, she was Mother, and there was nothing strange about her at all. She was normal, a happy woman who loved and cared for him deeply. The woman who made the best stew, who sang softly while she worked, who could calm his worst nightmares with a gentle touch and a whispered word. She was the one who had raised him with stories of faraway lands and ancient gods who protected him when his world seemed to fall apart. It was all so simple.

At least, not until he turned eighteen.

Before then, the world felt simple. He woke up every morning to the smell of chamomile tea brewing in the kitchen, the sunlight filtering through the cracked wooden shutters, and his mother humming softly as she worked. Her voice was low and melodic; it could turn any dull moment into something magical. Seokjin had always loved his mornings with her, his mother's smile, the way she danced to make him happy, and it was normal—just another peaceful and beautiful morning.

But that was before Seokjin started to feel different from the rest.

It started one winter night. Seokjin was only twelve, just a few days away from his birthday. He'd been having trouble sleeping for a while; flashes of shadowy figures and muffled voices always disturbed his rest; it resembled the devil's voice, is what Seokjin thought of. But on that particular night, it was different; he woke up to the unmistakable sound of chanting.

It wasn't coming from his mother's room but from the kitchen. Seokjin could hear the low murmur of his mother's voice, sharp and ancient, rising and falling like the wind through the trees outside. He didn't think to call out, didn't think to run. Despite being a coward, his curiosity was always stronger than his fear,, and Seokjin had to know.

He tiptoed down the creaking wooden stairs, the house was filled with a thick scent of incense, something rich and bitter, like crushed leaves, and something darker, harder to place, it was an unfamiliar smell. The hallway was covered in a pale, ghostly light, but it wasn't coming from the moon. It was coming from the kitchen, where the door stood ajar, casting a strange glow across the floor.

Seokjin hesitated.

Then, as though drawn by an invisible force, he pushed the door open, what he saw made his blood run cold, and stood frozen.

His mother was standing in the center of the room, her arms raised high, her head tipped back as if listening to something only she could hear. He wanted to look away because she was naked, but he didn't. In front of her, the air shimmered, twisting like heat rising from a fire. A faint golden light spilled from the edges of a strange circle drawn on the floor; it was an intricate symbol, like runes, surrounding a bowl that burned with fire. A handful of herbs lay scattered around her, smoke curling up from their tips. She was muttering something in a language Seokjin hadn't recognized or heard before.

It wasn't just that she was performing some sort of ritual, though that alone was enough to make him freeze. It was the way the room felt alive. The walls seemed to pulse with energy as if they were breathing along with her, with the words, with the power she was drawing in.

Then, she turned. Her eyes, usually soft and warm, were now sharp, like twin shards of glass.

"Seokjin, my son."

Seokjin didn't know how long he had been standing there, but in that moment, he felt an icy coldness settle in his chest, and she immediately clothed herself.