painters of petals • noren

prologue.

TRIGGER WARNING !

MENTIONS OF SEX.

this story is based on the comic,
'painter of the night' which i highly recommend.

🥀

      "my lord, i have collected information about the person behind the paintings. his name is huang renjun, abandoned and found by a kisaeng and grew up as her son, and we have yet to know of his origins. however, it is said he has vowed to never paint again and now lives as a drunkard," the servant stated, body curled in a bow towards the young lord.

        jeno was seated in a position in which the servant could not see anything besides his toned back. it was a rare night where he did not get associated in his midnight sex affairs, instead choosing to spend it smoking and stare at the moon for hours. unexpectedly, jeno let out a laugh, short and bittersweet. blowing a puff of gray-white smoke, his lips curled into a smile– one of a wicked intent, one that imitated a predator before initiating a bloodbath of its prey.

       "vowed to never paint, huh," he sighed, letting out another set of smokey rings. "surely it won't be a problem to start new, now would it?"

although he asked a question formed from what seemed to be curiosity, the servant knew the underlying message behind it. jeno would do anything and everything just to reach renjun and have a touch of his gifted hands– that is if he even existed. he knew the consequences were dire if renjun was indeed just a rumor, but he figured that he would much rather give jeno information than not any at all. still, it was hard to tell if he was overthinking or jeno meant what he meant, but it was hard to get through the complex clockwork that was jeno's mind, and he figured that he shouldn't dabble on the topic far too long.

       jeno turned his head, smoke covering parts of his face as he formed a smirk towards the servant. his amber eyes glowed under the subtle moonlight, a depth of hazel and unbearable lust that seeped through the pool of honey– yet that was what made his eyes made irresistible; his eyes said everything his lips couldn't. 

        "find him and bring him to me as soon as possible. "

       one more whiff of vapor, and the sun rose upon the midnight clear, the horizon an ocean of blood across the sky.

       for the nth time, jeno thought about the infamous painting engraved in his mind. the smooth strokes of the brush, the way it perfectly depicts the lust of the men as they committed a sinful crime, smiles and eyes that held perverted fantasies itself. he wondered how the painter was blessed with such skills, yet thrown it away– to be a drunkard. he felt his pants tighten thinking of the art, silently chuckling to himself at how he could get hard from just a mere thought. he raised the wood of his pipe to his lips, and sucked in once again, welcoming the burning sensation of the smoke entering his body.

     "interesting."

🥀

— rys —