ENIGMA | JIMIN

?fifty-two ?

“Good evening” he responds with a polite smile on his face as he walks by several maids but as soon as the doors they disappear behind close, his smile falters and his eyes lower.

The Park mansion was passed through the generations and a lot of people would call the Park family ‘old money’ due to the fact that they’ve been around longer than anyone could really remember.

Back in a time before people started counting days, weeks, months and years.

He’s heard stories and lessons about his ancestors and has had his classmates turn to look over their shoulders at him whenever a particular ancestor was mentioned for this and for that and suddenly the expectations for him, Park Jimin, were skyrocketed through the roof.

He hated this place.

He hated the never ending halls that made him feel like he was in an infinite hell, not stagnant but always moving and never coming to a stop even if he wanted to.

He hated the paintings of his ancestors plastered on every wall as if to remind himself of the legacy he had to uphold, a legacy he wasn’t really interested in being in charge of but had no choice to no matter what he did.

He hated how old the mansion was and was always convinced that it was haunted by every single member of the family that had once lived and died.

He hated the old walls, the walls that whispered to him and dictated a lot, if not all, of his actions.

He hated how easy it was for everyone else to come and leave as they pleased while he was stuck, trapped within these walls, simply on the inside looking out.

He hated how quiet it was, how he was able to feel himself being swallowed by his own thoughts and an empty feeling with how high the ceiling is and how dusty it could be especially in the spring time, oh how he hated spring, everything that once died in the fall and winter was soon coming back to life.

He truly believed that once something died, it was meant to stay that way, how foolish did mother nature really think humans could be to fall for this trap?

How was it fair that people died and never came back to life but that nature could do as it pleased and everyone was okay with that, funny, he didn’t think it was fair.

If mother nature was capable of bringing the dead back to life, then there must be some kind of secret on how to do the same for humans.

Death was fascinating but he was secretly in awe of the idea of eternal life.

He pulls open the large library doors and without a single look back he steps in and allows the heavy doors to shut on their own and as soon as they do he releases a sigh of relief before starting his way down the first aisle.

He’s always been content with the Park Mansion library and out of all the chambers in the mansion it was his favorite.

He’s read stories about other people, people whose named meant much more than his, great men who made large differences in the world they lived in.

They didn’t let mediocre, nonexistent people guide them to greatness, no, they sacrificed anything and everything for their dreams, for power, for glory and they received just that.