Bewitching Scent

Another client came by the shop during the afternoon. He was fashionably dressed, with full makeup on his smooth, clean face.

He looked just like the idol trainee from some reality singing competition my deskmate had gushed to me about a few days ago.

Mom was in the attic then. She would always stay up there for a long while after each appointment.

In the end, I had to call her to come downstairs.

The idol trainee was a sweet-talker, just to get her to make him a perfume.

She kept a pleasant smile on her face the whole time, but eventually turned him down. "I only take ten clients a month, and every appointment has to be booked a month in advance. You can try again next month."

Mom was ready to show the idol trainee out after that, but he clearly wasn't ready to give up.

"Please, Ms. Anderson. I'm really in a hurry. This could decide whether I debut or not. Please help me out. I'll pay double!" the idol trainee said.

I quietly watched him from some distance away as he continued to plead with Mom, knowing that she'd never agree to it.

Over the years, many had offered several times, even dozens of times, her usual price just to cut the queue. But she never relented.

Eventually, Mom still didn't budge even after he dragged it out for some time. Seemingly busy with something else, she ended up heading back to the attic, telling me to see him out.

As I watched her head up, I walked over to escort the idol trainee out. Before I even reached him, he started cursing, "Screw her! I can't believe a widow like her is still acting all high and mighty!"

Gone was his earlier gentle and polite demeanor. Although he was still wearing the same face, it felt like he'd turned into a completely different person.

He reminded me of the bullies who shook people down for protection money around the alleys near school.

The only reason someone could change this quickly was that that was who they really were to begin with.

My deskmate would probably bawl her eyes out if she ever found out that the idol trainee she'd been voting for so obsessively was such a character.

The idol trainee's lips pursed in annoyance when he saw me walking over. The flicker of emotion in his eyes was unreadable.

"I heard that the perfume here can last for a whole month with just one use, and it can attract other people. Haven't you ever seen how your mom makes it, missy? Or where she keeps her stuff?" he coaxed, his face softened once again.

I replied, "I… I don't know—"

I continued to shake my head no matter what the idol trainee asked. Only after he was certain I wouldn't tell him anything did he lose interest and turn to leave.

Even after his figure disappeared through the doorway, I remained staring in that direction, lost in thought.

The idol trainee's words were like a seed planted in my heart. For years, mysteries surrounded me, like a fog that never fully lifted.

What exactly was in the attic? What had Mom really been doing?

…

The idol trainee came again the next day. This time, he brought a wealthy socialite with him.

She was a regular who would visit our shop almost monthly for nearly three years.

The idol trainee looked well-behaved standing beside the wealthy socialite, far from the obnoxious attitude he showed yesterday.

Judging by the delighted, lovestruck look on her face, it was clear he had successfully charmed her.

I wasn't sure what the idol trainee had done in less than a day's time to have managed to convince the wealthy socialite to give him the appointment slot she'd booked a month in advance.

Mom was reluctant, as there were still days before the original appointment date. But eventually, she agreed to it.

She made them wait downstairs for a while, saying she needed to prepare in advance. Then, she returned to the attic.

The three of us were left in the hall. I was planning to mind my own business as the two of them flirted with each other, but I happened to meet the idol trainee's gaze.

In that brief moment, I was reminded of his words from yesterday, and my curiosity was piqued.

Before I realized it, I had already slipped up the side staircase to the attic, quietly hiding in a corner behind the door.