Allure: Peerless Beauty

chapter 11

As the early hours approached, everyone dispersed after drinking to their fill. Luckily, it was the weekend, so Ada could sleep in. Sherry seemed genuinely intoxicated, swaying unsteadily, and was led away by Leo.

Ada went home alone, not worrying about Sherry; Leo might be bad, but he wouldn't sell her out.

Leo's place wasn't much better than where Ada lived—a pigeon-coop-like rooftop, cold in winter and hot in summer. He was used to living alone, but the place was kept fairly clean.

Leo held Sherry under the lukewarm shower. Perhaps due to the alcohol, Sherry's face was flushed as she looked up at the man holding her, resembling a slightly tipsy flower.

Leo leaned down to kiss her, a kiss of one-sided desire. Sherry was probably truly drunk, giggling incessantly with her arms wrapped around the man's neck. He grabbed her hair, preventing her pretty head from moving too much, feeling the softness of her fingertips.

Sherry didn't like keeping long hair; she had a fondness for stylish short haircuts. She tired of a hairstyle at a rate faster than it became popular. Essentially, she was fickle.

And Leo appreciated that about her.

He pushed her onto his spring bed, retrieved a condom from under the pillow, and tore open the packaging with his teeth. His eyes, silent yet bright in the darkness, seemed like a poised leopard ready to pounce.

During lovemaking, the old springs creaked noisily. He thought he heard Sherry humming a song, with a somewhat melancholic tone. She was truly drunk this time. He couldn't even recall how many times he had brought this drunken cat home, and almost every time she had some astounding feat, only to completely forget about it the next morning.

In that regard, he truly admired her ability to be so carefree.

"Do you even know what we're doing?" he grabbed her face, making love to a woman in such an intoxicated state felt like administering an aphrodisiac. He felt the need to remind her.

Sherry chuckled, her slender fingers caressing the man's face, mimicking his tone, deliberately prolonging her words with mock seriousness. "Of course, I know..." Then she placed her fingers on his handsome lips, mysteriously saying, "Shh, I am singing for you."

At that moment, Leo felt an urge to throw her out.

As dawn approached, Leo rolled over, sleeping soundly. Sherry sat on the windowsill smoking, draped in his shirt, and the city before her was at its darkest moment before dawn.

Everyone was asleep, and only she was awake. How to describe this feeling? It tasted like the ecstasy of being sober while everyone else was drunk.

In fact, Sherry's tolerance for alcohol was indeed extraordinary, even beyond Leo's imagination.

She wasn't someone who got drunk easily.

Legend has it that there are two types of people in this world who live in a state of drunkenness and dreams. One type lives amidst the lights and revelry of the world, yet their minds remain remarkably clear. The other type, on the contrary, is always calm and composed, manipulating situations effortlessly. What makes them drunk and dreamy is their spirit.

Clearly, she belonged to the first category.

Sherry smiled, remnants of the man's breath still lingering on her lips, yet inside, there was a dark void, like a bottomless abyss, where all the darkness in the world seemed to be boiling, with no end in sight.

She looked at the man sleeping on the bed, liking the view of his back. His face was too aloof and cold to approach, but his back resembled that of a quiet child, with tender contours.

Sherry sighed. Every time she didn't want to have s*x with him, felt low, sad, or upset, she would pretend to be drunk. Unfortunately, Leo never understood. Or perhaps, he didn't want to understand.

The moment his hardness entered her body, she felt like crying.

She knew he appreciated her graceful turns and clean breaks.

She knew he liked her body and craved her scent.

She knew that from the day they met, she never had any expectations of him.

She knew his inner pain. Countless nights, that indescribable loneliness, painful and clear, would radiate from her body, more intensely than anyone else.

Yet here she was, lying on his uncomfortable spring bed, watching him engrossed in desire. With his eyes closed and lips slightly parted, he seemed to be in a beautiful place, and that place had her in it.

There was a momentary impulse when she truly wanted to tell him that she didn't really not care about anything.

But she wouldn't say it.

Knowing the outcome, it was better not to say anything at all.

Sherry turned her face away, opened the window, and extended her arm to feel the coolness of the dew. The lonely feeling in her heart was like the elusive breeze between the buildings.

She gently closed her eyes...

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Sherry didn't know that on the same night, in another corner of the city, someone just like her was gazing at the stars before the dawn.

Ada sat on her bed, looking at the necklace hanging from her finger. The blue main diamond still sparkled in the night, resembling the Heart of the Ocean from "Titanic" that enchanted countless movie fans.

Its name was "Key of Hope." Gilbert had bid on it at a price she couldn't imagine, then without saying a word, he put it around her neck.

After all this happened, she seemed to understand something, yet at the same time, she understood nothing at all.

She didn't want to think anymore, lying in bed, tormented by anxiety, unable to sleep. She turned on the radio and listened to the late-night program.

A nostalgic song was playing on the radio, the prelude melancholic, perhaps due to the hour, even the singing carried the mist of dawn.

Ada poured herself a glass of ice water, staring at the lonely city before dawn, listening quietly.

The lyrics were beautiful, sad but not hurtful. Ada forgot if she had finished listening, she only remembered humming along with the melody softly, and slowly... falling asleep.

That night, she had a golden dream. She still couldn't remember the content of the dream, but she felt like she had forgotten all the pain, as if she were in heaven.

A voice echoed in her ear incessantly, across endless years and distant times, remote and long, like drifting in the sky.

"Little Ada, you must remember, you must grow up quickly. When you grow up, you'll be my bride..."

She must have cried in the dream. This voice had been hidden by her for so long, so long... so long that she had forgotten whether it was just her fictional dream or a real existence.

So many difficult years, so much painful time, so much unspeakable humiliation and pain, she endured silently, gritting her teeth.

She knew it wasn't just about living, or living with more dignity, but because she still held onto a glimmer of hope in her heart. Hoping that one day, the person she made a promise with would truly appear before her and light up her darkness.

But according to the agreement, she had grown up. Yet everything had changed, her fairy tale had been distorted, filled with violence and bloodshed.

In this golden dream, she sobbed like a child. She cried until her voice was hoarse, until her whole body curled up into a tiny ball. In the end, tears couldn't flow anymore, only tremors, using all the strength in her body.

My agonizing wail, you cannot hear.

But, do you still remember?

That summer, we listened together to the sound of the wind.

Do you still miss it?

Our small promises from those small days.

Do you still believe?

I was once in hell, looking up at the sunlight, looking up at you...