If I spread my wings,

Will you be my King?

Will I be better than perfect?

Story 02 : The Ugly Swan

"Oh, Doctor Choi, how's the new patient?"

"She's asleep now. The police asked for daily periodical test to make sure she's really qualified to be exempted from the trials. Murder isn't a trivial thing so they're asking for more tests and medical evidences."

"Oh...what did she do again?"

"Set a guy on fire. Literally. Burnt him to ashes inside her own room."

"Hmm. Well, I have to get going now. My patient must've been waiting."

"Which one is it again, Doctor Lee?"

"The swan."

"Ahh...that perfect one?"

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Perfect.

I looked up. Somebody was talking about me.

That word.

That beautiful, desirable word.

That prickly, frightening word.

The word that describes who I am, or was.

The word that describes the one thing I could not achieve, no matter what.

Perfect.

"Ommona, you did so well."

"Here, this gift is for you for being so good."

"You're the prettiest up there on the stage."

"You're the prettiest of the whole contestants."

"You really can do no wrong, you know?"

"You're the most graceful student I've ever met."

"You're perfect."

I'm a dancer. Am. Even though nobody treated me like one anymore, they could never stop me, I was born to dance, to grace the world with my every elegant moves, softer, swifter than feathers, I fluttered, twirled and whirled in my pointe shoes and romantic tutu with a face so pristine devoid of any makeup substances other than pure dewy white powder if any. And just as my face was spotless from any foreign marks, my face bore no expression-not a smile, nor a frown, just as my heart was untainted. I never looked up to gaze at other dancers because Teacher used to tell me, that I was different from them. I was special, and need not to turn an eye to see the other dancers tainted by makeups that they need to cover up their imperfections.

"Because you're just perfect the way you are."

Having grown up listening to that, from Teacher, from everyone, of course I believed it, believed it with all my heart. But as had perfectly grown, blossomed to a young lady, I began listening to more things. Things that were different than what I've heard all my life.

"She's perfect."

"She dances perfectly."

"Her manners are perfect too."

"Nobody can do it perfectly like her."

"Look at her face. Her emotions really show."

Sound nearly the same, don't they? But there's a huge difference. And that was, the she and her mentioned were all referring to one person, who...wasn't me. Somehow, it felt like I was a swan, whose feathers being harshly plucked, mercilessly, with each compliments added to her, and each taken away from me, until I was left with not a single feather, my skin scratched, until they bled. But Teacher kept reminding me that the she they were talking about was nothing more than a duck stuck in a pond that belonged to the swans while I, I would be the queen amongst the graceful swans, and that the duck only was praised because the other swans had never saw any ducks. They would be bewildered for awhile, but eventually, the phase would die down, and true beauty would win, and true beauty belonged to only the queen.

I wanted to believe her. I really do. She kept saying there's nothing worth seeing so I should not lift my face in the presence of a peasant duck.

But once, I just happened to see her reflection from a practice room mirror.

And it confused me.

How could they talk of her face, her emotion, her perfection, when nothing could be seen on her face but her thick black lipstick, and her bloody red mascara and eyeliner covering her eyes, clearly seen even from behind a mask.

Yes, she wore a mask.

What was so special about her?

Nothing.

Everything.

It was the first time we would be having pas de deux, a dance with male dancers if you're unaware. Teacher sounded anxious. She said I shouldn't be lowering my level, and that the queen of swan should remain regal, untouchable. For the touch of a male swan, would only make you look like a fool, and act like one, and certainly not worthy enough to be crowned the perfect queen of swan.

"You don't need this pas de deux. It's for commoners. Which you certainly are not. This is not your level."
I said nothing. As I always did. Teacher knew th