Chapter 3 – The Scent of Memories

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📖 Chapter 3 – The Scent of Memories

The train rocked through the countryside, each jolt making the fruit basket shudder. The ugly man sat hunched in the corner, his bandaged hands twitching, his eyes bloodshot. Across from him, a young mother clutched her child tighter, whispering prayers. No one wanted to sit too close; his presence poisoned the air with the smell of rot and chemical burn.

He ignored them. His eyes were fixed on the torn poster clutched in his fist. The sketch of his own deformed face stared back at him like a curse.

But inside, something else stirred. A memory.

His trembling hands reached into the pocket of his coat. There, folded carefully among bloodstained rags, was a glossy advertisement torn from a magazine. He smoothed it with fingers that hissed faintly, skin dissolving where it touched the paper. The acid marks spread, but he didn’t care.

It was Tom.

Tom in a white silk shirt, collar open, smile careless and radiant. A bottle of Chanel perfume held lightly in his hand. The tagline shimmered beneath:

“Chanel No. 5 – For the unforgettable.”

The man’s chest heaved. A broken sob escaped his ruined throat. The passengers looked away uneasily, pretending not to notice. But he couldn’t stop the tears. They streamed down his melted cheeks, mixing with acid, burning tiny holes in his shirt.

He remembered.

Tom wasn’t just a stranger. Tom was once a face on billboards, a rising model, the boy who dared to act in that LGBT web series the world had whispered about but secretly watched. A boy who had stood against shame with boldness, who had laughed freely in the cameras.

The ugly man had known him.

Long ago, before the virus.

When his own face wasn’t ruined.

When he was still human.

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"Who is he…?" he whispered to himself, clutching the ad so tightly it tore.

A forgotten name stirred on his tongue. Was it… sam? No. Daniel? The sound escaped in a half-growl, half-sob. "Who… who was I… before they made me this?"

His vision blurred. The acid in his veins boiled hotter, reacting to his emotions. Drops hissed on the floor of the compartment. A passenger yelped as the wooden seat began to smoke, pulling her child away.

But the ugly man didn’t care. His tears fell onto Tom’s picture, eroding the glossy paper until only fragments of the smiling face remained.

"Tom… you are the cure. You were always the cure."

He rocked back and forth, whispering like a mad priest, his voice a guttural chant. Passengers shifted uneasily, whispering about calling the guard. The smell of guavas no longer masked the faint cries from inside the basket.

The night train rattled onward, carrying not just a kidnapped groom, but the ghost of a past life, grief, and a secret connection buried under acid scars.

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Flashbacks: Ugly man remembering meeting Tom years ago (maybe backstage at a shoot, or he was just an admirer).

Inner monologue: His anger at society for loving Tom but abandoning him after the virus.

More train tension: passengers whispering, one tries to open the basket, acid burns their hand.

Parallel scene: Tom’s father discovers Tom once acted in the LGBT series—linking to scandal, shame, and possible motive.

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