Eternal Aesthetic 소설 & 이야기

“I know. I trust you.” The playful smile on his lips broaden because of my response. I just let myself be captured by his embrace while thinking that I would love to be his epitome of beauty forever. ---THE END---

I was just stunned by the absence as I recalled my beautiful dream. What is beauty in immortality?

It was as if someone deeply etched words on the surface. A grand revenge awaits.

"And I don't look at time the way a textbook does. To a human, a century might feel like a monolith, but to an artist, time is measured in moments that matter." She leaned forward slightly, refusing to be intimidated by the centuries of history sitting across from her. "Eternity might be permanent, but permanence can be blinding. When you live forever, the days bleed together. You forget the exact way the morning light hits a face, or the specific emotion of a single night." "That’s what charcoal does. It captures a fleeting, transient second and freezes it forever. I don’t draw Elena to race against my own mortality. I draw her because art is the only way a mortal can give an immortal somet

The entity leaned closer, its presence folding the space around him like paper. The air thickened, pressing against Kieran’s chest like a vice. The Entity’s proximity warped gravity, bent light, and made time stutter. Every breath he took echoed with centuries. Every blink revealed a new apocalypse. He could feel it watching, not with eyes, but with understanding. It was dissecting him, not out of malice, but out of curiosity. It wanted to know how long a soul could scream before it forgot why. Kieran dropped the pen. His fingers were numb, his veins pulsing with symbols instead of blood.

“Under those corporate parameters, are there specific stylistic vectors your tongue wants my hand to steer his choices toward?” I seized the tactical opening instantly. “Yes. Absolute confirmation. Nothing that translates to a low-tier mate trap. Zero threads that imply a brainless bimbo aesthetic. My image requires an architecture that registers as highly intelligent, yet entirely sharp. Dominant. Historic. Symmetrical cleavage represents a viable asset, but nothing that evokes the visual data of a primitive breeding den pin-up.” “The metrics are logged. My hands will manipulate what we can behind the veil.”

That was what everyone demonstrated. Existence was not destination. Existence was journey. Existence was eternal becoming. Existence was forever evolving. Existence was always beginning. Forever. Always. Beautifully. And so the story continues. Forever. Always. Eternally. Beautifully. Hope rests. Hope's love endures. Hope's legacy lives. Forever.

It was even the moment that Artemisia realized that she did not really know what the aeternals were, she only speculated that they were truly immortal women and that, by chance, she had killed one. "The aeternals are forest women" Geon said while drawing something on the wall. "No one knows very well how they came about; all of the documents show that they were always there" Artemisia, who remembered painting too, but on a canvas, turned to the demon probably with an expression of those who had not yet understood. "They are the forest, when theoretically one of them dies, it simply comes back from the forest. While the forest lives, they live" Artemisia, at that time, had already given up tr

“The child does not belong to the pattern.” Eternity is a sequence of hunger and consumption, It is a long, dark thread that pulls the fabric of the physical world into the mouth of the abyss, we have tasted the souls of kings, the screams of stars, and the hollow echoes of those who thought they were gods.