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墨書 Inktalez
The next day, I went to the shooting club and emptied the magazine in one go. All the bullets hit the center of the moving target. After I finished shooting, the guy next to me applauded. "That was impressive." "Thank you," I smiled.
In truth, I wasn't satisfied. I used to be able to blow up an entire moving target with a single shot. But now, I felt old. I put down the gun and suddenly saw Charles standing at the door. My interest in shooting faded away. This is how I am with men. When I'm interested, I pretend to be an innocent girl to entice them. Once my interest wanes, even if they offer me expensive jewelry, I won't spare them a glance.
I think this attitude suits me well. My temperament is a result of my late husband, Yaroslav. He taught me what love is. He made me strong and independent. He also sparked my interest in men. I'll never forget that night when he was gravely ill. I felt lost and terrified, unsure of what to do next.
"Don't be afraid," he said, stroking my hair, "the queen is invincible." I nodded, gaining courage. That night, I made a decision: I would not passively accept my fate. I would not bow down to destiny. I wanted to take control of my own fate.
After Yaroslav's death, my father pressured me to claim the inheritance. He forced me to marry another wealthy businessman. I remembered Yaroslav's words and found the gun he left for me. Calmly, I fired it and earned my freedom.
I wasn't satisfied with my performance. I knew my stance wasn't standard.
After I fired the gun, my wrist trembled from the recoil. If my dad calmed down, he would realize that I wasn't really good at shooting. I was just trying to scare him. However, he didn't see through it. He was terrified. Since then, I have learned a lot about firearms. I joined a shooting club. I silenced those who thought too highly of themselves. I didn't want to remain pure for Yaroslav. He gave me his deepest love while glorifying men. He shaped the perfect image of me while telling me that I wasn't a good girl. I am not a good girl. So, while reminiscing about our love, I sought new lovers. I don't like men who are similar to Yaroslav. When I'm with them, I only want to play the game of predator and prey. I enjoy indulgence. I love the pleasure that comes with it. My attitude towards Charles is the same. I think of him as just a game. He is willing to be my lover, and I won't refuse him. But I will never cherish his feelings. He is merely a game to me. I will end it with him.
...
That night, I had a dream. I dreamed of Yaroslav. He was still handsome, still young, still full of affection for me. We sat on the sofa, and he poured me a glass of vodka. "Shirley, you seem to be quite happy lately?" he asked me. "Yes," I smiled. "Why?" he inquired curiously. "Because I've met an interesting man," I took a sip of my drink. "Oh?" he raised an eyebrow, "Who is it?" "You don't know him," I replied. "Is he more interesting than me?" he asked.
"Of course." I laughed, "You're far worse than him."
"Really?" He took a sip of his drink.
"Don't you believe me?" I retorted.
"I believe you." He set down his glass, "I just want to know who he is."
"You'll never know." I stood up, "You will never know."
I went upstairs.
This was the first time I had argued with Yaroslav in a dream.
But I wasn't afraid.
I knew he wouldn't blame me.
He would never blame me.
...
I started to get busy again.
I had a lot of work to do.
I had to manage Yaroslav's company.
I had to deal with his estate.
I had to handle those greedy relatives.
I was busy.
But even though I was busy, I didn't forget Charles.
I would occasionally think of him.
Sometimes, I would remember the look in his eyes.
But it was only sometimes.
I didn't have time to think about him.
Until one day, I ran into him at the bar.
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