Rosegold | ONC '24

Read You Like a Book

//Present//

The power of the ink is an incomparable weapon. It could bring down empires, so what were the people to it? For common folks who had nothing to hide, ink could be simple things, from love confessions to simple reminders. But for the people of the camera world, ink was a knife, ready to slash them open anytime and spill out their secrets for the world to laugh at.

Hello World was one such magazine too. One among the sea of thousands of gossip weapons of the acting industry. It was, however, the first one to publish the gruesome murder of one of the national goddesses.

Vanessa Camlett was nothing more than a story lost between recyclable trash. Three months ago, she had gone to meet with her dear old friend after a party. This friend of hers, as some anonymous sources said, had become a successful star already. But Vanessa had just entered the industry with her debut being the antagonist to Rose Veretta.

The million-dollar question was, who was her dear old friend? The media didn't know who but everyone assumed it was none other than Hollywood's very own serial killer, Robin.

Maybe they had cut ties long ago and Robin went berserk on seeing her? Maybe Robin got jealous or mad at something Vanessa said. Because no friend would plunge an intricate fork into the other's eyes.

The fork had probably been a gift because it had a beautiful pattern all over its shiny silver surface and Vanessa's name ingrained on it with words of encouragement. Many say that this was the initiation of a killing spree for the psychopath who was still missing.

The murder of Vanessa Camlett, on sight, was adorned in black roses which had been her favorite, as per media sources. The difference was, the roses had been pristine white but dried blood had made them turn an ugly black. The only clue on the sight was a bracelet adorned with glass wings. The owner of it was of course, unknown.

However, not long after that, another celebrity was found brutally slain in their own movie set. It was a director this time. An old man who had a reputation for being kind. To deserve a death like his and be humiliated to this point even after death, the man really didn't seem as kind as he had faked being.

Robin, the words were written on the floor of the set of the film that the director--Mr. Lloid Sein-- was currently working on it. This time, the ornament she left was a broch, which, when traced back was found to have been brought by the director himself as a gift for someone. The corpse of the man had been painted in white and dressed in women's undergarments only. Like a piece of art, except it was unsightly and offensive. Even the media refrained from clicking pictures.

"Ma'am, one shot please!" Rose blinked, getting herself back to the real world as she flashed a smile towards the journalist waving towards her.

"Miss Veretta! A question about your new web series!"

"Ma'am-"

The director stepped ahead of the star cast and spoke in a jolly voice, "Let's save some questions for after the premiere shall we?"

Ah yes, it was the premiere night for Butterflies. Rose had been reading a shady gossip magazine, talking about Robin. This person was dangerous. Then why was she still safe? Rose wondered to herself as they entered the movie theater.

The magazine had seemed to be focusing on murderers. There was also an article on a mute model with exceptional talent who was linked to some recent murders.

Was this the new trend? Blood for fame?

The first episode received an outstanding review. The directing cast was pleased and the entire crew had decided to party. Rose had been smiling constantly for hours and her cheeks were aching. For the hundredth time in the night, a reporter had approached her.

"Miss Veretta, your role seems complicated in this one! Can we finally expect some antagonistic roles from you in the future?"

Rose smiled and laughed gently, "If that is what my audience wants, I'll do my best to deliver."

"Can you tell us something about the next episode please?"

Rose placed a finger on her chin, pretending to think, "Ah yes, it comes out in a week."

The reporter smiled. "Your character, Psyche, seems to be somehow linked to Greek mythology, am I wrong?"

Out of nowhere, a hand was placed on Rose's shoulder and the sharp scent of apples and alcohol filled the air. "Very sharp Mr. Jerry."

It was Ben Yuzik, the screenplay writer of Butterflies. "Psyche is a character inspired by the Greek goddess of souls. The one who was tortured by Aphrodite but she still strived to fight for her love."

The journalist listened intently as his assistant scripted down everything in his notebook. "This is a retelling of the goddess herself. Where, instead of bowing to power, she chooses slyness. The rest, well, you'll have to find that for yourself."

After finishing her chat with the journalists, Rose was seated in a quiet spot in the large ballroom. People kept coming to her but she skillfully dodged all their requests of drinking and dancing.

The room wasn't tightly packed, but somehow, the air of the night was scary. Something felt odd and out of place to Rose.

"There you are, Rose. I wanted to introduce you to Detective Marcel." One of the producers walked up to Rose.

She placed a smile on her lips, "Detective?"

"Ah yes, he is the one handling the case of that fiend Robin."

As he finished his sentence, a man appeared from beside him. He looked terribly out of place, dressed in casual jeans and a jacket. But his looks were on par with the celebrities present there.

"A detective in our party, should I be worried?" Rose smiled. The producer laughed and patted the detective's back.

"He's an old friend so I wanted to lend him a hand. That's why I invited him. So, Rose, meet Alex Marcel."

Alex nodded towards her almost mechanically. His cheeks were dusted a very subtle pink.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Detective, hopefully we can be of help to you."

The producer laughed again, "That's Rose for you, always so polite."

"The pleasure is all mine Miss Veretta, thank you for your cooperation. I intend to catch that psycho as soon as possible."

Somewhere far in a dark corner, a smile graced crimson red lips as she sipped on red wine, "Is that so detective? Then let's commence our play."

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Word Count: 1100