4
4. The Seal Is Broken-2
Kangto’s sense of smell, which he had thought of as cursed, now felt as though a gas chromatograph had been installed inside his nose. It was not merely his imagination. If he concentrated even a little, he could clearly perceive the distribution of scent molecules.
When he thought of roses, the fragrance of the roses blooming in the yard separated itself distinctly.
When he thought of trees, he could clearly distinguish everything from the olive trees to the grapes and palm trees.
He could even smell the scent of butterflies resting on the trees, as well as the smell of the soil in which those trees had planted their roots.
Was this…
Really possible?
Could something like this actually happen?
Kangto ran outside. He ran all the way to the coast. Even while running, countless scents gathered inside his olfactory bulb.
The perfume that woman had sprayed had iris as its heart note.
The one that woman had sprayed belonged to the aldehyde family.
And that man…
“A wild accord made by combining ambergris, Dior-type notes, and fruity aldehydes…”
“What?”
The man raised his head. Apparently Kangto’s muttering had been louder than he realized.
“No, nothing. Sorry.”
Kangto hurriedly covered up his mistake. The ambergris in the perfume was a cheap synthetic fragrance. He could distinguish that simply by its smell as well.
Ah.
Ah.
His excitement had nothing to do with the rose perfume being sprayed through the streets of Grasse as part of an event. As he watched the rose perfume drifting through the air like mist, he refined his sense of smell.
‘Synthetic fragrance.’
Even this perfume could not escape Kangto’s analysis. Synthetic rose fragrances contained geraniol, citronellol, 2-phenylethanol, and other substances. He did not know which specific one it was. He had memorized them during theory classes but had never actually smelled each individual substance. Still, he could tell for certain that this fragrance was not natural.
After passing the tourists, Kangto walked past the roadside trees and stopped at a rose farm. The scent was much softer and more complex than the synthetic fragrance he had smelled earlier.
France was a country of roadside trees. Grasse was no different. Beyond the tree-lined streets that looked like carpets, the rose farm was already in the middle of its battle.
Roses were harvested before the morning dew dried. When sunlight touched flowers that had bloomed during the night, their fragrance evaporated.
The only tool was bare hands. The flowers were grasped at the base and plucked off. Part of the perfume industry was still labor-intensive.
An event for tourists was also taking place in one corner.
The first three people to bring back a rose with the same scent will receive rose perfume.
There were about thirty tourists inside the farm. It was an event where getting it right was nice, but getting it wrong was no big deal.
Kangto joined the group.
Hmm.
He accepted a blotter and smelled it.
‘Rosa moschata.’
He knew immediately, before the scent had even faded.
Roses were divided into subgroups because there were so many varieties. Hulthemia, Hesperrhodos, Platyrhodon, and Rosa were among them.
The species known as old roses included chinensis, odorata, multiflora, and many others, but this rose belonged to the moschata group.
It was a flower Blanche had particularly loved, so it was not difficult.
For ordinary people, however, it was difficult. After repeatedly putting their noses against the blotter and sniffing, every scent began to seem the same. That was simply how the sense of smell worked.
Moreover, there were many different varieties inside the rose farm.
Kangto approached a place where the sunlight fell well and grasped a cluster of red roses. A bee sitting on the flower gently flew away.
The judge was a seasoned expert. The rose farm itself belonged to a professional perfume company.
“......?”
The judge’s eyes widened as he smelled the rose Kangto held out.
“Are you a perfumer?”
The judge asked. His dignified, mature appearance and even his body scent gave him an air of reliability.
“In the future.”
Kangto gave the same answer this time as well.
“Then I assume you are studying perfumery?”
“Pardon? Yes.”
“Do you happen to know what species it is?”
“Moschata.”
“Oh.”
“......”
“You have an incredible sense of smell. To identify the species from the scent on the blotter alone. And this species is rare even within our farm…”
His sense of smell.
It was the first compliment he had heard about it since he was three years old.
“I’m sorry, but could you show me where you picked it?”
“Of course.”
Kangto walked ahead. When he showed the expert the place where he had picked the rose, the expert marked its location. Perfume companies wanted flowers with strong scents. Apparently, he intended to determine why this particular rose had developed a stronger fragrance than the others.
“Where are you studying? You don’t seem to be a student at our institute. Perhaps a short-term program?”
“I’m studying in Korea.”
“I see.”
He placed his business card on top of the souvenir perfume.
Stanislas Durand, Senior Vice President of Aspo · Doctor of Perfumery & Executive Perfumer
Kangto accepted it and ran toward the seaside.
At the time, he did not know that this man was a legend in the French perfume industry.
Now even the scent of the sea was clear.
Along with the saltiness of the ocean came the slightly fishy smell caused by rotting seaweed.
He flared his nostrils like a newborn baby.
He opened his chest and drew the scents toward himself, as though trying to memorize every scent molecule floating through Grasse.
And it was not impossible.
He could sense every scent drifting through the skies of Grasse.
May was the season when rose harvesting began. He spread his sense of smell in every direction and identified the fragrances of the roses.
The scent from the east was slightly stronger.
Not all the roses of Grasse were the same.
Blanche.
Kangto took out the cedar perfume bottle Blanche had left behind.
When he sprayed it onto his wrist, he could properly sense a fragrance he had been unable to perceive yesterday.
Blanche’s scent, hidden among tens of thousands of fragrances.
It was also a scent that resembled Kangto himself.
Perhaps Adelaide’s scent was there too.
A pure and simple woman’s fragrance that continued from Blanche’s scent.
There was no doubt that it was Adelaide’s scent.
Why had he never known?
Kangto was Blanche’s reincarnation.
Thank you.
He murmured with his nose pressed against his wrist.
Kangto, twenty-six years old.
The handicap that had once been completely impossible to overcome had been perfectly compensated for.
Blanche.
Kangto shouted toward the horizon.
Thank you.
Just as you wished.
I’ll make the greatest perfume.
I’ll comfort the souls of those in pain.
I promise.
Following Kangto’s cry, the morning sun was rising.
Kangto could now even smell the fresh vitality of the morning sunlight.
The smell of garlic.
The smell of onions.
The fresh scent of tomatoes.
Orange peel in wine.
Almonds and saffron.
And olives.
The main ingredients were…
‘Shrimp, cod, squid, and mussels.’
Kangto sat inside a small restaurant with his eyes closed.
His sense of smell was directed toward the kitchen.
Kangto had ordered bouillabaisse.
He could identify the ingredients simply by their scents.
The onions had been finely chopped.
Chopping them made their pungent scent stronger.
Confirming through smell what he had previously known only through theory felt like a dream.
“Your meal is ready.”
The chef himself brought out the dish. Cheese had been sprinkled over the plate.
“Gruyère cheese?”
Kangto asked after smelling it.
“You know it? We ran out of Parmesan.”
“It’s fine. The scent of the orange peel seems a little weak, but adding the Gruyère cheese makes the aroma of the dish better.”
“Did you see my kitchen?”
“No.”
“Then how did you know about the orange peel? I happened to have almost none left, so I used only a tiny piece…”
“I knew from the smell. The olives are fresh, though, so it’s not bad.”
“The olives were freshly pressed this morning. You could even tell that?”
“I’ll enjoy the meal.”
After greeting him, Kangto picked up his fork.
The first thing Kangto tasted was the aroma of the food.
Before, that would have been impossible.
Everything Kangto had eaten until now had belonged entirely to his eyes and sense of taste. His sense of smell had never had a place in the experience.
At most, he could only detect enough smell to keep himself from eating something spoiled.
But today…
The savory scent of shrimp and the rich, dense aroma of squid filled his nose.
Gulp.
As his olfactory bulb transmitted information about the flavor to his brain, his mouth began watering on its own.
It was a completely different world from the one he had seen with his eyes.
Not knowing smells.
It was like giving up half of one’s memories.
Smell also had the ability to summon memories. Along with those memories, it could summon the emotions associated with them.
Smell acted upon the amygdala, the part of the brain responsible for emotions. This was because the amygdala had evolved from functions associated with the sense of smell.
Reactions to smells were immediate.
They could not be avoided.
Vision and hearing could be shut out, but smell could not.
Seeing with his eyes, eating with his mouth, and savoring with his nose.
This was a real meal.
It was Kangto’s first proper meal since he was three years old.
This is good.
After finishing his meal, Kangto walked through Grasse.
He was no longer interested in Grasse’s tourist attractions.
His interest was in Blanche’s memories.
Blanche had worked as a perfume slave.
Even so, fragments of his memories remained scattered throughout the scents he had passed on.
The first place Kangto visited was the site of his old home.
A new building had been constructed there, erasing all traces of Blanche.
“This used to be where they cleaned fish long ago.”
A local resident’s testimony confirmed Blanche’s memory.
‘This is it.’
Kangto stopped between the buildings.
He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
Young Blanche came running out.
The entire area was covered in the smell of fish.
Blanche did not even wrinkle his nose.
Sometimes he helped his mother, and sometimes he smelled the fish.
He would also gather rose scraps he had found somewhere and clump them together.
At night, he would set the dried rose scraps on fire and comfort his mother.
Mother.
Doesn’t it smell nice?
His exhausted mother stroked Blanche’s forehead.
The scent of roses bloomed in the filthy, fishy space.
It comforted the mother and son, who were exhausted from life.
When his mother fell asleep, Blanche…
smelled the wood chips, grass, and flowers he had brought during the day.
Sometimes he even ate them.
Blanche was already able to distinguish them at that age.
Whether something was safe to eat or not simply by its smell.
In the darkness, Blanche’s eyes sparkled.
But what truly sparkled was his nose.
Along with the memories of smells, Kangto followed the journey of his past life.
This was similar too.
Kangto, who had lost both his mother and father in a traffic accident.
A similar pain remained in his heart, just as it had in Blanche’s.
He remembered the scents that had disappeared.
And he savored the scents that remained as intensely as he could.
His footsteps eventually reached the lavender fields of Valensole.
Lavender bloomed toward the end of June.
It was still too early, but it did not matter.
The moment Kangto arrived, the scent of lavender came rushing toward him.
Perhaps others could not notice it, but Kangto could.
The scent of lavender stems, lavender leaves, and the lavender that had seeped into the soil of the land over countless years.
The overwhelming freshness soothed the tip of his nose.
If it had been late June or July, during the blooming season, he might have been swept up in a fog of fragrance and floated away.
An alembic came into view.
There was nothing Blanche could not do, from distillation to extraction.
The copper still known as an alembic and its condenser were set up.
Everything was done by hand.
A fire was lit beneath the copper still, and lavender was placed inside.
When the still began to boil, the distillate started to emerge.
The thick layer of oil that formed in the upper portion of the Florentine flask was important.
When the contents were poured out through the lower spout, the oil layer remained.
This was the essence, known as the soul of the flower.
But this process was hard labor.
There were countless nights when Blanche stayed awake until morning.
Harvesting the soul of a flower required meticulous care.
He had to control not only the strength of the fire but also the amount of steam.
The materials also had to be handled according to their individual characteristics.
Even so, Blanche enjoyed the process.
The scent of perfume was not obtained only by heating.
Sometimes it was extracted through cold methods, and sometimes fats were used.
Just as every person had an individual personality, flowers and plants also possessed their own unique characteristics.
There was much more to do to create good perfume.
He had to learn how to handle the materials properly, how to find good fats, how to finely grind musk, and how to dissolve ambergris in alcohol.
The merging with his past life continued for four full days.
The scents Blanche had experienced became Kangto’s, and his formulas became Kangto’s formulas as well.
Kangto’s ability to absorb everything was explosive.
It felt as though he had lived his entire life with his eyes covered and had finally opened them.
There was nothing standing in his way.
Once he adapted to the smells of Grasse, he began visiting perfume museums.
He wanted to experience modern fragrances and synthetic aroma molecules.
There were no difficulties there either.
In modern times, there had been a trend toward synthesizing natural fragrances, but their origins were still natural scents.
The synthetic fragrance technology of top perfume companies was astonishing.
They could now reproduce almost every natural scent synthetically.
Even so, the difference was unmistakable.
The scent of a flower or plant was complex.
Although there were substances responsible for the scent, those substances alone did not determine the unique fragrance.
Blanche knew the difference.
If Kangto had come to the perfume museum alone, he would have been overwhelmed by its size and the variety of perfumes.
But after coming with Blanche, even the perfume museum seemed small.
It was on his way back after finishing his tour of the museum.
The entrance of Aspo, known as the finest perfume research institute in Grasse, was crowded.
Only after pushing through the tourists and approaching did he discover the reason.
It was an open class for the students.
The students in white coats were all serious.
They even had an impressive presence.
Aspo might not have been as prestigious as Givaudan, but getting admitted was still difficult.
“......?”
The person standing in front of the laboratory looked familiar.
It was Stanislas, whom Kangto had seen at the rose farm.
He was explaining fragrance accords to more than twenty students.
Various kinds of roses were arranged beside the table, perhaps brought from the farm.
Opening perfume lectures to tourists was another event in Grasse.
By doing so, the companies could make perfume more accessible while also creating opportunities to promote themselves.
Curious, Kangto searched the name on the business card.
‘Amazing.’
Kangto was secretly thrilled by the result.
Stanislas was a perfumer who had dominated an entire era.
As an active senior vice president, he devoted himself to researching new aromatic substances and training the next generation.
During his prime, however, he had been a skilled perfumer comparable to Jean-Claude Ellena, the perfumer known as the jewel of Hermès.
That was why he had extensive connections throughout the European perfume industry, and the trust placed in him was absolute.
“Here is a rose.”
Stanislas picked up a single rose.
The rose and Stanislas.
It was a scene that would become the link connecting Kangto’s fate.