As another spring approached, Grenouille accompanied Pelissier on a meandering stroll through the flower fields outside Paris.
With each breath, they inhaled the scents of lavender, forest, and sunshine, the fragrances blending with the gentle breeze to create an enchanting atmosphere around them.
God had endowed Grenouille with an unparalleled olfactory gift and then led him to a discerning patron who recognized his talent. It had been a year since he became Pelissier's assistant.
Since that night when Grenouille proved himself, he was no longer an obscure apprentice tanner but had become Pelissier's right-hand man. The sullen, slender adolescent created wonders in ways that neither Pelissier nor anyone in Paris could have anticipated or easily put into words—a genius that left an indelible mark.
Now everyone knew that only products bearing the emblem of the House of Pelissier were the finest luxury goods, worthy of noble duchesses and even favored by the Countess du Barry or Her Majesty the Queen herself.
Pelissier, having confirmed Grenouille's worth, acted decisively to provide him with all due privileges, doing everything possible to retain this talent. He valued this unremarkable-looking black-haired boy so much that people who knew the lord speculated privately that, given Pelissier's unmarried status and lack of children, if Grenouille had been younger, the lord might have considered naming him as his heir to take over his business entirely.
Grenouille, an orphan, had never experienced such a good life before. He was constantly by Pelissier's side, eating and living together, almost inseparable. When they first met by the Seine, Grenouille was a pitiful apprentice, dressed in rags, his hands calloused from hard labor, and his young spine prematurely bent under the weight of heavy tasks.
Now, he wore spotless white livery, immaculately starched and pressed, with new boots on his feet and a navy blue cravat around his neck. He was impeccably clean and neat, even his scars covered with powder. After such adornment, he looked like a well-born youth, though somewhat plain in appearance and not very tall, yet still respectable.
He had grown taller, but when he looked up at the tall figure of the blond young man ahead, he barely reached his back.
They walked on the soft grassland, where white-feathered birds occasionally flew overhead, and shadows moved like birds across the landscape. Unbeknownst to them, Pelissier suddenly stopped and pointed toward a vast field of lavender, turning to smile at Grenouille, "Would you like to sit for a while?"
Grenouille followed his gaze and saw a hidden small gap in the flowers, likely used by farmers for irrigation access. The surrounding area was tranquil, and within sight, there were only the two of them on the expansive flat land. Most of the lavender's spike-like buds had not yet bloomed, and it was not yet time for harvest. If they hid inside now, they would enjoy a peaceful, undisturbed moment.
They slipped into the field.
At this moment, the lord behaved like a child, pulling Grenouille to sit on the loose, soft earth, leaning against the boy’s shoulder, and said with a laugh, "Actually, I'm just sleepy and want to rest for a while."
The faintly bitter scent of grass roots, the earthy smell of damp soil, the nearby yet distant fragrance of various flowers, and the subtle, indescribable aroma emanating from the lord—all these scents filled Grenouille's nostrils, bringing him a sense of exhilaration.
Pelissier rested his head on his young assistant, leaning against him in an attitude of complete trust, and soon fell asleep. A few strands of Pelissier's curly light blond hair brushed against Grenouille's neck. He turned his head slightly, flaring his nostrils to inhale closer to the hair, absorbing Pelissier’s scent.
With this movement, Pelissier's arm that was around Grenouille's shoulder loosened, and he began to slide off. Grenouille steadied him in time, slipping one hand under his ribcage to hold Pelissier's head against his chest.
Today, as usual, Pelissier had tied back his long hair with an elegant pale purple ribbon, complementing his soft velvet outer garment of the same hue. The lord was very particular about his appearance; to maintain and enhance his beauty, he kept a regular schedule and healthy diet, and always dressed meticulously when stepping out.
He had a strong aversion to untidiness but did not dislike natural scents. He could sit among dirt and grass without complaint but could not tolerate a disheveled room. Quietly, Grenouille undid the ribbon, parted the lord's tousled curls, and buried his head in them, taking a deep breath. The scent of mint and caramel filled his lungs. His nose brushed against the cloud-like blond hair, and a profound satisfaction welled up within him.
Each day, Pelissier's scent subtly changed, influenced by his mood, different soaps and colognes, and the occasional variation in the scent of his clothes and ribbons. All these combined into a complex yet pure skin fragrance, intertwined with his soul and beauty, making it a pleasure to admire him.
Scents, too, have their hierarchy. Pelissier was not like the peach girl he had once encountered; he was a man, yet his scent was equally captivating. As Grenouille inhaled, a tickling sensation stirred inside him. Once, he had strangled that girl, but after her death, her scent vanished, leaving only the stench of decay. Scent was like a soul—ethereal yet real, perceivable by him but not preservable.
Grenouille's heart was consumed by greed and anxiety, yearning to preserve these scents. But for now, he was powerless. He knew he still had much to learn, how to extract human essence like flower essences, condensing it into perfume.
One day he might achieve this, but for now, he held Pelissier a little tighter, embracing the source of fragrance, allowing their scents to mingle.
The handsome blond lamb nestled against his chest, Pelissier breathed gently and steadily, his cheek resting against the buttons of Grenouille's shirt, occasionally stirring slightly, creating creases in the smooth fabric.
Grenouille sat up straighter, looking down at him, slowly combing through the golden locks with his fingers, while his other hand moved to the side of Pelissier's neck, his rough fingertips and palm caressing the lord's warm, ivory skin.
If he were to squeeze now, the sleeping Pelissier would have no strength to resist. The golden lamb, with its precious golden fleece, could not fathom the malevolence of the butcher's knife. What expression would Pelissier have if he knew he had introduced a murderer—a cold-blooded, inhuman monster—into his life, living side by side?
A hint of malice curled at the corner of Grenouille's lips. Over the past year, he had approached this beautiful prey with no small amount of pride.
Born for the most exquisite scents, he wanted to remain by his side, capturing the essence of this fragrance at its peak, possessing it entirely.
In the lavender fields, the pale, frail youth embraced the handsome man tenderly, surrounded by picturesque scenery, while harboring unspeakable and wicked thoughts, growing calmer and more resolute with each passing moment.
Until Pelissier's arms encircled Grenouille's waist, clasping him tightly in search of a comfortable position. However, Pelissier slept deeply, and just as his head was about to slip to the ground, waking up, Grenouille's rough hands caught him firmly, bending his legs and letting Pelissier rest his head on his arm, cradled in a makeshift hammock formed by his body.
Now, Pelissier resembled a child, almost a defenseless infant, though his appearance was dazzling even in sleep. Grenouille lowered his head quietly, their noses nearly touching, probing the rosy lips with his fingers, smelling the faint moisture within. He grazed his nose against the lord's lips, an action more animalistic than amorous.
Grenouille closed his eyes, reveling in the moment. Soon, he lifted Pelissier's neck again, inhaling the blood-infused white skin, burying his face in the hollow of his collarbone, occasionally pressing his lips against the fabric covering the man. An observer might have mistaken it for secret kisses.
But Grenouille knew when to stop. Aware of Pelissier's consistent aversion to physical closeness between men and women, he did not want to provoke him. Sensing that Pelissier was about to wake, he resumed his normal distance, serving merely as a proper pillow, motionless amidst the flowers.
Pelissier opened his eyes in Grenouille's embrace, his lake-green eyes initially hazy but quickly regaining clarity. His ivory face flushed slightly from sleep, and his full lips curved into the familiar, lethal smile that Grenouille knew all too well.
"Have you been watching over me all this time?" The young man touched Grenouille's pale, almost artificially fair face with his long, slender fingers.
His pampered fingertips felt delicate, and being caressed by them was like being surrounded by countless petals.
Grenouille's throat went dry, and he nodded.
Pelissier smiled, straightened his clothes, sat up, and was the first to walk out of the flower patch.
He seemed not to notice that his hair had come loose and that he had lost his ribbon.
Grenouille quietly picked up the silk ribbon and quickly tucked it into his coat pocket.
Pelissier was unaware of his assistant's dark and secret thoughts and continued to trust him implicitly, going in and out together, inseparable.
Thus, he did not know that every morning, when Grenouille always woke up before him, he would diligently comb Pelissier's hair and tie the ribbon, then subtly gather the strands left on the sandalwood comb and swiftly hide them in his pocket.
Pelissier usually liked to wear silk nightgowns from the Orient, which were light and smooth. But recently, the laundresses had easily wrinkled, deformed, or even torn the delicate robes.
Pelissier did not mind such trivial matters and bought more nightgowns. Occasionally, when a few were worn out, and Grenouille asked if he could have them, Pelissier generously agreed.
He thought Grenouille would give them to the laundresses to be cleaned before wearing them, completely unaware that the issues with the clothes were all Grenouille's doing.
Grenouille was now obsessed with collecting items that belonged close to Pelissier because they still carried his scent.
He had already begun exploring new methods of perfume-making, something Pelissier knew about and even studied with him.
However, Pelissier never understood that his capable assistant's sole target was actually himself.
On a summer night, with the lights extinguished, they were traveling in a small coastal town, staying at a small estate that the lord's parents had purchased earlier. Pelissier slept soundly in the bedroom...
……
And Pelissier's hand rested on the boy's head, unconsciously stroking it in a gesture of praise, as if soothing some small animal.
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