Chapter 3: Back to Normal, You Say?

Every day was a world without color.

It had been two years since I lost my sense of smell, and the talent that allowed me to see fragrances as colors and light had disappeared without a trace.

COVID hadn’t simply taken my sense of smell.

It had taken everything.

And it had also taken my mentor and teacher, Evan.

After leaving the hospital, I spent a long time trying to recover my sense of smell, but eventually failed. For the past year, I had practically been living like a wreck.

A world without visible fragrances felt as though my arms and legs had been cut off.

And to make things worse, Evan, who had always been beside me as both teacher and friend, was gone as well.

“Ugh… If I die young, it’ll be Evan’s fault. This rum really makes it feel like my head is going to explode when I wake up.”

Like any other day, I woke up with a hangover from the cheap rum Evan had taught me to drink. I couldn’t even remember when I had fallen asleep.

Just then, a doorbell rang.

Ding-dong.

Groaning, I dragged myself off the sofa and staggered toward the front door.

As I walked, a thought crossed my mind.

“Who could it be? Surely not my family?”

Very few people ever came to see me.

I had spent most of my life locked inside perfumers’ laboratories. Other than Evan’s friends, the master perfumers, I didn’t really have any friends.

And they were all busy with their work. Besides, I had never given them my address.

The only people who knew where I lived were my family.

But I had already told them that the three months I spent in a coma due to COVID were because I had been busy with a major project.

And afterward, I told them I was on a long business trip in England while preparing to become a master perfumer.

So the chances of them suddenly showing up were low.

“AAAH!”

Halfway to the door, I stepped on a rum bottle cap lying on the floor.

After letting out a painful scream, I finally reached the entrance.

While rubbing my injured foot, I opened the door.

“Who is it…? M-Miss Valeria?”

The person peeking through the small opening created by the security chain was completely unexpected.

Blonde hair.

Tall.

Thick eyebrows.

Gray eyes.

Valerie Laurentia.

The CEO of Maison de l’Étoile.

The only daughter of the Laurentia family.

A noblewoman from British aristocracy who might one day inherit a title.

While Evan was alive, we had shared meals together a few times because he arranged them.

But that was all.

Outside of product launch events, we had never met privately.

I had been balancing on one foot after stepping on the bottle cap.

But the shock of seeing her made me instinctively put my foot down.

Thud.

“AAAAH!”

A sharp pain shot through my foot as it landed directly on the edge of the partially opened door.

Valerie’s eyes widened.

Then she smiled.

“So, Mr. Seodam is actually human. This side of you feels much more human.”

“…What?”

I rubbed my foot and looked at her in confusion.

Then she asked,

“Are you going to leave me standing here?”

“O-Oh, no. Please come in.”

I removed the security chain and let her inside.

The moment I opened the door fully, I regretted it.

I hadn’t properly cleaned my apartment in months.

As she walked past me, I caught a faint scent that felt strangely familiar.

But before I could think about it, Valerie looked around the room and gasped.

“What scent was that? It feels familiar…”

“Wow…”

She stared at the disaster that was my apartment with the expression of someone seeing something fascinating.

Considering she had spent her entire life among aristocrats and the upper class, I suppose it was a novel sight.

“This is quite an interesting scene.”

“I don’t think there’s anywhere to sit…”

“I came to talk. Should we move somewhere else?”

“If that’s alright?”

“Of course. Just a moment.”

She pulled out her phone.

“It’s me. Let’s move the meeting. To that place. Also, please send someone to clean Mr. Seodam’s apartment.”

“No, I can clean it myself—”

She hung up before I could finish.

“Consider it a gift. I came empty-handed.”

Then she turned toward the door with a smile.

“Fifteen minutes. That should be enough time to get ready, right? My time is expensive.”

“O-Of course!”

I immediately rushed toward the bathroom.

I had no idea why she had come.

But I felt guilty enough that my body moved automatically.

After all…

I had essentially been absent from work for six months.

* * *

The limousine carrying Valerie and me drove through London.

On the way, it passed near the cemetery where Evan’s family was buried.

Valerie had been busy working on her laptop since before I got into the car.

Since I felt guilty about everything, I didn’t even dare ask where we were going.

Finally, she closed her laptop and removed her glasses.

“I haven’t eaten yet. Do you mind having a meal together?”

She was obviously inviting me to lunch.

As if I were in any position to refuse.

“Uh… Of course.”

I nodded.

Then she asked about my condition.

“How’s your health?”

“Everything has recovered except one thing.”

“So it still hasn’t returned.”

“…No.”

After hearing my answer, she thought for a moment before speaking to the woman sitting beside her, who appeared to be her secretary.

“What about the hospital?”

“I arranged another appointment with Professor Norton in case anything has changed.”

“Anyone else?”

“He’s still considered the world’s leading expert in this field.”

The mention of Professor Norton reminded me of a conversation I had with him a year earlier.

***

“Will my sense of smell never fully recover?”

When the company learned that I had lost my sense of smell, they spared no expense.

They arranged consultations with famous doctors around the world.

Professor Norton was one of them.

One of the world’s foremost authorities in otolaryngology.

A specialist who had spent decades studying the loss of smell and taste.

He had even flown to England personally to examine me.

At the time, he explained:

“About 40 to 50 percent of COVID patients experience loss of smell or taste. Most recover within a month.

However, after six months, around 11.3 percent still experience smell dysfunction. Of those, about 10 percent suffer reduced smell, while 1.3 percent completely lose it.”

“So I’m one of the unlucky 1.3 percent?”

“Oh no. That’s for complete loss of smell. Frankly, your current sense of smell is still better than that of most ordinary people.”

“What?”

“You’re a perfumer, correct? Even among perfumers, a sense of smell like yours is rare. I’d like to study it myself.”

“Then why?”

“My guess is that your actual sense of smell hasn’t changed much compared to before.”

“It hasn’t changed?”

“That’s right.”

“But…”

“Does it feel vastly different to you?”

“It feels like I’ve lost my arms and legs!”

Professor Norton had calmly claimed that my sense of smell was essentially unchanged.

Seeing my disbelief, he asked:

“Have you ever heard of Savant Syndrome?”

“Savant Syndrome?”

I had heard of it.

People with autism or developmental disorders sometimes display extraordinary abilities in specific areas.

“Yes. People with remarkable talents in certain fields.”

“Correct. I once read a paper about a man who could perform calculations involving enormous numbers instantly. To him, numbers appeared differently.”

“Differently?”

“For example, he might see the number one as a small triangle and nine as a large octagon. Large numbers appear to him as collections of shapes.”

Then he looked at me.

“Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

“Ah… Like how I see scents as colors and light.”

“Exactly.”

It was certainly similar.

He saw numbers as shapes.

I saw scents as colors.

And both of us somehow arrived at answers instinctively.

But I wasn’t autistic.

I tried to point that out.

However, Professor Norton continued.

“You’re right. You’re neither autistic nor developmentally disabled. But unusual information processing caused by abnormalities in the temporal lobe’s filtering function can create similar phenomena.”

“Then… are you saying I wasn’t normal before?”

His explanation sounded exactly like that.

And his answer confirmed it.

“Yes. If you want to put it bluntly, your current state could be considered normal.”

Normal.

According to him, the filtering function in my brain had simply returned to normal.

“Then…”

“Of course we’d need brain scans to be certain. But if my theory is correct, there is no treatment. Doctors research ways to heal people, not to damage them.”

***

I returned to the present and spoke to Valerie.

“I won’t undergo any more tests or treatments.”

She looked intrigued.

“Why?”

“If anything had changed, I would have noticed first. It feels like a waste of money.”

Valerie responded with a mischievous smile.

“And yet you’ve skipped work for six months.”

“I-I’m sorry. In my condition, I didn’t think I’d be of any help.”

“You’re still collecting a salary.”

I had no response.

After all, I had a lifetime contract with her company.

Since the topic had come up, I decided to address it directly.

“About my contract… I think it would be better to terminate it. Professor Norton says my sense of smell is still better than most perfumers, but I’ve never worked like this before. I don’t think I can contribute much.”

Valerie didn’t even hesitate.

“Denied.”

“…Why?”

“If a lifetime-contracted master perfumer could cancel their contract simply because they got sick, why would any perfumer trust Maison de l’Étoile?”

“But—”

“If you feel guilty, then find some way to contribute.”

Normally, master perfumers signed lifetime contracts.

Training one required enormous money and time.

The company couldn’t risk losing them.

I had received mine even earlier because of my extraordinary talent.

From a business perspective, her reasoning made sense.

But I couldn’t answer immediately.

Silence filled the limousine.

Soon, we arrived in central London.

***

“Where are we?”

Valerie looked at me.

“Evan brought me here a few times. Do you recognize it?”

“…It’s where Evan and I had our last meal together.”

My answer caught her off guard.

“Um… Should we go somewhere else?”

“No.”

I smiled faintly.

“Thank you.”

I truly meant it.

This was another place where I could still feel traces of Evan.

As soon as we entered, rich aromas of spices filled the air.

A thought crossed my mind.

What colors would these scents have shown me before?

But there was no point thinking about it.

Those memories could never return.

When we entered the dining area, I noticed something strange.

The restaurant was almost empty.

The reason quickly became obvious.

Employees were politely turning away customers at the entrance.

And in the middle of the restaurant sat a single prepared table.

Had she rented out the entire place?

After we sat down, Valerie ordered with surprising familiarity.

“The usual.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The waiter nodded immediately.

The usual?

I looked at her questioningly.

She quickly defended herself.

“It’s not a big deal. I’ve come here occasionally. That’s all.”

A little while later, a simple meal was placed before us.

Golden curry.

Naan bread.

And tandoori chicken.

The exact same meal I had once eaten with Evan.

“Thank you…”

My chest tightened with emotion as memories resurfaced.

Just as I lifted my spoon—

Valerie spoke.

“Evan once told me that India has endless freedom and countless roads. He said that when you get lost, wandering wherever you want often helps you find the path you were searching for.”

She paused.

“This isn’t India, but I hope it helps you a little, Mr. Seodam.”

I nodded.

Maybe I would find a path again someday.

Then I took a bite of curry.

And something impossible happened.

A golden whirlpool exploded inside my mind.

My pupils dilated.

My hands trembled.

The spoon slipped from my fingers.

Clang.

“Seodam?”

Valerie’s voice sounded distant.

The curry I had just tasted felt as though something had struck my brain directly.

Suddenly, a dazzling display of light appeared before my eyes.

The deep yellow of turmeric spread through my mind like warm rays of sunlight.

Brown whirlwinds of cumin swept over it.

The green fragrance of coriander spiraled through the air.

The mixed lights exploded into waves of orange heat.

The colors representing each spice rose and blended together like a perfectly performed orchestral symphony.

Turmeric.

Cinnamon.

Ginger.

Coriander.

Nutmeg.

Poppy seeds.

The palette of scents created by their delicate harmony.

Something astonishingly similar to my lost ability to visualize fragrances had suddenly reappeared the moment the curry touched my tongue.