The Snare of Symmetry C1

Chapter 1

Life is always close at hand—

which is precisely why it can be gentle,

and at the same time, the most merciless of all.

So do not be deceived by the life that stays beside you.

“Hold your head up straight. Act like Elliott.”

At his father Liam’s words, Bernard stuck out his tongue and licked his dry lips. His mouth was so parched it stung; he took a sip of champagne to soothe it.

“If only Elliott weren’t sick……”

The moment Liam brought up the twins, Bernard’s head dipped ever so slightly.

It was a party frequently attended by people in the publishing industry. Only those who loved books and possessed invitations could enter. What had once begun as a modest gathering had, over time, turned into an exclusive networking event with an increasingly high barrier to entry.

Perhaps because even celebrities occasionally made time to attend, the gathering had gained a certain authority. Liam, who ran a small, struggling publishing house, scraped together every connection he had to barely secure an invitation—and then made sure to attend the party every single month, as if stamping his attendance. Bernard found that showy persistence embarrassing.

“I don’t think I can attend this party,” someone said.

“Mr. Gusto said he really wanted to see you, Elliott.”

“Wouldn’t Bernard going in your place be fine?” came another voice. “We’re twins anyway. If he pretends to be me, no one will know. I’ll tell him everything he needs to say. It’ll help Father’s business too. Right, Bernard?”

Gusto was a famous author Liam was desperate to sign, and rumors had been circulating that he had recently begun writing a new work. The reason Liam wanted to bring Elliott was simple: Gusto had once singled Elliott out and called him his muse. According to the original plan, Liam intended to take Elliott along, win Gusto’s favor, and secure the contract.

“If only you had even half of Elliott’s social finesse,” Liam muttered. “What are you even good for?”

“……I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, you useless thing. Do well. If you mess this up, you won’t find it funny. This is important.”

Even as Liam scolded him with an irritated expression, all that happened was the color draining further from Bernard’s face. He was used to this treatment. He had always been treated coldly, everywhere he went, and had long since grown accustomed to listening to other people’s criticism. If one tried to pinpoint when it began, it was already far too distant.

Elliott and Bernard.

They were twins born only minutes apart, yet the textures of their lives were entirely different.

Unlike Elliott, who had been physically weak from birth, Bernard was healthy—so much so that it almost looked as if he had grown by stealing all of Elliott’s life force.

Perhaps that was why. Liam and Sarah doted excessively on Elliott. Frequently hospitalized, Elliott monopolized all attention. Bernard, left alone at home, learned how to fry eggs and make sandwiches by the age of seven.

Bernard was a child who grew well on his own. He knew how to hide his opinions, how to restrain himself, and he had patience. But he was never praised. Taking care of himself so that his parents could focus on their sick son—this was something natural to Bernard, something akin to an obligation.

As he grew older, his personality only darkened. Bernard Whale was an outcast within his own family, yet at the same time the one tasked with absorbing all of their sighs and irritation. This naturally led to abuse—because Bernard was someone it was permissible to treat that way. If one were to look for reasons for his misfortune, there were more than enough, all trivial enough to be kicked aside.

Because of this environment, Elliott and Bernard, though twins, grew into starkly different figures. Elliott—radiant like the sun, sparkling and lovable. Bernard—pressed down by shadows, gloomy and oppressive. That was how the world saw them.

“To think he talked through the whole work with Mr. Gusto at some point—what a remarkable kid,” Liam said proudly.

“……Did Elliott say that?”

“Mr. Gusto told me himself, all excited. Said the part he was stuck on cleared right up thanks to Elliott. He went on and on, saying the success of his previous work was practically Elliott’s doing—and then the old man still wouldn’t sign a contract. Just wait. This time he’ll definitely work with us. Otherwise, why would he call Elliott his muse?”

Liam’s animated voice carried on. A faint smile surfaced on Bernard’s face, only to evaporate just as quickly.

He had spoken with Elliott about Gusto’s work before. Bernard, who genuinely liked Gusto’s novels, had enthusiastically shared his own thoughts. Elliott had passed those thoughts on to Gusto as if they were his own. Gusto, delighted, praised Elliott lavishly.

It was the truth Liam did not know.

But Bernard did not feel wronged. Elliott surely hadn’t acted out of malice. Perhaps Gusto had simply grown excited and babbled on his own to Liam after hearing something useful. It wouldn’t do to feel resentful.

After all… no one ever listened carefully to what Bernard said anyway.

“But where is this man? Why is he taking so long? Don’t tell me he got lost again…… Go check outside.”

“Me?”

“Who else? I’m the one who needs to do business.”

“No,” Bernard replied quietly, and left the party hall.

The bright lights gradually receded behind him. As he descended the stairs, he scanned his surroundings. Gusto might arrive at any moment. Liam had likely sent him out because he was uneasy, afraid Bernard might fail at his role. Though he had brought Bernard as Elliott’s substitute, Bernard was unmistakably different—and therefore unreliable.

“It’s hot……”

With summer just around the corner, even the night air was warm. Feeling his cheeks flush, Bernard stood blankly in front of the large mansion. Along the wide road, cars were lined up in a long row. Had they arrived any later, they would have struggled to find parking.

As he fidgeted with his hands, about to text Elliott to ask if he was feeling any better—

“Elliott.”

At the sudden call, Bernard lifted his head a beat too late. Someone was staggering toward him out of the darkness.

“……McGogan?”

He spoke hesitantly, unsure.

“Yeah, Elliott! It’s me… Chris…… Damn it, they said I’d see you if I came here, and here you are. Hic! You never answer my calls. Huh? Why’d you do that?”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb! You asked me for a favor—said if I did it, we’d have diiiinner together, hic! And now you’re pretending not to know me?”

The closer the man came, the stronger the stench of alcohol grew. Bernard stiffened and stepped back.

Chris McGogan.

A university alumnus of both Elliott and Bernard—and someone who had relentlessly harassed Bernard in the past.

Bernard’s breathing began to tremble. He needed to retreat. Right now, he was here in Elliott’s place. He couldn’t let it be discovered that he was Bernard.

Run.

The thought surfaced immediately, only to be discarded by the question that followed: Where?

Chris closed the distance in an instant. Grabbing Bernard by the shoulder, he began to slur out his drunken rant.

“Ugh… you think I’m some pushover, hic? You too, huh? Damn it… you think I’m a joke!”

The grip on his shoulder tightened. Elliott and Chris were friends—at least on the surface. It was common knowledge at the university that Chris had been chasing Elliott, wanting to get his hands on him. It wasn’t anything particularly unusual.

Elliott was the type of beauty with blurred boundaries—popular with both men and women. Among them were occasionally those who turned into unsavory stalkers.

Like this.

Bernard swallowed hard.

“If you were gonna go to a party… you should’ve answered… my calls. What the hell do you take me for, huh?”

He needed to tell Chris to calm down. Or to stop.

But Bernard couldn’t say anything.

Violence carved into his bones locked him in place. At the same time, fear crept in—if he said the wrong thing, his identity might be exposed.

“…Well, would you look at that?”

Chris slowly raked his gaze over Bernard’s body, his eyes lighting up. It wasn’t hard to read the vile intent behind that look.

“Bernard, you little shit…… where’d you leave those glasses you always wear?”

“I’m… n-no……”

“You frustrating bastard—hey! What the fuck are you doing?!”

Bernard hurriedly touched his left ear. Once, Chris had hit him so hard his eardrum tore and healed again. A ringing seemed to fill his ears. His breathing quickened, his heart pounding. He thought he had answered—but the memory vanished in an instant.

Drunk, Chris wore a rawer expression than usual.

Too late, Bernard thought, How did he know? His face stiffened.

It was his fault. His own stupidity—how he always tensed up at the sight of his abuser and ended up making mistakes……

“But damn… look at you, hic. You really do look the part. This is fun…… So even you end up like this. You bastard—acting all innocent at school……”

The brutal grip on his chin forced Bernard’s lips shut. He would hit him. It was a familiar pattern.

Just as Bernard squeezed his eyes shut—

“Quiet party, they said.”

A stranger’s voice cut in.

Bernard’s breath hitched violently.

By the mansion’s fence, within the shadowed night, a small light flared briefly—followed by the acrid curl of cigarette smoke.

“I was told it’d be a quiet, useful party. But all I smell is alcohol.”

“What the fuck—”

“Wouldn’t it be better to sober up a bit?”

The voice was unhurried.

The man spoke softly, without a trace of fear—his tone calm, as though reciting a dinner menu. He stepped beneath the streetlamp, and Bernard’s gaze nailed him in place.

The man was breathtakingly beautiful, with black hair and blue eyes.

“I was about to report that someone inappropriate seems to have attended the party. But perhaps it takes time to sober up. Still, you’d need enough sense left to give a statement to the police.”

The cigarette in his mouth blurred his diction slightly. Standing beneath the streetlight, he smiled—unexpectedly gentle, utterly out of place in the situation.