It was marketed as a revolutionary fragrance, a powerful scent that could alter moods and personalities. When Essence Noire hit the market, people were skeptical. A perfume that could make someone more confident? More attractive? More powerful? It sounded like a marketing gimmick. But those who tried it knew better.
Lena was one of the first customers. She was shy, always fading into the background. The moment she spritzed Essence Noire onto her wrists, something shifted inside her. Her usual nervousness disappeared. She walked into work with an air of authority, speaking boldly in meetings. By the end of the day, even her boss took notice, praising her newfound confidence.
Meanwhile, Jared, known for his cold demeanor, tried the perfume on a whim. Within minutes, he felt lighter, more open. He laughed more, complimented strangers, and reconnected with his estranged sister. The scent had awakened something within him—something buried deep.
Soon, rumors spread. Some claimed the perfume didn’t just enhance personalities—it rewired them. A timid woman became ruthlessly ambitious. A faithful husband turned unfaithful. A kind-hearted teacher developed a sharp, manipulative edge.
People started questioning whether they were indeed themselves while wearing it. Some refused to remove it, fearing they’d revert to their old, unsatisfactory lives. Others, horrified by what they had become, swore never to use it again.
The origins of Essence Noire were shrouded in secrecy. Its creator, an elusive perfumer known only as Madame Lys, never appeared publicly. Some speculated she infused the perfume with alchemical ingredients or ancient rituals. Others believed it was a social experiment, testing the limits of identity.
Then, a disturbing discovery was made. An investigative journalist uncovered that Madame Lys’s previous fragrances had been banned in multiple countries due to their psychological effects. Some claimed her scents could control minds.
One day, the perfume vanished from shelves overnight. Those who had stockpiled it clung to their bottles, unwilling to let go. But as time passed, strange reports emerged—former users feeling empty, as if a part of them had been taken away.
Some whispered that Madame Lys had not just sold a fragrance—she had sold a piece of herself to every person who wore it. And now, she was calling them back.
