Chapter Text
The Moulin Rouge!
Disclaimer: I do not own the movie Moulin Rouge. I also, do not own the game Tekken. It is only a fanfiction; it will not do any harm to us! I just wanted to do this…
Chapter One – Nature Boy
Paris, 1900.
The greatest thing, you’ll ever see. Is just to love and be loved in return.
The Moulin Rouge. A nightclub, a dance hall, and a brothel. Ruled over by Baek Doo San. Kingdom of nighttime pleasures, where the rich and powerful came to play with the young, and beautiful creatures of the underworld. The most beautiful of these was the men I loved.
Hwoarang. A courtesan, he sold his love. They called him “the sparkling diamond.” And he was the star of the Moulin Rouge.
The man I loved… is… dead.
I first came to Paris. one year ago. It was 1899, the summer of love, I knew nothing about the Moulin Rouge, Baek Doo San, or Hwoarang. The world had been swept up in bohemian revolution, and I had traveled from Japan to be a part of it. On the hill near Paris was the village of Montmartre. It was not, as my father said—
“A village of sin!”
But the center of the bohemian world. Musicians, painters, writers. They were known as “the children of the revolution”. Yes, I had come to live a penniless existence. I had come to write about truth, beauty, freedom and that which I believed in above all things—love.
“Always this ridiculous obsession with love!”
There was only one problem—I’d never been in love. Luckily, right at that moment, an unconscious Argentinean fell trough my roof. He was quickly joined by a dwarf dressed as a nun.
“How do you do? My name is Lars Alexandersson.”
“What?”
“I’m terribly sorry about all this. We were just upstairs rehearsing for a play.”
“What?”
A play, something very modern called Spectacular Spectacular.
“And it’s set in Switzerland.”
Unfortunately, the unconscious Argentinean suffer from a sickness called narcolepsy.
“Perfectly fine one moment, then suddenly—unconscious the next.”
“How is he? Wonderful. Now the narcoleptic Argentinean is now unconscious. Therefore, the scenario will not be finished in time to present to the financier tomorrow.”
“He’s right, Lars. I still have to finish the music.”
“Find someone to read the part.”
“Where in heaven’s name are we going to find someone to read the role of a young sensitive Swiss poet/goat herder?”
Before I knew it, I was upstairs, standing in for the unconscious Argentinean.
"The hills animate, with the euphonious symphonis of descant. "
“Oh stop, stop! Stop, stop, stop, stop! Stop that insufferable droning. It’s drowning out my words. Can we please just stick to a little decorative piano?”
There seemed to be artistic differences over Julia’s lyrics to Hwoarang’s songs.
“I don’t think a nun would say that about a hill.”
“What if he sings, the hills are vital, intoning the descant?”
“No, no.”
“The hills quake and shake.”
“No, no, no, no. The hills—”
“The hills are incarnate with symphonic melodies!”
“No.”
“No. The hills—”
“The hills—”
“The hills—”
“Are chanting the eternal mantra.”
What a chaos about finishing a song. Not knowing how important it would be to that one courtesan. Meanwhile I tried to grab the attention. So, I sang.
“The hills are alive, with the sound of music”
It worked. They all cheered.
“The hills are alive, with the sound of music. I love it!”
Everyone seemed to like it. Only Julia was disappointed with it. So, I continued with the singing.
“With the songs they have sung, for a thousand years.”
“Incandiferous! Julia, you two should write the show together.”
“I beg your pardon?”
But Lars’s suggestion that Julia and I write the show together was not what Julia wanted to hear. She left.
“Here’s to your first job in Paris.”
“Lars, Doo San would never agree. No offense, but have you ever written anything like that before?”
“No.”
“Ahh! The boy has talent! I like him! Nothing funny. I just like talent.”
“The hills are alive with the sound of music. See, Hwoarang with Jin, we can write the truly bohemian revolutionary show that we’ve always dreamt of.”
“But how will we convince Doo San?”
But Lars, had a plan.
“Hwoarang…”
They would dress me in the Argentinean’s best suit and pass me off as a famous English writer. Once Hwoarang heard my modern poetry, he would be astounded, and insist to Doo San that I write Spectacular Spectacular. The only problem was, that I kept hearing my father’s voice in my head.
“You’ll end up wasting your life at the Moulin Rouge with a cancan dancer!”
“No I can’t write the show for the Moulin Rouge!”
“Why not?”
“I don’t even know if I am a true bohemian revolutionary.”
“What?”
“Do you believe in beauty?”
“Yes.”
“Freedom?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Truth?”
“Yes.”
“Love?”
“Love? Love. Above all things, I believe in love. Love is like oxygen. Love is a many-splendored thing. Love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love.”
“See, you can’t fool us. You’re the voice of the children of the revolution!”
“We can’t be fooled!”
“Let’s drink to the new writer of the world’s first bohemian revolutionary show!”
It was the perfect plan. I was to audition for Hwoarang, and I would taste my first glass of… absinthe.
Yeah, freedom, beauty, truth, and love!
We were off to the Moulin Rouge, and I was to perform my poetry for Hwoarang.
The Moulin Rouge!
Baek Doo San, and his infamous people. They called them, his “Diamond Dogs.” There were beautiful dancers. Sparkling to the eyes. Dancing everywhere you can see. Popping up to the eyes. But the show was about to start. Everyone who wanted this, was here to see it. My moment was waiting around the corner. We were sitting up, in higher place.
“Ssh, ssh! Mission accomplished. We successfully evaded Doo San.”
Suddenly the lights went out. Then the real show was just about to begin…
“It’s him, the sparkling diamonds.”
He pointed up. Where the light shined so bright. So, there he was…
The French are glad to die for love… They delight in fighting duels…
But someone else was to meet Hwoarang that night.
But I prefer a man, who lives.
Doo San’s investor.
And gives expensive jewels.
The duchess.
The show just began. Flying around the busiest crowd. And I just couldn't keep my eyes off from him.
A kiss on the hand may be quite continental but diamonds are a girl's best friend . A kiss may be grand, but it won't pay the rental, on your humble flat, or help you feed your, mrow, pussy cat. Men grow cold as girls grow old. And we all lose our charms in the end. But square-cut or pear-shaped These rocks don't lose their shape. Diamonds are a girl's best friend…
„When am I going the meet the boy?”
Tiffany!
“After his number, I’ve arranged a special meeting. Just you and monsieur Hwoarang. Totally alone.”
Cartier!
“After his number, I’ve arranged a private meeting, just you and monsieur Hwoarang, totally alone.”
Lars spoke to me.
“Totally alone?”
“Yes, totally alone.”
'Cause we are living in a material world, and I am a material girl. Come and get me, boys. Black, Starr, Ross Cole, talk to me, Baek Doo San, tell me all about it!
There may come a time when a lass needs a lawyer, but diamonds are a girl's best friend! There may come a time when a hard-boiled employer thinks you're awful nice Oooo but get that ice or else no dice!
“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’ll sally forth and tee things up.”
There was the trick. As I saw it.
“Is the highness here, Baek?”
“Liebchen, would daddy let you down?”
“Where are they?”
“They are the one Lars is shaking a hanky at.”
“Excuse me, Jin. May I borrow?”
Diamonds are a girl's best, diamonds are a girl's best, diamonds are a girl's best friend.
And there was the time, when the most handsome courtesan ever laid their eyes on me.
“Are you sure?”
“Let me peek. That’s one cheakpee. I hope that demonic little loon doesn’t frighten them off.”
“Will they invest?”
“Pigeon! After spending the night with you, how could they refuse?”
“What is their type? Wilting flower, hmm? Bright and bubbly? Ah! Or smoldering temptress?”
“I’d say smoldering temptress. We’re all relying on you, gosling. Remember, a real show, in a real theater, with a real audience, and you’ll be--”
“A real actor.”
'Cause that's when those louses, go back to their spouses, diamonds are a girl's best friend!
Therefore, I could even realize, he was there.
“I believe you are expecting me.”
“Yes. Yes.”
“I’m afraid it’s man’s choice!”
How the audience cheered. And I was so afraid.