I was reminded of the French film *Perfume: The Story of a Murderer*.
When I saw the protagonist born in the slums and beginning to learn perfume-making from a merchant, I thought it was an inspirational film; when the beautiful woman appeared, I expected a romance. Only after finishing it did I realize it was an art-house film.
Fate denied the protagonist a scent of his own but endowed him with an unparalleled sense of smell. Shunned from birth—even abandoned by his mother—he lived a life where those who cast him aside met with retribution; for every deprivation, he received a greater gift. His unique talent allowed him to gradually escape his wretched surroundings and pursue a better future, yet his inner obsession drove him to commit a series of murders.
The apple girl he encountered earlier didn't even know him; she was accidentally killed simply because her scent captivated him.
Then there was the nobleman's daughter; even after watching the film several times, I still don't understand what heinous act she committed to warrant such a fate—being hunted down to the ends of the earth just to be killed.
I feel this wasn't merely about his obsession with fragrance, but also a deep-seated jealousy toward the "perfect" girl. Lacking a scent of his own, he envied those who possessed their own unique aromas.
When he was captured, I expected a death sentence, yet the thousands of citizens and the judges in the square were utterly bewitched by his perfume. Hypnotized by the scent, they ceased to see Grenouille as a murderer, viewing him instead as a pure, flawless angel or deity, and even descended into a state of collective frenzy.
The protagonist's ultimate self-destruction was an act of pure self-indulgence. He had obtained everything he desired, yet he remained utterly alone—unloved and unaccepted for who he truly was. Without the perfume, he was once again nothing more than the infant abandoned
by the fishmonger, the cheap laborer passed from employer to employer; he was a nobody. Thus, he returned to a state of nothingness—as if he had never existed in this world at all.