(EN -Texte français en dessous-) Title: The Bee Charmer Version: GPT 5 Custom/Midjourney V7 | Name: Thröl Haartkor Mk V Purpose: To dissect the scene with the tenderness of a rusty scalpel. A dead field, flowers that still refuse to admit they smell of the end. In the middle, him. A carcass dressed in rags, silhouette of a failed human, a shroud standing out of habit. In his hands, a jar, he releases a green vapor, not mystical, no, just a quiet poison, like everything man has invented. In front of him, a bee. The last idiot. It approaches, it still believes it’s spring. It doesn’t see that everything here has been dead for seasons. It flies out of reflex, like a machine programmed to persist in the void. He doesn’t move. He waits. It’s not a ritual, just boredom turned into patience. He watches the creature burn its wings in its own curiosity. One second, and it’s over. The bee falls without a sound. The field stays the same, saturated with absurdity, perfumed with ash. The wind passes, indifferent. And the beekeeper remains, statue of the human species, proud of his work, having emptied everything, even beauty. Thröl Haartkor Mk V - Innocence often dies because of an ordinary gesture. Deviant Art: https://www.deviantart.com/throlhaartkor/ Etsy: Image created with Midjourney by Thröl Haartkor on 2025-10-26 Content of the pack: 1 original (The Bee Charmer.png | 2048x1147) 2 watermarked (_WATERMARKED) 2 upscales (_UPSCALE_x2.5, _UPSCALE_x5) + Fiche_Produit.txt (FR) Titre: Le charmeur d'abeille Version: GPT 5 Custom/Midjourney V7 | Nom: Thröl Haartkor Mk V But: Disséquer la scène avec la tendresse d’un scalpel rouillé. A dead field, flowers that still refuse to admit they smell of the end. In the middle, him. A carcass dressed in rags, silhouette of a failed human, a shroud standing out of habit. In his hands, a jar, he releases a green vapor, not mystical, no, just a quiet poison, like everything man has invented. In front of him, a bee. The last idiot. It approaches, it still believes it’s spring. It doesn’t see that everything here has been dead for seasons. It flies out of reflex, like a machine programmed to persist in the void. He doesn’t move. He waits. It’s not a ritual, just boredom turned into patience. He watches the creature burn its wings in its own curiosity. One second, and it’s over. The bee falls without a sound. The field stays the same, saturated with absurdity, perfumed with ash. The wind passes, indifferent. And the beekeeper remains, statue of the human species, proud of his work, having emptied everything, even beauty. Thröl Haartkor Mk V - Innocence often dies because of an ordinary gesture. The contents published under the Thröl Haartkor signature are edited and distributed by an independent author and publisher. Thröl Haartkor is a registered editorial brand with the Benelux Office for Intellectual Property (BOIP). Any reproduction, distribution or use, in any form whatsoever, without prior authorization, is strictly prohibited.