Since When?
When did it start? My oldest memory was of being led by the hand of some relative whose face I can't even recall and handed over to the orphanage. I was just starting kindergarten then, too young to grasp that my family was in dire straits, let alone accept that I had to leave my real parents for such a reason and live with strangers. Of course, none of that mattered—things moved forward without me around my parents, who never even came to visit, and even their relatives fled the orphanage like it was a prison break. The moment I realized I'd been left utterly alone in the world for the first time, tears poured down my cheeks in a flood of grief. I sobbed in a teacher's arms for what felt like forever before finally drifting off in a strange room with strange kids. That was my first day at the orphanage.
Separate from the world—my entire world—abandoning me, I was actually pretty popular there. The kind, gentle teachers adored me as a polite, good boy. They'd sneak me extra snacks when the other kids weren't looking or pick the best donated goods for me first. Thanks to the adults looking out for me, I got along well with the other children and lived a relatively comfortable, cozy life. Even at the national kindergarten tied to the orphanage, I met great teachers and friends, playing puzzle games and drawing pictures. Adults loved me especially, but the kids around me loved me even more. There were kids who'd skip snacks to save them for playing with me, fight others just to hang out, and even bawl their eyes out when it was time to go home because they hated leaving me. Love. How sweet and filling it is. By the time I started elementary school, I understood too soon what it meant to be full without eating.
Boys would blush and stammer just standing before me, bending over backward to give me whatever I wanted. I worried they'd get bullied by the girls for being so obvious, but the girls didn't bully me—they adored me too. To the kids around me, I was an object of envy beyond gender, a beloved idol worshipped by all. With everyone—adults and children alike—on my side, it was only natural I'd turn arrogant. I got too cocky. At just first grade, I deluded myself that the whole world revolved around me. If people fawned over me when I sat quietly, what if I actively demanded it? Wouldn't they serve me more, praise me higher, love me deeper? Without foreseeing the consequences, I awakened the dark personality dormant inside me.
My speech sharpened unnaturally for a kid my age; instead of praise or thanks, I reveled in tearing others down, scorning them. But they still served me, still praised me, still loved me. I believed my life would be eternal bliss without my birth parents.
"Jiyun's playing with me!"
"No way! She's playing with me! Get lost!"
"What? You done talking shit?!"
Slash!
"Ow! That hurts! Slash! Slash!"
At first, it seemed like the usual petty jealousy over me. But when one kid punched another, the victim pulled out a cutter knife and, in front of everyone, slashed wildly at the aggressor's neck and face. Kids' delicate skin scars from the slightest bump, so even a tiny blade became a terrifying weapon. As I recall, the first time someone bled because of me marked the moment everything around me shifted dramatically.
Innocent as they were, kids knew no lines. At that age, you scream and cry for what you want, blind to logic or rules. In short, they utterly lacked concepts of good and evil, order and law. What happens when such children surrender purely to their emotions? Just to play once with the prettiest girl in class, one friend butchered another with a cutter—child's play compared to what followed. Kids who barely grasped sex let mysterious urges turn the playground into a battlefield. Boys fought viciously to prove their dominance. Before even knowing love or coupling, they followed raw instinct. Girls were no different—rivaling each other viciously or cozying up to useful boys to boost contact. The sunny playmates who laughed together flipped overnight into grab ghosts cloaked in innocence. That's when I should have realized something was wrong—because of me. I should have killed my personality, lived quietly, and become the idol they adored again.
But for some reason, I didn't. Maybe I couldn't. The point is, I never fixed the twisted mess after that day. Adults conjured excuses or flimsy pretexts to keep me close, even dragging me into near-kidnapping attempts. Surrounded always, I was never actually taken, but suddenly I was a glittering jewel eyed hungrily by predators. People convinced they alone were the phantom thief Arsène Lupin approached me, forcing me to dodge. Wasn't being loved supposed to be great? Serving me, praising me, liking me. So when did it turn uncomfortable, repulsive?
By the time that thought hit, I'd bewitched a male teacher into divorcing. The dutiful salaryman became a kidnapper suspect, the kind neighborhood brother a beast, even my orphanage teachers eyeing me with leering lust. A child like me could do nothing. It was probably my fault they changed, but I was too young and powerless to fix it. At least I had to escape this place, stop harming them. And bury this toxic personality forever. Because I didn't deserve love.
So when a middle-aged couple visited seeking an adoptee, I pitched myself hard: pretty, polite, smarter than the other kids. I'd be no loss to take home—I embodied it. In the end, I escaped the orphanage, school, and neighborhood on the brink of hell. Becoming Choi Jiyun under new parents Choi Sangjun and Imi Jin, I strove to seem quiet and obedient. They micromanaged my schedule and diet, crammed my days with study and self-improvement sans holidays or free time—I obeyed. Not to become great through grades, but I couldn't let on I craved universal love.
Scraping through elementary and middle school, by high school my secondary sexual traits matured, drawing yet more influence. Even without approaching others or mingling, they fixated, stared. I made no friends, just studied silently, but boys confessed daily, love letters crammed my bag and desk. Pubescent kids surged with vigor, instincts blurring gender lines again. Girls seduced taken boys; boys forced themselves on girls. My suppressed personality spared me the full brunt, but overflowed energy surely warped them. Proof: Quiet rich kids planning low-key graduation suddenly crushed peers with money and power, groping girls wildly—until targeting me for ultimate thrill.
I refused flat-out, so they abandoned sticky pursuit for relentless torment. "Bullying is caring," they say. To win love from their beloved, they drove her to extremes with cruelty. School became unbearable; late one night, I went to adoptive father Choi Sangjun's study, pouring out woes, sobbing in his arms. He wasn't blood, but he'd raised me like his own—I thought he'd understand. That night, I nearly suffered the unspeakable. From him.
From then, I lost my mind. I clawed his neck desperately, bit his arm to defend myself. Fleeing to adoptive mother Imi Jin, crying I'd almost been violated—she called me a possessed slut. Devil-ridden whore seducing her own dad, shaming the family. She spat curses: I should've been dragged to church as the pastor said, purified body and soul, offered to the Lord. School expelled me; now home did too. Where did I belong? Who'd truly understand me as family, partner, friend? Who could escape my harm, refuse to love me?
Sick of it all, in rage I raided my inhuman adoptive father's safe, fleeing with cash and checks. Hand it to criminals—they'd ruin me, but wreck my life's ruiners too. Vague plan in mind, I ditched Gangnam for a sleazy spot from online rumors. Caught predictably, doom loomed. Better that end this wretched life, I resigned—
Then he appeared. Showing zero interest in me, unaffected, unloving. A gloomy, pathetic man devouring the world's filth and shadows, yet utterly ordinary. In hours with him, I felt true freedom—liberated from all that oppressed me, the first real taste. The normalcy I craved lived in that creepy, shabby uncle, of all people.
Returning home to lust-mad parents, I decided instantly: I must be with him.
"Explain."
They screamed mismatch, far from soulmates. But only he saw me not as an idol, but a human.
"Explain it so I can believe you're human, not a beast."