Terminal Princess Syndrome
When I woke, she was nowhere to be seen. Yesterday had been Sunday, which meant today was Monday.
Today was the weekday morning I had been dreaming of.
Some people say that if there's one disease in this world to fear above all others, it's the Monday blues. Of course, that didn't apply to me. I'd like to turn that phrase right back on whoever said it. The most terrifying disease in the world is Friday-itis. Not TGIF — Fuck Friday. Goddamn Friday.
The moment I woke, my hand went to my ass on instinct. That was the spot she'd beaten until it split open yesterday, so I couldn't help reaching for it. I braced myself for the pain the instant my fingers made contact — but strangely enough, my ass was perfectly fine. She must have put some kind of good medicine on it while I was asleep.
Medicine. The word brought something odd to mind. Contrary to her claim that I'd turn into an idiot, my mind was surprisingly clear.
Aside from a strange thirst, my body was fine. I called it thirst, but it was probably withdrawal. I could feel it instinctively — this was a thirst no amount of water would ever quench. Still, the thirst was real. If I weren't thirsty at all, that would actually be more of a problem. Considering how much I'd cried and carried on yesterday, from both above and below, I should just be grateful I wasn't dehydrated.
I tried to get up to go drink some water—
"Nngh... uuugh..."
I'd clearly overdone it yesterday. The muscle aches were no joke. Without the slightest exaggeration, every muscle in my body had seized up into knots. There wasn't a single place that didn't hurt. So this was what people meant when they said they ached down to their bones. Abs, legs, calves — there wasn't a spot that hadn't knotted up. I crawled across the floor on all fours, then realized crawling was actually harder, and just started walking normally.
...Am I actually an idiot.
Maybe she wasn't wrong after all.
A wave of self-loathing hit me, but I somehow made it to the water dispenser and poured a cup of cold water down my throat.
"Ahhh..."
Had they put honey in this? It might as well have been honey water. Getting there had been no small ordeal, but the reward was sweet.
With cool water in my head, maybe my mind had recovered its composure too. I was able to look around the room calmly. A TV, a phone, and other appliances were scattered throughout the house.
Was this a mistake born of her blind faith in the drug? Or was this also part of her scheme? There might be cameras in the room I couldn't see, and her plan might be to punish me the instant I did anything suspicious.
But my thinking leaned heavily toward this being her mistake. She didn't like taking risks like this. She'd been so certain I'd become a complete idiot that she'd probably just left the appliances as they were. Even I found my current lucidity strange — how much more so would she?
The odds of there being no cameras in the room were higher. Cameras meant someone could watch, and as I'd said before, the mere possibility of anyone seeing me was enough to send her into a fit.
Still, I forbade myself from any impulsive actions going forward. I was sick to death of a life spent suffering at her hands. I was thoroughly fed up. I didn't want to earn another beating. I was exhausted.
...The pathetic sight of a phone sitting right in front of me, and me choosing of my own free will not to use it.
I felt like I was becoming more and more the person she wanted me to be, and it made my chest tight. She wasn't by my side right now, but it still felt like she was. I could feel her gaze.
I thought if I went and pulled the blanket over my head I might shake off this gloomy mood even a little, so I clutched my aching ankle and headed for the bed.
When was this damn ankle ever going to show signs of healing...
As the burning pain shooting up from my ankle made me frown—
...Wait. Why did I injure my ankle in the first place...?
"...Huh?"
If there was a result, there ought to be a process — but I had no memory whatsoever of how my ankle got hurt. As if a giant eraser had reached into my head and wiped away only that part.
Could this be her doing...?
If I had to pick the most likely answer, it was her, of course... I shook my head, rejecting the conclusion I'd reached myself.
...Still. That couldn't be.
Even for someone whose obsession and jealousy were unmatched, would she really smash a person's ankle? She wasn't some thug — and I was the person she loved. That's why she'd spanked my ass yesterday, wasn't it? If she'd wrecked my ankle, my hip bones would have been gone yesterday.
Yeah. That was it.
Feeling like I'd gotten a little smarter, my mood lifted slightly. I was grinning to myself when a question suddenly flashed through my mind, and my expression froze solid again.
...But why did I get beaten yesterday?
Just like before, only the result remained in my memory. The process wouldn't come. Only then did I realize this wasn't a situation to be smiling about. Right now, I was a hollow shell.
"A notebook... a notebook!"
I needed to write down whatever memories I still had, in detail, somewhere. Even in this very moment, fabricated common sense and false truths were mixing together in a jumble, and my head was in agony. It wasn't that my memories hadn't disappeared. The drug was starting to take effect now.
After ransacking the house, I finally found a notebook and a pen, sat down, and decided to organize my current situation. I needed to rebuild the skeleton of my memories. I couldn't quite remember how to hold a pen, so I just grabbed it however, and the handwriting came out truly ugly. But I had to write.
First. I am a woman, and my name is Yoon Seohyun. And her name is Kim Heejin.
Second. I don't know how I ended up here, but given that I remember she loves me more than anything, and that her obsession and jealousy are severe — if I had to guess, I was kidnapped.
Third. I must never do anything that goes against her wishes. I don't remember the details, but I have a feeling that every time she gets angry, something terrible happens.
Fourth. When she kisses me, I have to raise my arms and expose my armpits.
Fifth. No matter what happens, I have to believe her. For example, even if I catch her cheating, I must not doubt her. There must have been a reason she had to do it.
Sixth. No matter what happens, I don't lie to her.
The most important, Seventh. I must never escape from her, or do anything similar.
...That was about it for now.
I'd picked up the pen intending to fill at least a whole notebook, but with so few memories coming to mind, I hurled the ballpoint pen across the room.
"...Damn it."
It was worse than I'd expected. There was almost no information about myself. I remembered nothing. I couldn't even remember the names of the parents who'd given birth to me and raised me, let alone their faces. Only fragmentary facts that anyone would know remained.
That I was pretty as hell.
I stood before the mirror and examined myself in detail.
She was looking back at me with vacant eyes. Those doe-like eyes — so beautiful the first impulse was to make them well with tears — shone as luminous as finely cut jewels, and her eyebrows were so dark they made her already pale skin gleam even brighter. Beneath a high, sculpted nose, a small, dainty mouth sat like something carved. Shoulders so pitiful they unconsciously stirred the urge to protect her. Collarbones that provoked something indecent. Breasts that reached the very peak of obscenity even as she merely stood there, a cinched-in waist, and a pelvis to match hips built for easy childbirth.
It was certainly the kind of face that wouldn't be strange if it drove someone out of their mind. The plausibility was there.
Unni doesn't have a single thing going for her except that body of hers.
As I stared blankly at the mirror, a memory of her suddenly surfaced. She seemed to be a more terrifying person than I'd thought. There was no way anyone could say something so harsh to someone as pretty as me.
I didn't know why I'd been spanked yesterday, but I didn't feel like I'd done anything wrong. She was the one at fault, and in my head her image was already that of a beast.
...When I'm this pretty...
If you're going to go so far as to kidnap someone, shouldn't you raise them like gold, like jade...? Instead she nags at every opportunity, spanks my ass, makes a girl this pretty cry...
...I'm not some fish she's already landed...
"...I'm tired..."
From the few memories I had left, I'd never had good stamina to begin with. For someone like me to have been this active, of course I was exhausted. The thought that I should enjoy my free time before she came back kept circling through my head, but I was tired, so I decided to sleep first.
On the other hand, I also thought I should be there to greet her when she got off work. ...They say beauties are sleepyheads, after all. Well... it shouldn't matter, right?
If only I didn't remember her quitting time, I could close my eyes in peace — but the fact that only the memories related to her remained in my head was enough to drive me insane.
...I'll try to wake up by five...