Awakening to My Own Instincts
The mid-April sunlight slanted through the dormitory window. I lay on the bed, staring blankly at my smartphone screen. It was the third day since midterms had ended, and my fingers just kept hovering over the display, unsure what to do. Instar feed, messenger notifications, recommended videos—everything was the same as yesterday and the day before. My roommate, Sumin, hadn't come back last night either. Even though she was a first-year in a different department, she was a year older than me and staying out overnight was basically her routine. When I first moved into the dorm, we'd at least exchange greetings if we ran into each other, but now I was lucky to see her once a week. Honestly, that was more comfortable. I was used to being alone.
I'd bombed the college entrance exam but skipped retaking it because I didn't want to stay at home. I'd told myself I was running away to a provincial university, but the truth was I just wanted to get far away. The distance from my father—both the physical kind and the emotional one. Ever since my mom left home during my first year of high school, Dad and I had lived completely separate lives under the same roof. Our conversations were sporadic, and we ate meals apart. The sound of him hitting her that night she left still echoed in my ears. From then on, I'd kept men at arm's length. I hadn't done it consciously, but at some point being alone with a guy started to feel uncomfortable.
When I got to university, people often told me I had an exceptional face and body. At first, quite a few guys made advances. But I responded coldly, almost haughtily. I hadn't meant to, but it just came naturally. That's how I earned the nickname Ice Princess. I laughed it off, but it wasn't so bad. If I was the Ice Princess, the guys would stay away.
My midterm results had come back with top marks in every subject. I was happy about it. I'd always done well in high school too, but my mental state had crumbled a week before the entrance exam because of that email, and I'd completely bombed it. I didn't even want to think about what that email had said. Anyway, I'd finished my first university exam perfectly.
But—was this really right?
I closed my phone and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe I should just quit and prepare for the entrance exam again. It wasn't that I hated the humanities department. But was this the life I actually wanted? Should I retake the exam and head to Seoul? Or just graduate here and get a job? Endless questions swirled through my head with no answers.
A few days later, I was having lunch with my friends at the school cafeteria. Steam rose in lazy curls from the earthenware pot of kimchi stew. The four of us sat together in a corner booth—Minji, Sua, Haeun, and me. Minji picked up her spoon with that look on her face that said she had something to say. As the group's information hub, she was clearly bringing fresh gossip.
"Hey, did you hear? One of the guys in our department is getting expelled."
Minji lowered her voice. Sua's eyes widened.
"For real? Why?"
"He was posting photos of girls from our department on Twitter, rating their looks and bodies, and he got caught."
Haeun set her chopsticks down and clicked her tongue.
"Crazy. What a fucking psycho."
Minji nodded.
"Right? They say there are four victims. All girls from our department."
The noisy chatter of the cafeteria seemed to fade into the distance for a moment. Sua shoveled rice into her mouth and asked,
"Do you know who it is?"
"Yeah, I know the girls. They're all apparently super traumatized right now."
Haeun spoke with genuine anger.
"We really have to watch out for the guys. It's disgusting that there are people who do shit like this without a second thought."
I nodded too.
"Yeah. Total trash."
Minji added,
"He's under investigation now, but they're saying expulsion is pretty much guaranteed. The victims are preparing to sue."
The conversation kept flowing. Warnings to be careful around guys, sympathy for the victims, declarations that this kind of thing must never happen again. I chimed in with agreement, genuinely empathetic. They were right. Any guy who would do something like that deserved nothing but contempt. The victims must have felt so violated and furious.
But—something felt strange.
Even as I listened with disgust, I realized I felt a strange sense of inferiority at not being one of the victims. Was that even okay? I chewed my rice slowly without thinking. The spicy heat of the kimchi stew spread through my mouth.
That guy had posted photos of four girls from our department. Four. And I wasn't among them.
People always said I had a pretty face and a great body—enough to earn me the title of Ice Princess—and yet... why wasn't I included?
The thought flashed through my mind and vanished. Or rather, it didn't vanish at all. Even after finishing my meal and leaving the cafeteria, even while walking across campus, that thought lingered in the back of my head.
I saw couples sitting on benches amid the campus's blooming spring flowers. I heard students laughing as they tossed a frisbee. Everything looked peaceful, but a strange discomfort had taken root inside me.
That night, Sumin didn't come back again. I lay alone in our dorm room, staring at the ceiling. The day's conversation kept replaying in my mind. Four victims. Four that didn't include me. Did that mean I wasn't attractive? The question popped up unbidden.
No, that wasn't it. They just hadn't posted me. But—was that really true? Was it because I'd been so cold to the guys? Because I was the Ice Princess? Had I seemed like I wasn't worth posting?
I grabbed my phone. I opened the Twitter app. I typed a few characters into the search bar, then deleted them.
What the hell was I thinking?
But—I was curious. Genuinely curious. Whether I had appeal or not. How other people saw me.
I created a new account. A burner. Pretending to be a guy. I grabbed some random male profile picture from the internet. I picked a username at random. Then I uploaded one of my photos—a shot that hid my face a little but clearly showed my figure. It was one I'd taken last week at a café. I was standing by the window, bathed in sunlight. The thin knit sweater followed the curves of my body, and you could see where my jeans cinched at the waist. Only half my face was visible, but anyone who knew me would recognize me.
What do you think of this girl? She's a junior in my department. Rate her for me.
I regretted it the moment I posted. Or rather than regret—it was fear. What if no one replied? What if no one showed any interest? That scared me more.
An hour passed. A notification sounded. Comments started coming in. One, two, three—more than I'd expected. I tapped the screen and read them.
My heart started racing. But this wasn't anger. This was—something else. A tingling spread through my fingertips. A strange heat rose from below my stomach. I kept reading the comments.
Normally I should have felt contempt. I should have hated the men who left comments like these. But—I wasn't angry. Instead, a strange sense of relief came first. Proof that I had appeal. Confirmation that not being one of those four victims wasn't because I lacked something—it was just coincidence.
And—I wanted to read more. More comments. Dirtier words. I wanted to know that more people were getting excited looking at my body.
I put the phone down and lay back on the bed. But my hand moved on its own. It slipped under my knit sweater, past my navel, and into my bra. My breast filled my palm. It was soft. It was hot. The comments swirled in my head.
Are those tits padded?
I just want to touch them once.
My fingers rubbed my nipple. A shiver ran up my spine. My other hand found the button of my jeans. I pulled down the zipper and slipped my fingers inside my panties. I was already wet. Since when—had I been like this?
I want to fuck a girl like this all night long.
I wonder what she'd be like in bed.
My fingers found my clit and rubbed it. My breath caught in my throat. I closed my eyes. And the fantasies began. The image of strangers looking at my photo and masturbating. The image of them groping my body. The image of them moaning my name. No—the image of them degrading me.
"A slut like this just needs to get fucked hard."
"Ice Princess? I bet she's a total bitch in heat in bed."
"No matter how cold she acts, her body's just a cum rag."
They could be my department friends. They could be my seniors. They could even be my relatives. The fantasy of them looking at my photos—secretly getting hard—spitting out filthy insults.
"Jisoo, you're a way bigger whore than I thought, huh?"
"You act all prim and proper but look at that body."
"I had no idea you were this kind of girl. Should've tried something with you."
The movement of my fingers grew faster. Wet sounds filled the room. Fluids flowed out from inside me. My thighs trembled. I stared at the ceiling with my eyes closed. In my imagination, countless men surrounded me. Their hands touched my body, their mouths bit into my flesh, their cocks pushed inside me.
"You think we should just let a whore like this walk around freely?"
"Show us more of your body. Show us everything."
"You want to be degraded? We'll do it for you."
A moan escaped my lips. I covered my mouth. The walls were thin; the neighbor might hear. But that thought only made me more excited. The possibility that someone might be listening to my moans. The possibility that someone might know I was masturbating.
"Ah... mmh..."
The comments floated through my mind again.
That figure is crazy lol. I wonder what she'd be like in bed.
A girl like this definitely wouldn't stay quiet in bed.
Yes. I was the kind of girl who couldn't stay quiet. The Ice Princess? That was just a mask. The real me—was this.
A girl who got wet hearing strangers evaluate her body. A girl who got wetter the filthier the insults became. The orgasm hit me. My back arched like a bow. My fingers didn't stop. It felt like waves were crashing over me. Once, twice, three times—fluids overflowed. My thighs were soaked. My panties were soaked. The bedsheet was soaked.
"Haa... haa..."
I gasped for breath. My heart was pounding wildly. I pulled my hand out. Sticky fluid coated my fingers. Just looking at it sent another shiver through me. Had I really—gone this far?
I picked up my phone. The screen was still on. More comments had been posted. They were still pouring in through the night.
As I read the comments, my hand moved again. No, I should stop here for today. I really should. But I didn't want to stop. I wanted to read more. I wanted to feel more. I wanted to be—degraded more.
The fantasies started again. This time they were more specific. The image of my department friends looking at my photo. The image of them whispering, "Isn't that Jisoo?" The image of them secretly stealing glances at my body while pretending not to. The image of them masturbating at night while thinking of me.
I thought of my seniors too. The teaching assistants. Even the professors. No, that was too far—but the fantasy wouldn't stop. The image of them looking at my thesis while imagining my body. The image of them calling my name in class while thinking completely different thoughts. Even my relatives. My cousin looking at my photo. My uncle secretly staring at my figure. The image of them at family gatherings, saying "Jisoo's gotten so pretty" while harboring filthy thoughts about me in their heads.
"Mmh... ahh..."
The second orgasm hit me. It was even stronger than the first. I saw stars. My whole body shook. The bedsheet was a mess. I was a mess.
Only after it ended did I close my phone. I stared at the ceiling. My heart slowly returned to normal. Sweat beaded on my forehead.
What had I just done? This—this wasn't me.
I tried to think that, but stopped. No. This might be me. The me I hadn't known about. The me hiding beneath the mask of the Ice Princess. Maybe I hadn't been afraid of men. Maybe I hadn't been running from them. Maybe I'd actually wanted to know how men saw me. Maybe I'd wanted to feel them desiring me. Maybe the real me was the kind of girl who got excited the filthier they talked about me.
The room was quiet. I could hear the wind outside the window. The spring night air slipped in through the cracks. My wet body felt cool. I picked up my phone again. The Twitter account was still there. My photo was still there. Comments were still coming in. Even while I slept, someone would be looking at my photo and getting excited. And that didn't disgust me. In fact—it felt good.
I closed my eyes. Morning would come. When I went to school tomorrow, someone might have seen my photo. Someone might recognize me. That thought—didn't scare me. Instead, it gave me a thrill.
For the first time, I didn't regret failing the entrance exam. I was glad I'd come here. Glad I'd discovered this side of myself.
The Ice Princess was melting. And in that melted space, something else was growing. Something that didn't have a name yet, didn't have a shape yet, but was undeniably there.
Dawn was approaching. I lay on the wet bedsheet, refusing to turn off my phone screen. Comment notifications kept ringing through the night. And listening to that sound, for the first time in a long while—I fell into a peaceful sleep.