The First Cut
List cut syndrome. Why had it come to this?
"...Ah."
Ha-yoon stared at her scarred wrist. It used to be so pale and smooth—pure white skin. So why had it ended up like this?
It had all started so innocently. She'd been stressed and needed a way to let it out. She'd sung alone. Watched healing YouTube videos. Hung out with Seol-ah and her friends. But even so...
"I have no idea..."
Nothing worked. The black sludge in her heart wouldn't budge, no matter what.
On the outside, she smiled. But inside, she was slowly rotting away.
That's when she saw it.
A video on Instar. From back when regulations were looser, one that had popped up by chance.
[How I Relieve Stress!]
It was an upbeat title, full of energy at first glance. Drawn in by that vibe, Ha-yoon tapped play as if pulled by a magnet.
-"Eek...!"
A thin scream escaped her. The video showed a woman slicing her wrist lightly, smiling with a destructive grin. The shock was immense—beyond words. It was the first time she'd witnessed self-harm with her own eyes, something she'd only heard about.
She quickly switched to another video. To forget it, she crammed her brain with random info. As the video faded from memory...
Her stress was reaching a boiling point. Normal methods just wouldn't cut it anymore. She'd tried every tip from the internet, and they all failed.
Then, the buried memory resurfaced.
-"...Just once. Maybe just once?"
The video of cutting her wrist with a blade. But she didn't want to die. That was her compromise.
A sharpener. A writing tool that could make just a shallow cut.
Ha-yoon prepared slowly. She readied a first-aid kit nearby and crammed knowledge on stopping bleeds for emergencies. All that was left was the courage to do it.
After several failed attempts, she finally steeled herself and succeeded.
Poke!
"Ugh...!"
It stung. A slight pain rushed in. From her pale, smooth skin, a bit of blood welled up.
And then—
"Ha... haha... hahaha..."
Relief washed over her. She felt alive. That red color made her heart pound. The tension in her body melted away. Ha-yoon slumped against her bed.
Something that had been blocked... burst open.
"This feeling... it's the first time...!"
It was refreshing. All her stress vanished. Something pleasurable must've been released in her brain.
That's what she was convinced of.
"This... this is right...?"
Just once, and all the stress was gone.
From then on, Ha-yoon repeated it whenever stress hit. High school entrance stress. When Geon-woo brushed her off a little. Even when she disliked her outfit.
Her stress threshold kept dropping. Inversely, her relief method grew more extreme. A sharpener wasn't enough anymore. Something sharper, more visible—like a knife.
And so—time passed.
-"Stop."
-"It hurts."
That's how Ha-yoon, self-harming on the school rooftop, ended up meeting Sung-hoon.
Whoosh!
Ha-yoon's movements were swift. She yanked her wrist free from the doctor's grip and quickly covered it with a band. Her eyes filled with hostility. Gone was the interview face—now she glared at Young-ha like she wanted to kill him.
"Isn't it weirder not to know?"
Young-ha said nonchalantly, like explaining a boring crossword puzzle. He pointed at her with his finger.
"You kept hiding your wrist during the interview."
Then he mimicked her exactly—cupping his own wrist as if it were injured. No matter how you looked at it, it screamed hiding something.
Embarrassment flickered in Ha-yoon's eyes. She'd thought she'd hidden it well, but she'd been caught? And if this Young-ha had noticed...
"No way... Seol-ah too?"
Seol-ah, who sat beside her. It was actually weirder if she hadn't noticed. Maybe that's why she'd left the room? If Sung-hoon suspected something and went to ask her...!
Her thoughts escalated. Assumptions piled up, combined, looped endlessly in Ha-yoon's head.
Watching it all, Young-ha tossed out casually,
"Huh...?"
"Never heard of it?"
Young-ha spelled it out on paper and showed her. Ha-yoon's eyes widened round. How does he know that word?
He brushed off her stare and explained.
"In simple terms, list cut syndrome."
List cut syndrome
Repeatedly cutting your wrist with a blade or similar.
Often mistaken for suicide attempts, but it has its own name because...
"It's a reaction to extreme stress. But non-suicidal."
Those words stabbed right into her heart. Extreme stress, failed relief methods, not wanting to die—all seen through at once. Like someone had told him.
Told? Who? How many people know my secret...?
Ha-yoon's eyes grew wet and sticky. Her mind drifted from Young-ha, expanding toward the door—
"Don't you want treatment?"
"......"
"I could fix it for you."
"......"
Ha-yoon stayed silent, then spat it out.
"Can a doctor... fix something like this?"
"Of course. I'm Jeon Young-ha, psychiatrist."
He thumped his chest with his fist—a signal to trust him, a hearty gesture.
But—
"...No thanks."
"Huh?"
"This... doesn't need treating."
Scraaaape. Something was drawn out. Suddenly, a cutter knife was in Ha-yoon's hand, pressed to her wrist.
"If you... if you say that to me one more time..."
Her pupils shook. Her breath grew ragged, hand trembling on the blade. The sharp edge touched her skin. She pushed it slightly, and blood trickled out.
And—
"Stop..."
Ha-yoon's voice trembled.
"If you say more..."
The blade pressed deeper into her skin.
"...I don't know what I'll do."
Sung-hoon walked ahead without a word. The empty hospital corridor. Under the dark fluorescent lights, only their footsteps echoed eerily loud.
"...Is this place usually this scary?"
Seol-ah asked cautiously, her voice a tone lower than usual.
Sung-hoon glanced back. A hint of mischief in his eyes.
"Ghosts come out here."
"......For real?"
"Yeah. Why do you think there are so many horror movies set in hospitals?"
Seol-ah stepped closer at that. Seeing it, Sung-hoon smirked a little.
"Kidding, though."
"...You're serious."
"Maybe...? If you search, one might pop up. Wanna look?"
Sung-hoon trailed off. He'd never seen ghost traces here, but a deep dive might turn something up.
Then Seol-ah grabbed his sleeve. She shook her head like don't.
"Th-that's a death flag."
"Nah, that's just movie stuff."
"Maybe movies are adaptations of real events...?"
Seol-ah countered logically. Real events lead to movies. She wasn't wrong. Perfect argument. While Sung-hoon admired it, she urged,
"So let's hurry and finish."
"Your feet aren't any faster."
"...They are...!"
Seol-ah got a bit indignant. But she stuck even closer, steps a tad slower.
Sung-hoon chuckled.
"Then walk separately."
"...No way."
Firm refusal. Brief silence. Sung-hoon asked casually,
"How long have you known Ha-yoon?"
Seol-ah thought a sec.
"Since middle school."
"That's a while."
"Yeah. We've been together since then."
A natural follow-up. Sung-hoon's gaze sharpened slightly.
"Then—"
About to probe more on Ha-yoon, but Seol-ah cut in.
"Sung-hoon."
"...?"
"Not curious about me?"
Sung-hoon paused, then laughed like it was ridiculous.
"Nope."
"Ouch, hurt."
"Your lie's obvious."
"You could pretend a little."
"If I was curious, you'd say."
Blunt reply. Seol-ah shut up for a moment.
Then—buzz.
Her smartphone vibrated. Her face stiffened instantly.
"Something wrong?"
"Nah, just spam."
She checked the screen quick and turned it off.
But—Sung-hoon had already glimpsed it. Short sentences. Short curses.
...Enough. Sung-hoon said nothing. Pretended not to see. No, deliberately ignored it. Better that way.
"We're here."
He pointed at the bathroom door like nothing happened.
"Women's on the right."
Seol-ah nodded silently and went in.
Click. Door shut.
Alone, Sung-hoon stood blankly a moment, then pulled out his smartphone out of boredom.
And—frowned slightly.
A new message.
Sung-hoon stared long. Said nothing, just turned off the screen.
"Ha..."
Short sigh.
Then—click. Bathroom door opened.
"Ahh, feels alive."
Seol-ah came out thoughtlessly. But meeting Sung-hoon's eyes, hers widened in fluster.
Awkward silence. To break it, she asked,
"What club you joining, Sung-hoon?"
Sung-hoon seemed to think, recalling Kang Eun-seo's message just now.
"Theater club."
There, he wouldn't need to join student council.