Cut Marks (7)
Cut Marks (7)
Jo Ah-yoon had no dream.
Like most modern people, she was no different.
Who talks about dreams or romance when you can barely scrape by day to day? More than ten years had passed since that cynicism first took root.
The trigger was nothing special. It was the moment she realized Santa Claus wasn’t real. She’d opened her eyes that morning with her heart pounding, and not a single present was anywhere in the house. The precious memories that had guarded her childhood shattered then.
That day, Jo Ah-yoon’s world collapsed...
That was how it started—with something utterly trivial—and how a person began to change, slowly. She was no exception.
Her cynicism deepened in earnest when the bullying started at school.
She cried easily, was small for her age, and had severe emotional swings. To kids her age, that made her excellent entertainment.
Just a little teasing and she reacted right away, making it feel rewarding to pick a fight. She was weak, so the odds of retaliation were low. Easy prey. Plus she was always screeching, which made her irritating.
It always began with the little things: whispered insults loud enough to hear, eraser crumbs flicked at her during class.
“Ah, I said stop!”
“What’s going on back there? We’re in the middle of class!”
Once the accumulated small torments made her overreact, a perfect excuse appeared. The teacher scolded Jo Ah-yoon instead of the kids who started it, and the other uninvolved students glared at her with annoyance for disrupting the lesson. Naturally, so did the bullies.
Countless gazes constricted around her, coiling tighter. In an instant, suffocated by the attention and branded the weird kid, Jo Ah-yoon fell silent. And regretted it.
‘Next time, don’t react.’
Of course, the bullying never stopped.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”
“Jo Ah-yoon!”
Bottle it up, explode, become the weird kid again. Bottle it up again, react again. It was a vicious cycle.
As she grew more and more isolated, Jo Ah-yoon thought:
‘I just want to live comfortably.’
No dream. No grand ambition. She just wanted to have fun, to live easily without worry. She’d rather find ways to live comfortably right now than agonize over chasing something or be mired in discomfort.
The dreams you get while sleeping are enough. She didn’t want to attach any deeper meaning than that.
The young Jo Ah-yoon’s heart filled with thoughts like those.
Amid the daily mounting anxiety and harassment, Jo Ah-yoon happened to help someone who had collapsed on the street.
Who was she to be helping anyone, what was this sudden meddling about, what if she just got cursed out for her trouble? That’s how she normally viewed the world. Reaching out a helping hand was a highly unusual thing for her.
She’s long since forgotten why she helped that person.
Maybe it was a craving for recognition and praise. Maybe she was tempted by the thought of a reward. Maybe she was uneasy that the person might die if she ignored them. Maybe the sunlight was especially strong that day. It didn’t matter.
Jo Ah-yoon never regretted that day’s meddling.
“Th... ank you...”
The person she helped by chance was named Yoon Seol-hwa.
That small act of kindness became the turning point that changed her life.
“So it was you. Thank you for helping Seol-hwa.”
That meeting later led her to Han Jae-jung, who was notorious throughout the school as a good-looking lunatic.
Jo Ah-yoon counted that day’s meddling as the luckiest moment of her life.
“Jae-jung.”
That opinion hadn’t changed, even now.
“Hm? What?”
“Eat first, then talk. It’s not that urgent.”
From the young Jo Ah-yoon to the Jo Ah-yoon of today, one other belief had remained unchanged.
Watching Han Jae-jung frantically shove chicken down his throat late at night, she let out a quiet laugh. She’d ordered the chicken in a hurry when she heard he hadn’t eaten dinner. He must have been starving, because the chicken started vanishing fast. A childish side of him still lingered, and it was oddly endearing. Just watching him filled her up. Was this what parents meant by “just looking at you fills me up”?
“I got curious about why you made a Star Contract, Jae-jung.”
“Ah, that... it’s nothing special.”
His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed once before Han Jae-jung parted his lips. Compared to his thick neck, his lips were fine. They were naturally so red that strangers sometimes mistook them for makeup. Just one feature among many, but it was enough to earn him the label of handsome. Even with looks like that, he’d been walking around practically looking homeless until recently. Then and now, the man had no idea how to use his face.
“If it’s nothing special, there’s even less reason to hide it. Tell me so I can reference it while figuring out my little sister’s goals.”
“Well, it’s not like I can’t say it...”
Han Jae-jung smiled, looking faintly awkward, and answered her question.
“If a Guardian protects everyone, then who protects the Guardian?”
She had no dream. That conviction of Jo Ah-yoon’s still had not changed.
She wanted to live without a dream. She did not want to walk a hard road because she was shackled to a goal like that. She had already been through enough.
The mindset formed since childhood grew gradually clearer.
The simple thought of “I have no dream” paradoxically became the ideal of reaching that state.
The hardened ideal grew larger and became, before she knew it, a philosophy.
Only those without dreams can be happy.
That was Jo Ah-yoon’s ideology. You could liken it to the Taoist principle of wu wei: living life just as it flows, without any artificial concepts.
She had lived her life with a dreamless life as her goal.
Therefore, to Jo Ah-yoon, those who possessed dreams were to be pitied. They were unfortunate souls. No matter how hard they tried to sate their desires, the thirst would never vanish.
“It’s not some grand ambition. You know Guardians, right? The magical girls. They’re pitiful. Making kids that young risk their lives to fight—that’s abuse. No matter how shorthanded they are, sending children... So, I set a goal hoping that I could at least be of some help. The Guardian’s Guardian. Nothing special, right?”
“That’s grand as hell, what do you mean. But wait, your transformed form is blatantly a monster... You plan to help magical girls looking like a monster?”
“That’s how it worked out.”
“But won’t you just get resented for that? If your identity gets exposed by mistake, all hell breaks loose, and it might even hurt the magical girls. Isn’t it just asking for abuse? There’d be no reward either... You sound like a sucker.”
At the same time, they are people worthy of respect.
“It’s not something I’d give up over a little resentment...? Isn’t that just how people are wired? Everyone has something they can’t let go of, even if no one else understands and insults them for it. If you like anime, you might get called an otaku. If you like soccer, people might sneer and say what’s so great about a stupid ball game. It’s not just my dream—everything has something people can badmouth. But you don’t give up what you love anyway. It’s the same for me. I might look like a sucker, but it’s something I want to do. So I’ll do it.”
Because they are courageous people who keep moving forward even knowing they face misery.
“So it’s not as great and grand as you’re imagining. It’s just bullheadedness and a goal on the level of a poor musician wanting to sell a million albums.”
“Which is to say, grand as hell... Ah, I saw an article, I sold over a hundred thousand albums?”
“Oh, damn. Aha, so that’s the income funding the chicken I’m eating now.”
“Though I don’t remember earning it.”
Jo Ah-yoon smiled bitterly.
She herself had no dream. That was supposed to be the case, so why had her past self chosen to become a magical girl?
“Ah! Is that why? That cringey thing you said before, about your goal being to save me... ah.”
In the middle of muttering about a memory she shouldn’t have, Jo Ah-yoon shut her lips. Han Jae-jung was staring at her silently with startled eyes. Soon, the corners of his mouth relaxed.
“Hey... you... you! That!”
“Whoa, what the hell...?”
She felt dizzy. Her body had reacted before her memory could catch up. Did the language system have muscle memory too? It was incomprehensible. Like a short sale, a memory she didn’t possess had been dredged up and thrown out into reality.
I don’t know it, but I know it. Jo Ah-yoon’s lips trembled at the contradictory situation. A chill ran through her. A shock came with it, as if her sense of self was splitting apart.
“What did I just say...?”
Han Jae-jung stared at her for a moment, then chuckled and answered.
“...I went through the same thing. My body reacted first. Weird, right? It’s not strange. You’re not strange. It’s okay. Calm down first—want some water?”
He poured water into a cup and handed it to her. Jo Ah-yoon gulped it down.
‘He really hasn’t changed.’
They had always been considerate toward Jo Ah-yoon, who had always been treated like the weird kid. You’re the same as us, they’d tell her. Not strange, not wrong. Just a normal girl.
Pwah.
Placing the cup on the table, Jo Ah-yoon stared at him again. Why didn’t he age even though he’d never been a magical girl? His pointlessly pretty eyes annoyed her for no reason.
“...Jae-jung.”
“Hm? What?”
Too many exhausting things had happened today.
“I’m tired, so I’m going to sleep first.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Look at the time already.”
Watching her get up, Han Jae-jung felt a mischievous impulse and added a remark.
“Sleep early so you’ll grow tall.”
Flinch. Jo Ah-yoon’s feet stopped dead, her complex struck. Now it was time to wait for the retaliation to come—and whatever it was, Han Jae-jung would find it cute. He took a sip of beer.
“...Yeah, you’re right.”
But the retaliation never came.
“Oh, right, Jae-jung, still go to the hospital for that bump tomorrow. You never know.”
Instead, a worried response came back.
Guilt welled in Han Jae-jung’s heart, which had been bracing for retaliation.
‘What kind of judgment was I passing on this kind girl who’s worrying about me... I’m sorry, Ah-yoon. Turns out I was the bastard.’
Regretting his own pettiness and distrust, he apologized to Jo Ah-yoon inwardly.
Creeeak.
The door to Jo Ah-yoon’s room opened and she moved inside. It was visible from the table, so his gaze naturally drifted that way. Right before the door closed, a gap just wide enough to show her eyes appeared, and the movement stopped.
Jo Ah-yoon was staring at him from behind the door. Her flashing pink eyes gleamed vividly, like a nocturnal beast’s.
“You’re right, Jae-jung. Gotta sleep early and grow tall. So I can be exactly 22 centimeters shorter than you.”
“...? What are you talking about.”
“You know what, Jae-jung?”
Creeeeak. The door began closing again, inch by inch.
“They say the ideal height difference between a man and a woman is 22 centimeters. And not just any compatibility... you know?”
“Koffh!”
The beer he’d been sipping went down his windpipe. Coughing painfully a few times, he heard Jo Ah-yoon’s mocking laughter.
“Oh, right, Jae-jung, just so you know, I’m not locking my door tonight.”
“Kid only looks up weird stuff. How much porn have you watched?”
“Heh, how would I even count.”
“Knew it. Get in there and sleep properly!”
“Okaaaay~”
Answering adorably, Jo Ah-yoon shut the door all the way.
“Seriously, what the...”
He downed his beer with a restless heart.
**
The next morning.
Following Jo Ah-yoon’s advice, Han Jae-jung had come to the hospital.
But not for treatment.
He could already see the future where she nagged him about how much could a hospital bill cost, just get treated—but the bump on his head had fully healed overnight. The regeneration unique to those who possess starlight significantly reduces the need to visit hospitals.
So why had he come to the hospital?
For a meeting, no less. He was using the hospital as a meeting place, not a treatment facility.
Familiar interiors greeted him. Lately as well as in the past, the hospital was a terribly familiar place. Ideally, a hospital is best kept far away, but unfortunately for him, that wasn’t the case. It was part of his everyday life.
Sitting and waiting on a hard chair, the appointed time arrived before he knew it.
Something you can’t give up even if you’re resented for it.
The thing he’d said to Jo Ah-yoon last night was missing one condition.
That resentment must rest solely on the individual.
If another being suffers pain because of you, it can no longer be called a goal.
It becomes nothing more than one-sided nuisance or a tantrum.
Ignoring another’s pain while pursuing only what you find good—how selfish and appalling would that be.
Han Jae-jung glanced at the person sitting next to him. A tall, long-haired beauty with her hat pulled suspiciously low.
“It’s been a while.”
“...Yeah.”
He tried speaking a name that, merely by forming it on his lips, felt blissful enough to melt his whole body and agonizing enough to shatter it.
“Seol-hwa.”