Chapter 30: Beneath the Mask: A Descent into Self-Destruction

The delicious smell of kimchi stew filled the air, with Mom stirring the pot at the source of the fragrance.

Ji-yeon sat at the table with me, and when our eyes met, she smiled bashfully.

Ji-yeon asked Mom,
“Mom, when will it be ready?”

Mom replied,
“Hehe, just wait a little longer. It’ll be done soon.”

Before long, the kimchi stew was placed in front of us.
“Wow…! Thank you for the meal!”

Ji-yeon and I exclaimed in unison.

Mom smiled at us, looking proud.
“Wow… it’s really delicious, Mom.”

“Really? Hearing that from my son makes me happy.”

As she spoke, Mom placed some rolled omelet on my plate.
“Thank you.”

“Eat a lot, my son, and grow up big and strong.”

Mom’s beautiful smile.
“Ah…”

I’m happy.

If only this moment could last forever.

If it could, I’d be willing to sell my soul.

But then, as if suddenly remembering something, Mom asked,
“Ji-yeon, have you made a lot of friends in kindergarten?”

“Yes!”

“That’s a relief. Taeyeon, how’s your game going these days?”

“It’s going well. I got a pro offer yesterday.”

“Really?”

Mom smiled brightly, taking a bite of the kimchi stew, then spoke again.

Still smiling,
“But, when do you plan to commit suicide?”

“Ah…”

I couldn’t answer.

Mom’s and Ji-yeon’s faces twisted.

The table separating Mom and me disappeared. The distance between us narrowed.

Mom climbed on top of me and started choking me.

Ji-yeon stood behind, looking down at me.

Following my instincts, I grabbed the hands around my neck in an attempt to resist, but the strength difference was too great—I couldn’t budge them.

Mom, still on top of me, strangling me, muttered,
“You should’ve died. Ji-yeon, who was hailed as a genius, should’ve lived instead of a worthless insect like you who only knows games.”

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve forced you into the passenger seat that day.”

“Or maybe it’s Heaven’s fault. If you’d been conceived just a few years earlier, you’d have died instead.”

I wept endlessly, suffocating. Gripping my neck, I screamed,

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry for not sitting in the passenger seat! I’m sorry for being born! I’m sorry for failing to commit suicide! I still haven’t managed to kill myself! Food still goes down easily! I still sleep soundly! Pathetically, I even look forward to tomorrow these days! Please, punish me! Choke me until my neck snaps! Please, kill me!”

Of course, it was a dream.

I wiped my tears and looked at the window beside me.

That day is coming.

Even if I try not to think about it, I become aware of it.

The warm yet cool weather, the beautiful sunlight, the sound of children playing.

An unforgettable déjà vu.

I stared blankly at the window before taking out cereal and milk, pouring them into a bowl.

My stomach has shrunk. Ever since I became a woman, it has definitely shrunk.

For someone like me, living in poverty, it’s quite a blessing.

I can now split chicken, tteokbokki, mala soup, and a can of tuna into two meals. I’ve also gone from eating two packs of ramen at once to just one.

Cereal portions have halved. The same goes for milk.

Simple math means my food expenses have been cut in half.

However, I don’t save that money.

Most of what’s left goes to snacks or in-game purchases.

Spending money in games doesn’t make me stronger, but I like pretty things.

Lately, I’ve also started buying cute things, so my in-game spending has increased.

I had about 50,000 won left in my balance.

Honestly, if I had been more frugal, I’d have tens of thousands saved up by now.

But now, I’ll be cutting it close when it comes to paying rent, phone bills, and internet.

Altogether, that’s roughly 600,000 won.

Even with only around 50,000 won left, I still find myself looking for ways to spend it.

Is this also a desire for self-destruction?

The area around my bed and trash can was filled with tissues.

My masturba*tion frequency remained constant.

Whenever I felt stressed, I would lower my pants.

Which means it happens a lot.

As I stared at those tissues, I thought,
“Female masturba*tion device…”

I searched for it on Coupang.

Hundreds, thousands of results popped up.

There were those unspeakably grotesque-looking ones, and vibrating devices.

I swallowed hard.

Should I buy one?

At this moment, I felt like I could do anything.

The cheapest ones for men are in the tens of thousands of won, but for women, some cost as little as 5,000 won. Is this what they call the “pink tax”?

I’m scared of inserting something, so maybe I’ll just get a vibrator.

Honestly, I never understood why women were scared of these things when I read about it online, but now I get it.

Out of curiosity, I once searched for those things… I tried to estimate the size using nearby objects, and I was horrified. The length is absurd. There’s no way all of that can fit. The thickness, too.

I never used to feel that way, but ever since I got this body, everything feels so much bigger.

I didn’t even buy the vibrator.

Even with just my hands, it feels so good that I genuinely worried that using a device might melt my brain.

It was only after becoming a woman that I realized the word “pleasure” could have “fear” attached to it.

I placed a 10cm ruler against my lower abdomen for a moment, and then, startled by how big it felt, I suddenly felt a wave of self-awareness and threw it aside, reclining back in my chair.

What am I doing?

I know exactly why I’m doing this.

Sexual desire, stress, the urge for self-destruction, and appetite—they are all inversely related.

This became even more extreme after becoming a woman.

When I’m stressed, I get hungry, I want to mastur*bate, and I feel like diving into ruin.

I want to stuff my face with tteokbokki until it can’t even fit in my mouth, mastur*bate, upload lewd photos of myself online, and run off to some old man.

All of it.

All of that is not good for my mental well-being.

But that’s exactly why I do it.

To put it bluntly, I don’t think I deserve to live.

Yet, I keep living. That’s my selfishness.

My form of penance is not allowing myself to be happy.

Even when I do feel happy, I regulate those emotions through emotional or physical self-harm.

The time I dyed my hair a color that didn’t suit me, or got a tattoo, or drank and smoked even though I didn’t enjoy it—they were all related to that.

The desire to taint my purity after becoming a woman is part of that too.

Watch me as I destroy myself. Watch me as I atone.

Watch me fall all the way to the depths of hell.

I logged into DC Inside.

I searched for “non-virgin beautiful girl” and sorted the comments by replies.

ᄋᄋ(110.111): Honestly, this is super hot. Just from the looks of her, she must have one hell of a loose hole. I want to be the 3,024th guy to fuc*k it.

Below that were lewd desires directed at me, disguised under the mask of anonymity, blatantly listed out.

Normally, I post opinions that go against the mainstream.

Where there’s too much moralizing, I stir things up; where there’s chaos, I moralize.

That way, I draw attention, and it’s fun to watch people rage.

But today was different.

I typed,

ᄋᄋ(119.113): Fuck*ing kill her after rapi*ng her. Then stab her with a knife and watch her intestines spill out.

ᄋᄋ(119.113): And crush her with a hydraulic press, just like her mom and sister.

ᄋᄋ(119.113): Watching her squirm and resist while getting rap*ed would be quite the sight, haha.

With trembling fingers, I pressed enter. Tears streamed down my face. The eerie feeling wouldn’t go away.

Notifications kept popping up.

People asking, “Isn’t this something you could sue over?” or “Even if she’s a non-virgin, this is too much, don’t you think?” and “This has crossed the line.”

Fuc*k off.

I laughed, enjoying their disgusted reactions.

Why did I become like this all of a sudden?

Was it because I heard a slightly more extreme sexual comment? I thought I was used to this by now.

But deep down, I know the reason.

That day is coming.

Even if I try not to look at the calendar, I can tell by the weather and the atmosphere on the streets.

The day that renews my worst nightmares.

The day my self-loathing is at its peak, and the day I most often find myself standing on the rooftop.

A day when the weather is beautiful.

April 14th.

The anniversary of my mother’s and sister’s death is approaching.

Should I start a stream?

I entered the chat with the username “Biha” (short for non-virgin).

“You’re not looking too good. Have you been crying? Your eyes seem a bit swollen.”

“Hello,” I greeted. Unlike before, most people now greeted me warmly.

Normally, I’d be happy, but right now… it just doesn’t sit well with me.

I was wearing a short-sleeved shirt this time.

The kind of shirt I hadn’t worn before because I didn’t want my self-harm scars to show.

There I stood, motionless.

On the webcam screen, I could see myself, my upper arms fully exposed.

Red and dark marks of self-harm were visible on my arms.

The wounds were still fresh, with ugly scabs forming. I had carved new marks over the old scars, making them even more grotesque.

People seemed to notice, and soon the chat began to speed up.

I was relieved that I had switched to a good webcam.

– “Wait, those are really self-harm scars?”
– “Girl, are you okay? You should get those treated, or they’ll leave permanent marks.”

I had thrown away the ointment that Song Chae-hyun had given me.

What’s the point of healing a mark that I went through the trouble to carve?

But I didn’t like their responses.

I didn’t want pity.

I wanted them to tell me how disgusting I was, that they hated me, that they wanted to kill me.

Then, a donation alert sounded.

– “JinjjaMoreum님 has donated 1,000 won. Self-harming bitch*es are total slut*s. After this stream, you’re gonna get railed by some random dude, haha.”

My chest tightened, and tears welled up, but at the same time, I felt grateful.

I was genuinely thankful for giving me the outlet to express my emotions.

“You’re right. I’m actually not a virg*in,” I blurted out in a shaky voice.

Once the words left my mouth, I couldn’t stop.

“I get fuck*ed every night, by like ten guys, over and over again.”

– “What…?”
– “Did she just have a breakdown? Who triggered her?”
– “I knew it. Slu*t, I knew it.”

The chat flooded with reactions, and I continued.

“I’m going to get fuc*ked again today. By some random guy I don’t even know.”

My vision blurred.

I wanted to say more.

I wanted to be insulted, called a filthy who*re.

But tears overflowed, and I couldn’t speak.

I looked at the chat with eyes full of hope, expecting those who had once valued my purity to express their disappointment and hurl insults at me.

I thought those who wanted to see me fall would laugh at me, and maybe even my mom and Ji-yeon would find it… commendable?

But instead…

– “What’s wrong all of a sudden?”
– “Who said something to her? They must be insane.”
– “Don’t cry .”

Most of the chat was filled with messages trying to comfort me.

Those words pierced my heart, and with a voice full of anger, I shouted, choking back my tears,

“Why… Why won’t you insult me? Why won’t you call me a slu*t?”

– “She doesn’t seem mentally stable right now, how could anyone insult her?”
– “Snap out of it, please.”
– “What the hell, why is she acting like this? There were always comments like that before.”
– “Screw it, why’s this making me feel sad?”

As the chat filled with sympathy, I couldn’t hold back my sobs anymore.

I cried for a long time, feeling utterly pathetic.

I turned off the stream.

Surely, I must have been a nuisance.

I tried to use them as emotional dumping grounds, then abruptly ended the stream without even apologizing.

They must hate me now, right?

…

I’m scared.

I wanted to be hated, but now I fear actually being hated.

The self-loathing welled up again, fueled by the contradiction of those feelings.

I stepped outside and climbed the stairs.

Before long, the rooftop came into view.

In the distance, I could hear the sound of a car’s engine.

That’s right. The world keeps turning, even without me.

When did that worn-out, bitter saying start to feel so comforting?

I took off my shoes.

A chilly breeze blew past.

I stared blankly down at the ground far below.

One step forward, and I’d be dead.

I gazed at the scenery, wide-eyed, as if trying to take it all in.

But, in the end, I didn’t want to die.

Damn it. Stupid, pathetic bitc*h.

The tears wouldn’t stop. No matter how much I wiped them with my fingers, they just kept flowing.

And then, I heard someone rushing up the stairs behind me.

Before I could even turn around to see who it was, someone grabbed me by the waist.

“Ah!?”

With a short gasp, my body was pulled backward.

“Ugh!”

I fell to the ground with a thud.

My head hit the ground lightly, leaving me feeling dazed. Something warm seemed to be flowing.

Could it be…?

My prince?

The one who would bring both eternal salvation and fear, my prince on a white horse?

Caught between terror and hope, I slowly opened my bleary eyes.