Chapter 5.2

Chapter 5.2

Over time, though, the sasaengs started to dwindle. They aged, matured, or just moved on to repeat their antics with another idol.

By the time I hit my 10th year, I’d finally achieved something resembling a “normal” life. Fans weren’t as reactive to dating rumors as they’d been in the past, and Reverb had become one of the rare long-running boy groups. The agency’s responses had slightly improved too.

But fewer sasaengs didn’t mean they vanished entirely. Plenty still followed me around, convinced they could “do something” with me. Though none, until now, had ever broken into my home with a knife.

Frozen by fear, I couldn’t move a muscle. The sound of footsteps near the entryway broke the silence.

I wasn’t the only one who heard it—the sasaeng gripping the knife visibly tensed. The blade glinted ominously in the light, and sweat trickled down my back. She must’ve known I was afraid of knives. Why else would she flash the blade so deliberately?

“Sun Ye Jin!”

The voice from the now-open front door rushed through the living room. It wasn’t another Sasaeng. It was none other than Cheon Tae Rim.

“Why’s the door wide open?”

“…..”

“You’re okay, right? You didn’t pass out again, did you?”

Was this a stroke of luck or misfortune? Cheon Tae Rim must have sensed something was wrong. He always had an eerie knack for reading dangerous situations.

Still, even Cheon Tae Rim likely hadn’t anticipated a knife-wielding sasaeng standing in the middle of my living room. That’s something a shaman would anticipate, not an idol.

Tae Rim froze when he spotted the woman and her knife.

“…What the hell is going on here?”

“I don’t know either.”

“Get out of here, you idol-hater!”

As the sasaeng redirected her attention to Tae Rim, I slipped my phone behind my back and pressed the emergency call button. There was no way I was going to end my 12-year idol career by getting stabbed to death by a sasaeng after retiring.

Unfortunately, the sasaeng lunged at me before the police could respond. It would take minutes for the police to arrive, but she came at me immediately, like a lunatic.

Having only ever trained in dance, I had no chance of dodging a knife attack gracefully. She was clearly intent on dying alongside me. Blood was already dripping from her hand, but she didn’t seem to care.

I couldn’t even scream properly. I resented R&M for its lax approach to sasaeng management and couldn’t understand why a sasaeng would come after me just because I left my group of 12 years.

But the most ridiculous part was Cheon Tae Rim stepping between me and the sasaeng.

“Get out of the way!”

The knife plunged straight into Tae Rim’s abdomen—just below his stomach, above his pelvis. Even from a distance, I could tell it was a critical spot.

He was wearing a white sweatshirt, so the blood spreading across it was painfully vivid. Just seeing it made me gag. My legs gave out, and I collapsed to the floor.

I should’ve been the one stabbed. At least then I could’ve passed out and avoided witnessing this. Nothing ever went the way it should.

Blood from Tae Rim’s wound seeped onto the carpet in scattered drops.

Even after all these years, seeing knives or blood still sent my heart racing. I’d always avoided horror movies and games, despite the production team nagging me about it endlessly.

But this wasn’t a video or CGI—this was real blood, gushing in front of me. Tae Rim groaned in pain, and I instinctively curled into myself. My breathing grew shallow, panic setting in.

“Hey, Sun Ye Jin….”

“Oppa, stay right there. I meant to stab you, not Cheon Tae Rim.”

“You… just get out of here….”

Apparently, getting stabbed doesn’t knock you out immediately. But Tae Rim’s complexion turned deathly pale in a matter of seconds, making unconsciousness seem preferable.

He was  gripping the knife blade with his bare hand, but the sasaeng clings to him like a leech, trying desperately to pull it out.

Blood flows not only from Cheon Tae Rim’s abdomen but also from his hand. My breathing grows shallow, and as oxygen deprivation sets in, my vision begins to blur.

I hear Tae Rim yelling at me to run, but my body refuses to move. At this rate, I might faint before he does.

‘Snap out of it!’

The voice jolts me back.

This scene feels eerily familiar. A person holding a knife, another wounded, urging me to save myself. It’s a tableau that shaped my past, the reason I’m more often called ‘Pitiful’^[1] than by my real name, Ye Jin.

Nausea rises in my throat. The trauma I thought I’d escaped threatens to consume me again. I want to crawl away, to escape, but I can’t leave Cheon Tae Rim, who’s been stabbed in my place.

Because I know how this ends.

Desperately, I crawl across the floor and grab the sasaeng’s leg, holding it tightly to pull her away from Tae Rim. But she manages to yank the knife free and screams at me.

‘Ye Jin oppa.’

“Why… why are you doing this…?”

“If you’d just tried a little harder, I wouldn’t have gone this far.”

“Why… you said you loved me….”

“I do love you! Don’t you understand? This is because I love you… because I can’t stand to watch you ruin your life. I’d rather we both die together!”

The knife pulls free from Tae Rim’s abdomen, unleashing a fresh gush of red. His knees buckle, and he collapses. My mental state crumbles along with him.

How much harder was I supposed to try? I feel so wronged. Was I the only one who slacked off? The only one who wasn’t perfect? I always gave my all on stage—so why the hell do I deserve to face a knife?

I blacked out.

I couldn’t handle the scene. Blood everywhere, a person stabbed—it was too much for me to process.

I just wanted to run. To escape from it all. I wanted to live. To live well.

Please, someone save me. I swear I was going to do better this time….

Translator’s Notes:

 

 

 

 

 

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Note/s:

^[1] ↩

The term used here is ‘애잔’ (aejan) and it seems to translate to something sad or pitiful. I imagine it’s a play on words, as it’s somewhat similar to Ye Jin.