Chapter 6.1
The first sentence of Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy is famous worldwide. Even someone like me, who has barely touched a book, knows it well.
“Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”
That applied to my family, too. No family is without its struggles, but ours seemed to be hurtling toward rock bottom as if it were meticulously designed for disaster. It was never particularly great to begin with, but the real problem started when my mother completely fell for a cult and abandoned her family.
At least the entire family didnât get sucked in. But my mother refused to accept my fatherâs demands for a divorce. Apparently, she needed to stay married for the spirits to settle properly in her body or something.
Even so, my father held on at first. He told me it was only because my mother was weak-minded and had been swayed, that she would come back to her senses with time. He even joined an organization dedicated to rescuing people from cults.
My father loved my mother. That was my first real experience of “love”âwanting to do anything for someone, even at a loss to yourself.
I trusted my father. I couldnât trust my mother, who was completely immersed in the cult, but I believed that one day my father would set everything right. Back then, I was just a middle schooler, and the problems in our household were far beyond anything I could fix.
Then it happened. My father stabbed my mother with a knife.
“If you die, Iâll die too. I canât stand watching you destroy yourself anymore. If this is how itâs going to be, letâs just die together! If weâre going to live such a miserable life, we might as well be dead!”
“Iâm doing this because I love you, tooâŠ.”
My father, who had always been rational, lost his mind when my mother handed over our house and all our familyâs assets to the cult. Everything he had worked for his entire life was about to be swallowed up by some stranger claiming to be a spiritual leader. He couldnât take it anymoreâhis own wife was ruining him, and she wouldnât even grant him a divorce no matter how much he begged.
“Ye Jin.”
Even as she bled from the knife wound, my mother pushed me away.
“At least you⊠get out of here first. In time, everything will be fine. Everything willâŠ.”
It was all about money.
My father lost his sanity because he had endured too much. My mother fell into a cult because she was deceived by the promise that spiritual possession would bring her wealth. If only she hadnât believed that lie, our family wouldnât have been destroyed like this.
To this day, I still donât understand why my mother, an educated woman, got sucked into such a ridiculous belief. People say that intelligent individuals find it harder to admit when theyâre wrong. My parents were both like that. I was no different.
Ever since that day, I flinched at the sight of knives, even fake ones. Watching someone get stabbed was enough to send me into shock. Even bloodâwhether it was part of a prop or just decorationâmade me uneasy. When faced with a gory scene, I would start hyperventilating or feel like I was about to pass out. Naturally, this put me at odds with variety show producers.
I couldnât just “grit my teeth and endure it.” I had personally witnessed what happened to those who did. But everyone looked at me like I was making a fuss over nothing.
You want to be an idol, but you canât even handle this? You shouldâve gotten proper counseling and fixed yourself. Ugh, Ye Jinâs at it again, being pathetic. What if heâs just like his mom, a cult follower? No matter how good an idol is, if their familyâs messed up, itâs hard to like them.
“Sun Ye Jin!”
Someone shook me roughly, jolting me awake.
I flinched violently.
It had been a long time since I last dreamed about middle school. The therapy R&M provided had been surprisingly effective, making me think I had overcome my trauma.
But that was just an illusion.
Realistically, how many people in the 21st century would witness a stabbing with their own eyes? Avoiding blood and knives was something I could manage if I was careful. Fans were well aware of my fearâit was practically public knowledge after twelve years in the industry.
Yet at some point, my nickname had become “Pathetic.” Variety show producers openly mocked me. My group members resented me for making them take my punishments instead.
Fans who initially sympathized with me would turn on me in an instant with statements like Wow, because of that loser, the concept stage got canceled. Why are they still keeping him around? Liking idols with family issues is basically a weird fetish, right? Thanks to his whiny stans, Reverb is becoming more and more patheticâŠ.
“Were you having sleep paralysis or something? You looked freaked out.”
“âŠâŠ.”
“The college entrance exam is coming up soon. You think you can afford to sleep like this? The homeroom teacher said if you skip school again today, youâre in trouble.”
“âŠWhat?”
“You still half-asleep? I said if you ditch school again today, the homeroom teacherâs not gonna let it slide.”
Homeroom teacher?
