❝ hello world ❞
8:50 AM
The bedroom was bathed in the soft, white-gold glow of a new day. The light shifted, painting the room in pastel hues that bloomed into vibrant pop art. She possessed an inherent sweetness, undeniable and captivating. Her eyes were dark pools, drawing others in, mirroring her insatiable sweet tooth. Her skin was flawless, ivory-toned, a testament to her meticulous self-care. Long, dark hair flowed past her shoulders as she sat at the breakfast table with her parents.
Despite their separate lives, the family gathered each Sunday morning, to her parents’ delight. Jin greeted Y/n with a smile, settling beside her. He pulled her close, but she gently reminded him of her fragility, and he loosened his grip with a concerned frown. She playfully teased him about being a “big bag of muscles,” and he responded with a smile and a pat on her head.
Their parents arrived with plates laden with food, ready to be devoured. Jin couldn't resist a playful quip about finally satisfying his hunger. His father teased him about still relying on his parents for breakfast despite being a grown man and a doctor. Even the elders had their way of teasing.
“Sometimes I wonder how you managed to earn your degree from Oxford,” Jin’s father quipped as they all sat down at the breakfast table.
Jin responded with humor. “Thank you, but I’m still your only son.”
His father gave him a serious look and asked, “And?”
“Stop it, Dad. It seemed to me like you don’t love me anymore,” Jin teased back, clutching his heart dramatically.
“You know I love you both equally, child,” his father scolded him, but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips.
“Alright, enough teasing for now,” Jin grinned at his dad.
They ate in peaceful silence until Y/n’s father interrupted. “Y/n, you’ll be transferring today, right?”
She nodded. Her father expressed concern. “Isn’t that a little dangerous for you? You could just work at your brother’s hospital, right?”
“No, Dad. I love my job as a psychotherapist, and I can’t work at the hospital,” Y/n replied firmly. Her parents knew her independence, and how fiercely she defended her work and life choices. She’d achieved her dream: a cozy, elegant apartment in the city and a thriving practice.
Her parents knew better than to interfere with her work—she’d object fiercely.
10:00 AM
The moment had arrived.
This was the first time she was meeting him, assigned as her patient. Normally, her patients visited her office, but this was different. He was a criminal, and she had to provide therapy in his cell.
Transitioning into prison therapy was new and unsettling. She wanted to provide quality care, but also needed to be cautious. Being chosen for this assignment was a dream for every therapist she knew. She had been selected by her professor, Dr. Martin Lorenz, because she was the youngest and most skilled psychologist in her college. She’d studied criminal psychology for five years, followed by a bachelor’s in criminal justice and a degree in Forensic psychotherapy.
Her hard work had paid off, and she was confident in her abilities. She earned her Psy.D. after completing five years of study, including research and clinical hours. It was the longest track to becoming a therapist, but offered the best job prospects—the highest credential one could earn.
Her degree in Forensic psychotherapy had taken two years to complete, and it was her favorite. It focused on treating offenders who had committed violent acts against themselves or others.
Y/n believed she was up to the challenge.
The moment of truth had arrived. Even after discussing the case with the director of the prison, Kim Namjoon, she felt a tremor of fear. But she reframed it: a new challenge. He was a criminal, after all.
Her new patient was a killer, known as “Ink.” Aged 29, with seven confirmed kills. Four elderly men, three girls aged between 19 and 25. Their bodies were found lifeless, tortured, each marked with “INK” carved into their skin.
Namjoon had shown her the crime scene photos. All the girls had blonde hair and hazel eyes—the same shade. She couldn’t believe it, didn’t *want* to. It was horrific, something she hadn’t even dreamt of. Though, she knew her brain always woke her before such images could fully form.
“Here is the prisoner’s file,” Jimin, the prison doctor, informed her, handing her the files. “It contains all the information about him and his victims, along with his diagnosed disorders and medication.” Y/n took the files and began studying them, trying to comprehend everything about the patient before their first meeting. As she went through the pages, she saw that Ink had been diagnosed with multiple personality disorder and dissociative identity disorder.
Why does she feel like he was a rat between their hands?
“Check them before you meet him,” Jimin continued. “A guard will assist you to register your fingerprints in the system so you can easily enter his cell.” Y/n nodded, taking in his words.
This was the beginning of her journey as a prison therapist, and she was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.