[Im]possible [Sung Jinwoo x Reader - English] Solo Leveling

Chapter 2

The cool wind played gently with your dark hair as you stood on the porch and breathed in the fresh air. A slight smile flitted across your face as you remembered the moment you woke up in the hospital.

"...Then I opened my eyes and found myself in intensive care. I was in a coma for two weeks, plagued by blood poisoning and a high fever. When I woke up, doctors surrounded me and asked me questions about how I had survived it all... But I had no answers. Everything felt so different, so strange. All the people around me, especially the male doctors, made my pulse race and I started to hyperventilate. I remember begging them not to hurt me - even though they only wanted to help - because their presence brought back memories of the doctor in my captivity."

You shudder at the thought and continue: "They wanted to give me a sedative injection, but in panic I thrashed around and cried. I didn't want anything to do with any substances." At that moment, the door was wrenched open.

A warm smile spreads across your face. "My family rushed in. I immediately sat up, tore off the drip and ran into my mother's arms. She held me tightly while I screamed and cried loudly. On my knees, I clung to her like an anchor."

Your voice softens at the memory: "My two older siblings also hugged me, but when a male hand touched my shoulder, I instinctively pushed it away and hid behind my mother. My father whispered my name sadly. By then, they already knew part of what had happened - they had been told that my torture must have been cruel and that there had probably been rape too."

You sigh heavily: "They were careful with me; nevertheless, I saw the hurt look in my father's eyes. Guilt overwhelmed me and tears streamed down my face as I apologized - but it was a long time before I could hug him again."

After you had calmed down a bit and there was only one doctor left in the room, three police officers entered. Your body immediately tensed up; the beeping of the machines gave away your increased heartbeat.

"They tried to calm me down," you continue with a grateful look at your mother, "and my mother held me tightly in her arms - my barrier against the world." In her embrace, you felt safe enough to tell the police everything.

"They were shocked," you said quietly, "especially my family about the behavior of my two cousins - even more about what had happened to them." The policemen asked about the doctor who had treated you; the hospital doctors described him as a genius in his field.

"I described every face to them in exact detail," you add, "because later they no longer wore masks." Then came the question about the two corpses in your 'cell.' "I also explained to them what had happened there," you say with a trembling voice, "and broke down in tears again, fearing I'd be imprisoned once more because I had killed two people." But everyone reassured you; it was self-defense—something you denied since you had planned everything. "Still, they credited me highly for what had happened," you recall with relief, "and were astonished that they gave me lessons there—my IQ was said to be above average." A sad smile flickers across your face at this realization.

"What else was one to do when every mistake was punished?" you ask rhetorically as your thoughts drift back. "For years afterward, I tried to do everything perfectly out of fear of being beaten, even within my own family, though I knew they would never do such a thing." Your gaze drops sadly to the floor as your voice breaks with emotion. "But when you're mentally tortured as a six-year-old child, the damage stays—even if therapy has helped a lot."

"But my illness wouldn't let me go... There were weeks when I felt miserable, and then again months when I felt almost healthy. On my 18th birthday, after three years of ups and downs, I decided to move out. I wanted to go my own way and be independent. I caught up on my school diplomas at night school and passed with top grades. Then I studied psychology at university and graduated with a master's degree. But then I took a completely different direction..." you laugh nervously. "I began an apprenticeship as a hairdresser," you continue. "I thought that daily contact with people would help me overcome my fears. It was like therapy for me. My sister, who is a master hairdresser, trained me. Everything went well—as long as my illness didn't make itself felt."