This is a story from when I was very young.
I had a mentor.
The mentor told me he had suffered from the Berserker trait even before I was born.
However, despite enduring that torment, which others could barely understand, he managed to build a small family with his beloved partner.
He was like a pioneer who had walked the path I might tread one day—a veteran of life.
One day, he appeared before me and declared himself my mentor.
“The talent you possess can become your strength if controlled well, but if you fail to suppress it, it will take away what you hold dear.”
Instead of denying my Berserker instincts, he sought to teach me how to embrace and control them.
He often advised me, “Instead of erasing your emotions, redirect that energy elsewhere.”
Then, one day, I encountered him at the ruins of a house at the edge of the forest.
“Ah… ah… ahhhh…”
He was covered in blood from head to toe, muttering incoherently to himself.
“K-Kang Hana, this… why… why did I…”
On the ground lay the lifeless bodies of his cherished wife and child.
He had killed them himself in a Berserker rampage.
When he finally regained his senses, his eyes were painfully clear, but his family was already cold and lifeless.
“Ah, no, Kang Hana, don’t look, don’t look…”
With trembling hands, he covered my eyes and led me away from the scene, pushing me out of the place.
Then, he disappeared.
After that day, I never found him again.
Years passed as I grew up in the orphanage, underwent aptitude tests for magical abilities, and entered the National Hunter Training School, the stage before the Academy.
It was nearly impossible for a mere student to track down a wandering man like him.
But I never forgot that day—the mentor’s anguished regret as he wept over the bodies of his wife and daughter and the trembling grip of his hand as he pulled me away.
‘I must not become like him.’
The nightmare-like scene from that day became the chains that kept me grounded whenever the
Berserker instincts tried to overwhelm me.
Even when anger surged to my throat, I clenched my fists and repeated to myself:
No matter what happens, I will never harm anyone with my own hands.
To prevent a second tragedy like my mentor’s.
That’s how I lived each day, recalling his words.
Even though I might never meet him again, I hoped to one day find him myself and greet him proudly.
“I never lost control,” I’d say.
But that resolve had already been broken, and within days, it was about to shatter again.
All because of Joo Yidam.
The woman stood before me with a faint smile and bleeding palms.
The woman I had severely injured during a sparring match when I failed to suppress my Berserker instincts.
Yet, instead of fearing or avoiding me, she strangely hovered around me.
Joo Yidam.
Joo Yidam looked straight into my eyes and said,
“You need to resist even this level of provocation. If you can’t, I’ll end up holding your leash. Do you really want me ringing a bell for you? Seriously? Do you want to be a dog?”
The smell of blood wafting to my nose forcefully knocked on the doors of my Berserker instincts. My chest pounded, and a red haze seemed to cloud my vision.
Amidst the turmoil, Joo Yidam’s voice spread through my world like a hallucination.
“Look straight at it.”
I tried to avert my eyes from the provocative sight.
But Joo Yidam cruelly extended her bleeding hand toward me, as if to force me to confront it.
The crimson liquid dripping from her palm danced before my eyes, endlessly provoking my uncontrollable desires.
Why are you doing this to me? I begged her to stop.
But my pleas were ignored.
The anger within me, aimless and reproducing itself, swelled larger and larger.
Sweat beaded at the corners of my mouth as I panted.
The Berserker’s aura roared in my mind, urging me to crush that damned woman before me and revel in the victory.
“Shut up!” I screamed internally.
“Come here.”
Joo Yidam’s blood-stained hand swept across my face.
Every touch of her soft fingers ignited a strange pleasure.
The fragrant smell of blood drove me to the brink.
Joo Yidam, looking down at me like I was a mere plaything in her grasp, smirked and muttered,
“How does it feel? Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Her words jolted the last shred of my sanity.
“Shut up!”
Without realizing it, I shouted. My body trembled, and for a moment, I felt something snap.
‘If I take one more step, I’ll truly cross the line.’
But the warning voice in my head was already faint.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
Amid the blood-red haze, Joo Yidam’s figure was the only thing in sharp focus.
Despite my efforts to suppress it, the relentless fury threatened to burst out of me.
Joo Yidam, more than anyone, must have sensed it.
Yet, she didn’t flee.
Leaning lazily against the classroom door, she pushed me further, right to the edge.
“You’re holding up well.”
Her whispering words, sharp and cutting, fanned the flames of my madness.
The tension coursing through my body exploded, making every muscle ache.
Breathless, trembling fists clenched, my arms brimmed with a strength I didn’t even know I had.
“Stop it… stop it now!”
I shouted through ragged breaths, but my voice carried no conviction.
I was already baring my teeth, roaring with instinct.
Finally, my feet left the ground, propelling me forward.
My arms, no, my entire body lunged savagely.
My target was Joo Yidam.
The world around me blurred, consumed by a mix of madness and ecstasy.
In the distorted, crimson-tinged world, only Joo Yidam retained her form—my goddess, my fixation.
I was consumed by a sudden urge to trample her, to crush her completely, leaving no trace behind.
At the last moment, I barely managed to stop myself.
Cold sweat dripped down the back of my neck, and I could hear the sound of my own ragged breathing.
The instinct that had surged to the brink of explosion hung grotesquely in the air, unable to burst.
Joo Yidam never backed away the entire time.
Her eyes seemed to be trying to hide her fear, but there was more surprise than anything else.
Disbelief was written all over her face.
“How…?”
I couldn’t muster the strength to answer.
“Gah… huff, haah…”
I bent over desperately, trying to suppress the unquelled anger within me. Kneeling on the ground as if collapsing, I buried my face in my hands.
A bead of sweat from my nose fell and stained the floor.
My mental strength was completely shredded at this point.
At that moment, the image of one man filled my mind.
‘Master.’
The memory of that day flashed vividly: the sight of my master drenched in blood, crying out in despair after killing his own family with his hands.
Covered in guilt, anger, and grief, his hands stained with blood he could never wash away—even as he tried to hide his tears.
That was the ruin of a Berserker I had witnessed.
From then on, I created my own taboo.
A desperate resolve born from my core: I will never harm the people I love with my own hands.
In the half-cleared chaos of my mind, I revisited the lesson left behind by my master’s destruction.
That painful memory became a driving force, a whip to ensure I would never succumb to the madness.
Finally, I exhaled and straightened my back.
Though my heart pounded wildly and my sweat-drenched clothes clung to me, I was still myself.
In front of me, Joo Yidam stared with wide eyes like a startled rabbit.
‘I’ll walk a different path than my master.’
I made that vow silently, feeling the heart in my chest that had just weathered a storm.
The shadow of madness would never vanish entirely.
But I resolved not to fear it anymore—I would face it head-on.
A strange thing happened.
Having overcome the urge triggered by Joo Yidam’s blood once, I found that seeing or smelling her blood no longer provoked the same frenzy.
As I wiped away the blood staining the empty classroom, I felt a growing certainty.
The smell that should have incited aggression now seemed to stabilize me instead.
I wasn’t the only one surprised.
Even Joo Yidam, who always acted like she had some plan or purpose, looked more astonished than anyone else at the change.
“Are you really okay?”
“Yeah… Strangely, I feel calm. When I smell your blood, the frenzy I used to feel stops as if it were a lie.”
It felt like stepping off the edge of a sharp blade onto soft grass.
And yet, I could still wield extraordinary strength.
If I had to name this state… maybe “calm excitement.”
That someone’s blood could grant me this kind of clarity—it was nothing short of a miracle.
Being near Joo Yidam gave me the certainty that I could remain myself, not a frenzied monster attacking indiscriminately.
“Hmm, I see…”
Joo Yidam listened carefully to my explanation, then suddenly smiled.
Her smile had a way of unsettling people, and I, having been caught up in her whims countless times, knew that better than anyone.
Instinctively, I went on guard.
“What now?”
“I think I found it. Your trigger.”
“…What?”
Without warning, Joo Yidam pulled out a handkerchief and started wiping the blood off her body.
Then she cut her palm a bit more and soaked the handkerchief in fresh blood before handing it to me.
“Here, carry this around from now on.”
It was a handkerchief stained with Joo Yidam’s blood.
To me, it was more than just that—it was a handkerchief that had touched every corner of a female classmate’s body.
I stared blankly.
“…Huh?”
Was I really supposed to take this?
Was this another one of her tests? Knowing Joo Yidam, it very well could be, and the thought sent a shiver down my spine.
Seeing me hesitate for too long, she prodded impatiently.
“You said my blood calms you down, right? If you start losing it again, use this to ground yourself.”
“Oh… uh, okay.”
After that, Joo Yidam casually went back to cleaning the classroom.
Then, out of nowhere, she turned to me, her face slightly flushed, and began smacking me with the mop she was holding.
“What the hell?!”
“Ugh, you idiot! You better listen up! If I catch you sniffing that handkerchief when it’s not an emergency, you’re dead. Got it?!”
“Wait, what?! Ow, stop hitting me!”
Life with Joo Yidam was full of absurdities.
That was my impression of her lately.