Kyungwon University

TRIGGER WARNING. THIS BIO INCLUDES MENTIONS AND LIGHT DESCRIPTIONS OF: TOXIC PARENT/CHILD RELATIONSHIP, DRUG & ALCOHOL MENTIONS, AND DOMESTIC ABUSE. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

Born in New York City to immigrant parents, Jory grew up in a working class family in one of the rougher neighborhoods in Manhattan. Her childhood was neither happy nor unhappy, instead hanging in an eternal purgatory where the good times were really good and the bad times were really bad. The truth was, as a very young child, she didn’t know that life could be any different; both her mother and her father worked tirelessly to support their small family, their minimal English language skills and education forcing them into lower-income jobs within their own community. Absent parents meant that Jory often got passed along to family members of co-workers, and was placed into daycare and preschools when there was no one available to watch her. She eventually learned, by being both the first kid at preschool and the last one to get picked up, that things for her family were a little different. Despite all of this, she was an outwardly happy child, if a bit quiet and withdrawn from the other children.

Inside of her, however, a hurricane raged on. As she started elementary school, intense feelings of anger, sorrow, and neglect formed. For a small child, putting those feelings into words was difficult. She made friends, but was detached—often lost in groups and preferring the comfort of a quiet corner. That was when she turned to art. Cheap crayons and watercolor paints became her best friends, and every opportunity for a gift to be given would be met with a request for more art supplies. Her parents did the best that they could, their family members from South Korea assisting by sending presents for birthdays and holidays. Regardless of what she had, Jory made it work, and mixed-media pieces were her bread and butter. She knew by middle school that she wanted to pursue art as a profession, and thus placed all of her focus on creative pursuits and little attention on anything else.

All it took was one bad teacher too many telling her she would never make it before her aspirations and drive completely changed. Add that to a pair of disapproving parents who longed to see their child thrive after years of financial struggle, and Jorelle felt utterly lost. Now an adolescent, she faced a crisis that most teens didn’t endure until their junior and senior years in high school. Would she get it together and force herself to enjoy math or science in the hopes she could have a successful career in a high-paying field? She was smart enough to do it if she wanted to; she just never got the highest marks because she chose not to. Or would she ignore what everyone else said and shoot for her dreams and passions, even if it resulted in an unstable income and hustling to make ends meet?

She chose the latter. Her passion and calling were more important than someone else's dreams for her. And ... a degree could help. Proper training and exploration would build her skillset and aid her along her path to become a professional artist.

High school was rough, but Jory got her act together. She was by no means a perfect student, but she kept her head down and worked hard—often without the support of her parents, who still managed to find displeasure with her aspirations and were too busy to help even if they wanted to. The resentment that had built over the course of her entire lifetime was finally coming to a head, and any remaining care she had for her mother and father’s opinions vanished. Independent from her family out of necessity, it made little difference to Jory. Four more years, and she could be out of her parents’ home, away from their constant disappointments and criticisms. How did they even feel entitled to such things?

College applications came and went, and to her great shock one day, Jory found an acceptance letter from Kyungwon University waiting on her desk with an offer for a substantial scholarship. The application had been a long-shot, and really, she'd only submitted it as the ultimate middle finger to her parents. But this was it. Her ticket to freedom. Along with the financial aid she qualified for, she was set. Without so much as a goodbye, she moved to Seoul to start a new chapter. She never looked back, and hasn’t seen her parents since.

University life was made for Jory. Late night parties, alcohol, and sex—she found her vices quickly and reveled in them. Every experience became an act of rebellion against her parents, and she got her first tattoo after attending classes for just one week: the constellation of Taurus behind her left ear. Her artist was an up-and-coming name in the community, 12 years her senior, and the exact opposite of everything her parents would have wanted for her in a romantic partner, Jory began an intense romantic and sexual relationship with him that lasted for two years. The good times were good; he encouraged her to push her artistry to the next level, and it was through him that she began her own journey to become a tattoo artist. The bad times were worse, however; intense late night arguments, insults and cutting words, emotional manipulation, and thrown hands. She doesn’t remember much about the day she left him—only that she’d finally had enough, worked up the nerve to pack up all of her things while he was at work, and moved into an apartment with her dear friend Hikaru. She found a new tattoo artist to apprentice under—a middle-aged woman named Nari, who ensured that Jory's reputation in the community remained intact after her ex's attempts to ruin it.

TRIGGER WARNINGS!

child abuse, emotional and physical abuse, anxiety and mentions of depression and trauma

changmin was born and raised in shiroi, in the prefecture of chiba, japan, to a korean mother, choi eunkyung, and her ex-husband, song hangyeol. as he grew up, all he had ever known was the world shown to him by his mother. it was a rather lonely existence. she was a cold person, distant and barely available for him. she always told him he had better things to do such as focus on her passions and her love of writing, trying to create the next big hit, and at night, she would hit the bars and clubs, always bringing a new stranger home late at night. there was a gap between them that was hard to close, and no matter how much the young boy tried, it would only become wide and bigger. his questions would come ignored, his offered help would be met with scorn, and if he tried to offer her any comfort, he would get rolled eyes, and a raised voice. though it was hard to deal with at first, changmin was just a young boy after all, and didn’t completely understand what was wrong with his mother, he was quick to adapt and make sure he wasn’t in her way whenever she did decide to show up and as he grew older, and went from elementary school to middle school, he had found ways to cope with the neglect he had grown accustomed to.

soon, all the times he was left alone after school were met with excitement instead of anxiety and sadness. changmin considered himself lucky. his teachers were always nice to him, treating him as if he was made of glass despite him being one of the few kids who came to school without any bruises or cuts, but he was treated just as delicately, given extra snacks and bentos, and when he was left to wait for his mother to pick him up, the adults would keep him company, help him with his homework and play games with him. they were his first friends. soon after, the upperclassmen would find their way on the list. it was fun to be brought along to different after school clubs and to be included. young student found it fascinating to learn about different book genres, and listen to how one can turn and form a story with just their voice even though he didn’t speak much himself, and it went on like that for a few years. changmin would stay after classes and participate in whichever club of his choosing, up until he found his one true calling, music.

if there was one way to explain it in the young boy’s eyes, it was almost as if he lived two lives: the time before music, the one after it. it felt like he suddenly regained new meaning, he finally had a way to express his feelings, and everything had become so much brighter, so much alive. he joined every jamming session for as much as he could for as long as he could, and absorbed every note played, learning how to read music and to play whatever instrument he was allowed to touch. with patience and lots of love and passion, changmin was able to nurture his interest into something tangible, a talent and then something more, an ability.

he soon joined the music club and as many courses as possible after that, finding his way onto the top of the class, and getting noticed by judges when his school band joined competitions. he was offered special classes, invitations to join conservatoires, mail, and phone calls being sent home, and when his mother found out, instead of being happy and proud, he was met with anger, hate, and jealousy.

all her insults and jeers were only said through words before that, but they now became physical threats, hands raised, fists formed to give blows, all because she had a failing career, she wasn’t happy in the life she lived, and she found it easiest to take it out on her son who seemed to be blooming without her aid. she had wanted him to become unhealthily dependent on her, and changmin didn’t even need her.

life became much harder after that. his mother knew what he was striving for and made sure to rip whatever control he had on his life away from him. the guitar book he had taken from the school library would be found soaked in water, illegible, all the beginnings of a song he would write would be thrown in the trash, the violin he was gifted by his music teacher would be broken and into pieces. it was suffocating, and many times changmin wished he hadn’t found an interest in anything, he couldn’t breathe, and his bruises were becoming harder to hide.

and one day, after a rather bad fight that left the young teen limping and with tears running down his cheeks, clutching only his backpack that was filled with his favourite books and whatever salvaged music pieces, he made his way to his neighbour, a kind elderly lady who had a hard time hearing, the only reason why no complaints were made, and he decided, he didn’t care if he didn’t have a mother anymore, not if he had to live through hell, and he told this stranger in extreme detail the abuse he had been going through for fifteen years.

it was all a blur after that. the phone call being made, the hug given to him after being asked permission to be touched, the statement he had to give in front of complete strangers, it made his hands shake, his heart quaking in his chest, but soon after, his shoulders felt lighter, and though he had nothing from his old home to bring with him, he was soon reunited with his biological father, a gentle male who broke into tears when he saw changmin for the first time in years, and the young male never had anyone cry for him before, it was an overwhelming experience to feel unconditional love for the first time.