SHUDDER 8

Everything on the island happened regardless of one’s will. The sea churned with fierce waves, binding people’s feet, and the sky, capricious, poured rain one moment and shone sun the next, often several times a day, ruining carefully dried squid. On days when fishing boats were helplessly tethered at the harbor, the entire village lost its vitality, enveloped in deep silence.

The storm warning for the nearby waters showed no sign of lifting after days. The harbor, usually bustling with seasonal squid fishing, was deserted. This made the already tight finances even more strained, but the villagers meekly accepted the will of the sky and sea. Growing up and living in such an environment, one naturally learned to yield and resign first. Nature relentlessly tested and tempered those who dared to defy their fate.

Gijeong opened the rickety old gate, rattling ceaselessly in the fierce wind, and looked toward the dock. House-sized waves, licking with dark tongues, crashed endlessly onto the shore. A heavy sigh escaped him. His faint hopes kept turning into disappointment.

With ferry services halted, days without school stretched to three or four. According to the weather forecast, the storm should have been subsiding, but it only grew fiercer. As long as this continued, he was trapped on the island.

Shoulders slumped, he returned to the room. Each gust of wind made the house creak in various places. Whether the noise came from the roof, window frames, or door frames, he couldn’t tell. Even if he could, there was nothing he could do. In a household struggling to feed mouths, there was no room to fix a leaking roof.

Sitting at a small table, he was about to resume working on a problem set he’d put aside. Something nudged his leg. Sighing softly, he turned to see his father, Mr. Yeom, eyes red with drunkenness. Sucking on an empty soju bottle, Mr. Yeom irritably kicked Gijeong’s leg again when he didn’t respond.

“Ha… what?”

Despite trying not to, a preemptively sharp and cold reply slipped out. Mr. Yeom’s eyebrows twitched at his son’s defiant attitude, but he was too drunk to slap him as usual. He could barely manage himself.

Blinking slowly, he seemed unable to discern who sat before him. Yet, his desire was clear.

“Hey, you. Can’t you see? I’m out of booze.”

His speech slurred, tongue heavy. Annoyed by the foul alcohol stench, Gijeong turned away. He was fed up with Mr. Yeom, who lay around all day and sought booze the moment he woke.

Ignoring his father’s ramblings, Gijeong focused on his problems. Mr. Yeom, demanding liquor, began kicking his thighs and hips. Though his seated body swayed, Gijeong kept his mouth shut and endured.

“Get me booze, you brat. Booze! I said get the booze!”

Mr. Yeom threw a tantrum like a child, flailing and tossing whatever he grabbed. Worried that stray objects might hit his sleeping younger brother, Gijeong hugged Giyeong and turned away from Mr. Yeom. Bottles and debris hit his back repeatedly.

Still, he didn’t try to dodge. He’d grown immune to such violence and pain, barely feeling it.

“You brat! When your father speaks, at least pretend to listen! Think you’d even be born without me? Getting cocky just because you’re a bit grown, looking down on your father? You disrespectful punk!”

Fuming, Mr. Yeom hurled a broom. It struck Gijeong’s forehead and fell. Gijeong lowered his head with a soft “ah.” That triggered Mr. Yeom to mercilessly beat his scrawny back, shoulders, and head. Gijeong curled up, silently enduring the brutal blows. There was nowhere to escape, and he couldn’t fight his father, no matter what.

Shielding Giyeong with his body, he blocked Mr. Yeom’s relentless violence from reaching the boy. Mr. Yeom didn’t hesitate to kick Gijeong, who swallowed his groans and endured. Even an archenemy wouldn’t be beaten with such venom.

There was no reason for the violence. It had always been that way.

Gijeong shook off Mr. Yeom’s hand as he grabbed his hair to slam him against the wall. Pent-up resentment burst out.

“Father! Stop it! Please, get a grip! How long will you keep chasing booze? Last night and this morning, Giyeong ate nothing. We don’t even know how to manage tonight’s meal, let alone tomorrow, and you’re asking where the money for booze is?”

Mr. Yeom seemed blind to Giyeong’s gaunt frame. Just four years old, he should have been chubby, falling asleep contentedly with a full belly. Instead, Giyeong whimpered all day from hunger, finally dozing off, sucking his fingers with dried tears on his lashes, a pitiful sight.

At Gijeong’s outpouring, Mr. Yeom’s eyes flared. Reeking of sour alcohol, he grabbed Gijeong’s collar.

“What’s that? Mocking your father’s uselessness now? You think I’m a joke too?”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“But you, glaring and talking back like that? I said get the booze, so do it quick! You punk! You insolent brat!”

Mr. Yeom slapped Gijeong’s face until his anger subsided.

“Waaah! Waaah!”

Giyeong, woken at last, wailed loudly. Whether it was the hostile atmosphere or gnawing hunger, no one could tell.

“Shut up! Stop it! Why are you making a fuss?”

“Don’t! Ugh…!”

Gijeong desperately blocked a kick aimed at Giyeong, taking a blow to his unprotected face and hitting his head against the wall.

Losing balance, Mr. Yeom fell hard on his rear. Groaning briefly, he soon stood, grabbed Gijeong’s collar, and dragged him outside. Gijeong was shoved onto the frozen porch. Mr. Yeom slammed the door, as if saying not to return without booze.

The house was filled with damp air, sour alcohol, and a child’s piercing cries. Pushed out from that wretched space, the outside world was cold and sharp with biting wind.

Staring blankly at the closed door and the dilapidated, eerie house, Gijeong dragged his battered body to the kitchen. He rummaged through long-empty dishes and pulled out a tin kettle buried inside.

Pushing open the creaking gate, which screamed with every movement, he stepped out without a proper coat. His body instinctively curled against the cold, driven by meager survival instincts. Each step felt like his body creaked. The humiliation and sorrow outweighed the pain.

Heading to the tavern past the harbor, his steps slowed drastically. He hated submitting to violence and facing judgmental looks for begging not for his brother’s meal but for mere booze.

The fierce wind scattered the boards blocking the tavern’s glass door. An industrial plastic sheet, blown from somewhere, flapped toward Gijeong. Tethered boats rocked heavily in the surging waves, as if they’d crash onto land. Glass shards from a nearby seafood restaurant crunched underfoot.

Everything was in ruins: the windbreak trees, an old man’s cart for hauling fish, the restaurant’s glass windows, and its large tank.

Pausing, Gijeong watched the desolate scene. He wished he too could be swept away, vanishing without a trace.

Gazing endlessly at the sea, he gathered his aching body and resumed walking. The tin kettle’s lid rattled loudly in the wind.

The cold pierced every part of his body. No matter how much he hunched his shoulders or tensed his frame, the wind found gaps like a ghost. Adjusting his glasses sliding down his nose, he trudged to the tavern like a cow to the slaughterhouse, as if heavy weights were tied to his legs.

The family’s situation hadn’t always been this dire. Once, Gijeong had a sturdy home, free from worries about leaks or going hungry.

What went wrong, and how? What wind, for what reason, pushed Gijeong’s back to this island? Passing the fishy harbor, he recalled the futile past.

His calm, peaceful life began spiraling six years ago.

Fourteen. Too young to fully grasp or accept the ways of the world, yet old enough to sense the air shifting unexpectedly.

A time of turbulence. Laughing at leaves tumbling in the wind, eyes tearing up at sunsets for no reason. Gijeong’s adolescence was uniquely chaotic and harsh. Trials crashed in like massive swells, engulfing his fragile world.

“Gijeong, get up quick. You have to get up.”

His mother’s urgent voice broke the night’s silence. His consciousness, sunk deep, was yanked back to reality. Her usually calm voice trembled, conveying vague fear, despair, and sorrow.

Normally, he’d beg for “five more minutes,” pulling the blanket over his head, but the ominous mood snapped his eyes open. As his blurry vision cleared, his mother’s face filled his view, tears welling in her eyes.

“…Mom?”

“Yes, good boy. Hurry and get up.”

An unsettling bustle prickled the back of his neck. Gijeong sat up reluctantly, studying his mother’s expression. Avoiding his gaze, she turned and pulled clothes from a drawer, dressing him roughly as he shook off sleep.

“What’s wrong, Mom? Where are we going? It’s still dark outside.”

“Put your clothes on. Hurry.”

She didn’t explain, only urging him to rush while fetching pants and socks.

Suddenly, a flashlight beam cut through the room. It was his father, Mr. Yeom. Speaking in a hushed tone, he hurried the pair.

“Still not ready?”

“Almost done.”

“Father? What’s going on?”

“Shh. Don’t talk, just do what your mom says.”

Mr. Yeom issued orders, stuffing Gijeong’s favorite bag with whatever caught his eye. His hands moved frantically, fumbling the zipper several times. Watching was suffocating. Giving up on the zipper, Mr. Yeom slung the open bag over his shoulder and headed out. Gijeong, led by his mother, followed without washing.

Everything happened covertly in the pitch-black darkness. It wasn’t a blackout, yet his parents relied only on flashlight beams, moving like thieves.

His mother’s flashlight shook unstably, her hands trembling like aspen leaves. Her breathing was equally unsteady. Objects scattered on the floor were repeatedly stepped on as she moved cautiously.

It was strange. Everything was different from usual. A series of incomprehensible events. Yet, his parents told the bewildered Gijeong nothing.

Outside, a small truck waited. The cargo bed held familiar bedding and household items, haphazardly piled. These were things that occupied their home until recently, unmarked by the red tags left by mysterious visitors.

In the dead of night, packing meager belongings to go somewhere, wary of being seen. Why? One question spawned another, filling and amplifying in his mind.

His father, Mr. Yeom, approached the truck without looking back. When the engine roared, he flinched, scanning the surroundings with a terrified expression. His white eyes stood out in the dark as he checked repeatedly for onlookers, then pushed Gijeong’s back.

“No time. Get in.”

“Father.”

“I said get in!”

“Where are we going? Why so suddenly?”

“We’re… moving.”

His mother answered instead. Her gaze briefly met Mr. Yeom’s before dropping. Gijeong looked between them, protesting.

“Why move in the middle of the night? You didn’t mention this yesterday. I didn’t even say goodbye to my friends. Why like this? I haven’t returned Hyeonseok’s game. And my computer? Why didn’t we bring it? Did you contact the school? My teacher said nothing… Why move so secretly? Don’t go. Please, Father, Mom, let’s not go.”

He pleaded, stomping his feet. He wasn’t young enough to fall for his mother’s flimsy lie. He vaguely knew they were in a situation requiring escape, that this secret departure might have no return. His mother’s teary face and Mr. Yeom’s deep sigh confirmed it.

“Stop acting childish and get in!”

“I don’t want to go. I won’t!”

He couldn’t understand why he, innocent, had to lose everything, couldn’t accept it.

Throwing a tantrum, Mr. Yeom’s face hardened, his eyes narrowing fiercely. A sharp sting flared on Gijeong’s cheek. The slap echoed loudly in the night’s stillness. In that moment, Mr. Yeom’s anger seemed to overpower his worries and fears.

His mother, startled, hugged her son, who’d never been struck before, glaring reproachfully at Mr. Yeom.

Mr. Yeom roughly shoved them into the truck’s back seat, scanned the surroundings one last time, and climbed into the passenger seat.

The truck sped through the darkness. With no lights in the houses at this hour, it felt like sinking deeper into a quagmire. A massive vortex seemed to open its dark maw to swallow Gijeong.

Familiar sights flashed by the window: the first house they owned when Mr. Yeom’s business thrived, the elementary school where Gijeong earned a six-year attendance award, the middle school he’d just started attending in an unfamiliar uniform, his mother’s high school workplace, and their regular diner.

The truck sped on, leaving it all behind. Gijeong kept looking back, unable to let go, though the sights were buried in darkness.

His mother wiped tears the whole way, and Mr. Yeom chain-smoked. Gijeong sat quietly, not shaken, consoling himself that it wasn’t permanent, that they’d return, not fleeing.

The truck didn’t stop. Smooth roads rolled endlessly under the wheels. Gijeong had never seen a road’s end, unaware that a new world awaited there.

Finally, the truck stopped. At that moment, Gijeong saw, smelled, and felt what lay at the road’s end.

A vast sea stretched before him. Waves, reeking of fish and salt, roared fiercely in the wind. Massive, dark surges crashed white, bellowing. He stepped back instinctively, fearing he’d be swallowed into the abyss if he misstepped. It was unfamiliar and terrifying.

They waited for dawn and took the first ferry. Despite everything, hunger gnawed. Mr. Yeom bought crude kimbap from a dockside stall. Gijeong bit into it hungrily but spat it out, tasting its sourness. Meanwhile, his parents sat back-to-back, steeped in worry.

The sea journey led to a small island. From the harbor, the entire village was visible. Fishing boats, done for the day, were tethered, their nets holding a few live fish. Workers’ boots were crusted with scales. The wet hulls reeked of fish and metal. Overwhelmed, Gijeong covered his nose and mouth. He didn’t know then he’d have to live with it all.

The truck dropped off Gijeong’s family and their few belongings and left. Following Mr. Yeom, who carried the load, they headed to a blue-gated house on a hill. Weeds sprouted freely through the gate’s gaps, evidence of long neglect.

Opening the rusty gate, a piercing metallic screech rang out. Gijeong covered his ears, eyes shut tight, delaying his grasp of their new home.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. Then, he dropped his bag.

The toilet, more like an outhouse, emitted a foul stench. Every window was hideously broken. The thin slate roof was cracked, and muddy water pooled on the floor from leaks. Mr. Yeom said this ghastly place was their new home.

Afterward, Mr. Yeom drank for days. His mother, unable to unpack, only cried. In one night, Gijeong’s ordinary fourteen-year-old life crumbled helplessly. The true sinking might just be beginning. Staring at house-sized waves, he felt vague terror.

A tiny island village surrounded by sea. A dilapidated house clinging to a sloped path’s end. Everything was hopeless. A dark vortex had suddenly risen in his calm life.

Even if a ship tried to stay put, angry waves pushed it mercilessly. It was inevitable. One day, he was adrift on an endless sea, overwhelmed by the unknown. He didn’t know where to go or if there was an end. From that day, when everything changed, Gijeong felt like a paper boat on a writhing black sea.

A frail paper boat, drifting aimlessly, unsure when it might sink, pushed by waves and wind to this remote island.

---

“Look at those eyes.”

The aggressive tone carried mockery, but it didn’t seem meant to taunt. Still, Gijeong felt no fondness for Hwang Jangyeop due to his rough demeanor, gruff voice, condescending stare, and the raw male energy fresh from work. Instinctively, Gijeong felt repelled by this entirely different type of person.

Hwang Jangyeop seemed to feel the same, eyeing Gijeong thoroughly while smoking, as if a snake’s wet tongue flicked over him. The unidentifiable pressure stifled him.

“A kid with no blood in his head, drinking in broad daylight.”

Hwang Jangyeop flicked ash and sneered after studying Gijeong. They’d likely never meet again, so his misconceptions didn’t matter. Yet, for some reason, Gijeong felt the urge to retort, a bit riled up.

“It’s for my father. And…”

“And what?”

“I’m taking a break from school. I’m legally an adult, though.”

Hwang Jangyeop raised an eyebrow, then burst out laughing, scanning Gijeong’s un-adult-like frame mockingly.

He tossed his cigarette and stood. Just a man rising from the doorstep, yet Gijeong’s shoulders flinched pathetically.

Hwang Jangyeop snatched the kettle from Gijeong, who stepped back under his presence, and smirked at his tense eyes before striding to the kitchen.

Tilting a heavy jug effortlessly, he filled the kettle in one go, unconcerned as liquor spilled over his hand. Gijeong, taking the kettle with both hands, struggled as his arms sagged. He thought he saw Hwang Jangyeop’s mouth twitch, his ears burning. As a man, his pride was hurt.

Still, he had to say the unwelcome words. Biting his lower lip, he hesitated before speaking softly, barely audible.

“The cost of the liquor…”

He trailed off, ashamed. The next words wouldn’t come. Begging never got easier, especially with a new person. It would’ve been better with the tavern owner, who’d know Gijeong’s situation without explanation.

He didn’t want to spill his pitiful story to Hwang Jangyeop, who’d looked down on him from the start. Having nothing didn’t mean he lacked pride.

Hwang Jangyeop seemed to instantly grasp why Gijeong fumbled with the kettle’s handle. Shrugging casually, he gestured toward the door, signaling him to leave.

“I’ll tell noona…”

Then, Gijeong’s stomach growled loudly, crushing his scraped-together pride. Startled, he rolled his eyes in panic, his face burning. He couldn’t lift his head or move his glued feet, unable to face Hwang Jangyeop’s expression.

Twisting his waist to avoid another sound, his stomach growled louder, betraying his efforts.

“…….”

Hwang Jangyeop’s gaze grew more piercing. Gijeong expected ridicule; the man didn’t seem the type to ignore it.

Head bowed, he sensed Hwang Jangyeop walk away. Soon, a savory, sweet smell wafted over. Lifting his eyes, he saw a bowl of greasy pancakes thrust before him. Glancing warily at Hwang Jangyeop, who shook the bowl to urge him to take it.

The rare food scent sparked his suppressed appetite. His vision yellowed, mouth watering.

He frantically stuffed pancakes in his mouth. Starved for over a day, his empty stomach thumped eagerly. Grease stained his mouth and hands, but he didn’t care, focused on filling his belly.

“Eaten your pride with porridge?”

As Gijeong shoved in cold pancakes, Hwang Jangyeop, watching, sneered predictably. It didn’t matter. At that moment, Gijeong felt he could endure any insult. When instinct bared itself, reason had no room.

Filling his stomach to satisfaction, he put the remaining pancakes on the kettle’s lid for Giyeong. Worried about his brother’s constant hunger, this eased his mind.

About to rush home, Gijeong paused, bowed to Hwang Jangyeop, and said,

“Thank you.”

How fickle the human heart is. Just moments ago, Hwang Jangyeop seemed like someone to avoid, but thanks to the small kindness he gruffly offered, he now appeared quite different.

Uneducated, crude in thought, rough in speech, driven more by instinct than reason, a burly ruffian with a fierce demeanor. That was the image of Hwang Jangyeop, shaped by first impressions and village gossip. But as Gijeong stepped out of the tavern kitchen alone, he tilted his head, wondering if that was really true.

“Leaving now?”

Mr. Park called out to Gijeong as he left with the liquor. Having seen him around, Mr. Park was a man with a certain seriousness.

“Hurry along. If you keep your father waiting too long, he’ll make a fuss again.”

“Yes. I’ll go then. Goodbye.”

Gijeong bowed to Mr. Park and left the tavern. As he quickly slid the door shut to keep the cold wind out, he overheard the men gathered inside talking.

Tavern conversations often revolved around gossip and rumors. Ignoring them would be easy, but when the talk involved him, it was different. Despite trying not to listen, his ears perked up.

“That family’s man, still living like that?”

“Seeing the kid come for booze, it’s obvious. I felt sorry for him, raising kids without a wife, so I arranged some jobs for him. But he’d get drunk and pick fights everywhere, like a different person. On days he had a bit of money, he’d spend it on liquor, pass out, and skip work. Made me look bad for vouching for him, so I stopped helping.”

“Come to think of it, didn’t his wife run off? What’s the story?”

“My wife says she ran away with another man on a boat.”

The men, circled around their drinks, each added a comment. None bothered to check if Gijeong had left. It was common village gossip, not worth whispering about.

At least Mr. Park, showing unease, scolded the frivolous men.

“Hey, folks. Why so curious about others’ lives? Where’s the card dealer?”

“Ugh, always ruining the fun. Here’s the dealer. If you say deal, I’ll deal.”

The men jeered at Mr. Park, who glanced at Gijeong with concern. Pretending not to hear, Gijeong quietly closed the door and trudged away.

He wanted to shout that their entertaining gossip was utterly false, but he knew it was futile. Rumors spread easily but are hard to retract or correct. Clenching his teeth and fists, Gijeong felt powerless, resigned to turning away from the malicious talk about his mother.

At some point, the fragrance of his mother’s perfume vanished. Her once delicate hands, soft as silk, often swelled and cracked. Cold winds split her skin, drawing blood, and her tidy sleeves were stained with fish scales or kimchi juice. This was because Mr. Yeom had completely given up earning a living and stayed home.

His mother was born and raised in the city. Coming from a family of educators, she was raised strictly and preciously. Until she was twenty, she’d only held pencils and chopsticks. She’d likely never faced life’s harsh realities or weathered its storms.

For such a woman, building a new life in a strange island village seemed nearly impossible. Yet she was strong. She accepted her changed circumstances, however difficult, and endured harsh tasks she’d never done before for her children. It was Mr. Yeom, the father, who couldn’t pull himself together and wandered aimlessly.

Having lost everything he’d built, Mr. Yeom, plagued by bitter loss, spent more time holed up at home. When he had to go out for errands, he’d hesitate at the gate. His outings were limited to buying soju at the corner store or fetching rice wine from the tavern.

If a villager spoke to him, he’d mumble a reply, head bowed, eyes fixed on his feet. Once sociable and confident, he seemed to have left those traits behind on the mainland, becoming increasingly passive and obtuse.

With his father like this, Gijeong’s mother took on the family’s livelihood. She rushed to any place needing hands—restaurants or fish markets. Her tasks were menial, paying little. Working all day, unable to straighten her back or let her hands dry, she earned barely fifty thousand won, less than the cost of the lotion she once used.

Her cosmetic basket gradually emptied. When the last lotion was gone, cheap petroleum jelly from the market took its place, though even that was often absent.

She didn’t blame his father, who drowned his inability to forget better days in liquor. She never nagged him to stop wasting time and earn money with his worn-out body. As life grew tougher, she likely didn’t want to add to his guilt and sense of failure.

They learned of the younger sibling two years after settling on the island. Despite constant fatigue and sleepiness, his mother avoided the hospital, fearing a serious illness. The cost of treatment scared her more than the possibility of dying early.

She only visited the hospital when her strength was drained, and nausea and vomiting became unbearable—five months into her pregnancy.

“I went to the hospital.”

“What did they say?”

“There’s a second child.”

“…….”

Gijeong still remembered his father’s face, not joyful but despairing at the news. A new life should be a blessing, but their poverty allowed no such luxury. It was just another mouth to feed. Reality was harsh, however much they wished to deny it.

His father sighed heavily. His mother lowered her head, as if ashamed. Money turned innocent things into sins.

After the pregnancy, his mother spent more time bedridden. Unable to eat or rest properly, she fell ill. Her heavier body made finding work harder.

During this time, his father found it uncomfortable to stay in the same space as her. Unable to sit as if on thorns, he’d pace and often leave.

Who could feel at ease? His pregnant wife lay in a cold room, groaning, worrying about their livelihood, while he couldn’t even ask if she craved anything. What cravings could there be? The rice bin, never full, was already empty. His growing inadequacy must have made him feel endlessly pathetic.

The household grew poorer. Pushed by responsibility, his father took odd jobs but injured his leg clumsily and returned to idling at home.

To help, Gijeong sought part-time work after school, but few would hire a minor. With rent unpaid for three months, electricity and gas were cut off. Not a grain of rice remained for the pregnant mother.

Giyeong arrived with no preparations in place.

---

“If you take the college entrance exam like you do the mock tests, you’ll get into the university you want. It’s almost here, so stay focused until the end.”

“Yes,” Gijeong replied to his teacher’s encouragement. It was Sunday, but he’d come to school to study and had a brief meeting with his homeroom teacher. Leaving Mr. Yeom and young Giyeong at home nagged at him, but with the exam less than a month away, he had no choice.

“Is your father still staying home these days?”

“Yes.”

“Did you talk to him about college?”

“I mentioned it, but…”

Gijeong trailed off, fidgeting with his clasped hands. It wasn’t hard to guess why. To a man who’d given up work and lived soaked in liquor, his son’s college plans weren’t a priority.

Caring for a toddler all day, dealing with a father who got drunk and violent, and living in abject poverty—yet Gijeong never lost his top spot in school. It was more than admirable; it was pitiable. The fierce, desperate struggle to achieve that was clear.

Despite enduring brutal violence, Gijeong begged not to report his father, saying life would be harder without him. Even a useless parent was still a roof.

“You must be anxious with a lot on your mind, but focus on the exam for now. Getting into college and finding a way to attend come next.”

“Yes.”

The teacher, aware of scrutiny, glanced around and pulled something from under the desk: a college entrance exam practice book and summarized study notes. It was all he could offer without breaching fairness.

“I believe in you, Gijeong.”

“Thank you.”

He accepted gratefully. Having studied with erased used books, he couldn’t refuse.

The teacher checked his watch.

“Go now. The ferry’s almost due, right?”

As the teacher said, he needed to hurry to catch the last ferry. Standing, he bowed and quietly left the staff room.

With only three daily ferries to the island, he had to align with their schedule. Often, like today, he had to stop studying mid-session.

Gijeong rushed to the classroom, grabbed his bag, and hurried through the halls. Once outside, he ran breathlessly. The ferry terminal was a few bus stops from school, but he couldn’t afford the fare.

Starting earlier to wait for the ferry was an option, but even those few minutes felt too precious to waste.

“Hey!”

Running so hard that sweat beaded on his forehead, someone shouted from behind. It wasn’t specifically for him, and no one would likely call him, but he glanced back. His blurred vision caught Hwang Jangyeop across the street.

Hwang Jangyeop wasn’t alone. Older men smoked and chatted around him, likely just after dinner.

Saying goodbye to the men, Hwang Jangyeop crossed the street briskly, not waiting for the signal, dodging cars with his hand. Gijeong, watching, caught his breath. A short run left him panting, shoulders heaving.

“Where you rushing off to like a scared rabbit?”

“Haa, ha… home.”

Out of breath, he gestured toward the ferry terminal. Hwang Jangyeop glanced that way, then fixed his eyes on Gijeong.

“What’re you doing here, wandering around?”

“I was studying at school.”

“On a Sunday?”

“The entrance exam’s soon.”

“Hmph. Entrance exam, big deal. You eat yet?”

“I need to catch the ferry soon…”

Anxious, he stomped his feet, eyes darting back. Even running full speed, he might miss the last ferry. This wasn’t the time for casual chats.

But Hwang Jangyeop leisurely repeated his question.

“You eat yet?”

“The last ferry’s almost…”

Ignoring the question, Gijeong kept mentioning the ferry, when his stomach growled loudly.

Hwang Jangyeop smirked, lips twisting, then gestured to follow and strode off. Gijeong, torn between the terminal and Hwang Jangyeop, hurriedly chased him, explaining his plight.

“I don’t have time for this.”

“I’m not asking for money, so shut up and follow.”

“It’s not that. My brother’s alone at home. He’ll be waiting.”

“Will the kid die if you eat first? What’s he eating that’s so grand?”

Hwang Jangyeop frowned, snapping irritably. Scanning Gijeong’s scrawny frame, he urged, “Come on, quick,” and led the way.

Gijeong was stuck. Thinking of his waiting brother, he couldn’t move. Every day, Giyeong ran to the harbor when the ferry was due, squatting and waiting endlessly for his brother, a heart-wrenching sight.

At an age to nestle under a father’s roof and in a mother’s arms, Giyeong spent days with a drunken father in an empty house. When Mr. Yeom was out, Giyeong guarded the shabby house alone until Gijeong returned on the last ferry.

Today would be no different. Giyeong weighed heavily on his mind. Gijeong caught up to Hwang Jangyeop, lightly grabbing his sleeve. Even that cautious touch made Hwang Jangyeop stop and turn.

“Thanks, but I should go.”

“Ha, stubborn brat. You think a missed ferry will come back for you? No need to waste effort. I’m practically begging you to eat, and I’ll sail you right to your doorstep, so stop whining and follow.”

In truth, lingering with Hwang Jangyeop likely meant the ferry had left. With reluctant eyes, Gijeong followed him.

Hwang Jangyeop took him to a small diner in the market, with just four tables. It was so busy some ate standing.

Preparing for the evening, the owner, cooking a huge pot of gukbap, greeted Hwang Jangyeop.

“Noona, I’m here.”

“Oh, who’s this? Jangyeop? Been a while! Who’s with you? New face, not your brother, right?”

“Just someone.”

Hwang Jangyeop brushed it off, glancing at Gijeong. Gijeong bowed to the curious owner. Their eyes met briefly, an odd look passing between them before they turned away. Their relationship was hard to define—neither friends, neighbors, nor anything clear.

“Eating here?”

“Yup.”

The owner craned her neck, checking the diner. No seats were free, and none seemed likely to open soon. She gestured toward a small back room.

“No seats, so you’ll have to use the room. That okay?”

“Sure.”

“Sit there then. I’ll make you a tasty bowl of gukbap.”

Even for close acquaintances, offering a private space so readily seemed unusual, but neither the owner nor Hwang Jangyeop hesitated.

“What’re you standing there for, kid?”

“Coming.”

At Hwang Jangyeop’s urging, Gijeong followed him into the room.

Hwang Jangyeop pushed aside scattered bedding and set up a small table from a gap between the fridge and drawers.

Soon, the owner brought two bowls of gukbap, saying to take more if needed.

“Didn’t you already eat?”

Gijeong cautiously asked as Hwang Jangyeop set the steaming pots before them. Shrugging, Hwang Jangyeop dumped kimchi into his broth.

“Who cares how many meals I eat? My stomach full, or yours?”

His tone was sharp but not malicious. Anyone talking to Hwang Jangyeop a few times would know that.

Stirring the kimchi into the broth, he scooped up the still-boiling gukbap without blowing on it. Occasionally making satisfied sounds, his tanned skin glistened with sweat.

Chewing kimchi loudly, Hwang Jangyeop glared at Gijeong, scolding his idle hands.

“What’re you staring at? Eat, kid. Didn’t you say you’re in a hurry?”

Gijeong picked up his spoon hesitantly. The unfamiliar, rustic gukbap, filled with offal, took a moment to try. But once he tasted it, he couldn’t stop. The savory, rich flavor made his mouth water, his stomach clamoring for more.

Hwang Jangyeop, finishing his bowl, watched Gijeong eat intently. As if watching someone eat was fascinating, he smirked at Gijeong, who carefully sipped every drop, teasing why he’d been so reluctant when he ate so well.

Setting down the pot, Gijeong exhaled deeply. His empty stomach warmed comfortably. It felt like his foggy mind and blurry vision cleared, perhaps an illusion.

Hwang Jangyeop stood abruptly without a word. Gijeong grabbed his bag and followed. Hwang Jangyeop paid the owner more than the meal cost.

“Pack three servings of gukbap to go.”

“Got it. One sec.”

The owner deftly packed the food, enough for five. Hwang Jangyeop said he’d be back, grabbed the packed food, and headed to the ferry terminal.

“Thank you for the meal.”

Following silently, Gijeong thanked him for his kindness. Hwang Jangyeop didn’t respond.

At the harbor near the terminal, they took Hwang Jangyeop’s boat back to the island. Mid-trip, he rummaged in the wheelhouse.

He returned with a dusty first-aid kit, blowing off the dust and brushing it with his hand before thrusting it at Gijeong.

“Why this…?”

“Gonna keep walking around with that face?”

Hwang Jangyeop shoved the kit at him and returned to the wheelhouse. Gijeong stared, then touched his face. Was it that bad? Opening the kit, he took out a bandage and applied it by feel.

At the harbor, instead of heading home, he waited for Hwang Jangyeop. After shutting off the engine and tying the rope, Hwang Jangyeop approached. Staring at Gijeong’s face, he reached out suddenly. Gijeong flinched.

“…Ah.”

Hwang Jangyeop peeled off the haphazard bandage and reapplied it, then handed over the packed gukbap.

“Go home.”

With that, he strode toward his house without looking back.

Gijeong stood rooted, watching Hwang Jangyeop’s retreating figure. Why was he so kind to him? From their first meeting at the tavern, letting a sick Giyeong sleep in his room, to giving Mr. Yeom work and bringing him home drunk—was it just random kindness?

Acting indifferent and annoyed, Hwang Jangyeop never once ignored Gijeong. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if simple gratitude was enough.

He watched Hwang Jangyeop, now far off. His broad, solid back seemed proof that not all adults were the same just by aging. Though Gijeong was an adult and a man, he couldn’t help but admire him.

Looking at that sturdy back, unyielding to any storm, he thought: if his father, Mr. Yeom, had been like that, their time on the island wouldn’t have been just sorrowful and cold.

“Damn it, hyung! The kid’s dying, what are you doing!”

A booming voice shook his eardrums. The whole alley echoed. His already sensitive nerves made his aching body feel even more tender. Grimacing bitterly, he groaned.

Suddenly, Gijeong’s body was lifted lightly into the air. A wide, solid, warm something firmly supported his chest. A familiar scent wafted strongly. Without opening his eyes, he knew it was Hwang Jangyeop.

Hwang Jangyeop’s sneakers, hastily slipped on, dangled as he ran. Rushing to the clinic, he glanced back occasionally. His rough breaths hit Gijeong’s face. Why he was so frantic, so uncharacteristically anxious, was puzzling yet pitiable.