“What are you doing? Who are you calling!”
“Save my number. You said you don’t have any friends.”
An unnamed, unfamiliar number appeared at the top of Lee Haeshin’s call log. Even after taking his phone back from Hwichan, he hesitated for a long moment. Taking that as reluctance, Hwichan added flatly,
“Don’t want it, fine. Nobody’s forcing you.”
He wasn’t particularly bothered. The reason he’d done it was because that face — fidgeting around asking like a little kid whether he had many friends — was equal parts funny and pitiable, and he’d figured he’d at least give him something to feel good about.
What good is having a phone if there’s no one to contact you. If he didn’t put it to some small use at a time like this, Lee Haeshin’s phone was going to turn into a useless hunk of scrap metal. So it was an act of consideration. That’s all.
“Thanks.”
He hadn’t expected to be thanked for such a pointless thing.
“Honestly. Of all the things.”
Even as he said thank you, Haeshin didn’t give the stranger at the top of his call log any kind of name. The screen went dark just like that and disappeared into the thick padding of his jacket pocket.
“Let’s go buy a light bulb and a fuse. We need to fix your place.”
And yet he was still warm about it.
They bought a light bulb and a fuse at a small shop a short distance from the harbor, and picked up a new light cover just in case.
Judging by everything Haeshin had done up to this point, Hwichan had half-expected him to pull out those crumpled bills Grandma Sooni had given him and pay with those — but instead, he produced a barely-used credit card, paid with it, and crumpled up the receipt.
Hwichan found that ordinary sight oddly strange for no real reason. Haeshin, noticing the look, asked with a playful grin, “What. Did you think island folk pay with seashells?” And honestly, if Hwichan were being truthful…… he had briefly imagined exactly that.
Lee Haeshin showing up with a pen shell skewered on a hoe, like he did during his morning dives, attempting a barter transaction. Ironically, that version felt more real than a Lee Haeshin swiping a credit card.
“Let’s get some fresh air. Check your backed-up messages, go on.”
After that, they walked in silence for about thirty minutes. It was Haeshin who spoke first.
“You lived in Seoul?”
“Yeah.”
“Where in Seoul?”
“You wouldn’t know it.”
“Are you a university student?”
“Yeah.”
Hwichan was preoccupied catching up on his backed-up messages. His replies came out clipped and abrupt because of it, and Haeshin, as if he found that genuinely deflating, jutted out his lower lip and grumbled.
Nothing remarkable, nothing interesting. What was less a conversation and more an interrogation — a series of short, disconnected exchanges — came to an end.
After that, Haeshin said nothing either. He seemed a little sulky. It left a vaguely uncomfortable, grating feeling behind.
Time remained, but with nothing to do, they were heading back to the boat early when — Haeshin’s gaze drifted to the railing at the dock.
In the gap along the edge of the harbor, dirtied by trash left by inconsiderate tourists and fishermen — a young cat walking leisurely along the railing, like it owned the place, let out a meow when it spotted Haeshin.
“Oh! It’s a Patches.”
“You know this cat?”
“No, I just named it.”
“What?”
Hwichan let out a short, sighing laugh and followed after Haeshin, who was carefully approaching the railing.
Haeshin gently extended his hand and brought his index finger to the tip of the cat’s nose. The young cat — spotted and mottled as if someone had flicked paint onto white fur — sniffed carefully, then blinked both eyes slowly.
Was that a gesture of goodwill? Two tiny things exchanging greetings — it looked like something out of a painting. Without meaning to, an image formed in his mind: Lee Haeshin, submerged to the waist with only his upper half above the water, grinning softly, and in front of him, a prim little cat sitting and grooming itself.
Two similarly small things, getting along nicely.
Hwichan was thinking this privately and reaching out a hand toward the small creature attempting to bond with Haeshin — when it happened.
Right on cue, a sudden, enormous crash rang out. With a loud bang and clatter, a forklift transporting boxes of frozen fish dropped the entire load onto the ground.
Several boxes weighing tens of kilograms each were crushed and sent sprawling across the floor — and the cat, which had been warming up to Haeshin’s hand, immediately bristled and puffed up all its fur.
“Huh?”
The spotted cat, which had been walking the slim railing like a haughty mannequin on a department store display — fell straight into the water below. Hwichan snapped his hand out quickly, but the light little ball of fur was faster in its fall below the railing.
There was a splash, and then what may have been a choked sound. Hwichan couldn’t bring himself to look down at the surface of the water and stood frozen with his hand still outstretched. The sea was right there — just a slight glance downward away.
“Oh no, what do we do! Hwichan, hold this for a second.”
The sea always swallowed. Stones, people, animals. Anything it could swallow, it swallowed whole and gave back only the same sound. Splash.
While Hwichan stood trembling fingertip to fingertip, lips moving soundlessly in shock — Haeshin said “Well.” in a completely matter-of-fact tone and shrugged his puffer jacket right off. So matter-of-fact it was almost unsettling.
He carefully folded the scarf he’d had wound around his neck and stepped down onto the tetrapods stacked below the harbor, making his way lower.
Hwichan came back to himself and called Haeshin’s name.
“Hey! What are you doing, Lee Haeshin!”
“What? I have to get the cat out! Also — when did you start speaking informally to me all of a sudden!”
He forced himself to look down, and the cat was half-submerged, barely keeping itself alive by digging its claws into the cement wall of the harbor, trembling violently.
It’ll probably exhaust itself and die soon.
Hwichan felt like he might be sick.
Haeshin climbed down to the breakwater and stretched his arm out as far as it would go, trying to grab the cat by the scruff of its neck — but it was just barely out of reach. If only it would come a little closer. The frightened young cat just cried pitifully and kept scraping at the wall.
In the end, Haeshin left his shoes tucked between the tetrapods and looked up at Hwichan once. It was the look of a child pleading to be watched over just this once.
“Hey! Don’t go in!”
Hwichan shouted — but the stubborn island boy plunged himself into the seawater without hesitation.
Hwichan squeezed his eyes shut. The water near the harbor wasn’t particularly clean. He didn’t want to imagine how awful it was to submerge yourself in it.
Before long, there was a splashing sound — and Lee Haeshin came walking back up to the dock, grinning his easy grin, holding a cat by the scruff that was no longer spotted but an ashen grey. The light-colored cotton trousers had soaked dark with seawater, and his toes were red and frozen.
“Oh no, what a mess. All soaked. These clothes are ruined.”
He said what a mess while looking completely unbothered. Perhaps having decided to ruin them anyway, he might as well finish the job — Lee Haeshin promptly pulled his top off and wrapped the cat up in it like swaddling a baby. Then he pulled his puffer jacket back on over bare skin.
Top, trousers, puffer jacket — all headed for the bin — and yet what was there to smile about so freely like that?
Hwichan stepped forward and took the cat from Haeshin’s arms.
“Seriously, what is wrong with you? Do you want to freeze to death? Do you know what temperature it is today?!”
At Hwichan’s sharp voice, Haeshin glanced around sheepishly and smiled with mild embarrassment.
“I didn’t go in to die. I went in to save it.”
Then he answered something Hwichan hadn’t asked.
“Who told you to answer that?”
“……Your expression didn’t look great, so I thought I’d get my defense in first.”
Utterly shameless, knowing full well what expression was coming and going in anyway.
“I just lose a set of clothes — but this one could have died.”
Could have died — said with a smile on a face gone grimy and salt-crusted. That face was more unbearable to look at than usual today. If he were a doll, Hwichan would have wanted to flick him just to do it.
