PON 04

…Was this still part of the dream? Had she not woken up yet?

No matter how hard she rubbed her eyes—until they burned—the man wouldn’t disappear. In fact, his figure only became clearer.

Jeong-oh stared blankly at the absurd sight before snapping her head toward Cheong-seok. He was trying, ever so quietly, to slip his feet into his slippers and sneak out.

Not so fast.

She snatched off one of her rubber shoes and hurled it.

“Agh!”

A clean hit.

Grabbing him by the collar like a misbehaving pup, Jeong-oh dragged him back inside, her teeth grinding audibly.

“Why. Is. That man. In my house.”

“Th-that’s…”

Cheong-seok’s eyes darted wildly at her murderous glare before he finally blurted out, indignant,

“I told her it was a bad idea!”

Meanwhile, her grandmother and the foreign man were sitting cozily at the table, eating baechujeon (cabbage pancakes) together as if in another world. The old woman was even hand-feeding him.

According to Cheong-seok, Grandma had stormed into his house at dawn, wailing and demanding he drive her to the hospital. She’d woken up his parents, crying her eyes out until he finally gave in and took her.

“Then when the doctor said he couldn’t keep the guy there anymore, she just grabbed him, yelling she’d found her husband! What was I supposed to do, huh?”

Jeong-oh’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“So you thought it was a good idea to bring a total stranger home?”

“Well, he’s a foreigner, but he didn’t look dangerous or nothin’…”

She exhaled sharply through her nose. The frustration made her temples throb.

“That’s why everyone calls you an idiot.”

“W-what! Did you just call me an idiot? Hey, Yoon Jeong-oh!”

“That man’s wearing nothing but luxury brands. His suit alone costs thousands.”

“T-thousands…?”

Cheong-seok’s jaw dropped.

She wasn’t exaggerating. The tuxedo he’d been wearing wasn’t the sort you could just buy. It was the kind only nobles—or the truly elite—could afford.

A nameless foreigner in such clothes, here on this remote island at the edge of the southern sea? Impossible.

“No ID, no records, nothing. And you just brought him home? What if he’s dangerous?”

“Maybe he’s, uh…a tourist?”

“A tourist? In this backwater?”

“Prince, is it yummy?” Grandma’s voice chimed in.

Cheong-seok shut his mouth. The old woman was now slicing fresh cabbage on the porch, humming as she prepared to cook another batch. The foreigner watched her, fascinated.

The scene was chaos.

Suppressing the sharp ache in her stomach, Jeong-oh grabbed her jacket.

“Wait here.”

“Huh?”

“You’re taking him back to the hospital.”

“But they kicked him out—”

“Then you can keep him!”

“I was just about to start the boat! See? Going right now!”

He fled out the door like a spooked colt.

Left with only the stranger, Jeong-oh approached him.

“[Get up. I’m taking you back to the hospital.]”

He tilted his head, those slate-gray eyes gleaming under the sunlight. His face seemed to catch the light itself, like it was made to lure people in.

Something about him felt dangerous—instinctively so.

Then, with a faint, sly curl of his lips:

“[No.]”

“[…What?]”

“[I said no. I like it here. I’m staying.]”

“[Who said you could?]”

She gave a short, disbelieving laugh.

“[If you don’t want to end up at the police station, move.]”

When she grabbed his arm, Grandma suddenly yanked Jeong-oh by the hair from behind.

“Get away from my husband, you hussy!”

“Grandma, stop it already! You don’t even know who he—”

“You wench! Trying to steal my husband again?”

Jeong-oh’s patience snapped. She turned sharply—too sharply—and Grandma stumbled backward.

“Ah!”

The old woman fell, clutching at the floor. In trying to stand, her hand landed on the kitchen knife lying beside the chopping board.

“Ahhh!”

She burst into loud, childlike sobs as blood welled from her palm.

Drip. Drip.

The sight of it made Jeong-oh’s vision blur. Her stomach churned violently.

“Blood! I’m bleeding! Waaaah!”

“Grandma—!”

She had to move. Had to stop the bleeding, get her to the clinic. But her limbs refused to listen.

The world tilted.

“Damn it… not now…”

Her breathing hitched. Panic clawed at her throat. She dropped to her knees, gasping, clawing at the dirt just to stay conscious.

“[Focus on breathing.]”

A cool scent surrounded her—mint, sea breeze, something clean—and a large hand gently rubbed her back.

She lifted her head. Tears streaked down her face.

The foreigner was right in front of her, eyes steady, voice calm.

“[One.]”

She found herself following his count.

“[Two.]”

Two…

“[Three.]”

Three…

“[Good.]”

And somehow, miraculously, her breathing eased. The man, seeing color return to her face, turned quickly and went to Grandma.

Jeong-oh watched him scoop the old woman up effortlessly and rush toward the door.

Grandma’s injury wasn’t serious.

She didn’t even need stitches—just some ointment and bandages to keep her from picking at it. After crying so loud the whole island could hear, she now slept soundly, snoring faintly.

Beside her, Jeong-oh sat pale and silent.

“I’m sorry, Grandma…”

She gripped the old woman’s wrinkled, bandaged hand. The guilt burned. She should’ve been calmer, more patient. Then none of this would’ve happened.

“What happened this time?”

Doctor Jae-moon approached, clicking his tongue. Over seventy now, he had once been a professor at a Seoul hospital before retiring to his hometown. He handed her a vitamin drink.

“She’s fine. Drink this and stop looking like you’re at a funeral.”

“I’m okay.”

“Flower Mae’s always been a handful.”

He patted her shoulder with a wrinkled hand.

“By the way, that handsome fella—he’s the amnesiac foreigner, right?”

Jeong-oh nodded weakly.

“Good grief,” Jae-moon chuckled. “Haven’t seen a face like that even in Seoul. What is he, a model? Oh, right—memory loss!”

He laughed heartily, then asked,

“So why’s he here in Cheongho-do if the hospital in town had him first?”

The question hung in the quiet air—unanswered, and heavier than she wanted to admit