PON 01

Chapter 1

“Lord above, I’m about to lose my mind! What’s that old woman doing stirring up trouble all over this palm-sized island again? Don’t tell me she’s been stealing soy paste from Cheong-seok’s jar again!?”

Grandma Il’s voice, hoarse and shrill, echoed through the narrow alley.

Grandma Yi joined in with a sniff.

“That was last time! Don’t you remember? Cheong-seok’s wife put a lock on the jar after that. Why does that crazy sister of ours keep sneaking out at dawn and making poor Jung-oh suffer?”

“We didn’t see her. Did you, Ilsun?”

At the question, Grandma Il scowled like she’d bitten into a lemon.

“See her? How could I? I’ve been up since dawn boiling bone soup for my husband!”

“Bone soup? Why?”

“Why else! The old man’s been begging for it all week!”

“Tch, I wouldn’t mind a bowl myself. Been craving it.”

“Samsoon! You think soup’s the issue right now? Gomguk’s gone!”

“Gone again? Big deal. It’s an island, not a city—where could she even go? Jung-oh, stop worrying and have some melon.”

Grandma Sam pushed a slice of melon into Jung-oh’s hands. He tried to refuse, but her wrinkled fingers were firm and warm.

Next to her, Grandma Yi munched on her own slice, talking through full cheeks.

“She’ll come back soon enough, dear. Go rest inside.”

“Rest? Didn’t you hear she almost drowned last week? Cheong-seok had to pull her out!”

“Ah, that’s right. Then she’s probably at the beach again. Oh heavens, that woman will be the death of us.”

Of all of them, the one truly on the verge of losing her mind was Jung-oh.

Her face hardened. “I’ll go check,” she said, bowing her head and turning away.

As soon as she left, the grandmas began their gossip again.

“Her dementia’s getting worse. It’s a miracle she hasn’t burned the house down yet.”
“Well, she lost her son and daughter-in-law one after another. Anyone would lose their mind after that.”
“That damned son of hers! Everyone knows he drove Jung-oh’s mother to her death.”
“Hush! Not so loud. Jung-oh will hear.”
“And what if she does? Even the dogs on this island know that story.”

Jung-oh clenched her jaw, ignoring the words that clawed at her back. She had no time for gossip—she had to find her grandmother.

Whenever the old woman left the house, chaos followed.

She’d dug up the cabbage field once, insisting there was “buried treasure.” Another time she’d broken into Grandma Yi’s coop, wailing that the chickens were “prisoners of war,” and released the whole flock.

Just a few days ago, she’d nearly drowned at the beach. If Cheong-seok hadn’t been returning from his fishing trip at that exact moment,Gomguk would have been gone forever.

Please, not the ocean again, Jung-oh prayed, breaking into a jog.

Up ahead, a bald-headed boy appeared—Yong, the island’s only child and proud son of the local fisherman.

He beamed when he saw her, arms full of snacks.

“Noona!”

“Yong, have you seen my grandma?”

“Flower Granny? Yeah! She went that way.”

Her heart dropped. That way meant the cliffs.

“Thanks, Yong!”

Without another word, she ran.

Her lungs burned, but she didn’t stop until she reached the cliffside path.

There—by the edge—lay a single, familiar rubber shoe.

Her grandmother’s.

A cold dread crawled up her spine.

No. No, not again.

“Grandma!”

Her voice cracked through the wind.

“Grandma!”

Silence. Only the crash of waves below.

Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. She gripped the shoe in trembling hands.

“Grandma!”

“Over here, dearie!”

The voice came from below.

Jung-oh rushed to the edge and looked down—

At the bottom, among the rocks polished by years of waves, sat Ggotmae, waving brightly as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

Relief hit her like a wave, immediately followed by anger. She raced down the rocky stairs.

“What on earth are you doing here?! Didn’t I tell you not to come near the ocean!”

“Oh, stop scolding. Look, my prince is here! Isn’t he handsome?”

Jung-oh blinked. Prince?

“Grandma, your prince is at home.”

“Home? What nonsense! My prince is right here. Are you the one who’s sick, dearie?”

Prince, she says… Someone on this cursed island must’ve filled her head with nonsense again.

Jung-oh sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

But before she could speak again, her grandmother’s lips trembled—and then she burst into tears.

“He’s hurt! My prince is hurt! Waaaah!”

“What are you talking about—”

Jung-oh froze mid-step.

Behind her grandmother, sprawled across the rocks, was a man.

His body was soaked, his shirt torn, his skin pale as bone—and blood. So much blood.

For a moment, the world fell away.

Bang!

Gunfire rang in her ears. The stench of iron filled her lungs. A man’s dying face flashed before her eyes—another man, long ago, surrounded by screams and blood.

Her body convulsed. Her knees nearly buckled.

“Waaaah, unni!”

Her grandmother’s sobs snapped her back.

“Don’t cry, Grandma,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around the trembling old woman. “It’s okay. I’m here. Don’t cry.”

But as she held her, her gaze remained locked on the motionless man—
the one her grandmother called prince.

The next day, Jung-oh stood before a hospital mirror, her face ghostly pale.

It hadn’t been a dream.

The sterile reek of disinfectant was proof enough.

Yesterday, she’d found him—half-dead, bleeding, barely breathing.

She’d left her sobbing grandmother behind, checked for a pulse, and—thank God—found one. Then she’d called Cheong-seok, who helped ferry them to the city hospital.

The doctors had said his condition was critical: hypothermia, massive blood loss, severe head trauma.

The memory of his blood on her hands made her gag. She barely made it to the sink before retching again. Nothing came up but bile.

“Damn it…”

She scrubbed her hands raw under cold water, then wiped them on her jeans and stumbled out.

The man was still unconscious after surgery. There was nothing more she could do.

She’d done her part. Humanity repaid. It was time to go home.

Or so she thought—until she opened the door to his room.

“Oh, heavens above!”

Jung-oh froze.

The three grandmas—Il, Yi, and Sam—were all there, circling the bed like vultures around a saint.

“Would you look at that face? Like porcelain!”
“Skin smoother than mine ever was!”
“Yours? Don’t make me laugh. You were darker than a burnt rice pot!”
“Me? Dark? I was fair as a baby’s bum, you old bat!”
“Ha! You’ve got dementia worse than Ggotmae’s!”

Jung-oh could only stare, speechless, at the man lying motionless in the center of their chaos.

Even through the harsh hospital lights—

He was beautiful. Unreasonably, impossibly beautiful.

Too perfect for an ordinary man. Too still for someone alive.

And yet, as she looked closer, she could’ve sworn—

—his fingers twitched.