EOFD 32

Chapter 32

The End of First Love

Part 2

I remember the time I wandered aimlessly out of the hospital. That day, Yeon-woo, with a face pale as a sheet, returned to the tiny room beyond the blue gate.

She hadn’t decided where to go—only that she had to get away from there.

It’s already been nearly ten years since then, yet the memory is still vivid.

Covered in gloom and guilt, she moved her feet hesitantly as she passed the bloodstains splattered on the stone pavement, the shards of broken vehicles lying about.

In the small room where Yeon-woo had lived, only one person remained now—her aunt. Sitting on the porch, her aunt looked at Yeon-woo’s tear-stained face, salty and streaked, with a vacant expression of her own.

“……”

Though she didn’t know all the circumstances, the aunt seemed to sense that Yeon-woo was about to leave. She rose slowly, went inside, and came back with a small bundle of savings, pressing it into Yeon-woo’s hand.

“Go.”

Her face looked as if she might hang herself at any moment. The money the aunt gave her was one hundred thousand won.

Without once looking back, Yeon-woo walked straight out the blue gate.

Clutching the money in her hand, she climbed onto a bus heading away from Seoul.

Outside, it was raining.

A relentless monsoon poured over Yeon-woo. From that day on, for ten years, Seo Yeon-woo’s life was a monsoon—an endless stretch of dampness where nothing could dry, where all she could do was endure the musty smell and hope the season would someday pass.

And so, Seo Yeon-woo drifted until she finally settled in Haedo.

“…Ugh.”

A groaning voice, hoarse and heavy, slipped out between her slightly parted lips.

By her bedding, sunlight poked its way in as though announcing the start of a new day. Beside it sat a green soju bottle.

“What time is it…”

Without even the common luxury of a cellphone, Yeon-woo opened her bleary eyes and looked at the clock embedded in one wall.

Beneath the clock was the phrase: ‘20th Anniversary of Junggan Raw Fish Restaurant.’ She didn’t know who had made it, but at least it kept accurate time.

Seeing that it was already past six-thirty in the morning, Yeon-woo staggered to her feet, grabbed a towel from the laundry rack, and headed into the bathroom.

In the bathroom, its tiles a strange color somewhere between blue and green, she poured cold water over her head. Only then did the throbbing hangover pounding one side of her skull begin to ease.

“Ahh, cold…”

Roughly toweling her unkempt hair, which hadn’t been cut in months, Yeon-woo shuffled out in her slippers.

She lived in a small room at the back of Junggan Raw Fish Restaurant. Outside, the harbor lay just beyond, where she could catch the morning sea breeze.

“Yeon-ah, you’re up?”

“Yes, Auntie.”

“You drank a lot of soju yesterday, didn’t you.”

“A little…”

Answering awkwardly, she stretched both arms high to the sky once outside, letting out a long yawn.

Because of Park Jung-woon, she once thought she would never touch alcohol in her life, but sometimes she sipped soju. On beautiful days. When new middle school students in their uniforms chattered at the island’s only school. When Uncle Gye-seong brought in an unbelievable catch.

And—

When she missed Woo Jeong-ha.

At those times, Yeon-woo drank soju. Sometimes, she even felt it tasted sweet.

“Yeon-ah, I made bean sprout soup. Want some to cure your hangover?”

“Yes!”

“Come in after ten minutes.”

Yeon-woo gazed at the faraway sea, sparkling under the morning sunlight, then sat down on the breakwater.

Sometimes, when she looked out like this, she wondered if the place she was gazing toward might be near Seoul.

“……”

If she followed this sea, rode the winds well—would she someday meet you again?

Yeon-woo knew it was a foolish thought, yet for ten years she repeated it. Today especially—because it was July 18th. Woo Jeong-ha’s birthday.

“Happy birthday.”

Her small voice was swallowed by the crashing waves, dissolving into the briny air.

She remembered the time she nearly drowned in this very sea.

That was ten years ago already, yet the memory was so vivid. The big body of Woo Jeong-ha, who had taken her hand that day and wrapped her in his padded jacket.

“Yeon-ah, food’s ready!”

“Yes, coming, Auntie!”

At last Yeon-woo tore her gaze from the sea. Thoughts of how you might be doing today welled up, but she no longer cried over such memories of Jeong-ha.

Too much time had passed for that.

She simply didn’t cry anymore.

The boats had gone out at dawn, cast their nets, and now returned. There were no people more diligent than those who worked the sea.

By six in the morning, boats came back one by one. Some were full of fish, others empty-handed. Among them, Uncle Gye-seong’s boat always brought a good haul for Junggan Raw Fish Restaurant.

“Here, look at this!”

In the middle of filling the tanks, Uncle Gye-seong strode in proudly, holding up a fine flatfish.

“What is that?”

“Yeon-ah, after all this time you still can’t tell it’s a flatfish?”

“Well, it’s just…”

Of course she was startled—he’d walked right in holding up a whole fish.

But there was no point asking more. She knew exactly what they wanted.

“The other uncles aren’t here yet…”

“That’s why we should eat it ourselves first.”

Uncle Gye-seong grinned, showing yellowed teeth. Yeon-woo shook her head but went to fetch a bottle of soju from the fridge.

“I can’t slice sashimi.”

“That’s my job.”

“If you get scolded later, it’s not on me.”

And with that, Uncle Gye-seong marched proudly into the kitchen. Somehow the news spread fast—within fifteen minutes, other fishermen began pouring into Junggan Raw Fish Restaurant.

“Yeon-ah, I’m here!”

Before long, Yeon-woo was busy without a spare moment.

And it wasn’t just the fishermen.

The restaurant also became the gathering place for men with nothing better to do, especially those scolded by their wives.

“Yeon-ah, come wash these dishes!”

“Yes, Auntie. Coming.”

The sun hadn’t even set, yet crates of empty soju bottles already piled up. Truly, the island was full of heavy drinkers.

Working so busily, before she knew it, it was past four in the afternoon. Aunt Hae-mi, bending over to wash a red basin, suddenly muttered as if she’d spotted something at sea. Yeon-woo turned her head too.

“What’s that?”

“…What do you see?”

“There, that boat coming in. Hey, Mr. Park. Weren’t all boats supposed to be cut off today?”

“Don’t know. If I’m here, then they must be cut off, eh?”

Captain Park, already drunk, raised his soju glass halfway and mumbled a reply.

Hearing him, Aunt Hae-mi tilted her head, puzzled. The only one who ferried between Haedo and Seonjudo was Captain Park. Which meant no outside boats should be entering Haedo now.

“…Look, Yeon-ah.”

A surprisingly large vessel was cutting through the waves, heading toward Haedo. Only then did Yeon-woo, one rubber glove pulled halfway off, stop and watch the sea. Someone was coming into Haedo.

At a time when no outsider should have been able to enter.