TFEB 02

Chapter 02…

 Hiding the Fox’s Tail

Getting all the way to Dallos Island required more than just taking a seven-hour flight. Without even having time to adjust to the time difference, you also had to reserve one of the two or three boats that departed each day in advance and spend another five hours traveling by sea.

After taking the seasickness medicine handed out at the port, you could simply collapse and listen to the seemingly endless conversations of Western tourists until you finally arrived at your destination.

But that was only the beginning. The narrow port was already overflowing with people, and the crowds arriving on luxury ferries only made things worse. There wasn’t even enough room to stand properly. If you happened to get your foot run over by the wheels of someone’s suitcase, the beautiful three-colored sea view would suddenly look like a chaotic street market painted blue.

To enjoy the fantastic vacation I’d seen in the magazine, you had to dedicate at least an entire day just to getting there. In other words, it was a destination with a high entry barrier for Koreans who didn’t have much vacation time.

“Want to touch this?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I’ll give you a cheap price. A special discount, just for you.”

“I’m fine.”

The port was invariably crowded with people and chatter whenever a boat arrived. Merchants carrying fans and silk scarves wandered around with hawk-like eyes, looking for potential customers.

Since the island was environmentally friendly, the only available means of transportation were bicycles and horse-drawn carriages. There was no way my parents, who considered three suitcases the bare minimum, could possibly get around on foot.

Dallos Island was a paradise for vacationers, with professionally organized snorkeling and scuba-diving programs. However, the journey itself was so complicated that it wasn’t a destination you could choose simply because you wanted to play in the water.

In other words, it wasn’t the kind of place my mother, who believed comfort was the most important thing when traveling, would normally choose.

Rather than coming here to enjoy the ocean, it was more accurate to say they’d come looking for their daughter.

Honestly, considering my parents’ personalities, I thought three months was already quite generous of them. My father, who was prone to excessive worrying, would probably have reached his limit after just one month, even if my mother hadn’t.

“Make sure you get that roaming thing set up in Korea so you can answer the phone immediately. Understand?”

That was one of the conditions my father had presented before allowing me to travel.

I had to answer any call from my parents within forty seconds, no matter what. I was their only child, after all. What good was having a daughter if they couldn’t even find out whether she was alive or dead?

“Mom!”

He also made me use a credit card under his name whenever possible. Even though cash was used more often on this island, if a single day’s transaction history failed to arrive, he’d immediately call me.

Ordering a latte at a café with my father’s credit card was my own little way of sending him a letter saying, I’m still alive.

But all of it had been nothing more than a futile struggle. A meaningless attempt to keep things under control.

Even after spending three months following our unspoken rules, my parents had still shown up at the island’s port, wearing Hawaiian shirts.

“Song Eundam! Oh, my!”

When my mother spotted me waiting near the entrance to the port, she took off her sunglasses.

My father, who was standing in the line to pay the entry fee, must have heard her shout because he began turning his head from side to side.

His fierce expression, which had looked as prickly as a poisonous mushroom among all the tall Westerners, gradually softened.

“Eundam!”

My father’s loud cry drew everyone’s attention as he spread both arms wide.

I was standing in front of a closed pub, and I lowered my head in embarrassment.

“Don’t move from there! Stay right there, okay?! Got it?!”

My father paid no attention to the stares around him. He bounced impatiently on his feet as he waited for his turn.

Less than a minute later, after paying the entry fee, he lifted the suitcase that came up to his waist as if it weighed nothing.

My mother, whose eyes were already brimming with tears, joined him, and the two of them hurried past the cluster of horse-drawn carriages.

“My Eundam!”

My father, whose face had turned as red as the shirt I was wearing, threw himself into my arms.

My mother lowered her head and sobbed as though we were a family being reunited after years of separation.

While hugging my father back, I exchanged glances with a fan merchant who was watching us with great curiosity.

My earlobes burned as though they’d been heated over a fire.

“Dad? I know you’re happy to see me, but there are so many people here, aren’t there?”

“Hey, you little rascal! Just look at how much weight you’ve lost! Honey!”

“Exactly! Eundam, you said you went swimming every day. What happened to you?”

I forcibly separated myself from my father, who had absolutely no intention of listening to a word I said.

But even as he was pushed away, watching him sniffle made me feel like an unfilial daughter.

Perhaps it was because this was the first time he’d experienced such a long trip away from his child. He seemed to have lost weight.

He was the kind of man who never missed a single meal, even while undergoing dental nerve treatment. Thinking about how worried he’d been to the point of losing weight made me feel guilty.

And yet, at the same time, I couldn’t help wondering what exactly the relationship between Korean parents and their children was supposed to be.

No, that wasn’t quite it.

I was wondering what the relationship between Song Eundam and the middle-aged couple living in Bongjang-dong, Seoul, really was.

One side wanted to pour out endless amounts of love and money, even if it meant sacrificing their own flesh and blood. The other side stubbornly wanted to reject all of it.

I wanted my parents to have plenty of happy moments together, even when I wasn’t around.

But if I kept rejecting them, I would end up being the bad person.

If I decided to live my life solely for myself, I’d become an immature, thoughtless daughter who didn’t understand her parents’ feelings at all.

“Eundam.”

“Ah! Uncle!”

I’d completely forgotten.

After our dramatic family reunion, my mother’s expression was just beginning to crumple as she belatedly caught a whiff of horse manure.

Behind my parents stood the husband of Aunt Suyeong, who looked every bit like a professor, no matter when you saw him. He was holding a suitcase in each hand.

Uncle was sweating, apparently unable to adjust to the blazing sunshine here. I felt sorry for him.

“Can we get a taxi here?”

“A taxi?”

It seemed Uncle knew absolutely nothing about the local situation.

Apparently, he’d been persuaded to take the boat by my parents, whose powers of persuasion were nothing short of incredible.

At the port, he’d been shoved around like a weed growing in a field of people. His ears must have been ringing from the horse-drawn carriages’ bells and the shouts of people trying to attract customers.

Seeing the chaotic, filthy market-like scene in what was supposed to be a paradise island, I remembered how I’d once stood there in a daze.

“Uncle, you’ve already found accommodation, right?”

“That’s what I was told.”

“Did my parents make the reservation?”

My mother had just realized that the foul smell assaulting her nose was coming from the muddy ground. She was hopping up and down, screaming.

Not that there was any chance her white sandals would ever return to their former condition.

“Mom, come over here.”

“Oh, goodness! Why is the ground so dirty here? Huh? Where are the sidewalks?”

“There aren’t any.”

“There aren’t?”

There was no need to feel wronged.

I’d already given them detailed reports over the phone about the island’s hygiene conditions and all its inconveniences.

Only restaurants inside hotels or newly built establishments were relatively clean. The places frequently visited by locals were more like battlefields where people fought flies for their food.

And as a bonus, you couldn’t even find an air conditioner despite the suffocating heat.

“Eundam, it’s been a while. You’ve gotten even prettier.”

Aunt Suyeong, who had been fanning herself behind Uncle, greeted me with a shy smile.

“Hello, Auntie.”

As was customary, all of my mother’s friends were called aunts.

Among them, Aunt Suyeong was one of my mother’s oldest acquaintances and could be considered her best friend.

Even to this day, it remained a mystery how my mother, who was so overflowing with emotion that she often went overboard, and Aunt Suyeong, who was like a timid literary girl, managed to get along so well.

Come to think of it, were these four really the only ones who had come?

“Munho said he’d booked the accommodation. Eundam knows the area well, so we can just ask her to show us the way.”

Aunt Suyeong, who couldn’t tolerate the heat, came to that conclusion in an irritated tone.

My mother, who had been alternately putting on and taking off her sunglasses while competing with my father over who had more complaints, seemed pleased with the suggestion as well.

“It’s called something like Koran Villa. Do you know where it is, Eundam?”

Of course I did.

It was the most expensive resort on Dallos Island.

Even the men driving horse-drawn carriages would charge twice the standard fare if you told them you were going to that villa.

The locals’ reasoning was simple: anyone staying at that resort was rich, so there was no harm in overcharging them.

“I know where it is, but you can’t walk there. You have too much luggage, too. It takes at least twenty minutes, and in this heat, over that distance, Mom and Aunt Suyeong would collapse before getting there.”

I could already imagine their reactions if I tried to lead them through the narrow alleys as a shortcut.

The backstreets where the island’s residents lived would look like an expedition into the wilderness to adults accustomed to high-rise apartment buildings.

They’d probably end up concluding that the coastal road leading to the port was actually quite clean.

I wasn’t confident I could take care of a group of adults in a place where I could barely manage to look after myself.

“First, take one of those. If you split into pairs, it’ll work out perfectly. Just tell those people you’re going to Koran Villa. They’ll all know where it is. The prices are fixed, too, so they won’t scam you.”

Looking at the line of horse-drawn carriages, the mouths of the adults, whose average age was fifty-two, fell open.

Every time one of the enormous horses, the kind you’d usually see on Jeju Island, lifted its hooves, my mother seemed to shrink a little more.

And that expression on her face, slowly realizing that her daughter wasn’t going to be much help…

Wait a minute.

“Mom, Dad. I’ll ride my own bicycle to the villa and meet you there later. See you!”

I could sympathize with Aunt Suyeong and Uncle, who had followed everyone here without knowing anything about the place.

But I had absolutely no desire to let anyone, including my parents, interfere with my trip before the date I’d set for myself to leave.

To make that happen, I had no choice but to make Mom and Dad deeply regret coming here and wish they’d chosen a package tour instead.

“I’ll arrange the carriages for you.”

Uncle, who had been moving the suitcases by himself, looked incredibly grateful.

Even smart people wanted to rely on others when they found themselves in unfamiliar surroundings.

As I reached into my wallet to pay the carriage fare for them, a question I’d been holding back lingered on the tip of my tongue.

“Ah, um… Everyone’s here today, right?”

Uncle, who was loading the luggage onto the carriage at the front of the line, widened his eyes.

I did my best to make sure I didn’t look awkward.

“I was thinking of making a restaurant reservation.”

“Ah, yes. Only we came today.”

“Oh!”

After our brief conversation, Uncle focused on loading the luggage.

Behind him, I secretly bit my lip.

If I looked too happy, they’d figure everything out immediately.

“Then I’ll see you later.”

“All right, Eundam. Thanks for coming to meet us.”

I gave them a slight bow and stepped away from the horse-drawn carriage.

Leaving the adults in the hands of the coachman, who was happily humming to himself after getting customers, I walked in the opposite direction.

That guy I’d been worried might show up wasn’t there.

That guy wasn’t coming.

Wasn’t there a saying that Heaven helps those who help themselves?

Above my head, as I silently celebrated my good fortune, stretched a brilliant blue sky that seemed to bless me.

I’m saved.