JD 1

Hakyung darted beneath the crystal-clear water, so transparent that even the tiniest grains of sand were visible. His smooth arms and legs moved as naturally as a fish’s, fluid and precise.

With a large basket tucked under one arm, he scanned his surroundings before settling into a spot and began digging into the ground.

As he stirred the sand and broad leaves, mud and mud shrimp rushed in through the now-cloudy water as he moved the basket.

Sniffling from the cold that pierced to his teeth, Hakyung shook the basket gently. Light mud was swept away by the current, and inside the basket, plump little shrimp jumped and wriggled.

Thinking this would be the last time he’d see these tiny creatures, he felt a bittersweet pang in his chest.

“Hakyung! You done down there?”

“Yeah! This is my last basket!”

“Well then, get up here already! It’s cold out!”

Answering brightly to the uncles calling from afar, Hakyung let out a little grunt, “Heave-ho,” as he hoisted the basket onto his head and started moving.

Swimming was, of course, much faster than walking in the water, but he moved cautiously, not wanting to lose any of the hard-won shrimps to the current.

He climbed a low hill and emptied the basket into a large tub containing the day’s haul. The uncles standing nearby patted his shoulders in praise.

“Saved the best for last, huh, Hakyung?”

“Sure looks like it. What’re we gonna do when our local A-su moves out?”

“It’s not A-su! It’s ace! A! Ce!”

“Ah, ace or A-su, what’s the difference!”

Chuckling at the banter, Hakyung pulled down the brim of the bucket hat resting by the basket. Covering his crown with a hat was second nature—just like breathing.

The uncles handed him an envelope with some parting words of encouragement. It was this week’s wages.

Clutching his precious earnings like his very life, Hakyung dashed home. The roof, reinforced with slate panels, looked ready to cave in at any moment, yet it had proudly withstood over twenty years of weather.

“Gran! I’m home!”

Kicking off his slippers, Hakyung burst into the main room. His grandmother, Madam Lee Malsook, looked up with a smile, sewing fabric in her hands.

“Well, my little piggy’s home?”

“Yup! Granny’s piggy is back!”

He giggled as he wrapped an arm around her waist. She had raised him and his siblings in place of their parents, who had passed away early on. Loving her more than life itself came as naturally as breathing.

Since the Korean word for dolphin shares roots with “pig whale,” (harbor porpoise) Granny always called her grandkids “little piggies” instead of “puppies.” Having heard it all their lives, none of them found it odd.

“Here, Granny! This week’s pay. Let’s go to the bank together tomorrow.”

“Oh, my… You worked hard, you really did.”

“What are you talking about? It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

Granny’s eyes welled up as she looked at her grandson, who was repaying a debt she had taken on. Thinking of how he spent his days from dawn to dusk, working so hard that his small hands were rough and calloused from catching shrimp, made her chest ache with guilt.

But Kang Hakyung only smiled, bright and carefree. He was just thankful he could earn money in place of the grandmother who had bent over backward to raise him and his siblings.

“Youth is wealth,” he often said—and to him, this wasn’t even real hardship. All he wanted was for Granny to spend the rest of her days free of debt and in peace.

Unaware of how her heart ached at the thought of her grandson, barely twenty-four, growing up too fast, Hakyung simply patted her shoulder with a calm, mature expression.

“When I get to Seoul, I’ll make way more money, so don’t worry about a thing. Just have fun with the uncles and aunts, alright?”

“Aww, of course. Granny’ll be waiting for her little piggy, so come back safe, okay?”

“Definitely! I’ve got nothing going for me except my health!”

Pretending not to notice the tears welling in his grandmother’s eyes, Hakyung lifted his shoulders with a grin. If he could endure just three years of hardship, he could live happily ever after in their hometown with his grandmother.

“But are you really sure you can trust this? What if that Kim Taeyoung is lying to you again?”

“Nah, he’s not that bad. Don’t you remember? He saved my life once.”

“Well, I suppose…”

Despite Hakyung’s reassurances, his grandmother’s doubts didn’t disappear easily. Only after repeating “it’s fine” several times was he able to finally escape her worries.

***

But just two days after arriving in Seoul, Hakyung found himself homeless, crouched in the corner of some building.

“Damn it. Kim Taeyoung, you bastard.”

Muttering the harshest words he could muster, he pulled his bucket hat even lower over his face.

Seoul-si, OO-ro, XXX-gil 32-7, 3rd floor

The address Taeyoung gave him was clearly written on his phone screen. He’d even gone to the neighborhood and checked multiple times—but the address didn’t exist.

Come to think of it, Taeyoung had even attached a map when Hakyung said he’d try looking it up early… The effort it must’ve taken to forge a fake address and a fake map just to screw with him—it was enough to bring tears to the eyes.

Taeyoung had blocked his number. Of course he had. Even someone as soft as Kang Hakyung couldn’t just let this one slide. He was furious.

“Damn it…”

But what use was being angry when there was no one to take it out on? A sharp breeze smacked his cheek like it was mocking the clueless country dolphin. He rubbed the stinging spot, but his hands were even colder—no help at all.

There was no way he could just return home like this. Not after boasting to his grandmother and the village elders about all the money he’d bring back, and not after defending Kim Taeyoung so much that even they were fed up with him.

Caught between a rock and a hard place, Hakyung let out a long sigh. Wandering aimlessly through a city where he knew no one had become too much to bear.

He’d been up all night, and his eyes kept closing. Letting out a huge yawn, he settled in a sunny corner of the building. He didn’t know what this place was, but the way the sunlight warmed the spot made it feel just right.

Feeling a little guilty toward the building owner, Hakyung whispered a quick apology and buried his forehead against his knees.

He only meant to nap for thirty minutes. Really.

“…Hey. Hey!”

He was fast asleep when someone suddenly started tapping his foot. The persistent poking pulled a frown onto Hakyung’s sleeping face.

He tried swatting the hand away, but whoever it was dodged him and kept tapping his foot. Eventually, the pain in his toes was too much to ignore, and Hakyung had no choice but to open his heavy eyelids and look up at the source of the strength.

But with the light behind him, he couldn’t see the person’s face clearly. All he could tell was—they were huge.

He’d never seen anyone that big in his life. The man’s towering presence chased away all remnants of sleep, and Hakyung’s eyes went wide. When the man made as if to lift his foot again, Hakyung hurriedly scrambled up.

“S-sorry!”

“What are you? Why are you sleeping here?”

“Well, I…”

Now that he was standing, Hakyung got a clear look at the man’s face—and he grew even more scared.

Who knew someone could look that scary?

Everyone he’d grown up around—kindly-faced elders, round-faced siblings who resembled him, even the boyishly handsome Kim Taeyoung—had soft, curved features. But this man’s face looked like it had been chiseled from stone—sharp, rugged, and downright intimidating.

Hakyung hunched his shoulders and muttered, “Sorry. I’ll get going now,” his voice shrinking to a whisper as he shuffled to the left.

But the large shadow moved left with him. Gasping softly, Hakyung tried stepping to the right—only for the shadow to follow again, perfectly in step.

After a few more back-and-forths, he realized—the man was doing it on purpose.

Was he going to make him pay for sleeping there…? The only money he had was 20,000 won. Hakyung’s hands began to tremble.

“That. Hand it over.”

“W-what?”

“That piece of paper.”

The man pointed at a paper sticking out of Hakyung’s pocket. Following the gesture, Hakyung pulled it out. It was his resume—the one he’d stayed up several nights writing before coming to Seoul.

How’d he even notice that?

Still, in this situation, it was useless. Just a “scrap of paper,” like the man said.

“Uh, it’s just a resume,” Hakyung said, trying to sound nonchalant and hid it behind his back. But the man remained silent, simply holding out his hand as if waiting.

Cornered by his strange persistence, Hakyung hesitantly placed the resume in the man’s hand.

“Follow me.”

The man gave it a quick glance and then spoke—not asked, but ordered. Blinking in surprise at his tone, Hakyung found himself following without thinking, trailing behind the man like a baby duck after its mother.