The Sea Witch (1)
Before the main writer had even finished cross-checking the list of participants against the names one by one, she had already caught the ghost who had slipped in among them.
They were all gathered in the spacious auditorium where the signal song had been unveiled earlier.
While the other contestants were returning the props used for today’s shoot before the kimbap was handed out, one person stood out simply because he was doing nothing at all. It was Neoul.
He was already impossible to miss, with his odd clothes and his height; acting differently from everyone else only made him more noticeable.
Neoul kept staring blankly at the other contestants with his handsome face, or glancing around the room with wide-eyed curiosity, clearly fascinated by everything around him.
In particular, when he saw Baek Yuri return the rabbit-ear headband, he narrowed his eyes. He also watched the contestants returning tiger headbands, cat headbands, and wolf masks with keen interest.
When they checked Neoul’s name, it wasn’t on the list, and there was no application form or profile either. The trouble was that there were so many participants she hadn’t been able to memorize them all.
No, among the contestants he was glaringly handsome and his whole vibe was so unusual, too. It was her fault for being dazzled by his face and failing to notice something strange until now.
The main writer sent a text to Producer Seok O-young, then pulled Neoul aside and led him to a makeshift meeting room.
As she guided him along, she grew flustered when Neoul walked with tiny, unsteady steps like a baby taking its first steps.
In any case, Neoul made it safely into the meeting room and sat across from the writer with a table between them.
Neoul didn’t really know what filming was, but he could answer the question of how he had come.
The main writer’s mind only sank deeper into a maze.
Could he be a local here on Jeju Island? A haenyeo—no, a haenam? Was he working underwater, and we just failed to check?
Her fingertips tapped lightly against the table.
Neoul shook his head.
The main writer left Neoul alone in the meeting room for a moment and conferred with the others in the hallway.
“We can’t reshoot the busking scene. What do we do? He was even in the top ten candidates for the signal song... if we scrap this...”
“He’s handsome, and from what I saw just now, he can probably sing pretty well. What about casting him? Should we at least ask whether he’d want to debut as an idol?”
“Even if he says he doesn’t want to, shouldn’t we try persuading him to think it over again?”
“Maybe we should talk to him after the producer gets here and decide then.”
“Yeah. Oh, here he comes now.”
Producer Seok O-young and the entire staff who had hurried over were gathered for an emergency meeting. After reviewing the footage and agonizing over it, they reached the conclusion that a reshoot was impossible.
But cutting out the scene with Neoul felt far too wasteful.
“For now, let’s try our best to persuade Neoul to join. The moment today gave us a really interesting picture, and I think it’ll generate a lot of buzz.”
“That said, it’s regrettable for contestant Baek Yuri, but since he found the wrong partner, we’ll have to remove him from the signal song candidates. It was a failed mission. Let’s say the six contestants who succeeded will be the ones who make the cut.”
“Still, looking at the footage, he really did crawl out of the sea. He’s not some kind of water ghost, is he?”
“Come on. Ghosts don’t exist. He probably sneaked in before the cameras started rolling and went freediving or something. Maybe he even caught abalone.”
“I guess that makes sense?”
Producer Seok, who had even wondered whether Baek Gi-yeom was a ghost, shook his head, his face white as paper. Once they had wrapped up the discussion, they went into the makeshift meeting room to persuade Neoul.
* * *
At that same time.
The beach, after the staff had all withdrawn and the people who’d been playing around there after completing the sticker-pasting mission had gone home in their own directions.
Only a few people remained on the now-quiet shore. A college student, feet in the seawater, spotted a reddish-brown octopus. He was about to reach out, thinking it strange that the octopus had washed all the way up onto the beach, when—
A sharp, commanding voice halted the student in his tracks. No, the voice was soft and lovely, but the tone itself was stern. The student, crouching down, immediately froze and looked up.
He hadn’t even sensed anyone approaching, yet a woman in an elegant white dress was standing right in front of him. With a broad-brimmed hat shadowing her face, the enchanting beauty tilted to one side and pointed at the octopus with her chin.
“That one’s poisonous. If it bites you, you’re in serious trouble, you know?”
It was the kind of casual familiarity that came naturally from a first meeting.
Was she older? She didn’t even seem that much older than him.
The student was puzzled, but he quickly pulled his hand back and moved away from the octopus. Curiosity was less important than his life.
“Ah, thank you. I almost touched it without thinking.”
At that moment, the woman scooped up the octopus in one hand. The reddish creature instantly turned yellow, and ugly blue-ring patterns bloomed across its body. The student let out a yelp and stumbled backward.
Yet the woman merely stroked the octopus as if nothing had happened and spoke to it.
“Hello there, little one. You followed the prince, didn’t you?”
Of course, the octopus did not answer. It squirmed furiously, as though agitated, trying to bite her hand and escape. The woman snorted as if such a bite wouldn’t even itch, and stuffed the octopus into a sack.
“Um, are you okay? Should I call 119...?”
Even while wondering if she was insane, the student fumbled to pull out his smartphone and asked. The woman replied with complete composure.
“No. I’m tougher than this little thing.”
She was about to leave the beach with the octopus when she paused and looked back. Her face was so alluring and beautiful that he hadn’t noticed at first, but for an instant, her pupils seemed to slit horizontally.
“You’d better be careful in cars today.”
The student looked at her, suddenly seized by a chill. Having left that warning behind, the woman drifted away from the beach and disappeared toward the parking lot.
* * *
The blue-ringed octopus that had followed Neoul diligently as he swam found itself unable to keep up once they reached the shore.
It was already exhausted, its eight arms hanging limp and flailing weakly, and to make matters worse, Neoul had boarded a bus and vanished.
As it sat there stupefied and teary-eyed, it was caught in the Sea Witch’s sack and placed in the back seat of her car.
It needed to send fresh water through its gills, but out of the water it couldn’t breathe. Though it stayed on guard, the blue-ringed octopus writhed in misery.
The Sea Witch poured a potion over the resisting octopus. The cold, tingling liquid spilled over its body. Then agony rolled through it as if every part of its body were being dismantled and reassembled; it grew larger, and its field of vision suddenly rose higher.
Its blocked breathing opened all at once, too.
“Uh...?”
The blue-ringed octopus blinked foolishly.
The sea creatures who worked in Dragon Palace could, by the Dragon King’s grace, take on human form within the palace grounds. But that was not truly a transformation of the human body. Their bodies remained the same; they only appeared human on the outside, like a hallucination.
But now it could feel its altered body in its entirety. Its head and torso had originally been arranged with the head beneath the torso and eight arms attached to the head, and yet suddenly the positions of head and body had been reversed.
The disorienting, alien sensation made it impossible to adjust quickly. Unlike its freed and supple eight arms, the human limbs were terribly heavy and stiff, moving awkwardly no matter how it tried. The blue-ringed octopus became convinced that the Sea Witch had cursed it and was seized with fear.
However, the Sea Witch calmly slipped a yellow dress over its head and fastened the seat belt for it. Then she moved to the front seat and took the wheel.
As the car started smoothly and began to glide forward, the blue-ringed octopus trembled and curled in on itself. Scary! It had to run away!
Glancing in the rearview mirror, the Sea Witch gave a little snort and teased it.
“Little one. Aren’t you an officer? Why are you so timid and weak?”
The blue-ringed octopus shot her a glare full of distrust. Its eyesight seemed sharper now, because everything was painfully clear, which only helped it glower harder.
Her becoming an officer had been due to her special ability to carry deadly venom, not because she was brave. Of course, it wasn’t because she was strong or had great stamina, either.
In truth, the soldiers of Dragon Palace did not need to be strong. Who would dare invade the Dragon King’s domain? Only someone who had left their liver outside their body.
The soldiers simply moved in and around Dragon Palace and helped other sea creatures in need. Breaking up quarrels, large and small, and transporting those who violated Dragon Palace’s rules to prison were also part of a soldier’s duties.
They did learn spear techniques in a half-hearted way, but there was no need to risk their lives or face real danger. So there was no need to become strong.
At least, that was how it was until the Dragon King fell...
The blue-ringed octopus regretted never trying to get stronger. Even if it had tried, she was still a small-bodied blue-ringed octopus with nothing but venom to rely on.
“Sea Witch, where are you taking me...?”
“To make octopus sashimi out of you.”
“Aaah!”
The blue-ringed octopus thrashed and tried to flee. But the seat belt held its upper body tight, and the car doors were firmly locked as the vehicle sped onward. Naturally, it had no idea how to undo a seat belt or unlock a car.
“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. We’re going to our prince for now.”
The Sea Witch lifted the corners of her mouth in a languid smile.
“It’s not time for you yet. Wait in the car.”
At that moment, the blue-ringed octopus sank into unconscious sleep as if it had fainted.
* * *
Producer Seok and the main writer gave Neoul a brief explanation of the concept behind Idol Travel.
It was an idol survival audition program produced by cable channel FLu, which was riding high in competition against Unet.
Since it had a travel concept, viewers would be called “passengers” boarding the Idol Travel plane, and the contestants would wear stylish flight attendant uniforms for the signal song video.
The two of them rattled off explanation after explanation that was difficult for Neoul to understand, then tried to persuade him to appear on the show.
“It’s a healing survival program, so there won’t be much hardship. It’ll be fun.”
“You don’t have trainee experience? I bet you got a lot of business cards from agencies in front of your school.”
“You’re twenty, which is perfect. Why not take it on as an experience?”
“Don’t you want to try being an idol? If you debut here, you’ll start out with recognition and fans all at once. Your starting line’s different.”
Neoul, who had only been listening with a blank expression, finally reacted then.
“Debut?”
That rabbit teacher had definitely said as much. If he debuted, they would give him a liver. He still didn’t fully understand what this “idol” thing the others had just explained was, but... now he understood fairly well that it was a job involving dancing and singing.
“Yes. You could get eliminated partway through, but if you survive to the end, you can debut right away.”
“How long until one debuts?”
“Filming lasts a little over three months. Once the final lineup is decided, preparing the debut album isn’t our job, so we can’t say exactly, but they’ll debut before the program’s attention dies down, so maybe around three months for that, too? So roughly half a year, then.”
“Half a year...”
Then he still had time. Neoul nodded.
“I shall do it.”
“Wow! Really? You’re serious?”
“Yes. I will do it.”
The faces of the main writer and Producer Seok, who had been trying to persuade him, brightened at once.
“Good thinking. Our show doesn’t do anything shady. It’s fair and clean. For now, just fill out the application form first, and you can read the details later at your own pace. If you give us your smartphone number, we’ll send the information by text, too. And please make sure to keep the confidentiality agreement until the broadcast.”
Neoul looked down at the application form displayed on the tablet PC held out before him.
Name, age, nationality, date of birth, education, experience, special talents, and so on. It was a list of items that shouldn’t have been difficult to fill in, yet Neoul couldn’t write a single thing in any of the blanks. He couldn’t read the letters, and he had no idea how to use a tablet PC.
In Dragon Palace, they made tablets by breaking stone and scratched records onto the surface. This device, however, looked as though it would shatter if you scraped it with anything sharp.
As Neoul grew troubled and flicked a glance at the humans, they told him he could take his time and offered him soft smiles.