Spiderweb
The next day, Cha Jun-jae rose early as if it were a picnic outing and finished every preparation, including checkout. I could only click my tongue at how thoroughly he had even summoned a horse cart to haul the luggage. There was relatively little for me to do. All I had done was hand over my personal items—underwear, laptop, and the like.
“Eun-dam. Are you heading back to Korea already?”
“No. I’m only switching accommodations.”
“Then let’s have dinner together before you leave the island.”
“Sure.”
On our way out of the lodging, Nomnom came to see us off, her face etched with regret as she watched the horse cart pull away. Still half-asleep with my hair a complete bird’s nest, I gave her a farewell hug. She seemed puzzled that the person departing carried no luggage. But Cha Jun-jae had already ferried everything away before sunrise, so it was probably settled into his place by now. I had overheard that—thanks to whatever strings he had pulled—they would accept the bags even though it wasn’t official check-in time.
I abandoned the idea of hauling the luggage on my own back. Wasn’t he the one who had grown tired of me and hoped I would run away as quickly as possible? Far from offering a helping hand, he had exited like a movie villain, telling me to manage on my own. Yet he had arranged every procedure to suit his taste and left me stranded like a penniless vagrant with nowhere to stay.
All I had were my card, a bit of cash, and the clothes currently on my body. Bluntly put, if Cha Jun-jae had bolted with my luggage, I—with zero money—would be utterly ruined. On top of that, the accommodation had already been settled and checked out long ago. No wonder Nomnom had been so startled and waited for me.
“That person’s returning to Korea, right?”
Nomnom had snapped a solo photo with Cha Jun-jae yesterday morning. It had been both to soothe his fan heart and to keep her mouth shut. I shrugged and smiled.
“I suppose so.”
I felt sorry for the disappointed Nomnom, but moving accommodations might have been the smarter choice after all. The luggage was already transferred, a new place secured, and my decision to be tossed onto the street from the crack of dawn had led me straight to an ocean swim. The adults I felt awkward facing had not called once since last night. My sole wish was that they would give up and start looking at flights back to Korea.
I strolled casually toward the nearby northern beach. I flopped straight onto the hammock in front of my usual shop. While I let the gentle sea breeze rock me, a store employee approached.
“Mango smoothie?”
“Thanks again today.”
“My pleasure.”
Since the order never changed, the employee returned to the shop without further questions. Gazing at the three-colored sea, I thought about the things inside my bag. Passport, wallet… those were obvious, but why on earth had I packed the camera? With a sigh, I pulled the cumbersome items out and laid them across my stomach, rocking the hammock back and forth. Peaceful as a baby in a cradle, I switched the camera on.
Beep, beep. Yet before I could even adjust the settings, my phone vibrated. I swallowed hard and answered.
"Where are you?"
It was Cha Jun-jae, who had moved the luggage with lightning speed and was already calling. His low voice through the receiver sounded strangely captivating. I fiddled with the camera in one hand and answered.
“There’s a large beige restaurant on the northern beach side. The sign has a fox painted on it…”
"Got it."
He hung up before I could finish. I let out a hollow laugh at the one-sidedly terminated call. He was really going all out now. I could almost understand Cha Jun-jae’s longing for the old, superficial version of our relationship. The moment I decided to cut ties and moved to slip the phone into my bag, a long shadow fell over me. A warm presence that blocked out the sky settled beside me. I froze exactly as I was, startled. Cha Jun-jae was breathing hard, as if he had run the whole way.
“Where did you even come from?”
“You said you left the accommodation, so…”
The distance from the previous lodging to here was a fifteen-minute walk. That meant after hanging up, Cha Jun-jae had sprinted at full speed for a full five minutes. I bolted upright, hammock swaying wildly.
Once his breathing steadied, Cha Jun-jae pulled his baseball cap low over his eyes. The sweat tracing down the line of his neck triggered a wave of panic in me. In that instant, an idea struck like divine revelation. I opened the memo app on my phone and typed furiously.
The protagonist of this film was someone with a one-sided love. Though the nature was different from Cha Jun-jae, who had simply rushed over blindly, the series of actions he displayed had sparked inspiration. Sitting beneath the tree shade to cool his sweat, Cha Jun-jae remained perfectly quiet, as though his only wish was to stay by my side. His distant gaze embraced the sea the same way mine had earlier. His pale neckline and the clean, delicate features visible beneath the cap stirred such creative hunger that I felt they deserved to be molded into a character.
The missing three percent in dialogue, description, and direction was steadily filling with detail. Into the seaside—where only the clatter of my phone keyboard had disturbed the air—drifted a scent that awakened every sense. The wind seemed to favor him alone, fluttering only his outer shirt. Just as I stared, transfixed, he noticed my gaze. His expression was bright, as if the salty sea breeze didn’t trouble him at all. I was thinking how regrettable it was that he always hid that face under a cap when he offered a faint, unreadable smile. Yet the most peaceful, quiet moment of our lives shattered as it met an unwelcome intruder.
“They’re right here!”
“Forget searching—let’s just call.”
“If we call, they’ll vanish like ghosts.”
At the Korean voices ringing across Dalos Island, I slid down from the hammock and hid my body beneath it. The people who appeared in front of the shop were, of course, my mother, father, and Aunt Su-young’s couple. Cha Jun-jae, glancing behind the tree, seemed to confirm the same. I pressed both arms down on his shoulders as he tried to rise.
“Don’t move! Don’t acknowledge them!”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why? This is the absolute best time for work. You just stay quiet and wait for that commotion to pass. Understood?”
Lifting my trembling chin, I peeked behind us. Somehow knowing this was my regular shop, Mom and Dad prowled like starving hyenas. They had not given up on me. With no way to locate a daughter who refused to answer her phone, they had apparently decided to comb the entire island on foot. Trailing after them like minions, Aunt Su-young and her husband were the greatest victims of this trip.
My parents had always been like this. They would barge into active filming sets, my tiny studio, conference rooms—anywhere—bearing food without warning. They claimed it was all for their daughter. Once I became an adult, their love for their only child had twisted into a snare of obsession. The age when parental food felt welcome had ended with my school days. And these were parents who used meals as bait to grill my coworkers for every detail of my private life.
Their patience, which had withdrawn a step out of pity for me worn out from film work, had finally snapped. They were clearly determined to tuck me under their arm and drag me home.
“Have they left?”
“They’re still going.”
“Ha… How on earth do I send them back?”
“Why send them back?”
“Don’t you hate that your parents chased you all the way to your vacation spot? You really are a saint.”
Thinking of my parents’ web, spun tight as a spider’s silk, I squeezed my eyes shut. At that moment, Cha Jun-jae’s gentle voice, carried on the breeze, answered.
“I hate it too.”
For the first time in a while, our thoughts aligned. I exchanged a smile with Cha Jun-jae. Sharing my view, he looked back with icy eyes. While I felt suffocated to death by my porcupine parents, Cha Jun-jae’s own parents never interfered with him like this. I had never seen them cling to him affectionately even after arriving on the island. We gazed at the sea, each carrying different emotions.
“Jun-jae.”
“Yeah.”
His voice, soft and luminous as moonlight, sounded strangely pleasant. As if in answer to that tone, a fun idea came to me.
“Will you help me out a little?”