#29 Sunflower and Signpost 1
Clunk! The train jolted violently, snapping his eyes open. Before him stretched empty stainless-steel seats bathed in the crimson glow of the setting sun. They must be nearing the end of the line—he was the only one left in the car. Can I really be this carefree? he wondered, almost awed by his own composure.
He checked his phone at the perfectly timed chime. A single message from Harin. Just those five words. He waited, but nothing else came. It was something he'd already known, something he hadn't invested much thought in. Harin knew better than anyone that this declaration held no real weight—not even for Yuchan. And yet she'd sent it anyway. A last desperate grasp at some shred of conscience, perhaps. Or a final plea not to touch her anymore now that she was getting married. Maybe even a provocation. He'd tangled with her body countless times, but women's hearts were like knotted balls of yarn—impossible to unravel more often than not.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket. So what had he come all this way on this train for? Why head here of all places? As these thoughts swirled, the window revealed a white lighthouse perched precariously on a cliff, gazing out over the sea.
"Hello."
Those were the first words from the girl he encountered. It had been just four hours since arriving on the island, and he'd bought a train ticket on a whim—anywhere would do. With Harin fully retired, there was no more manager work to be done, but he'd never lacked for money in life. This was just a way to kill some idle time. The ticket to a place whose name and features he knew nothing about had dutifully led him into the unknown.
And so he'd ended up in some island village. The only transport options were a seaside rail stretching over shallow waters and the occasional passenger ship. A bizarre setup: bridges built over the sea where reclamation projects had stalled, rails laid atop them. He'd vaguely heard somewhere about a pilot project for a water train to one of the East Sea islands. Strange that such a novelty existed, yet the island had so few people. Probably poor access to the rail was the culprit.
In a little over four hours of wandering, he'd seen the whole island. It was that small, that unremarkable.
Then he'd spotted it: this lighthouse atop the cliff—seacliff, technically, since it bordered the sea—surrounded by a flock of gulls. The cliff rose about 5 meters from sea level, the lighthouse itself around 8 meters tall. A quaint scene straight out of a small fishing village, stirring his curiosity. On such a tiny island, in such a remote spot—no-man's-land, he'd assumed. But there was someone there. Not an old grandma or grandpa, but a girl.
She offered her greeting with a slight bow. Yuchan returned it reflexively, forcing a smile onto what must have been a stiff face. A gentle smile was the first step in building smooth interpersonal relations.
"Hi?"
The silence that followed was filled by the cries of countless gulls and the flap of wings. The unfamiliar sounds lent the scene an oddly surreal edge, like something out of a dream. You rarely heard such cries away from the coast. Even in the city, the only birds were pigeons—repulsive things, bloated like fatty chickens.
By contrast, the gulls' sleek, streamlined forms were impressive. No way you'd find that elegance in urban pigeons. Why are so many gathered around her? The answer came as he noticed the shrimp crackers in her hand. Thin as a pinky finger, ridged like a comb—nothing like a real shrimp, but their unique flavor made them a gull favorite. Beats scavenging shellfish, apparently. He wondered how they tasted to the birds...
"Never expected to find anyone out here."
He flashed her a soft smile, voice as kind and relaxed as he could muster. An expression honed by hundreds, thousands of mirror practices. But even that disarming smile made the girl flinch and step back.
Shy around strangers? He tilted his head slightly, scanning her with a quick glance under the guise of looking up. Black Box. His unfailing weapon when observing humans, deceptive as always.
A massive sunflower bloomed in the girl's subconscious. A flower fit for midsummer, fully unfurled. Before delving into its meaning, he took in her appearance—just as swiftly, so she wouldn't notice.
Semi-long haircut, headband keeping bangs from her forehead. Skin pale enough to seem ghostly, lips and brows faint on pigment. Wide eyes with light double eyelids arched in mild surprise, utterly free of malice. Age indeterminate—a student, maybe, but with a mature air that suggested adulthood. Her frame was fragile overall. Not just slim; her fingers clutching the crackers, her legs barely supporting her, sparked a dizzying sense of peril. The harmony of that vulnerability and protective instinct was perfection itself. Anyone seeing her would be drawn to her pitiable fragility and bright aura alike.
He'd always figured skinny girls weren't all that pretty. Time to revise that prejudice. By his updated standards, this girl was a beauty. And from her greeting, her voice was lovely too.
"Feeding the gulls?"
No response to his question. He was taken aback. She'd just stared at him for a full minute, unresponsive. Rude for someone who'd greeted first.
"You're an interesting guy, mister."
Her belated reply was so out of left field that Yuchan found himself tilting his head. What was interesting about him? She giggled behind her hand, tickled.
Truth be told, impressing her wasn't crucial. Still, he didn't sense this encounter would be pointless. With Harin off-limits for a while, she could serve as decent entertainment for his empty time. That he lingered for more words than usual—normally he'd exchange pleasantries and leave—was proof enough.
"Do I look that funny? Never heard entertaining before."
He shrugged playfully. He'd bedded countless women; most melted under his easy confidence and looks. He was sure this would be no different. The cracker bag had vanished into her pack, crumpled. The gulls circled the lighthouse once then scattered like they'd had enough.
She watched them go, then finally spoke. "Are you interested in me, mister?"
"What a weird question."
He let out a genuine, empty laugh. Her query was random, but he chalked it up to adolescent self-consciousness and brushed it off.
This time, she tilted her head. "That laugh was real this time? Who are you, mister?"
Only then did Yuchan feel a faint dissonance. Her words didn't fit the usual conversational flow. Discomfort coiled through him, source unknown.
"Why'd you make that face earlier? You didn't want to smile at all."
"What?"
He retorted louder than intended—shock, and the sudden link in their disjointed exchange. This girl saw straight through to Yuchan. Not the mask he wore for others, but his true self. Exposure was anathema to his imperfect nature. He'd trained relentlessly to pass as normal. Yet this little girl had pierced the facade without a care.
Meeting her unwavering gaze turned hypothesis to certainty. Black pupils like ice, staring down unblinkingly.
"You see me?"
"That's the weird question, mister."
She giggled, leaning against the cliffside railing. Uncomfortable. Profound alienation. Ridiculous outrage surged in his chest. Humans envied what they lacked in others—it was innate. Here he was, invaded by a stranger he couldn't comprehend. He wanted to shove her off the edge, foot hooked on the swing. His mind already pictured her tumbling backward, swallowed by the sea, formless.
Witnesses? He scanned discreetly—
"Let me rephrase. Why'd you smile at first? When I said 'hello~'?"
Her next words tempered the rush of emotion. Not a big deal yet. Their connection wouldn't last, anyway.
"This feels more comfortable."
His tone came out curt naturally. No point hiding from her. Performing a serious face before an audience that knew the script was mortifying.
"Comfortable how?"
"People bite if you don't seem like them. Figured a smile might make them go easy."
Sarcasm dripped from his half-hearted answer.
"So you have no emotions, mister?"
Her follow-up hit too close, leaving him momentarily speechless. Not perfectly on target, but who'd glean that much in under five minutes? If his lot was a lack of empathy—a deficit—hers seemed extreme empathy for others. Another disability. Thank god she can't read minds.
She peered up with curious, rounded eyes, rude thoughts be damned. Waiting for his reply, probably.
"Similar, but not quite. I feel a few. Irritation, occasional anger, impatience. Mostly negative, unfortunately."
His face settled into its most natural mask. She showed no intimidation, despite its rigidity. Was her fragility a misjudgment, or was she just obliviously my-pace? No telling yet.
"Doesn't that bother you?"
Bother him? Was lacking empathy in others bothersome? Yuchan shook his head inwardly. Far from it—free of messy emotional ties, he judged rationally. His deficit was a lack, yes, but also sharp fangs.
"Not at all."
She perked up at his edged reply, hopped off the railing, and stood. Hands behind her back, gripping her wrist, she walked briskly past him.
"You don't need the mask. No one'll complain if you're yourself. It's just stifling."
Himself? What did she think she knew? He checked the reflexive reach of his right hand. A hair less restraint, and he'd have snapped her neck.
"Fun talk. Bye~"
Her parting words pierced like an arrow. Before he could respond, her back receded. He didn't chase, but he'd already resolved: he'd return to this lighthouse tomorrow.