#29 Sunflower and the Signpost (3)
A considerable amount of time had passed—not short by any means. Every day, at the hour when Seohae was likely to appear, Yuchan made his way to the lighthouse, and there she always was. Even for him, who felt a profound boredom in conversations with most people, talking with her was genuinely intriguing. She wasn't trapped by the stereotypes that ensnared others, nor did she respond with canned, superficial platitudes. She was clumsy in dealing with people, or perhaps simply poor at reading the room, and she had the flaw of presumptuously trying to divine his emotions—but their conversations were always fresh and novel. Her mere presence here gave him ample reason to return.
If he had to put it into words, the girl seemed like a naive child ignorant of the world. That quality, too, was something he lacked, which might explain his curiosity about her.
Idly, he checked his phone. It was around the time when Harin would usually send her lewd photos—a promise kept faithfully, if born from one-sided blackmail. But the screen remained silent.
Of course it would. He was the one who had discarded her, claiming boredom. There was no reason for her to reach out now.
An emotion defied simple categorization. No word seemed to capture it. Anger? No. Jealousy? Hardly. Sorrow? That would be a cruel joke. If he likened it to a sensation, it was like a feather dipped in poison gently tickling the edges of his heart. Wrong again. The more he tried to articulate it, the more elusive it became.
"I don't know."
He muttered softly, lighting a cigarette. The most distant stranger to a human was oneself.
"Me too."
In that regard, at least, Yuchan resembled other humans.
That day, the sky was thick with clouds, dimming the sunlight. For her, who avoided sweating at all costs despite her neat appearance, it was an ideal chance for a walk. Arriving at the lighthouse earlier than usual, Yuchan found her grabbing his wrist and leading him down a grassy path. Towed by her small hand, he strolled the island. Their steadily built rapport made such physical contact feel natural.
"It's small here, but if you look closely, there's so much to see. I'll be your guide."
Seohae spoke with confident pride, though she had been here less than two months. Considering her short stay compared to his, it wasn't unwelcome. She bounded ahead with infectious excitement. The main route hugged the seaside—not a sandy beach, but a road atop the breakwater, flanked by quaint houses. Sea breezes had cracked the pavement in spots, where grass sprouts pushed through. It had a certain rustic charm, but no real thrill stirred in him. Yuchan had never once felt his heart moved by beauty or emotion. Regardless of its loveliness, the place was undeniably peaceful and quiet.
They encountered only two or three residents, but remarkably, each greeted Seohae warmly, and she returned the gestures as if she were a local. Her affability had won over the village in just two months—that was impressive. In truth, his own initial approach to her owed less to perfect compatibility and more to being swayed by that very charm. When dealing with her, pushing aside his own interpersonal flaws eliminated even awkwardness.
It was a low-humidity summer day, with occasional salty gusts and a serene sky. As they chatted idly and wandered, the sunset stretched shadows from the streetlamps. Suddenly, she spoke.
"Mister, I want to try a normal life."
"A normal life? Like what?"
"Hmm~ Since middle school, I've been doing outpatient treatments, and in high school, inpatient care left no time for friends or a regular school routine. Coming here cut ties with them completely."
"So normal means school life?"
"Well, that's broad, but yeah, including that and more."
"Like what?"
"Hanging out at clothing stores with friends, studying for exams, gossiping in cafes, school trips, a boyfriend..." She glanced subtly at Yuchan on that last word.
He smirked inwardly. Young girls were easy to entice. Mentally more mature than boys their age, they naturally turned to older men, and his composure and maturity never failed to yield results. Their initially perplexing dynamic sliding into familiar territory felt reassuring.
"I could help with the boyfriend part."
"Pfft, haha! Why would I date a guy like you? What's so lacking in me?"
Seohae doubled over laughing, and Yuchan's expression hardened. From one to ten, she refused to play by his script. This level of frustration was unprecedented.
Her sparkling, sea-like smile faded as she covered her mouth. "I'll gratefully accept the sentiment, though."
"Sure you will."
He grumbled outwardly, but she skipped ahead with apparent delight—until she halted abruptly. Before her lay an abandoned bicycle, neglected for months.
"Mister, see that?"
"Yeah, just spotted it."
"Can you give me a ride on it?"
"Looks broken."
Yuchan scratched his head, inspecting it. Rust pitted the frame, the chain a mess. Unrideable at a glance.
Seohae pondered briefly. "Fix it for me, mister. I want to ride. In return, I'll be your girlfriend."
"Don't be ridiculous."
Dismissing it as her usual nonsense, he waved her off, but she boldly blocked his path. Her bright, upturned eyes met his squarely—direct, uncomfortably so. He hid a grimace and looked away.
"I'm serious."
"Didn't you say your heart's weak?"
"I'll ride behind—you pedal."
"Fine. Pass."
"Wait, mister."
As he strode off, she dashed ahead and clutched his collar. Gazing up with what she imagined was seductive allure, she pressed. "I'll~ be your girlfriend for a whole day~. Really hate that?"
"You said I don't suit you."
"Just give me the bike ride, and I'll reconsider. Tempting, right?"
She twisted coyly, but the awkwardness evoked only the impression of a bird's mating dance. A girl like her, innocent of men, couldn't pull it off convincingly.
"Sigh~ Not everyone gets this chance~"
It pained him to watch, so he nodded vaguely. Thus, he unwittingly took on bike repair duty. Fixing it came later; riding it together, even later.
That morning, heavy clouds promised rain, so he gathered the laundry from outside the camper van and savored afternoon coffee leisurely. The compact interior dehumidified quickly with the AC, making it comfortable.
"Mister!!! Mister!!!"
Seohae's urgent voice and knocks shattered the rainy tranquility. Irritated but curious— she had never sought him out before—he unlocked the door. Even if he hadn't shared the location, she'd seen him lighthouse-bound often enough to infer.
Outside stretched a curtain of summer rain. Seohae was soaked, hair and clothes plastered to her skin. Her usual loose dress turned translucent, revealing her figure starkly. The unexpected sensuality startled him; he'd never lusted after her, put off by her demeanor or his mild disdain. Her value lay deeper than shallow pleasure, or so he'd thought.
"What are you doing out in this with your condition? At least dodge the rain."
Unbidden, habitual concern slipped out. Feigning care was second nature.
"Ugh... ugh..."
Before scolding further, he noticed tears mingling with rain in her eyes and held his tongue. If it was trivial, it'd annoy him; for now, he asked her story.
"What's wrong?"
"Mister, help..."
Trembling, she presented a small bird cradled carefully in her hat.
He wasn't deflated. Such sentiment suited an ordinary girl like her. Valuing life was humanity's benchmark for virtue. Humans were the greediest creatures, yet the only ones sacrificing for others. Thus, her normality highlighted his abnormality. He recognized it intellectually but couldn't empathize. Racing through rain for a mere bird baffled him. Meeting her had revived long-discarded dilemmas.
"Come in first."
Leaving a rain-soaked guest outside without an umbrella was poor form. Ushering her in cost nothing and might earn goodwill. He toweled her off.
"Want a shower?"
Rain chilled the body. She nodded meekly and entered the cramped shower booth—tight for him, fine for her. He tossed her clothes in the dryer, fetched sweats. A robe would dwarf her.
His actions remained detached, unaltered. To him, it was mere routine.
As he debated extra coffee—then switched to cocoa for her heart—the bird caught his eye. A white seabird with black markings, probably a gull. Soaked and pathetic against the dry hat. Sparse, missing feathers; broken beak from some collision. Dazed, perhaps. Wings twitched feebly, as if life ebbed.
Time pressed; he set down the kettle, thinking idly it would die soon.
The door burst open. Anxious, Seohae emerged half-dry in the sweats.
"How is it?"
Tears ruined her fresh-scrubbed face.
"Still alive. But not for long."
She wasn't shocked—perhaps expecting as much. But her response defied prediction. No panic, no protests against fate. She simply cradled the bird gently and cooed.
"It's okay, it's okay. It won't hurt. No pain."
The writhing ceased, as if answering her. Like a flickering candle, life winked out. The scene felt like a fairy tale illustration, distant and unreal.
Wiping tears with her wrist, she looked up. "It's dead. I wanted to save it..."
"Let's bury it together."
Frankly, it was a hassle. Burying a stranger bird—hardly a pet—ranked low. Normally, it'd be trash. But...
"Sure."
Yuchan nodded readily.