Eye of the Typhoon
“It's the eye of the typhoon! Hurry!”
Go Cheolmin's voice cut through the roar of the waves.
Kim Jun gritted his teeth and dove into the water. With dolphin kicks he'd grown adept at, he swam downward into the murky depths where visibility was zero.
Just like that, the surface grew eerily calm.
Kim Jun reached Dol Island after an hour. He collapsed onto the sandy beach.
Go Cheolmin arrived on a boat he'd somehow procured—a rowboat without a motor.
“Hungry?”
He dragged the boat onto the beach, then fired up a burner from the vessel, boiling water to cook a meal: bossam pork, kimchi, seasoned herb salad, and ramen all mixed together.
“...Master, I can't eat.”
His appetite had been utterly crushed in the brutal battle with the sea.
“Eat. Unless you want all this hardship to go to waste.”
“Do I have to learn from that guy?”
The old man's training methods had even Kim Jun on the verge of tears.
“Far as I know, he's the only one who's ever actively harnessed contamination from a Lyposaurus. He's the greatest teacher I've ever met.”
“Ah...”
“Eat.”
At that, Kim Jun forced down chunks of meat, rice, and ramen broth.
Watching him struggle, Go Cheolmin spoke up.
“Your dive time's been increasing bit by bit.”
“Really?”
A weak reply.
“Timed you earlier—4 minutes 14 seconds. It's growing steadily, even if just a little.”
“...That's good, then.”
Kim Jun wasn't thrilled. It still wasn't enough to conquer this impenetrable sea.
“If you want to quit, quit. Just don't leave yourself with regrets.”
“......”
Kim Jun looked at his master. Amid the exhaustion that had snuffed out his vitality, a faint spark flickered back to life like a candle flame.
The wind began to pick up again.
Go Cheolmin loaded the burner and pots onto the boat and pushed off from the beach.
Left alone, Kim Jun waited for the waves to grow fiercer before plunging back into the sea.
It was around midnight when he dragged his body—screaming to collapse into bed and sleep forever—up to the cliff's summit.
“Congrats. You made it once.”
The old man spoke with a grumpy edge.
Kim Jun didn't react. He just repeated Go Cheolmin's words in his mind.
As long as I don't regret it myself. If I give it my all, even if I can't learn from that old man, I can keep running... keep being a carrier.
Without hesitation, Kim Jun leaped into the black sea. He dodged the treacherous rocks—even with his eyes closed now, he knew the safe paths.
The old man, hands clasped behind his back, stepped to the cliff's edge and peered down at Kim Jun diving into the churning waves below.
He reached Dol Island purely on freestyle swimming just past 6 a.m.
As Kim Jun hauled himself onto the beach, Go Cheolmin handed him a steaming mixed coffee. He'd arrived first and waited.
Go Cheolmin's eyes welled with tears at the sight: sunken cheeks, hollow eyes, chest heaving with exhaustion.
“Good work! You did amazing!”
Kim Jun took two sips, handed back the paper cup, and headed for the sea again.
“Where are you going?”
“It's not over yet.”
“No, the training's done.”
“It doesn't end until I say so.”
“......”
Go Cheolmin was speechless.
His body had reached its limit—shattered it dozens of times over. Even the Lyposaurus regeneration struggled to keep up with the abuse.
But his spirit still burned fierce.
Kim Jun rode the waves out.
“Guess I better hurry too.”
Go Cheolmin boarded his boat.
Kim Jun climbed the cliff.
A 90-degree overhang loomed ahead. His fingers wouldn't even straighten. With a healthy body, he could've laughed his way up—but not now.
The sun had already risen.
Day three of training... a failure.
Yet Kim Jun kept climbing. He'd decided to end it only after summiting this cliff himself.
He'd started the old man's way, but the finish would be his call.
“Alright, let's go.”
He gripped a hold, lowered his center of gravity. Preparing for a lunge—the explosive leap and grab.
His legs erupted with power, propelling him upward. Trembling fingers clamped onto a protruding ledge above.
Kim Jun dangled there, one-handed.
A strange feeling washed over him. Exhausted to the point of death, in agony—yet he'd never felt this free.
Then, the solid protrusion crumbled away.
Kim Jun plummeted.
It felt like sinking into a soft, fluffy bed. As if training was over, he'd gone home, and drifted off to sleep.
“Kim Jun!”
Go Cheolmin shouted.
Kim Jun, unable to hear, plunged into the sea with a splash.
He surrendered to the cold, violent currents. Let the whirlpool carry him without resistance.
Kim Jun was sucked into a pitch-black underwater cave.
Go Cheolmin dove in late, searching frantically—but no sign of him.
Then, the old man burst through the surface and plunged straight into the cave without pause.
Stunned, Go Cheolmin couldn't even approach. The currents were beyond imagination.
He climbed onto a rock.
Three minutes passed already.
At five, he collapsed to his knees.
At seven, he thought of calling the police.
Wiping tears as he headed for the hut, the old man surfaced—with Kim Jun in tow.
Go Cheolmin rushed him to the ground, cleared his airway, and pumped his chest. Kim Jun soon coughed up seawater.
The weary old man flopped down beside Go Cheolmin.
The three stared silently at the sky. Thick clouds lingered, but the wind was dying down.
The old man sat up.
“You head back to Seoul today. Leave him here.”
“Teacher!”
“I'll shape him once myself.”
“Thank you!”
Go Cheolmin said.
Kim Jun tried to rise but winced in pain.
The old man stood before him.
“You're the biggest blockhead I've ever seen.”
“...You're one too, Teacher.”
The old man burst into laughter—huge, hearty guffaws that drowned out the waves.
“What about Master?”
“Gone home.”
“Huh?”
“To Seoul.”
“Whoa! Then what about me?”
“You stay here.”
“Why?”
The old man grinned slyly.
“'Cause I like you.”
Kim Jun gazed at the sky. Suddenly, he yearned for his mom.