The One-Bite Bugs

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"Oh, come on, it's not dangerous at all. It's a thrill, and you get to see the sharks up close — that's exactly why so many people come looking for it."

"Even so, I can't help thinking it might be a little risky..."

"Not in the slightest. More people get bitten to death by dogs than by sharks, don't they? And the cages we use for shark-cage diving are tough enough that nothing short of serious heavy machinery could break them."

Whether he meant to convince me the shark cage was harmless, or simply wanted me in one no matter what, the guide launched into an impassioned defense of the whole thing.

And maybe it was thanks to that defense. I caught myself thinking that trying the shark cage once might not be so bad after all.

Which is how I ended up here.

"What are you throwing in?"

"Ah. Shark food. We've got to lure them a little. Even if this is a spot where they usually show up, it's a wide ocean, isn't it? You've got to call them over."

Chunks of fish streamed red blood as they were flung into the sea by the handful.

Regretting, for no good reason I could name, that I'd agreed to the shark-cage experience at all, I changed into a wetsuit. Once the suit was clinging to every inch of me and the oxygen tank was strapped to my back, a small, cold fear set in.

"You'll be fine!"

The experience assistant at my side tried to reassure me. Suited up with a tank of his own, he patted my shoulder as if to say there was nothing to worry about.

"Never die! Don't worry."

I won't die? So I might still get hurt, then...

Needless to say, his comfort did not help in the slightest. But the payment had already gone through, and the shark cage was prepared with perfect, unstoppable smoothness.

There was, however, one thing in the middle of those preparations that grated hard on my nerves.

"...What's that thing in the middle of the cage?"

"Shark bait, obviously. The whole charm of a shark cage is the sharks charging like they're about to smash it to pieces! You've got to have some nice, tempting bait."

"..."

I started to think it might be wiser to run, even now. Of course, there was no running from the middle of the open ocean.

"They say we're heading out. Into the cage, if you please!"

Following the guide's instructions, I climbed in, and a massive crane carried the cage slowly toward the surface. With a heavy splash it began to sink beneath the waves. Ankle, knee, waist, chest — and then the water closed over my head. Between the suit and the tank, that much wasn't a problem.

Or rather, I was in no position to worry about it. Breathing wasn't the issue. The school of sharks already visible in the distance was.

"Brrglllg!"

I blew out a huge breath and jabbed a finger their way. The assistant beside me curled his own fingers into a neat circle, flashing me an okay sign as if everything were perfectly fine.

As the cage dropped a little farther, I could see them clearly beneath my feet, sharks weaving and undulating through the water.

Holy shit. This is terrifying.

Dozens of them, gliding in loose, rippling strokes — it was a spectacle, and it was also a chill crawling straight up my spine. The assistant, who could not have cared less about the fear I was feeling, decided to make things worse. He flung the mouth of the bait canister wide open and shook it like a madman. From the canister, like heat shimmer rising off pavement, bits of debris drifted out and spread in every direction.

"Delicious smeeellll!"

Sharks are supposed to have an incredible sense of smell, and they proved it on the spot, charging the shark cage in an instant. The feeling that they were coming for me — that I was the meal — made me shrink in on myself, and I grabbed the bait canister in something like a half-embrace.

KWAANG!

Whether it was because I was clinging to the canister, or simply because the shark hit that hard, the impact of it slamming into the cage traveled straight through me. Seawater surged and rolled out around me, and I felt the whole cage lurch and sway.

That shock alone was more than enough to feed my fear. But there was something worse than the shock.

The blows as they struck, the sight of them lunging like maniacs and gnawing at the iron bars — all of it was threatening. And yet something else felt like the greater threat.

"Just one bite!"

"Move! Let me eat first!"

"Let's chomp exactly one bite!"

Sharks hurling themselves at the cage while screaming about taking just one bite — that was terror itself. A terror the experience assistant grinning away beside me could never have understood.

One bite from any of you would be a killing wound!

Determined not to give the charging sharks so much as a crack to exploit, I hung my entire weight on the bait canister. Not a fingertip, not a toe, was going outside that cage. But the canister, jolting harder and harder under my grip, only called in more of them.

"Brrglgl!"

Let's go up already!

I churned out a thick stream of bubbles and waved toward the surface. It was as clear a let's get out of here as I could manage, but the assistant beside me didn't seem to understand a thing I was doing.

"Bworgl!"

Instead he held out a long fish that looked like a mackerel, for all the world as if he were inviting me to try the feeding experience while I was at it. At that, the fear drained away and sheer disbelief rushed in to take its place. I was telling him I was scared. I was not saying I wanted to feed them!

But he forced the fish's tail into my hand anyway, and there was nothing I could do about it.

"I'm eating it! Just one bite!"

"I'll take exactly one bite! Chomp!"

These one-bite bugs... no, these damn sharks took one look at the fish in my hand and came roaring in all over again. Just letting it drift away seemed like it would cause problems of its own, and sitting through their frenzied assault like this was wearing on me more than a little. So in the end, I decided to bring out the magic word.

"Blrrb!"

Stop!

I couldn't get a proper word out underwater, and yet my superpower activated exactly as it was meant to.

The sharks that had been rocketing toward ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my cage drifted in still frozen in the C-curves and S-curves of their charge, gliding helplessly closer.

Thunk!

Stripped of the momentum that had been driving them, they bumped the cage with the most pathetic little impacts imaginable. Worse, their pointed snouts wedged into the gaps between the bars, and they couldn't budge an inch.

Watching that, the fear vanished, and a snicker slipped out of me. Bodies rigid, noses stuck between the bars, stuck fast — it was ridiculous. I loosened the wrist of the diving suit, slipped a hand free, and gave their snouts a cautious touch. Now that I knew the magic word worked on them, there was nothing left to be afraid of.

Oh. Weird texture.

A shark felt slick and smooth, and then, here and there, rough as sandpaper. I ran my hand over their snouts for a little while, then let go and allowed them to move again. I'd heard somewhere that if a shark stops moving, it can't breathe properly.

"Just one bite!"

Maybe I should have just left them like that.

They weren't gasping for air or anything of the sort. They went right back to hammering the cage, begging for a single bite, and my worry blew away on the spot. The fear had thinned out so much compared to before that I found myself gingerly sticking the fish out through the bars.

As if they'd been waiting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for exactly that, several sharks crashed into one another on their way to the bars.

"So tastyyy!"

"Damn iiiit!"

"I want a bite toooo!"

There had only been the one fish, and it slurped straight into the maw of the shark at the head of the rush. The others rammed the one that had gotten the first bite, or pounded on the cage all over again, demanding that more food be produced. I watched them for a moment, then flung the bait canister wide open. The look of pure panic on the assistant beside me was, for no good reason, deeply satisfying.

The little chunks of fish and the clumps of guts inside poured straight down beneath the cage.

"Miiiine!"

The sharks shot for the bottom in an instant, and everything around us went peaceful just as fast.

"Brrglllg."

Now let's head up.

Maybe it was because of what I'd done, or maybe because there was nothing left to draw the sharks in — whatever the reason, the assistant who had been ignoring me the whole time finally reacted. He worked some control rigged to the cage, and a moment later it began to rise, slowly, toward the surface.

At last I could set down the diving mask and the oxygen tank.

"Suhwan, how was it? The sharks? Did you see them?"

"Bwaah, abwaaah!"

The moment I surfaced, dropped the tank, and started peeling off the suit, Noona and Soeun ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠came over, chattering at me about this and that. Soeun, of course, was just babbling because she was happy to see me again. I wrestled the suit off in a hurry, dropped into a chair, and started answering Noona.

"I saw the sharks. I didn't even notice at first, and then there were dozens of them right under my feet. Chills all the way up my spine, and just... wow."

"Ugh..."

Maybe she was picturing it. Noona shuddered. The shudder, though, didn't last — a sharper curiosity swallowed it whole.

"Oh, right. Suhwan, could you talk to the sharks ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠too?"

"I could, yeah..."

"What did they say?"

"Just one bite."

"...Huh?"

"They said they just wanted to try one bite."

"..."

"..."

At that, not only Noona but the guide — who had been watching me with his face full of curiosity — shut his mouth.

"Appu!"

Soeun alone kept looking at me, beaming, her cheeks puffed up in a bright little smile.

The guide, unable to find another word for a while, quietly slipped away to get ready for the next stop on the tour.