Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Three Lives (5)
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Saturday. Jin-hyuk finished school early, ate lunch at home, and rummaged through the shed.
"What're you up to, Jin-hyuk?"
At his dad's call, Jin-hyuk came out with two fishing rods slung over his shoulder.
People living by the sea always had fishing rods at home, even if they never fished. They'd get them from someone giving away extras, pick them up from where they'd been abandoned, or... swipe them.
Their family was no different. It was a bamboo rod that Mi-kyeong's dad had given them to use whenever they got bored.
"Dad, let's go catch some mudskippers."
"Mudskippers? You know how to fish, Jin-hyuk?"
I did it plenty as a kid, Dad.
But he couldn't say that.
"They say it's easy."
"R-Really?"
If his son wanted to go, they were going.
Son Gwang-yeon grabbed his work gloves first. True to his city-boy roots from Seoul, he loved eating seafood but hated handling it. Even when they went clamming, his wife would cheer every time she caught something—that was his job.
Mudskippers are so damn good, though. But scary...
Compared to the dried mudskippers he'd first tried after moving to the countryside, the cheap dried pollack he'd scarfed down as college beer snacks tasted like bland garbage.
Unaware of his dad's worries about how to catch them, Jin-hyuk strode confidently ahead.
Jin-hyuk was sure of himself.
Whenever he visited his parents' gravesite, he'd linger as long as possible, sitting like the mythical Mangbuseok stone, fishing for hours. Even back then, with overfishing, polluted mudflats, and sediment from development clogging the waterways thinning out the population, he'd still filled double digits. He'd dry them and bring them each visit.
With so many more now, it'll be a total bite fest.
Near the sea, they stopped by the woods. He plucked a few broad acorn leaves and tucked them into the big basket. He did the same for his dad's.
"What's this for?"
"Keeps 'em fresher. Or so they say. The guys catching short-arm octopuses in summer always toss a few sheets in their styrofoam boxes."
Putting acorn leaves in was just old-school angler romanticism. And it was true. Jin-hyuk had no idea if it actually preserved freshness. But it seemed convincing enough to his dad.
Our boy's smart as a whip.
Son Gwang-yeon nodded like a good, simple soul.
Jin-hyuk led his dad to a dry mudflat.
"Jin-hyuk, no fish here."
"Gotta get bait first. Hand me the trowel."
"Oh..."
Son Gwang-yeon's jaw dropped as he nodded vigorously.
Strange. He'd gone to college, but how did he not know this? It was obvious logic—prep bait before fishing—but no business class had covered it.
His realization turned to awe.
Ooh, my boy.
With practiced skill, Jin-hyuk scooped mud with the small trowel, pulling out bloodworms one after another. Not the farmed ones from bait shops, but wild reds. Their slender crimson bodies gleamed prettily in the sunlight, drawing gasps of admiration.
Son Gwang-yeon trusted his gloves and shoveled worms into the tin with gusto. They were pretty, but their wriggling creeped him out—he made sure to glance sideways, head turned away.
"This is way more fun with you, Dad..."
"Haha, fun for me too."
Did Dad grasp the weight of those words? The lonely, scary times alone had turned into this precious fuss over scooping worms together. Probably not.
Doesn't matter. This is bliss enough.
Jin-hyuk's face broke into a genuine grin.
They reached the exposed channels from the ebb tide and cast their lines.
Jin-hyuk threaded a worm onto his dad's hook first.
"Ah, that's how you do it. I'll handle it next time."
Stating the obvious.
No grown man planned to borrow his kid's hands forever.
"Like this, Dad."
To his dad, who just dunked the rod like a master angler, Jin-hyuk demonstrated the mudskipper jiggle.
Splat!
Mid-demo, an impatient mudskipper chomped down hard.
The bamboo rod tip bent, the line sang sharply.
"Yowch!"
Pulled too hard? The little body tumbled butt-first into the mud.
Damn, time to adjust to this size.
The big mudskipper from his old life flopped wildly outside. Boing, boing. A live fish teleporting.
"Whoa! You okay? What do we do?"
Were Dad and the mudskipper fated?
Everywhere Dad stepped, it flopped ahead, claiming territory.
He wasn't too worried since the mud cushioned the fall, but the wriggling terrified him—he couldn't approach.
Lying there, Jin-hyuk shook with laughter at the sight.
"Heehee, scared of fish, Dad?"
"N-No, not scary at a-all."
Bright red lie. Stuttering to boot.
Dad's face was paler than usual.
Less than two hours later, both big baskets brimmed full.
When bait ran low, they chopped mudskippers for more.
As the flood tide kicked in and fish swarmed, they even used bare hooks in a rush—and still caught them. Iron deficiency, maybe?
"Wow, heavy! Let's head home."
Dad's smile reached his ears.
Jin-hyuk followed behind, rod and trowel in hand, as Dad shouldered both baskets.
Son Gwang-yeon kept glancing back, checking if his little son was tired or keeping up.
Jin-hyuk hung back a bit.
Hot diggity—feels great!
Caked in mud, he wiggled his butt in a goofy dance.
Late nights after overtime, he'd see drunks dancing and humming on the boulevard. Wondered what felt so good. Now he got it, a little.
Dad peeked back.
"Jin-hyuk, how do you clean these?"
"Just squish the belly—whoosh, guts out the butt."
Retracting his sassy wiggle, Jin-hyuk chirped brightly.
No need to gut mudskippers. Simple squeeze, and you eat everything: head to tail, bones, fins.
Recalling the dried ones from Mi-kyeong's dad last winter, Dad nodded.
Honey'll handle cleaning.
Fish scare him.
*
Jin-hyuk did the cleaning too.
Worried a kid might lack strength, but one firm press—guts, roe, all out. Surprised himself at the force.
"Whoa, you're a pro, Jin-hyuk."
Son Gwang-yeon clapped like a seal, stance awkward.
The little guy, mud-smeared face, perched by the faucet—pure sea kid.
"Eek, we caught a ton! Lemme help, Jin-hyuk."
"I got it, Mom. You rest."
Mom sat beside anyway, lending hands. Raised gently, but country-born—second nature from childhood.
Son Gwang-yeon hesitated; hated burdening his wife with dirty work. Ended up pitching in.
That's how boys become men, Dad.
Tough world—you gotta toughen up. Jin-hyuk tsked inwardly.
Managing one fish, Son Gwang-yeon asked his wife.
"Honey, the roe edible?"
"Yep. Tasty too."
"Dad, collect the guts and roe together while you're at it."
For General.
Bribe to behave.
Shhh—the bare persimmon branches rustled a fitting autumn melody in the late breeze. Sunset painted the western sky aflame. Beneath the pavilion shaded by the old zelkova tree, an autumn soul hugged a dented aluminum pot.
General's wet nose twitched.
Fire smell, earthy damp, and something weird.
Sniff sniff—unfamiliar.
Strange, but heart-pounding like heartworm. Master and kid went out, brought back stinky critters.
Definitely their scent.
Lost in happy anticipation, General pondered.
This family was so kind, gentle.
Dog pals said other houses dumped leftovers: too salty, tongue-curling, hard without water. Some seasoning—cat flavor? Whatever.
But here? No weird stuff, tasty, properly watered—not salty. Maybe why he was healthier, faster than big dogs next door.
Flinch—grrr.
Smell gone.
Cool water now.
Finished cleaning. Dog nose knows.
Heh heh—smell changed. Dog stew incoming!
She never skimped.
Boiled soft, cooled proper.
That's them.
Footsteps.
Light.
The kid.
Kid's been weird lately.
Misunderstanding the hard, bitter acorn tosses as the issue? Nah, swear not. General was magnanimous. Wouldn't even wag at strangers. That Dokku from across town said thieves hit their place that day.
Anyway.
Kid weird, but how?
First time: kid left pavilion, shadow moved separate—barked in shock. Probably illusion. Multiple lights make multiple shadows; big zelkova nearby. Smart dog knows that.
At beach, kid made fire ball, turned to moon. Dog eyes tricked? Maybe, maybe not. Decided to watch the kid wary.
Anyway, tasty stuff—time to wag.
Heh heh.
"General, eat up."
Chow time!
Woo—fresh seafood aroma only.
Melts before chew, silky texture.
Warms chills from cool wind.
Best: hot chow on breezy days.
General teared up unwittingly.
Face buried, missed kid leaving.
Just thought:
Woof.
—Ain't "General" too much for a girl?
Long nagging doubt.
Unisex names trendy or whatever—name him right.
Chomp chomp.
So good.
First taste in 10 months.
General licked the bowl spotless.
Huh, where acorns?
Ignored 'em before.
General didn't growl.
Jin-hyuk felt rewarded for the catch and clean. Like mending ties with his fiercest past-life guardian.
"Hang 'em on the clothesline, Jin-hyuk?"
"Yeah."
While parents cleaned, Dad eyed Jin-hyuk's threaded mudskippers.
Village called it sinu-dae: thin bamboo skewer through gills side-to-side. Ten per pole, ends tied with string—old-school drying rack.
Three days in crisp fall breeze and sun: semi-dried. Week: full dry. Fun plucking like dried persimmons. Semi for steaming, spicy soup; full, grilled whole. Or raw—salty, nutty winter snack supreme.
Mom grabbed a few for dinner; over 200 left hung on the line.
Dad swallowed at the winter bounty.
"Jin-hyuk, mudskippers tomorrow too?"
"Sure."
Wonder the tide.
Low again—new moon ebb not long past.
Heading in, Jin-hyuk glanced at General.
No growl.
Bribe worked wonders.
Past life, never begged, never groveled. Quit jobs easy, fearless. Ex-special forces: taekwondo, hapkido, judo, kendo, spec ops martial arts.
That mutt scares me.
Especially those fangs.
Growl hits chills down the spine.
Jin-hyuk shuddered, feeling dog eyes on his back.