Sashimi and Soju at Oryukdo Pier
As soon as they arrived at Busan Station and headed toward the turnstiles, the announcement blared that her friend's train had just pulled into the platform. Right on time.
"Welcome."
"Hello there."
"Eun-mi, who's this?"
"Oh, this is my husband's secretary. Secretary Park Maru."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Park Maru."
"Yes. I'm Cha Mi-hyang."
"Where to, ma'am?"
"We've come all the way to Busan—any cool spot for a round of soju?"
"What do you think, ma'am?"
"Sounds good. Know any good places, Secretary Park?"
"There's this spot called Oryukdo Pier where all the fresh seafood stalls line up. But could you ladies eat there?"
"I love it. Any other issues?"
"In that case, I'll take you there."
The early afternoon on a weekday at Oryukdo Pier was quiet and sparsely populated. After stepping out of the car, the women stood by the breakwater, gazing at the waves crashing with a resounding crash, letting out gasps of "So cool!" and "Whoa~" as they lost themselves in the rhythm of the sea. Not wanting to interrupt, I quietly wandered among the stalls, pondering what sashimi would suit their tastes.
"Picking something Secretary Park likes?"
"Oh! No, no—what are you saying? I was just wondering what you'd enjoy."
Mi-hyang, Eun-mi's friend, had sidled up beside me without a sound. The two of them peered into the buckets of seafood at the stalls, squealing like kids in delight. I slipped into a shop, grabbed some gochujang sauce for dipping, two bottles of soju, and some soda, then returned to the stall. They'd already decided on their picks—the ajumma had portioned out fresh fish and shellfish into small bowls and was slicing them on the cutting board. Just to be safe, I asked the price, and sure enough...
"Ajumma, hold up!"
"Why?"
"Do I look like some clueless Seoul bumpkin to you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You really don't know? Even Seoul folks deserve a fair price."
"Fish ain't biting like they used to."
"What about the other stalls? Keep that up, and we ain't buying."
In the end, the ajumma grumbled a fairer price and resumed slicing. The two women, who'd been staring blankly at first, caught the exchange and nodded in understanding. As I took the sashimi and reached for my wallet, our ma'am pulled out bills and handed them to the ajumma.
"Ma'am, it's not that much."
The ajumma counted the rough bills with her callused hands, then offered back about half to Eun-mi. But she just gazed at the woman steadily and spoke softly.
"Just take it, ajumma. But next time customers come, charge 'em fair. That's how you folks make a living here. When people like me from Seoul—or out-of-towners—brag about how tasty and cheap the sashimi is, they'll come back someday after hearing it."
"Yes. Sorry about that."
Eun-mi insisted the ajumma keep it all and returned to the mat I'd spread out. Her kindness warmed me, so I flashed a grin. We sat around the mat, the sashimi as our side dish, as they tipped back soju glasses. I joined occasionally with soda toasts, chatting lightly amid the growing buzz. Just as the mood hit its peak, the ajumma from earlier approached with a plate.
"Try this."
"No need for that."
"It's not that—my husband just brought in a fresh rockfish haul. Straight-off-the-boat fresh; tastes different."
"Thanks, ajumma. We'll dig in."
"Yes. Enjoy."
Guilt over the extra cash must've hit her hard—she'd brought a lively rockfish that looked ready to flop right off the plate. I sliced a piece, dipped it in gochujang, and fed it to Eun-mi. She blushed a bit, sticking out her tongue to take it. On a whim, I quickly prepped another for Mi-hyang. She fiddled with her chopsticks with a coy look. Wordlessly offering it, she beamed, tongue out wide, and savored the dipped bite.
"Mmm~"
"Secretary Park, you gotta try it. How's this flavor even possible?"
"Not bad, right?"
"Yeah, a taste like nothing else. Secretary Park, Mi-hyang's right—give it a go."
"I know. I live for this every now and then. Dig in, ladies. No diet worries with fish."
The two attacked the plate like maniacs, emptying it in no time. Ending here would've left a bad aftertaste. I slipped away to the stall.
"Ajumma, got more rockfish?"
"Yep, plenty left."
"Slice some up, please."
I dashed to the shop for more gochujang too. Back at the stall, I paid fair and returned. As expected, they poked at the other seafood but couldn't move on from the rockfish bliss. I slid the fresh plate their way.
"Oh! Still some left?"
"Fresh boat just came in—had to be."
They devoured it like starving wolves, splitting two rockfish each over a kilo, plus the earlier seafood. Lunch was long skipped. I filled up on the remaining sashimi and shellfish instead.
"How can the same rockfish taste so different?"
"The one you just ate was straight from the sea. Seoul's—even live—stresses out in transport and tanks. Same principle as beef from cows raised with music: way better texture."
"So impossible in Seoul?"
"Pretty much."
"Eun-mi, let's come down often. How's the same fish worlds apart?"
True enough. Even in Busan, tank fish versus just-caught sashimi is night and day. Shipping to Seoul in a truck tank without stress? That'd be the anomaly. Sashimi and soju at Oryukdo stretched past lunch into evening. But the women, buzzed on booze and vibes, chattered endlessly, no sign of leaving.
"Ma'am, it's getting late. You'll need time to sober up for the train—let's wrap."
"Don't worry, Secretary Park. We're crashing in Busan tonight, heading back tomorrow."
"But folks in Seoul will worry."
"Let 'em."
With that, both whipped out their phones.
I stopped them quick. Drunk-dialing from Busan—not Seoul? No husband would like that. I talked them down from calling, persuading gently. Eun-mi read my face first, calming her friend. Soon, they decided to end it, staggering to the car. No coffee shop in this state, so we waited it out inside. As I hit Gwanganda Bridge, their backseat chatter faded. Rearview showed them dozing, heads together. Not quite cold yet, but booze chills—I cracked the heater low and drove to Songjeong Beach. Deep in Gudokpo, few passersby; they'd sleep soundly.
Parked, heater on, I locked up and stepped out. Their booze breath was giving me a headache. Sat on the curb, lit a smoke. After half an hour, coffee craving hit. Locked with the spare key, grabbed an Americano, returned to sip blankly at the sea. Reaching for it—gone. Turned to find Mi-hyang slurping my cup.
"That's my coffee."
"So? You're tougher than you look—nice and firm."
"Not the point. It's my coffee. Want one? I'll get it."
"Nah, this'll do. Indirect kiss with the secretary? Jackpot for me."
She handed back her slobbered cup. Drinking after a stranger felt off, but dumping it risked offense. Stuck holding it.
"Secretary Park, you're surprisingly innocent."
"Pardon?"
"Can't toss it, can't drink it, huh?"
"..."
"That's why you're innocent. Won't dump it 'cause I'd sulk, won't chug a stranger's sip. Just holding it."
"Sober up some?"
"Tch, changing subjects. Thanks to you, great vibes—waking up feels good too."
"Glad you enjoyed."
"You and Eun-mi a thing?"
"What? Don't say that—big trouble."
"Pfft, in this day? So innocent."
"She's my boss's wife."
"Safer that way. Who'd suspect? But that girl's clueless."
"Meaning?"
"Saw her eyes today. Looks at you different."
"No, misunderstanding."
"What misunderstanding? Ask her when she wakes? Relax—we share everything."
"..."
"You said you'd handle our issues?"
"Yeah, I can manage."
"Then please. Was gonna hire a errand service—security team's awkward, Dad too. Eun-mi called yesterday, said come down. Need anything? I'll get it."
"Nothing. Just their numbers for background—got 'em from ma'am already."
"Expenses?"
"What she gave yesterday covers it."
"I'm loaded. No burden."
"I'll ask if short."
"Handle mine clean like Eun-mi's?"
"Friend of ma'am's? Of course."
"Counting on you, Secretary Park."
Car door clicked mid-chat. Eun-mi stumbled out toward us. I rushed to support her.
"Sleep more—why up?"
"Worried that bitch'd seduce you."
"Ma'am!"
"Whatever. She knows I know."
"Secretary Park, your lie's busted. What now?"
"Sorry."
"Dinner on you. Then forgiven."
"Yes. My treat gladly."
"Rich bitch. You got more cash than me. Plenty to fleece—why him?"
"Fine, you hag. I got it. Secretary Park, what you want?"
"Anything for me, but you two drank—something light."
"Good haejangguk in Busan?"
"Far. Gaegum has solid blood sausage soup."
"Distance whatever. Tasty's what matters."
"By now, soup then station—late Seoul arrival."
"Told you, overnight Busan."
"Really? What'll the husbands say?"
"Hold on. We'll call."
They phoned their men, announcing a Busan overnight. Side-by-side calls meant voices leaked through speakers—no need to check. Not easy anyway. Done, they grinned triumphantly at me.
"No worries now, right? Haejangguk time."
"Since you're staying, how about this?"
"What?"
"Not starving yet—hit the haejangguk at Poseokjeong Rotary in Gyeongju, then night views?"
"Gyeongju? You'll be beat driving."
"Forty minutes from here. Easier than city roads to Gaegum, same time."
"Great. Gyeongju it is!"