POV: Jun-ho
The sea was calmer than I expected.
I stood on the ferry's outer deck with both hands resting on the cold metal railing, watching the water split cleanly beneath the hull.
White foam curled and disappeared almost as soon as it formed, swallowed by an endless blue that reflected the late-morning sky. The sun hung high, bright but not cruel, and the wind carried the faint smell of salt and fuel. It felt like a vacation.
That thought made me smile before I could stop myself.
Behind me, the ferry buzzed with noise—laughter, footsteps, rolling luggage, someone arguing loudly about seat assignments.
The sound blended into a comfortable hum, like the background noise of a place where nothing bad could happen—a place designed for forgetting responsibility. Summer school exchange trip, they'd called it.
A chain of islands off the southern coast. Study sessions in the mornings, "cultural activities" in the afternoons, free time at night. Beaches. Seafood.
Photos for social media. A break before adulthood really started.
I leaned forward slightly, letting the wind press against my face, and tried to imagine what the island would look like up close. From here, it was just a dark green line on the horizon, cliffs rising gently from the sea.
Isolated.
The thought flickered through my mind, brief and uninvited.
Connected by ferries and bridges, the pamphlet had said. Safe. Accessible. Popular with tourists. I told myself I was overthinking it.
"Jun-ho!"
I turned as someone clapped a hand down on my shoulder hard enough to jolt me forward. "Hey, don't fall in. I'm not swimming out there to save you." Minjae said, grinning as he'd just delivered the funniest joke in the world.
"I wasn't going to fall." I said, steadying myself and stepping back from the railing.
"Sure you weren't. Man, look at that. Feels like the opening shot of a movie. You know—calm ocean, innocent kids, zero idea what's about to hit them." He leaned beside me, elbows on the rail, squinting dramatically at the sea. "You've been watching too many disaster films." I snorted despite myself.
"That's because life is boring without the possibility of disaster. Relax. This trip is going to be legendary." He stretched his arms overhead, cracking his neck.
Minjae was tall and broad-shouldered, built as if he belonged in a gym instead of a ferry packed with students. Even in a simple T-shirt, he drew attention without trying. Or maybe he tried all the time—I couldn't tell with him.
Behind him, clusters of students milled about, snapping photos and complaining about the heat.
Teachers stood off to the side, trying to look authoritative while clearly regretting agreeing to chaperone a boat full of teenagers.
"Jun-ho, right?"
I turned again. This time it was Jisoo, adjusting the straps of his backpack as he approached. His smile was gentle, familiar. "Yeah. You found a good seat?" I said.
"Upper deck near the stairs. Less motion sickness. I figured I'd check if you were okay out here. Minjae tends to…cause accidents." He said.
"Allegedly. I'm harmless." Minjae said, holding up his hands. Jisoo didn't look convinced. Jisoo was never the loud one. He blended into groups without disappearing, the kind of person people naturally talked to when they were stressed or unsure.
I'd known him since our first year of high school, and he'd always been like that—steady, patient, endlessly concerned about everyone else. "I'm fine. Just enjoying the view." I said.
Jisoo followed my gaze out to the water. For a moment, none of us spoke.
The ferry horn sounded—a deep, echoing blast that rolled across the sea. Several students cheered as if it were part of the experience. "See? Adventure." Minjae said. The island grew larger as we approached, details sharpening: white buildings near the shore, a long pier extending into the water, patches of forest climbing the slopes behind it.
A resort complex sat further inland, its windows catching the sunlight.
I felt a strange tightness in my chest, like the moment before stepping onto a wrestling mat. Not fear. Anticipation. I didn't know why.
—
Disembarkation was chaos.
The ferry doors opened, and suddenly everyone was moving at once. Luggage thumped against metal ramps. Voices overlapped, teachers shouting instructions no one listened to. "Stay with your assigned groups!"
"Don't wander off!"
"Jun-ho, did you grab the attendance sheet?"
That last one was directed at me. I turned to see Lee Daeho standing near the ramp, clipboard tucked under his arm. He looked out of place in the summer sunlight, posture stiff, eyes scanning the crowd like he was expecting trouble.
"Yes, sir." I said, stepping over and taking the paper he handed me. "Good. Count heads. Make sure no one gets lost."
"Yes, sir." I nodded. Minjae leaned close to my ear as I walked past. "See? Trusted already."
I ignored him and started counting. One by one, I ticked off names as students gathered near the terminal building. A girl nearly tripped on her suitcase, the wheels catching on a crack in the pavement.
"Whoa—"
I moved without thinking, catching the handle just in time to prevent it from toppling over completely. "Careful." I said.
She looked up, startled, then relieved. "Oh—thank you. I'm so clumsy."
"It's fine. You're in Group C, right? They're over there." I said, setting the suitcase upright. She nodded quickly and hurried off. It was a small thing. Barely worth noticing. But as I straightened, I felt eyes on me.
Not staring. Observing. I glanced to my right. A girl stood a short distance away, her bow case slung over one shoulder, dark hair tied back neatly. She wasn't part of any conversation, wasn't checking her phone, or adjusting her bag. She was just…watching.
Her gaze met mine briefly.
There was no embarrassment, no glance away. Just a calm, assessing look—like she was filing something away. Then she turned and walked toward the terminal without a word.
For a second, I stood there, attendance sheet forgotten in my hand.
"Jun-ho. Count?" Jisoo said softly behind me.
"Right. Sorry." I said.
I forced my attention back to the list, but the image lingered. The girl's expression hadn't been cold. Just distant. Controlled. Kwon Ara, I remembered. Competitive archery. Scholarship student. Quiet. She hadn't spoken to me. She hadn't needed to.
—
The terminal smelled like disinfectant and sea air.
Neon signs flickered lazily overhead, advertising ferry schedules and island attractions. Outside, palm trees swayed in the breeze, their shadows stretching across the pavement. We loaded onto two buses bound for the dormitories near the resort complex. Minjae complained loudly about legroom. Someone argued over window seats.
Daeho raised his voice once, then gave up and stared out the front windshield with a pinched expression. I sat near the middle, Jisoo beside me. "You always end up doing that." He said quietly as the bus lurched forward. "Doing what?"
"Helping. Organizing. People just…assume you will." He listed. "Someone has to." I shrugged.
"That's not an answer." He said, smiling faintly.
Outside the window, the island unfolded. Narrow roads hugged the coastline, cliffs dropping sharply to the sea. The water glittered below, deceptively peaceful. Inland, dense forest pressed close, green and thick.
There were fewer people than I expected.
Tourist island, the brochure had promised. But aside from the terminal staff and a few parked cars, the roads were quiet. "Maybe it's the off-season." I muttered. Jisoo hummed noncommittally.
The bus slowed as it climbed a gentle incline, the dormitory buildings coming into view. Simple, concrete structures with wide balconies and large windows. Clean. Well-maintained.
Safe.
The word settled over me like a blanket.
—
Night came softly.
After dinner in the communal cafeteria—rice, grilled fish, soup—we scattered to our assigned dorm rooms. Four to a room. I ended up with Jisoo and two other boys I barely knew.
Laughter drifted through the open windows, mingling with the distant sound of waves. Someone played music down the hall until a teacher yelled for them to turn it down.
I sat on my bed, phone in hand, scrolling through messages from my cousin. He'd sent a picture of the dinner I'd helped him make before leaving.
Don't forget sunscreen, he'd written.
I smiled.
Across the room, Jisoo was organizing medical supplies into a neat row on his desk. "You're really doing that now?" I asked. "Better than waiting until someone's bleeding." He said. "Relax. What's the worst that could happen? We're on an island paradise." One of the other boys groaned.
I lay back, staring at the ceiling.
They weren't wrong. Everything felt…right. Too right.
I thought about the way people had looked to me all day—teachers handing me tasks, students gravitating toward me when something needed doing. I wasn't the smartest. Or the strongest. I wasn't loud or charismatic like Minjae. But people trusted me.
The realization was both comforting and unsettling.
What happens, I wondered idly, when that trust is tested? A distant sound cut through the night.
Faint. Almost easy to miss.
A siren.
I sat up. The others were still talking, laughing, completely unaware. The sound came again, echoing faintly across the water.
I glanced at Jisoo.
He'd gone still, head tilted slightly toward the window. "You hear that?" I asked quietly. He nodded. The siren faded, swallowed by the sea and the night. Down the hall, laughter continued. Somewhere outside, the waves kept rolling in, steady and unconcerned.
"It's probably nothing." I said. Jisoo didn't answer right away. "…Yeah. Probably." He said, finally. But he didn't go back to organizing his supplies.
And for the first time since the ferry ride, the island didn't feel like a vacation anymore.