As dawn breaks each morning over Jeju´s Island, the sky bursts into a breathtaking display of colors.
With every passing moment, the colors deepen -warm oranges and delicate violet melting into the sunny gold.
The ocean mirrors these shades, shimmering as waves lick the volcanic shores.
Sara ran along the coastal path, the crisp air filling her lungs.
She stopped at a street vendor, buying an orange juice and swallowing an iron pill with the practiced ease of routine.
As she sat on a bench to enjoy the sea while the sun climbed higher, a figure appeared, his footsteps muffled by the soft earth.
He had spotted her from a distance and approached quietly.
‘Someone seems addicted to orange juice,’ Seon-woo teased, startling her.
She spilled a bit of her drink.
‘What a scare!’.
‘Who would’ve thought something as harmless as orange juice could become a lethal weapon of encounter?’ he teased, sitting beside her.
Sara shook her head, a wry smile forming.
‘I should ask what you’re doing here, but it’s obvious we took the same flight yesterday.’ Seon-woo sat beside her.
‘A reader and insightful.
What a danger.
Was it for a run that you had to go to bed early?’ Sara´s defenses slipping like sand through fingers.
‘Your empathy skills improve by the hour!
And yes, I did go for a run.
If you keep this up, you might start reading my thoughts.’ ‘I’ll give it a try,’ he said, pretending to concentrate.
‘Your name starts with… M?’ Sara shook her head, smiling.
‘E?’ he guessed again, meeting the same response.
‘Good try, but no names,’ she said.
‘But if we’re meeting on the 17th, what should I call you?’ Sara tilted her head, amused.
‘Let’s see… how did you save my number?’ Seon-woo showed her his phone.
‘Orange Juice.’ She laughed.
‘I love it.
You can call me that.
And I’ve already got a name for you.’ ‘Runner?
Mr.
Empathetic?’ ‘Even simpler—Haruki.’ ‘I don’t dislike it,’ he said.
‘So, what brings you to Jeju?
Vacation?’ ‘Let’s say…
vacation in search of something.’ ‘Something?’ he pressed.
‘A place, a memory,’ she replied enigmatically.
‘Have you found them yet?’ he asked, genuinely intrigued.
She sighed with a hint of melancholy.
‘No… and I have no idea where to start.
I was just a kid the last time I was here.’ Seon-woo considered her words, then suggested, ‘I have a meeting with someone who knows Jeju´s island well.
My flight isn’t until tonight.
Want to join?’.
Sara hesitated pondering the offer.
‘Haruki, you don’t seem like a creep… so, why not?’ ‘So, is that a yes?’ he teased.
She grinned, her decision firm.
‘I accept’.
… An hour later, the rented car rolled quietly into the courtyard of a traditional Korean hanok, surrounded by a beautiful garden of maples and pines trees.
Its dark wooden framework contrasted elegantly with the white walls, while the gray-tiled roof protected with grace the ancient structure.
Seon-woo stepped out first, his movements composed.
Sara followed, her eyes tracing the delicate path of the tiles that framed the roofline.
Waiting for them by the doorway was Writer Jeong, the oldest and most renowned writer that Sapiens Publishing could proudly claim.
‘Good morning, sir,’ Seon-woo greeted, his voice steady but tinged with a formality born of admiration.
Writer Jeong’s eyes twinkled as he observed the woman by Seon-woo’s side.
‘Good morning!
Today, you have company,’ he remarked.
Seon-woo hesitated.
‘Yes, she is my…
collaborator.
She is…’.
He had not thought that the game of not telling each other’s names would create problems so soon.
But Sara, ever quick on her feet, interjected with a smile.
‘Good morning!
I’m Shin Kyung-Sook, like the writer…
although, evidently, I’m not her.
In our company, we’re conducting an experiment.
Everyone is called by the name of a great writer.
Today, he will be Haruki, if you don’t mind.’ Writer Jeong chuckles at the oddity.
‘A bizarre idea,’ he admits, but his tone carries amusement.
‘And why do you do this?’ Sara’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
‘We thought it might help us think differently, to embody great minds, even for a day.’ The elder chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to warm the air around them.
‘Ah, Haruki,’ he said, savoring the name.
‘I never imagined you’d bring such creativity to my doorstep.’ Seon-woo’s lips curved into a faint smile.
‘Neither did I…
Sir.
Actually, Shin Kyung-sook came with me to ask for your help—to find a place in the island.’ Writer Jeong’s gaze shifted to Sara, his curiosity deepening.
‘Ah, so she’s not here to work today?’ Seon-woo shook his head.
‘No.’ Writer’s laughter returned, lighter this time.
‘Then, in exchange for my help, she’ll prepare food for us while we talk.
Shin Kyung-sook, can you cook?’ Sara’s grin widened.
‘I’ll be delighted!
I hope my cooking will deserve your help.’ … Inside the house, the warmth of the kitchen welcomed Sara.
She moved with practiced ease, her hands nimble as they worked through ingredients.
The air soon filled with the heady aroma of citrus, chilies, and coriander which she found in the small vegetable garden near the kitchen.
Meanwhile, Seon-woo and writer Jeong returned from their discussion, it seemed that their reunion had been satisfactory for both of them.
‘You’re back already,’ Sara said, glancing over her shoulder.
‘I’m almost done’ she was plating the final dish.
Writer Jeong inhaled deeply, his smile broadening.
‘It smells wonderful.
Thank you for cooking for us.
It may have been inconsiderate of me to ask, but as you grow older, you start asking for things you wouldn’t have dared before.’ Sara laughed lightly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.
‘It’s no trouble.
I enjoyed it.’ She placed the dishes on the table with care.
‘This is like ceviche from Peru,’ she explained, ‘raw fish marinated with Jeju citrus, chili, and coriander.
And these are mandu stuffed with seafood, a taste of the island.’ Jeong’s first bite seemed to transport him elsewhere.
‘Mmhhh,’ he murmured.
‘This flavor reminds me of the soup my mother made on rainy days.
I’m there right now.’ Sara’s expression softened.
‘It’s like a madeleine…’ ‘What?’ writer Jeong asked, curious, he wasn’t used to young people knowing such old authors.
‘A Proustian memory,’ she explained.
‘Going back in time through a taste or smell.’ Writer Jeong’s nod was slow, contemplative.
‘Seon-woo, you choose your collaborators well.
Tell me,’ he turned to Sara, ‘how did you achieve this flavor in the soup?
I’ve tried many times to recreate my mother’s recipe.’ Sara’s pride was subtle but unmistakable.
‘A little trick…
I fried the heads of the prawns first.
They release a lot of flavor.’ Writer Jeong’s eyebrows lifted in admiration.
‘Who taught you to cook like this?’ ‘My mother,’ Sara said quietly.
‘She was an excellent chef.
Besides, during one of my career crises, I took a professional cooking course.’ Writer Jeong’s gaze lingered on her, discerning yet kind.
‘You’re brave to talk about professional crises in front of your boss.’ Sara’s glance flicked to Seon-woo, who leaned back with a half-smile.
‘What happened?
Why did you stop?
Did you discover that you didn’t enjoy cooking after all?’ he asked.
He was more and more eager to know more about that strange girl.
Sara’s laugh was soft, almost wistful.
‘No, I realized I enjoy cooking, but only for my family and friends.
So, I decided to focus on my job instead.’ Writer Jeong nodded thoughtfully.
‘You must take good care of your family and friends then.’ ‘Do you mean that you’ll help me find the place in my photo?’ She asked shyly.
‘With the memory you gave me today, I can’t refuse…’ Writer Jeong answered kindly.
… By afternoon, the three gathered around a wooden table, cluttered with an old map of Jeju´s Island and a faded colors photograph.
Writer Jeong traced a route with his finger, his voice steady as he recounted landmarks and hidden paths.
Later, Seon-woo and Sara stood side by side at the place the writer had recommended, their car parked a short distance away.
Sara stepped forward, her eyes scanning the horizon until they landed on a specific spot.
She walked toward it with an almost reverent determination.
Seon-woo hung back, watching as she sits, her fingers brushing the grass.
After few minutes, he joined her, sitting quietly on a weathered rock.
She was drying her tears when she turned to him.
‘It’s silly, isn’t it?
Searching for the exact same place…
such a small detail.’ Seon-woo’s voice was gentle.
‘Sometimes, those small details hold immense significance for us.’ After a moment, he asked softly ‘Is your mother the one in the photo?’ Sara nodded, her eyes fixed on the horizon.
A silence hung between them, punctuated only by the sound of waves crashing near below.
‘When did she pass away?’ Seon-woo’s voice was gentle, yet it carried a weight that surprised Sara.
She turned to him, startled by the question.
‘You said before that she was a good chef…’ he added carefully, watching her face.
Sara wavered, the words caught in her throat.
Finally, she spoke.
‘I was 12 years old.
This was our last summer together.’ Seon-woo’s expression softened with understanding.
‘It must have been difficult, losing her at such a young age.’ Sara nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line.
‘Yes…
The three of us—my father, my mother, and I—had a very special bond.
That’s why I think we never returned to the island after… after her passing.
We just couldn’t.’ Seon-woo’s brow furrowed as he studied her, a question lingering in his mind.
‘You don’t live in Korea, do you?’ Sara turned to him, raising an eyebrow.
‘Haruki,’ she said, deliberately using his nickname, ‘aren’t you trying to pry into personal information at a moment of vulnerability?
We agreed—no personal details.’ Seon-woo smirked, unfazed.
‘I never said that… and I don’t see why it has to be that way.’ Sara tilted her head.
‘To keep things uncomplicated… I live in a world… far, far away.’ ‘A world without phones… or the internet?’ he teased, leaning closer.
Sara broke into a small, mischievous grin.
‘How do you know?
And if they do exist, they’re named something so different you wouldn’t recognize them.’ ‘Maybe I could understand that world’ he offered.
Sara’s grin softened, and she looked at him.
‘I don’t doubt it.
But I’m not great at explaining it to you.’ ‘Not unless you try,’ he countered, his eyes steady.
She hesitated for a moment, her smile fading.
‘I tried once before,’ she said quietly, ‘and it didn’t end well.’ ‘You didn’t try with me,’ Seon-woo said, undeterred.
‘Don’t you have friends outside of your world?’ Sara laughed, the sound brightening the air around them.
‘Many!
But they’re just friends…’ She paused, a spark of spontaneity lighting up her face.
‘You know what?
I need an ice cream of happiness and a good ‘non-friend’ to join me!
Shall we?’ Seon-woo nodded ‘Lead the way.’