Seoul – it had been so many years. The bustling city made him uneasy. His body sank in the passenger chair.

The taxi driver kept his eyes ahead as early morning traffic hit the roads. When he caught a red light, he couldn’t help not looking at the man beside him. Unlike his trimmed beard and aged, wrinkled face, the other had a rather charming appearance. His eyes were deep in thought. His lips were dry and strongly contoured. The driver could see as the man lightly touched a scar covering his left cheek. He first assumed the guy had returned from the army, as he had picked him up from the Marine Corp’s headquarters at Hwaseong. The top of his head told him otherwise – there was no way a newly discharged young fellow like him had so much hair. Secondly, he was dressed with a plain white shirt, dark blue jeans and a thick, winter jacket. Shouldn’t he be clad in a uniform? The driver concluded he’d be soon enlisted. He somehow felt sorry for the poor bastard. He seemed like the type to have lived a good life before receiving instructions. He pondered whether those lost recruits from a couple of months ago had been saved or not. He stopped in front of a narrow entrance. The street was quiet for 9 am. The bearded driver counted the client’s pay and tried to give him the rest. He disappeared from his seat. The driver checked around the vehicle, only to catch his distancing back down the street. He shrugged it off. It was a fair tip for driving so much. He turned around the car and left the area.

Two children holding hands strolled pass the stranger. The little boy stuffed his mouth with cotton candy, while the girl tried to steal a bite from him. That cotton candy was all she wanted: light pink, sweet and fluffy. It was her innocent representation of the world and she craved to keep it that way through symbols. Cotton candy was her idol, not some religious fantasy told by her parents. The boy accidently brushed the man’s duffel bag with his cotton candy. Rapidly apologizing, he pulled his sister closer and ran away from the abnormal looking person. His scar frightened him. The stranger gazed nostalgically at them. His heart grieved.

♥

Not much changed. He lost the apartment keys, but didn’t forget the code. The sound of him typing the numbers echoed throughout the hallway. He opened the door and expected someone to greet him, to scream at him, to slap him or to kiss him. He received none. Instead, he was shocked to find the place abandoned. Light shyly entered between the emerald curtains. All the furniture was covered in plastic. The only shoes at the entrance were his. He couldn’t find the guest slippers, nor had he any desire to hang his worn out jacket. It was too dusty. Further inside, the heavy smell of mold suffocated him. It was as if he returned from the sea straight inside a cave, rather than a welcoming home. He took a seat at the low bar counter separating the kitchen from the empty living room. There was no use in checking the fridge; it was probably as deserted. The fruit bowl and the fake flower pot made him sick of loneliness. Among the shadows, he thought again how good it would have been for her to be there. Did she leave mad for breaking his promise? He hadn’t meant to. Nobody expected the attack. It was so sudden, so fast. They lost all means of communication and the engines soon collapsed. Luckily, they had enough food to survive for a couple of months. The last weeks were harsher. Stranded and with no means of ever returning, some went crazy. Others stole some lifeboats and God knows where they arrived. The few that remained, with him included, often turned their eyes to the sky and asked with all their might: “Please, let me survive one more day until I see X again”. The particle X could be anybody – their mother, father, sister or brother, their wife or children, even their dog, cat or other pet.

Where had his ray of hope gone?

He sighed and decided it was no use crying over spilled milk. He had to activate a new number (or at least get his old one back), and contact somebody. His sister was the best choice – he was sure she and her husband were still in the city with their kids. Authorities barely had time giving them a warm meal, new clothes and some money. He was sure his family hadn’t been informed of his return. He returned to the front door, tied his shoes, grabbed the bag on his shoulder and went out. He typed the code again to lock the door before going down the stairs and back down the road.

Somehow, another name arose in his mind. He was anxious to meet her... but where could she have gone?

“Heard the news?”

The café was filled with teenagers whom had taken a break from studying. Women in their early 20s and men in their early 30s also gave coffee products a chance with the occasional rebellious tea or smoothies. Hers was a banana-mango mix. She stared at the glass still full with the pale golden liquid. Her taste buds yelled in despair. She was teasing them. Her fingers picked the straw and spun. She spun and spun until she could no longer handle and let the flavor flood her nostrils and burn her tongue.

“He’s back, G.O, he’s back~”

She cocked her head with the straw stuck between her lips. Eavesdropping wasn’t polite. Her curiosity got the best out of her as she laid backwards on her chair to hear the girls’ chat better. They giggled and both boasted with their knowledge.

“Really? I bet he’s so handsome now~”

“He was handsome before too!”

“Maybe his moustache is back?”

“Hey, remember Hyun Bin? He looked better after the army!”

“Oh yes~”

The girls were disturbed by the sudden noise coming from their neighbor. Dara spilled over the smoothie on the round table and the floor. The straw remained hanging from as she tried wiping clean the mobile phone's screen with her blouse’s sleeves. Constantly pressing on the home key, she sighed in relief when the screen lighted up.

“...”

Chang Sun, most commonly named Joon, faced the mirror. His reflection was the same as the previous day and the day before. Yet, he could not take his eyes away from the man staring back at him. The running water woke him up from reverie. He washed his face and he brushed his teeth. He checked his stubble and combed his hair. He had no use for make-up or any other puny details. He leaned against the sink and took a deep breath.

Hyuna was long gone. Her early schedules provoked his senses. He was worthless. Chang Sun hadn’t been able to lift a finger after his friend went missing on the sea. He sometimes submerged in the bathtub to simulate what Byung Hee might have felt. He wished to believe in ghosts. He couldn’t.

Last week, he randomly turned the TV on. Morning news proudly announced the salvation of the fallen ship. What had taken them so long anyway? They had helicopters, airplanes and other means of finding the lost craft. Had it all been planned? Were the officials so ashamed of their failure, they ended up putting the blame on the crew?

He punched the sink. He hated to hear water. He hated to carry guilt. Why should he pretend to be the strongest of them? He was no better.

He was too afraid to check the list posted by the Ministry of National Defense. What if his name had been cut? What if he was nothing to them than some kid who entertained fish and no longer should be treated human?

His phone rang in the bedroom. He refused to move from his spot because his reflection became a harsh judger. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.