Part II

 

Seoul — Present day

 

He’d realized as soon as he’d turn the corner into the dark alleyway that this probably wasn’t his brightest idea. He stumbled and quickly righted himself as he continued to cautiously step away from the lighted street of the city, and murmured a quick curse to himself as he gripped the worn shoulder strap of his messenger bag.

 

His hand reached up to pull the visor of his baseball cap even further over his eyes. A useless motion, he realized, since no one would be able to clearly see his facial features anyway in the pitch blackness that seemed to envelope him. He could hear it already—his roommate’s nagging voice in the back of his head calling him an idiot. The amount of times Do Kyungsoo had berated him for being so reckless, this time, he just happened to agree.

 

Park Chanyeol had absolutely no business lurking around a dark alleyway at two o’clock in the morning, waiting for a lead that he wasn’t even positive would show up. Why he’d even agreed to this bizarre meeting was beyond him. Chanyeol leaned against the brick wall behind him and waited. He waited for what felt like ten minutes, but still, no one showed up.

 

The vibrating of his phone against his side nearly had him jumping out of his skin. Patting a hand over his chest, Chanyeol reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out his mobile phone, squinting at the sudden bright light that glowed in the darkness. A notification of a new message flashed across his screen. Chanyeol swiped his finger across the screen to unlock his phone, and breathed out a relieved sigh when the sender turned out to be his roommate asking his whereabouts. The time on his phone confirmed that he’d been waiting in the dark alleyway alone for precisely eleven minutes. With a heavy sigh, Chanyeol returned his phone to his pocket and left the dark alley, walking much faster than he had when he’d enter.

 

Hidden in the shadows of the tower of plastic barrels in the corner, a pair of golden eyes watched the retreating back of the journalist moving further and further away.

 

The next morning, Chanyeol weaved through the dense crowd of people towards the office. Kyungsoo had sleepily wandered out of his room when he heard Chanyeol come in last night, and had given him a one-over to make sure he was fairly unharmed before returning back to his room. Chanyeol trudged into the small kitchen of their two-bedroom apartment, too lazy to turn on the lights, and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before making his way to his room. The desk lamp in his room stayed on all night, as he burned the midnight oil typing up a lackluster article that he hoped would be approved.

 

He pushed the glass door open and cursed under his breath when he came up to the “Out of Order” sign taped to the elevator. Searching around for the staircase that he’d never once had to use until now, Chanyeol trudged up step after step, and landed slightly out of breath on the sixth floor roughly five minutes later. Adjusting the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder, he pulled the door leading towards the office of operations for one of the city’s hottest magazines, and walked through what was known as “The Pit” towards the desk at the other end of the room.

 

The editor-in-chief looked up as soon as Chanyeol stopped in front of his desk. An attractive man around his mid-thirties, Kim Hyungi was of medium-build and was quite tall. His chestnut-brown hair was styled upwards and back, and round spectacles sat upon the bridge of his nose, framing his face nicely and showing off the man’s sharp brown eyes. For as long as Chanyeol had known him, Hyungi was ambitious and diligent—traits which helped him climbed the ladder to the position he held today.

 

Chanyeol nodded his head slightly and pulled the chair in front of the desk out. “Sir,” he said, taking his seat.

 

“What’ve you got for me?”

 

“To the point as always,” Chanyeol chuckled, reaching into his bag to pull out the papers he’d freshly printed that morning.

 

Hyungi regarded him. “You think I got where I am today by participating in small talk?” the man gruffed, taking the papers Chanyeol offered. Chanyeol remained silent as he watched the editor scan his work, his palms began sweating as the time ticked on. His mouth turned downwards in a frown when the man sitting opposite him dropped the papers in his hand to the side of his desk with a quick shake of his head.

 

“Come on, Hyungi…” Chanyeol started, ready to beg if it meant that he would be getting the compensation he needed to cover his half of this month’s bills. He’d relied on Kyungsoo far too much these past two months, had let his roommate shoulder his half of the rent as well as grocery costs because he was unable to write an article that Hyungi approved.

 

“People love cats!” Chanyeol tried, taking the papers and shoving them towards the editor again. “They’ll eat up this story of a fireman saving a litter of kittens from their abusive owners.”

 

Hyungi was not swayed. “I need more than this, Chanyeol. You think I haven’t been given dozens of articles covering basically the same topic already?”

 

Chanyeol sunk back in his seat, defeated. “I’ve given you quality articles for the past five years,” he muttered. “You and I both know that I gave you more last year alone than any of your full-timers. I’m going through a slump… just help me out, please?”

 

“I want to, Chanyeol, but–”

 

“Hyungi, please. You know how hard things have been for me recently, but believe in me a little, won’t you? You know I’ve been after a more permanent position for years now…” Chanyeol said, “just… When?”

 

Hyungi sighed and reclined back in his seat, regarding Chanyeol, stony-faced. After a moment, and with another exhale, the man reached into his top drawer and pulled out a folder which he dropped in front of Chanyeol.

 

Chanyeol looked at the folder in front of him. “Belacre?” His heart sunk. The people of Belacre Island were known to be recluse and unwelcoming of visitors. In the past years, journalists and news reporters had tried to venture out to the isolated island; almost all of them never returned, having been stated to be lost at sea before they were even able to reach the island. The island was undiscovered land, and its inhabitants remained a mystery — one that most have given up on trying to uncover.

 

“There is an opening…” Hyungi explained, folding his hands in front of him on the desk. “Sunmi will be retiring soon, leaving her column open for grabs.”

 

“The Wonders of the World column?” Chanyeol asked.

 

Hyungi nodded. “That,” he pointed to the folder on his desk, “will be your application. Head to the island and make friends with the natives. Find out why they’d been so adamant on secluding themselves for so long, and how they’ve been surviving until now. Everyone has been so curious about the island and its people that anything will do, really. If you can, figure out what happened to those missing reporters.”

 

“You’re asking the impossible of me…”

 

“You asked me to believe in you. This is me believing in you, Chanyeol.” He paused, deliberating, and then added on as incentive. “All expenses will be taken care of for you.”

 

Chanyeol looked at the desk, to the folder sitting seemingly innocent upon it, to the man sitting behind it. How hard could it be to go to the island and take a few pictures with the locals? Chanyeol had always been told he was charming (actually, only his family told him this), he was sure that mingling with the inhabitants of Belacre Island would be a piece of cake. He’d be back with a written article and picture proof in no time.

 

With a nod of his head, Chanyeol reached out and grabbed the folder from the desk. “Consider it done.”

 

 

 

 

✧

 

 

 

 

 

“Chanyeol, you’re crazy.”

 

“Crazy or not, just imagine how awesome this would be if I actually come up with something!” the redheaded male exclaimed, stumbling frantically around the room as he grabbed items to throw into his suitcase. On his way back to the bed, he grabbed the stack of notes that lied strewn haphazardly across his desk.

 

He had known, of course, that his roommate would not be on board with his impulsive decision. To be honest, if he were in Kyungsoo’s position, he’d probably be skeptical of himself as well. However, opportunities don’t come presenting themselves often, and Chanyeol had been chasing after this chance for far too long to pass it up now that it was obscenely being dangled in front of his face.

 

“This could be my breakthrough, Kyungsoo. My chance!”

 

“Or it could be your death.”

 

“Jeez, stop being such a buzzkill, will ya?”

 

Chanyeol’s roommate sighed as he started to take out the pile of clothes that Chanyeol had carelessly thrown into the suitcase and neatly folded each article of clothing before placing them methodically back in their place. “Chanyeol, just slow down and hear me out for a second, will you?” Kyungsoo practically begged as his eyes followed the taller male’s movements around the room, wincing when he heard Chanyeol curse and moan when he’d stubbed his toe on the corner of the bookshelf. “I know this is important to you. I know you really want this position at the magazine, but did you even consider that Kim Hyungi is sending you on a scouting expedition to a place hardly shown on the maps, which has only ever seen the light of day through reports of travelers gone missing? Did it even cross your mind how dangerous this all could be? This isn’t just another article on forgotten, uncharted places with pretty beaches and pale sands people dream of going to, Chanyeol. He’s basically sending you to the middle of nowhere, where people are disappearing. I doubt that all of the missing people are chilling on a beach somewhere sipping on fresh coconuts. Hell, they’re probably dead for all you know!” Kyungsoo looked up to find Chanyeol staring down at him in wonder, eyes shining wide and bright as the corners of his mouth began to curve slightly upwards in a teasing smile.

 

“Do Kyungsoo, are you worried about me?” he asked incredulously, teasingly.

 

Kyungsoo paused and gaped up at his taller roommate from his place on the bed. “Of course not,” he grumbled, suddenly finding the patterns on Chanyeol’s comforter interesting. “I just don’t want to have to go through the trouble of finding another roommate if you do end up becoming one of those missing people, that’s all.” He huffed and then lifted his head defiantly, and added as an afterthought, “It’d be rather inconvenient.”

 

Chanyeol chortled. “As much as I appreciate your, uh…concern, Kyungsoo, I’m a big boy, okay?” He tossed a pile of socks into the suitcase, which Kyungsoo pulled out and put next to his “to-fold” pile. “I’ll be able to take care of myself.” Chanyeol glanced over his shoulder as he resumed his haphazard gathering of items to see the smaller male continue to quietly fold up his laundry in silence.

 

“A few of the guys that disappeared were even bigger than you…and they were experienced travelers,” he heard Kyungsoo mumbling after a beat, speaking so quietly that Chanyeol almost didn’t catch it. “They were bigger and probably stronger... and they still–”

 

“Kyungsoo, I’ll be fine,” Chanyeol stressed, finally slowing down to stand in front of his roommate. “I promise, I’ll be extra careful. And I’ll even find a way to contact you every day so you’ll know that I haven’t been abducted and murdered, or eaten by cannibals or something! Okay?” Chanyeol ducked when one of his socks came flying towards his face.

 

“That’s not funny, Park Chanyeol!”

 

Chanyeol chuckled, and then became serious again when he noticed Kyungsoo’s more-than-worried expression. “Soo, everything will be fine,” he said again, placing a comforting hand on Kyungsoo’s shoulder tentatively, wincing as he expected his roommate to whack his arm away. But Kyungsoo sat still and allowed Chanyeol’s arm to rest on his shoulder as he looked downwards one again, and Chanyeol suddenly felt a pang of guilt jab at his gut when he realized just how concerned his roommate was. “Soo…”

 

Kyungsoo shook his head and focused once again on folding. “No, you’re right,” the raven-haired male said, seeming to be reassuring himself more than Chanyeol. “Everything will be okay,” Kyungsoo said with a nod of his head. Chanyeol stood by the bed and watched Kyungsoo busy himself with his laundry, and then resumed his frenzied packing. He looked up when he heard Kyungsoo speak again.

 

“But just in case,” Kyungsoo said with a straight face, “I’m going to type up an advertisement for an open room.”

 

Chanyeol chuckled and tossed his grey Supreme sweatshirt at Kyungsoo. “You do that.”

 

 

 

 

✧

 

 

 

 

 

“I hear someone hasn’t been taking their medication.” Chanyeol smirked as he leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms across his chest, feigning anger.

 

“She’s trying to poison me…” his grandfather grumbled from his bed, “she’s trying to kill me.”

 

Chanyeol chuckled as he walked around the bed towards the table in front of the casement window and picked up the small paper cup with two white pills in it. “Hyejin is not going to poison you, Grampy,” he said, handing the pills over to his grandfather, who knocked them back and chased them with a gulp of orange juice. “Not yet, at least,” Chanyeol added on teasingly, dodging the now-empty paper cup that his grandfather tossed at his head. He bent down to collect the cup and tossed it into the waste bin before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “You can’t keep doing this,” he sighed.

 

“I’m not doing anything,” his grandfather pouted, jutting his bottom lip out like a scolded child.

 

Chanyeol chuckled and rearranged the covers on the twin-sized bed, smoothing them over the elderly man’s legs. “I mean it, Grampy. I worry about you, ya know?”

 

“I don’t know why you do. I’m perfectly healthy.”

 

“Let’s keep it that way, yeah?” He looked up from the stray strand of thread of his jacket to his grandfather’s face, taking in the fine lines around the man’s eyes and the whole head of trimmed white hair.

 

The kids in the neighborhood he’d grown up in used to always make fun of Chanyeol when he was younger, teasing him about how he looked nothing like his family. They said he was adopted. They called him names and bullied him; but never did Chanyeol really care. He’d asked, once, while his parents were both in the kitchen—his mother at the sink washing the vegetables while his father was bent over the pot on the stove. He’d asked who his real parents were, and why they didn’t want him. His parents only exchanged a brief look between themselves before smiling down at him, telling him to stop asking nonsensical things.

 

“We’re your parents,” his mother had said as she brushed the stray hair away from his face. Chanyeol had nodded, accepting the answer at face value, and was quickly shooed into the living room where his grandfather was known to be sitting in the big, brown leather armchair by the fireplace.

 

Growing up, his grandfather was the coolest man he knew. Chanyeol remembered spending the weekends with his grandfather while both of his parents worked; while his grandfather was still lucid. Much of his time was spent on his Grampy’s lap, listening to him animatedly narrate stories of heroes and fantastical beasts. There was a time when Chanyeol was naïve enough to believe in the tales his grandfather told—in the idea of heroes defeating villains and monsters and good triumphing over bad. There was a time when he believed in happy endings. He’d felt cheated when he realized that none of Grampy’s stories could possibly be true. Time and age had cruelly ripped from Chanyeol the innocent belief that he’d held onto as a child. The murder of his parents forced Chanyeol to grow up, to become jaded and hard-headed realist. The killer was never caught, and Chanyeol’s idea of good-over-evil crumpled to dust. He realized that the hero characters from his grandfather’s stories were just that—characters. Figments of imagination that could never exist.

 

“Grampy…” Chanyeol began, suddenly feeling guilty when he looked into his grandfather’s curious, wrinkled eyes. “I won’t be able to come visit you for a while.”

 

Chanyeol watched as his grandfather’s expression morphed from curiosity to confusion, to sadness, and then understanding. “Of course, I know you’re a busy boy,” the elderly man smiled, reaching his hand up to cup his grandson’s face. “You’ve grown up so fast, Chanyeollie. And so well, too…” Chanyeol smiled bashfully at the compliment. “But you’re still an overgrown child.”

 

Chanyeol furrowed his brows and pouted. “I’m anything but little anymore…”

 

“You’ll always be my little boy, Chanyeol,” Grampy responded, lightly patting Chanyeol’s cheek before bringing his arm back to rest on his lap. The old man sighed and appraised his grandson silently, as if trying to memorize every inch of Chanyeol’s face. “And why exactly, may I ask, will my favorite grandson be neglecting to visit his grandfather?”

 

“I’m your only grandson, Grampy,” Chanyeol grumbled through a smirk. Grampy chuckled. “It’s for work. I’m heading to Belacre Island to see what I can dig up about all those missing people over the past few years.”

 

There was something in his grandfather’s eyes that had Chanyeol wondering. For a while, Grampy remained silent as he stared at Chanyeol with his brows knotted together and his lips turned downwards in a frown. Chanyeol was about to ask the old man what was wrong when his grandfather sighed and reached over to place a hand on Chanyeol’s. “When will you leave?”

 

“Tomorrow morning.” Chanyeol frowned and looked at his grandfather, whose apprehension only seemed to grow. “Grampy,” Chanyeol said, looking down at Grampy’s hand over his. Grampy’s hand was shaking. “Is everything okay?”

 

The older male remained silent for a while and stared off, lost in his thoughts. He startled when Chanyeol cleared his throat gently, and heaved another sigh. “Are you sure about this, Chanyeollie?”

 

“What?” Chanyeol asked, but one look at Grampy’s face and he suddenly thinks he understands. Chanyeol scooted forward on the bed and took Grampy’s hands in both of his, mentally chastising himself for not thinking about it sooner. “Grampy, it’s going to be fine. I know they’ve been making it seem bad on the news, and I know that so far none of the missing people have returned but–” Chanyeol suddenly stopped, sure that what he was saying wasn’t easing his grandfather’s mind in the slightest. He sighed, unsure of what to say. “I’ll be careful, okay? And I’ll be back before you even realize I was gone! And when I come back, we can have our weekly marathons while eating horrible TV dinners.” Chanyeol glanced at Grampy, who still looked unconvinced. “Or, if you’re really good and promise me that you’ll take your medication while I’m gone like you’re supposed to… maybe I’ll even sneak in some of the good stuff.”

 

Grampy’s eyes lit up at the bribe. “With those little marshmallows that I love so much?”

 

Chanyeol grinned. “I’ll bring you a whole bag full of ‘em.”

 

 

 

 

✧

 

 

 

 

 

There was something about being stuck in a three-hundred-ton death trap flying at five hundred knots through the air that unnerved Chanyeol. Or maybe it was being stuck in a seat far too small to even be considered slightly comfortable, surrounded by strangers. Either way, Chanyeol had never been a fan of flying.

 

He shifted in his seat, scooting closer to the plane’s wall, and leaned his head against the cool plexiglass window. In his head, he chided himself for having forgotten his sleeping mask at home. ‘Ironic…’ he thought, that the person scared of flying would be seated right next to the window where they could see just how high up they could possibly fall. It had completely escaped him when he’d agreed to go on this assignment that he would have to take a plane to Borderidge, where he would then take a ferry to Belacre Island.

 

It also didn’t help that the passenger sitting directly behind him was the devil’s spawn.

 

The moment he’d paused in front of the row of seats and glanced around his assigned area, Chanyeol had inwardly groaned at the young boy, no older than four-years-old he was guessing, sitting in the middle seat in the row behind him, in between his parents. The boy had been throwing a tantrum, demanding the window seat, and had cried so shrilly that Chanyeol and a few of the other passengers on the plane winced and cover their ears. He actually groaned aloud when he’d finished stuffing his carry-on into the overhead compartment to find that the little brat had somehow managed to get his way, and was now situated directly behind his seat.

 

‘Great…’ Chanyeol thought as he’d shuffled in the cramped area to the window seat that was to be his home for the next nine hours, give or take.

 

Chanyeol had to commend himself for his patience and ability to not strangle the little kicking against his seat every other second. Really, he was practically a saint. However, he was human, after all, and after spending more than half of the plane ride suffering through his unasked for, rough massage, Chanyeol had had enough. He’d turned around and directed a pointed glare at the boy’s mother when the kid had kicked his seat particularly hard just as he was on the brink of sleep. The woman had muttered a soft apology and scolded her son, causing the brat to cry out and then eventually pass out from exhaustion.

 

’Thank the Lord!’ Chanyeol cheered with a huff. The estimated time of arrival on the mini screen in front of him read two hours and forty-nine minutes, and Chanyeol could only hope that the kid would be asleep for the duration of that time so that he could also sleep and try to forget his minor flying phobia. He moved around in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, and closed his eyes.

 

The next time he awoke was (thankfully) not because of the kid, but because of the beeping and the words of caution from the plane’s pilot announcing that they were about to land. Chanyeol gulped as he brought his seat back to its upright position and gripped the armrests in a death grip. He closed his eyes throughout the landing, coaching himself through deep breaths, and only opened them when the pilot’s voice once again sounded through the plane.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Borderidge.”

 

 

 

 

✧

 

 

 

 

 

Belacre Island was a short twenty-minute ferry ride from Borderidge.

 

Upon arrival to the island, Chanyeol took a deep breath and allowed the salty air to penetrate his nostrils, filling his lungs. His eyes were closed as the cool breeze brushed across his face, caressing his features in a gentle, lingering touch. In the distance, he could hear the soft crashing of waves against the rocks; and the cries of seagulls circling above. He allowed himself another moment to relish in the calm and utter quietness that couldn’t be found in the city. Sweet, sweet silence.

 

A bit too silent.

 

As he glanced around his immediate surrounding, Chanyeol couldn’t think of any reason why the island would draw tourists to it. Belacre Island, with its population of forty full-time residents, was, at first glance, unrelieved and desolate; the small, secluded village didn’t have much to boast about. The island was known to be lackluster, with weather more erratic than any possible mood swing. The limestone that almost all of the buildings and half-walls on the island were all of grayscale, fitting in perfectly with the glum aura the entire island gave off. If Chanyeol were to be honest, it felt as though he’d stepped through a time portal as soon as he’d gotten off the ferry and had been thrown back a few decades in the past. The only touch of color to the otherwise dull landmass was the greenery and occasional sprouts of wild flowers that bloomed alongside the walkways. That, and the one building that seemed to stand out from the rest.

 

Chanyeol looked down at the hand drawn map one of the crew on the ferry had sketched for him, trying to pinpoint the location of where the inn the man had mentioned sat. “Whatchu wanna go there for?” Chanyeol remembered the older gentleman asking, expression muddled with apprehension as he drew a pen from his chest pocket. The man had grumbled something under his breathe; something which Chanyeol couldn’t catch either because how quietly he had spoken, or because of the toothpick hanging between his lips.

 

After a few minutes of failing to decipher the scribbles, Chanyeol sighed, folded up the piece of paper and began the trek up the stone path, dragging behind him his suitcase and readjusting the strap of the camera case around on his shoulder as he headed towards the building towards the end of the stretch. He passed someone on the way—an elderly woman who was sitting on a rickety old bench just to the left of the door. Chanyeol offered a smile, but only received a cautious glance in return as the woman stood and regarded him for a moment, and then retreated into the building which he assumed was her house. Shrugging, Chanyeol trekked on hoping he would come across someone else along the way, maybe someone a bit more willing to converse with an outsider, that would be able and willing to point him in the right direction.

 

The post office, with its bright cobalt door and windows and the rustic red payphone standing in the front of the building, stood out from the uninspiring surroundings and immediate drew Chanyeol’s eyes. The building itself appeared to be newer than the rest, and sat at the end of the row of buildings, right by the foot of the mountain. The stones that made up the building were grey, as were the shingles on the roof. The blue windows were lined with a layer of bright white; and above the windows and the door was a layer of red brick. To the left side of the door, cemented slightly above the height of the door, was a small cement square from which a short black post stuck out; and from the post, an orange-red sign. On the door’s right side sat a bright red mail drop; an old looking one that seemed like it had a new paint job. The smell of still-fresh paint slightly lingered, permeating through the air. The hinged door of the mail drop squeaked when Chanyeol tried to open and close it. Directly underneath the mail drop was a flower box, where small, red blooms were beginning to blossom.

 

If the sign indicating that it was the post office wasn’t there, and if the windows weren’t covered every inch by flyers and random old newspaper articles, Chanyeol would’ve thought it looked rather similar to the old cottage illustrated in one of the children’s picture books his Grampy used to read to him.

 

Chanyeol spent a good five minutes trying to peer through the flyer-covered window, only then to notice the small handwritten “Hours” sign taped on the bottom-right corner of the door’s window, right above the doorknob. The post office, unfortunately, was closed. Sighing, and feeling like an idiot for not having seen the sign in the first place, Chanyeol backed away from the building and ped his camera bag. He might as well snap some photos of the scenery while he was there.

 

Squatting down and positioning his elbow on his knee for balance, Chanyeol snapped some photos of the post office from various angles, and then aimed his camera down the stretch of buildings. He noticed a face in one of the windows in one of the nearby houses, and offered a wave and a smile. The man, similar to the woman from before, only offered him a wary expression in return before retreating away from the window.

 

“What’s with these people…” Chanyeol mumbled as he stood, zipping up his camera case. He held his camera in one hand and grabbed the handle of his suitcase in the other, and turned the corner around the post office to continue his exploration of the island. He’d have to come across his lodging eventually, if he kept walking around the island, right? It wasn’t like Belacre Island was very big to begin with. Chanyeol guessed that it would probably take him no more than three, maybe four hours, tops, to circle around the entire isle.

 

Along his way, Chanyeol paused to take pictures of the topography of Belacre—not that there was much. The terrain was bumpy, the roads made of small pebbles which were pressed into the dirt from years of foot traffic. He wandered off the beaten path the closer he got to the shore, and abandoned his luggage by the stone half-wall.

 

The beach, with its tan sands and cascading waves from the ocean, was the most beautiful thing on the island. He bent down to remove his shoes and socks, and left them behind with his suitcase as he wandered down the path towards the beachfront with his camera in hand. The waves hitting against the drifting boats, anchored to the docks by lengths of thick rope, was soothing and instilled in him a sense of tranquility. He took some photos of the pathway down towards the beach, of the small blue flowers surrounded by greenish-yellow weeds that seemed to sprout from the sandy dirt. Picture after picture, Chanyeol captured the essence of nature that surrounded the island—from the limestone caves to the brilliant sunset that reflected off the aquamarine waters of the ocean. Being on the beach made Chanyeol forget about the eerie island to which it was attached, and about its mysterious inhabitants. It was odd that the same island could offer two drastically different ambiences.

 

He continued his stroll down the sandy beachfront, walking close enough to allow the cool waves to wash over his bare feet. At the end of the beach, he reached a high ground of part limestone and part grass. In the distance, against the backdrop of the setting sun, Chanyeol spotted two huge, strangely shaped boulders sitting atop the mount. The wind blew softly across him, leaving behind an unfamiliar scent. He heard the soft scuttling of footsteps as he hung his camera around his neck and prepared to climb the foothill, only to turn around curiously when the soft, quiet giggle of a child rang in his ears.

 

Weird boulders forgotten, Chanyeol jumped back down onto the soft, sandy ground and headed towards the boy playing by the shore. “Hey! Excuse me?” he yelled as he got closer. The boy stilled, the pebble that he was about to throw held in his hand high above his head. Chanyeol watched as the boy turned his head slightly towards him, his emerald eyes widening in wonder as his mouth dropped slightly open. There was a splash in the water, but when Chanyeol scanned the waters, only ripples remained. 'Must've been a fish or something...' he thought.

 

“You’re not from around here,” came the statement that seemed more like an accusation.

 

“No,” Chanyeol responded, stopping a few feet away from the boy. Up close, Chanyeol could see the slight trembling of the boy’s body, and the way his feet were slightly turned as if he was preparing to run. Whether he was scared or he was shivering from the cold weather, Chanyeol wasn’t sure. “I just arrived at the island today,” Chanyeol further explained. “Can you help me?”

 

The boy squinted and regarded him for a moment, staring at him as if he were staring into his very soul, and then mumbled quietly as a gust of wind blew, muffling his words.

 

“What was that?” Chanyeol asked.

 

The boy shook his head and eyed him carefully, then took a few steps forward and reached his arm out to cautiously poke at Chanyeol’s side. His eyes grew even wider, almost as if he was amazed that the person in front of him was real, and that he was able to actually touch him.

 

“Umm… look, kid,” Chanyeol said, taking a step back, “I’m looking for the inn. Can you help point me in the right direction?”

 

The boy shook his head.

 

“Come on,” Chanyeol almost whined. It was getting late, and the little exploring he did managed to tire him out. A low grumble from his stomach also reminded him that he hadn’t eaten anything since he’d gotten off the plane. “Kid–”

 

“Jaehyuk,” the little boy interrupted.

 

“Right, Jaehyuk,” Chanyeol said, giving the boy a pointed glare. “I’m tired, and it’s nearly dark. I sure as hell don’t want to camp out on this beach tonight, so will you please just point me towards the inn?”

 

“It’s rude to learn of someone’s name and not tell them yours in return.”

 

Chanyeol sighed and prayed for patience. “Chanyeol. My name is Chanyeol, okay? Now will you lead me to the inn?”

 

Once again, Jaehyuk shook his head. “Can’t.”

 

“Why?” Chanyeol actually whined this time.

 

“It closed,” Jaehyuk replied simply. “Few years ago. No one came so there was no need for one.”

 

Chanyeol groaned and slumped down into the sand, defeated. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He could feel Jaehyuk’s eyes on him, and a moment later, felt the boy’s presence beside him as he squatted down next to Chanyeol. The boy didn’t say anything, just offered his quiet companionship as Chanyeol stared off across the water, where the tip of the sun was barely peeking. “How old are you, Jaehyuk?” Chanyeol asked, breaking the silence.

 

“Six winters have passed since my birth.”

 

Chanyeol turned and stared at the boy sitting beside him. Six winters? “So...uh, you’re six-years-old?”

 

The boy nodded and stared at him blankly. “That’s what I said.”

 

Chanyeol shook his head and chuckled. “Right. Sorry, my bad.” Another silence fell between the man and boy. The sky was darkening with every passing minute. “Say, don’t you have to head home soon? It’s getting pretty late; won’t your parents be worried?”

 

Jaehyuk shook his head. “Mum’s dead, and Pa’s been gone for a few weeks now.” Questions swam in Chanyeol’s head as he side-glanced the boy. Jaehyuk looked pensive for a while, and then suddenly turned to Chanyeol, bright-eyed. “Oh, I know! You can stay at ELYSIUM!”

 

“Elysium?”

 

Jaehyuk nodded. “Baekhyun will surely give you a bed! Come!”

 

Chanyeol allowed himself to be pulled up to his feet, the promise of a bed far outweighing his curiosity and wariness of the strange little boy who seemed way too comfortable around a stranger he’d just met not even ten minutes ago. This would probably be another thing Kyungsoo would berate him over if his roommate ever found out. Not that he had any plans of telling him.

 

“Wait, my luggage and shoes…” Chanyeol said, stopping Jaehyuk from running too far ahead. He watched as the boy paused, looked back, and then rolled his eyes. Great. He was being judged by a little pipsqueak who barely reached his bellybutton. “I’ll be quick,” he said, jogging off towards the direction that he’d originally came from. He managed to pull on his socks and one of his shoes by the time Jaehyuk had caught up to him, walking at a leisurely pace. The boy nodded and walked past Chanyeol, taking the path upwards that he’d yet to explore before going down towards the beach.

 

Chanyeol followed along, dragging his suitcase behind him, towards the odd-looking boulders he’d spotted before; which he now recognized to be a house.

 

Two boulders, both stretching thrice as tall as Chanyeol’s height, sat adjacent to each other on the cliff against the serene background of the ocean. One of the rocks was slightly larger than the other. What appeared to be a distorted house made of variegated limestone sat in between them, squished together and molded into the boulders. If one paid enough attention, they would notice that the biggest rock on the left was shaped in a way that resembled that of a man’s face. The grey-black roof of the house slanted, starting from the edge of the face-like boulder and stretching across the house and half of the center of the rock on the other end. A rustic red door sat in the center, slightly slanted towards the right; and pane windows were spread out on the center surface, also crooked and misaligned. Green moss grew on the stones, spreading sporadically up from the base towards the top.

 

“So, this is where this… Baekhyun lives?” he asked as Jaehyuk paused in front of the whimsical homestead. He watched as Jaehyuk moved towards the door instead of replying and brought his hand up to knock. Chanyeol startled and took a semi-step back when the door opened moments before Jaehyuk’s hand made contact, and Jaehyuk was left standing there with his arm raised, hand formed into a fist, midair.

 

Chanyeol was left stunned, standing there with his jaw dropped slightly open and eyes wide, staring at the man that appeared in the doorway. The man was slightly shorter than Chanyeol, with platinum-grey hair and striking blue eyes. He donned a white, thin tunic tucked into his pants, and knee-high leather boots which laced at the front.

 

“Ahh, Jaehyuk,” the man said as he crossed his arms across his chest and leaned his shoulder against the frame of the door. He glanced towards Chanyeol for a moment, locking eyes with him, before returning his attention back to the young boy. “I was wondering where you’d gone.”

 

Jaehyuk brought his hand down to his side and walked to stand by the man. Chanyeol watched as the man bent down, offering his ear for the boy to speak into. After a moment, he straightened and turned to face the “strange foreign man” Jaehyuk had spoken up.

 

The man stared at Chanyeol for a while in silence, regarding him in a way one would an old friend. When Jaehyuk tugged on the hem of his shirt, the man shook himself out of his stupor. “I hear you’re in need of lodging?” the man asked, offering the most brilliant smile Chanyeol had ever seen in his life.

 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol said, rubbing at the back of his neck—a quirk he’d picked up from his Grandfather as a child whenever he was placed in an embarrassing or awkward situation. “I don’t want to impose…but well, I hear the only inn on this island has closed down.”

 

“Of course,” the man said after a beat. He turned to the side slightly, ushering Jaehyuk in with a soft “in the kitchen,” before gesturing for Chanyeol to enter.

 

“Thanks, man,” Chanyeol said, pushing the handle of his suitcase down and picking it up, “I really appreciate it.”

 

“It’s no problem,” his host replied, closing the door as Chanyeol stood awkwardly in the dimly lit foyer. There was another door, Chanyeol noticed, opposite the front door; and staircases to the left and right of the small room they’d entered.

 

“I’m Chanyeol, by the way…” the tall redhead said, holding out his hand awkwardly with what he hoped was a charming smile.

 

The smile that was returned to him definitely beat his tenfold. “I’m Baekhyun,” the platinum-haired man said, taking Chanyeol’s hand in polite greeting. His touch lingered for a moment as he stared down at their hands, almost as if he was unwilling to lose contact. He then turned towards the staircase on the right and gestured upwards. “Your room is this way.”

 

Chanyeol nodded and followed Baekhyun up the stairs, leaning his body to the side to balance the weight from his luggage. They reached the second story landing, where Chanyeol continued to follow Baekhyun down the hall to the second door on the right.

 

“I hope this is alright,” Baekhyun said, opening the door.

 

The room was easily twice as big as Chanyeol’s room back home. Two windows slanted towards each other on the opposite wall; and in the space between them was a queen-sized poster bed made of deep mahogany. A floating stone desk protruded from the left wall, with a matching seat of stone. Against the right wall, a Camel back sofa sat. Intricate designs were carved into the stone walls of the room, and despite the dark colors of the walls themselves, the room was anything but gloomy.

 

“This is more than alright,” Chanyeol said, staring around the room in awe. He walked over and placed his camera bag on the storage bench at the end of the bed.

 

“The bathroom is right next to this room,” Baekhyun said, standing by the door, “and next to the bathroom is Jaehyuk’s room.”

 

“Jaehyuk stays here?”

 

“He does occasionally when his father is away.”

 

“He said his dad has been gone for weeks now,” Chanyeol said, remembering the conversation he and the boy had on the beach, “does he go away often?”

 

“He does,” Baekhyun responded. “Junmyeon has…obligations,” he added when he noticed the frown forming on Chanyeol’s face. “These obligations require him to leave often, but he comes and visits Jae when he can.”

 

“So, he has to travel for work?”

 

“Something like that…”

 

Chanyeol nodded in understanding. “That must for Jaehyuk…being away from his dad and all.”

 

Baekhyun hummed, and then turned and grabbed onto the doorknob. “I’ll let you settle in. My room is on the second floor of the west wing, please let me know if there’s anything you may need.”

 

Chanyeol thanked Baekhyun and wished him good night. Sitting on the trunk, he reached into his pocket to pull out his phone and groaned when he saw the “no signal” sign at the top right corner of the screen. Of course, there was no signal. He walked over to his suitcase and ped it, pulling out his laptop and charger. On his way to the desk, Chanyeol grabbed his camera bag as well—he might as well charge his battery to make sure it would last him through the day of exploring he was planning to do tomorrow. After that, he returned to his suitcase, pulled out a towel and his pajamas, and headed to the bathroom for a nice, warm shower.

 

Fifteen minutes later, he returned to his room to find a tray of food waiting on his bed. Chanyeol’s stomach growled, and he all but dived towards the bed and scarfed the food down. When everything on the tray was polished off, Chanyeol set the tray onto the ground next to the bed and climbed under the covers, making a mental note to thank Baekhyun the following morning.

 

 

 

 

✧

 

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol woke up the next day to the warmth of the rising sun creeping across his face, burning through his eyelids a radiant, hot orange. He’d half the mind to throw a pillow over his head and go back to sleep. However, there was work to do; and he knew that the sooner he could finish his work, the sooner he would be able to leave this godforsaken island.

 

With a groan, Chanyeol rolled out of bed and stumbled out of the room towards the bathroom. He returned to his room considerably more awake than when he’d left, with a towel slung around his neck. He quickly changed out of his pajamas into a pair of jeans and a plain white shirt, and pulled a purple hooded sweatshirt over his head. Slipping his wallet into the back pocket of his pants, Chanyeol unplugged his camera from its charger and headed downstairs.

 

He took his time walking down the staircase, admiring the etchings on the stone wall that he’d missed the night before. The door that was closed the night before was now propped open with a wooden wedge, and inside the room, Chanyeol heard chattering and laughter. He craned his head up, where a wooden sign with the word “ELYSIUM” hung above the door, and then into the room. It was a café, he realized, with round tables set up on the left side, and a counter on the right. Behind the counter was a door, which Chanyeol assumed led to the kitchen.

 

Chanyeol walked into the room and paused at the door when all conversation seemed to stop. The eyes of everyone in the room turned to stare at him, making him feel more than uncomfortable. At one of the tables—the one in the corner—sat the same lady he’d recognized from yesterday; the one who’d given him the stink eye. He briefly wondered if he should just turn around and leave as the feeling of being unwelcomed suddenly took over, and had just turned around to do just that when someone called his name.

 

“Chanyeol!”

 

“Oh, Jaehyuk,” Chanyeol said, turning and bending down to greet the little boy.

 

Jaehyuk cocked his head to the side and studied Chanyeol. “You’re feeling uneasy. Confused.”

 

There it was again. The same tone the boy had used with him yesterday—like he was stating rather than asking.

 

“Uhhh… Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

 

“There’s no need to feel that way,” a new voice said from behind Jaehyuk. Chanyeol looked up to see Baekhyun.

 

If Chanyeol had thought Baekhyun was striking last night, he was beyond words today. Today, in full light, Chanyeol realized that “striking” wasn’t enough to describe Baekhyun’s beauty. Baekhyun’s blue eyes sparkled, the bits of grey scattered in his irises appearing like stars. His lips, a rosy pink, slanted downwards cutely. Today he wore a navy tunic which he had tucked into leather pants at the front. The blue of the navy seemed to only bring out more of the blue in Baekhyun’s eyes. Around his neck, peeking through his unlaced collar, was a gold chain; and hanging from it, a clear stone set in the center of an intricate golden sun. The necklace seemed familiar to Chanyeol. He stared at it for a while, trying to remember if and where he’d seen it before.

 

Movement in the far-left corner of the room had Chanyeol looking up and away from Baekhyun’s chest. The lady had leaned slightly forward in her seat, watching the interaction between the three standing by the door with curious eyes.

 

Chanyeol swallowed, coating his suddenly dry throat.