Dawn illuminates the port of Afohnies in a beautiful golden light, and the sky looks like one of those unbearable corny oil paintings. Mercifully it’s still relatively quiet, except for the warning bells of the port tower. Ringing the change of the direction of the flow and mark the end of the first shift. The shadows of birds can be seen lurking on masts, rooftops and everywhere that allows these harassing thieves a good view. Their existence causes fishers to load and unload their goods nervously. Wiping the cold sweat from their forehead, between reassuring glances towards the protecting covers of their catch. Being careless has a high price as it never goes unnoticed by the sharp eyes of a gull.

Unsurprisingly Jiyong is not only among the latecomers. No, his nutshell is the very last to make it. He still refuses to call this small lateen-rigged felucca a boat. Technically, yes it works as one. It’s just a one-man vessel, with a single sail and a pole to move through the port. A pole he currently clings onto like his dear life depends on it. Fiercely he pokes, stirs, and paddles it into the stream beneath him. As always at this point, he greatly regrets his late coming. Surely one fish just isn’t worth the sweat and blisters he will gain from trying desperately to move back to the pier. But with just a bucket full with a couple of dazed fishes in front of him, every single one counts. By the look of the number, it will barely cover today's expenses and that hardly and only if he is lucky. They haven't been biting well those last couple of days, and the nets have been empty too. It merely has gotten worst. It seems as if even the fishes start to avoid the waters around here. Alike with the vessels. He hasn't seen a galleon in weeks, maybe even months. Whispers of the street rumor a curse. Brought upon them as punishment for the inane blood that stained the ocean and poisons the fishes. Maybe, if he were superstitious he would give a second thought to those tells, but he isn't. Also, he has seen the dolphin school south the mainland. Therefore he knows the real cause - adorable, bastards. As mesmerizing they were to look at, the damage of a whole bunch of them raiding the sea is feel-able in a meager yield. He may not be very literate and mostly self-educated, but he is keen and cognizant. With a decent amount of luck, and sharp senses as he always pays careful attention to his surroundings. It isn’t difficult to tell that in order to raise the population again, it is necessary to cut down on the fishing. But he needs the money urgently, and so do the others. He doesn't fish because he wants to, it's essential. He already cut as many corners as possible. Well, that’s not exactly true, there were some holes left. But he still has some sort of standard left and desired a tiny bit of comfort.

His back ages and his arms are getting heavier with every movement. It takes a lot of willpower and strength not just to give up and let himself drift back out again. It certainly wouldn’t be his first time either. But there is something called pride and also self-esteem. Somewhere between the piers, the port master is lurking. Watching him struggle with a smug grin plastered on his face. And he couldn’t let him have this satisfaction and the laugh. Also, the fish is less worth if he has to wait half a day to sell it. The customers won’t consider them as fresh fish anymore, especially since he can’t keep them cool out there either. He curses under his breath but tries to keep a straight face. Everything, to not let his inner distress and exhaustion show as he moves his Peanut towards the pier. Sure enough, he can see Sungyu stand there, amused as always waiting for him. The last tolls of the bell just fade away as he finally docks his boat. Dramatically Sungyu takes a look at his tiny golden pocket watch, before turning to the harbor tower as if he needs confirmation for the time to be exactly right.
“Precisely 6 o’clock 38 minutes and 46 seconds - R.O.D barely manages to be back on port -check. How long do ye think on staying this time Mr. Kwon?”
He would like to beat this priggish attitude out of him, but he also has some sort of manners left and frankly he is too busy trying not to pant like an exhausted in heat on a hot summer day. Trying to keep his face, but it doesn’t stop him from barking back, “as always!”

“I certainly enjoy yer optimism Mr. Kwon and let’s assume ye don’t miss the currents, again,“ to his defense he has just missed them twice. Once he had overslept, and the other time, well, he also had overslept; but purposely, after b