FROM THE SEA

“Infinite but not perpetual,” said the Wise One. “Seas of misery have never drowned any soul, but he who perished could not withstand the test of time.”

Time? She definitely could not stand the test of time. It was a fact she learned after trying to keep her sanity being cooped up with the self-proclaimed wise old man, in a wall-less, unceasing cavern for as long as she could remember. With no other soul to interact with, it was not healthy for her mind.

“Would anyone ever come here?” she asked. “I mean, the reason I’m here. I’m sure I’m not alone. Could you, say, give me some friends?”

“Am I not one?” the old man replied. “This is your inner world, my dear. How could there be anyone else? Even I am the result of your imagination.”

“There’s no way I could have imagined a thing like you,” she snapped. “Dragons, fairies, extraterrestrial creatures. I’ve imagined them all, but never an aged, unhelpful, ‘wise’ man whose eyebrows urgently need a trim.”

“And now I’m not even requesting that some fire-breathing reptile be here with me,” she continued. “I just need to see another human. An ordinary one. Someone who doesn’t speak in convoluted manner. If there is anything infinite and perpetual here, it’s boredom and insanity.”

“Infinite, but not perpetual,” repeated the Wise One. “And it’s the Sea of Misery.”

Having had enough, she stood up and left. There was nowhere to head in this boundless cavern, and she knew the Wise One was omnipresent, but she had to keep looking. She believed that sometime, somewhere, she would find something else more interesting.

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“And so he called me,” Hongbin sighed as he picked up a piece of meat from his plate and shoved it into his mouth. The pair had decided to settle down at their favourite restaurant after leaving the airport, and Hongbin was sharing about his overseas study life, particularly how bothered he was by his new roommate. “I had to drag my sleepy down to the petrol kiosk at 3am in the morning to bring him home.”

“I am not his ing slave,” he continued. “Yet, he acted like I was at his beck and call.”

Ravi took a sip of his drink and furrowed his eyebrows. “Well, I thought you would have brushed your hands off matters you didn’t want to be involved in. Honestly, you would have just ignored him, right?”

Hongbin sat up. “Y-yeah, I would have,” he stammered. “But technically it wasn’t his fault his stupid friends drove off without him and ignored his calls. He was a crazy and unserious spoilt brat, but he didn’t deserve that...I guess.”

“But don’t get me started on how mischievous he is,” he continued. “If I hadn’t gone to his rescue, I might discover one day that he’d absconded with all my underwear.”

Ravi almost choked on his food in an attempt to let out a laugh. “He does sound like a petty, vengeful guy. What’s his name, anyway?”

“Hyuk. Han Sanghyuk. He insists on going by his Korean name. ’s hard to remember,” Hongbin replied. “And boy, he is petty! P-E-T-T-Y–”

Hongbin stopped mid-sentence and leaned across the table curiously. “What the hell are you smiling at? You look out of your mind.”

Ravi looked up, a little guilty for interrupting the conversation, but equally surprised by the picture he had just opened from his photo gallery.

“Isn’t that the guy from just now?”

“Yes, but I have no idea what this is doing in my phone,” the older twin replied, his lips pulled into a subtle smile as he stared at a picture of the stranger, posed against the backdrop of the runway. In the distance, an aircraft hung in the air in mid-takeoff.  The man struck the same winking pose as he did in those photographs Ravi had seen in his phone, his plump lips pulled into an attractive smile.

“Seems like a selfie taken in the viewing gallery,” Ravi suggested.

“Do you think he probably used your camera before realising it was someone else’s phone in his hand?” Hongbin scoffed. “Could have taken the effort to delete it, at least.”

“He either forgot,” Ravi replied, locking his phone and leaving the picture in there. “Or he couldn’t because my gallery was locked.”

Hongbin shrugged.

“I’d admit that he seemed like a friendly and cool person...for a Korean,” he conceded, making a reference to Hyuk. “But, nevertheless, I guess they’re all the same. Gets me offended when I’m told my name sounds Korean.”

Ravi looked up from his food, raising an eyebrow. “You get told that?”

“You bet,” the younger one whined. “Every other person I meet tells me I share the same name with some guy from some Korean band. They’re called Vicks or something like that,” he shrugged. “I don’t get why any band would want to name itself after some nasty ointment, honestly. It only taints my reputation.”

Ravi let out a small laugh. “So you’re a Korean celebrity.”

Hongbin leaned back and eyed Ravi. “You too, actually.”

“Someone’s called Ravi too. From that ointment band,” he continued as he reached for his drink. “I would have thought your name sounds Indian, but Korea continues to surprise me.”

Ravi cocked his head. “What a coincidence.”

“To be fair, I think it’s a stage name,” Hongbin added. “His real name’s Wonsteak. If I’m not wrong.”

“You looked them up, huh?”

Hongbin rolled his eyes. “You know I don’t care. I get snippets of information from the girl in my class. She wouldn’t shut up about that band. Oh, don’t get me started about her-“

“Seems like you are meeting really interesting people overseas,” Ravi replied dryly. He hated to admit it, but he envied Hongbin’s life, and though they were twins, the two seemed to lead entirely different lifestyles. Hongbin was always eager to go out there to explore the world, whereas Ravi spent his days cooped up in his bedroom buried in a pile of books.

“That’s what happens when you actually have a life,” the younger one laughed. “Try it.”

Ravi leaned back against his chair and shrugged. He knew better.

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She perked her ears and listened, once again, but more intently. She was sure she heard it – the raking of leaves. In a large cavern shrouded by darkness and supported by cold, hard, rock flooring, she could not envision any trees, leaves, or even a rake…not to mention someone using it.

This is it, she thought. The first symptom of craziness.   

She heard it again, this time accompanied by soft humming. It was the first other human voice she had heard in months, and no matter who it belonged to, it definitely inundated her heart with warmth and hope.

“Who’s there?” she murmured.

The carbonate stalagmites seemed to rattle. Then, the walls and ground retreated under her feet as bright lights clouded her vision, and before she knew it, she was in an entirely new environment.

She retreated in amazement. It took her some time to adjust to the new scenery before her eyes.

That’s a forest, she squealed. It seemed like eons since she had last seen a tree. Now, the vegetation before her seemed to stretch for miles into the horizon, the leaves a rich shade of orange that reminded her of dusk.

“You’re wet,” came a deep voice from behind. Startled, she jumped, whipping her head around.

There stood a man, about twenty years old, dressed in a loose shirt and trousers. He towered above her, his black hair neatly parted, and he held a rake in one hand. “You’re wet,” he repeated, eyeing her curiously.

She could not believe her eyes. He looked more normal than anything – too ordinary, too human. Shrieking in delight, she reached out to touch him. She had to make sure that he was just like her: flesh and blood.

“Eww,” the man retreated in disgust, his small lips downturned, causing her to freeze her arm in mid-air. “I told you that you were wet. Don’t touch me.”

Finally, it dawned upon her that she felt cold and damp all over. She looked down and saw water dripping from her sleeves, her toes entangled in green, wet kelp.

“What’s this?” she gasped. She looked back at the man. “And who the heck are you?”

The man remained silent. He stared at her, his eyes no longer filled with curiosity, but rather, a hint of awareness. “You came from the sea.”

“Uh, no,” she replied. “I came from a cavern, or a void I’d believe it to be. I know why you’d think that, but trust me - I have no idea why I’m dripping wet.”

“The sea,” he insisted. It reminded her of how stubborn the Wise One tended to be. “Trust me, you did.”

“And how would you know?” she challenged, a little deflated that this other soul was, too, difficult to communicate with.

“Fishes in the sea don’t ever know the concept of air,” he said. “Not until they come out dripping wet, like you.”

“I’m not a fis-“

She paused. She remembered what the old man had said. The Sea of Misery. Has she escaped it? Was she ever part of it?

“Have you been stuck here for long?” she asked, looking around. The environment tended to be repetitive, and nothing other than leaves and trees surrounded them. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t know what a real fish looked like.”

The man scoffed. “Take it or leave it.”

“Where are we?” she asked, finally arriving at the question she had been dying to ask since she landed herself here.

“The netherworld, duh,” he replied, watching her eyes grow. “Just kidding. I don’t know.”

“Are you just like me, then? Trapped in some strange dimension?” she approached him excitedly. “Have you met the old man? The one who conducts himself like some deity but is really terribly useless?”

She watched his face change. Perhaps she had probed too far.

“He may hear you,” the man whispered. “But yes, he could be a tough nut to crack.”

She giggled. At last, she thought. She had found some other sign of life other than the Wise One, and this individual seemed share her sentiments. She could not care less if he, too, was a product of her imagination, as the old man had put it. Anything to cure her loneliness would work. Besides, he seemed like he would make an interesting friend.

“So which One are you?” she asked. “I’ve met the Wise One.” She pointed at his rake. “Are you the Diligent One? The Dendrophilic One? Or –“

“Some One,” he cut her off. Laying down his rake, he walked over to the nearest tree and leaned against the trunk. “The name’s Wonshik.”

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