Beams of orange light spilled over the cloudy horizon, bathing the sky in dazzling rays.

Squinting my eyes, I rubbed the foggy window with the edge of my sleeve and peered out into the all-encompassing white. Scenic orchards and rice fields flanked the route eastward from the capital, where the bustling metropolis had long disappeared and endless snow-blanketed mountains trailed in its wake. Serenity abounded... I watched everything slide by on fast forward as the train wove through the landscapes in perfect quiet; the absence of sound poured into my ears a deafening feeling that resonated in the back of my skull.

“...Gangneung Station. We repeat, Gangneung Station...”

The indistinct announcement that boomed over the PA struck against my ears then echoed into oblivion. I took slow, deep breaths, fists clenched tight in the pockets of my jacket. The scenery outside the glass wall lulled me into a fleeting sense of comfort, but the more distance the train traveled through the wider the crevices cracked open—baring slivers of anxiety that prickled at parts of me.

...and it cracked wider and wider, the fracture revealing a reflection of myself in muted colors.

For what felt like forever, I stared unblinking at myself, all the while the sharp edges tore away at every fibre of my being. Worn-out but nonetheless lucid, it vanished the instant the train emerged through the tunnel—awash in the blueness of a sprawling lakefront.

In a blink of an eye, the rocky sands disappeared into a field of wilted reeds, and row after row of buildings began appearing as the train neared its destination. All around me, as far as the eye could see, the sun was rising over the peaks of Daegwallyeong, the icy summits rearing far into the azure sky.

Finally I realized I was home, and everything went out of focus.

My mind spiraled a steep descent with no end in sight, my insides pulled apart by countless shards. I rose from my seat to follow a stream of passengers crowding the aisle, but my vision was fuzzy. I struggled to drag along like I was wading through quicksand, my feet sinking in with each step. Overcame with the onslaught, I deliberated to dig my nails deeper into the barely healed skin of my palms, the pain pulling me back from the downward spiral that wasn’t me yet constituted myself.

And it stung.

...it stung for the briefest moment, but at least the sensation was enough to pulverize the shards into fine translucent dust, igniting every synapse in my brain slowly—then all at once. All that remained was nothing, save for numbness and a sense of control. My balance was slow to catch up, though, so I stumbled and my shoulders brushed against someone’s arms in my haste to disembark.

I twitched at the lingering impact, and a low murmur escaped my lips in a spontaneous response.

“I’m sorry—”

The young man just stared at me, his expression a mix of surprise and apprehension, one hand adjusting the strap of his bag.

“I’m sorry,” the tenor of his voice sounded earnest. I nodded my head, and he too nodded. His black orbs peered into mine to search for possible signs of discomfort, then landed on my shoulders. “Are you alright?”

Are you really alright?

Silence fell, leaving only the erratic sound of my heartbeats, crossing into the infinite space. It was such a loaded question when taken out of context and merited an exhaustive explanation...but in reality it was merely a simple gesture expressed out of good manners. I smiled a little at the end, dismissing his courtesy by assuring him that he needed not so much as worry.

“I’m okay.”

And with that we parted ways, two people heading towards completely different paths that led to different destinations, never to come across each other again.

*

...or so I had thought.

But unbeknownst to us, we were on a collision course only God knows either by accident or by design. If only one thing had happened differently...if the restaurant at the hotel I was staying hadn’t closed; or if I hadn’t ventured outside in search for a warm meal; or if I hadn’t meandered off the beaten path, lured by the fresh, salty smell of the sea air, we wouldn’t have met each other again, and the two of us would’ve gone through the motions as though the other had never existed.

But life being what it is—a series of intersecting lives, out of anyone’s control—I found my way to the ocean, and saw the man standing unmoving on the shore, the tail of his long coat flapping in the wind.

He immediately sensed my presence and turned to look at me. The raven locks swept across his face, and the corners of his lips bore a semblance of a smile. Wordlessly I inched closer, eyes fixated on the vast expanse before me. The swells rose and broke and revived rapidly in an endless succession, and the swish and boom muffled the rumble of my own thoughts.

Again and again, the waves smashed violently, the once jagged rocks being eroded one wave at a time. I stood there transfixed, the roaring and pounding drowning all other sounds, and my mind was overflowing with bliss.

For once, I felt soothed.

For once, I felt like myself. Whole, and in control.

A wide smile crept up as I reveled in the surrounding vista. I wanted to lose myself in the rhythmic crashing, to taste the brine as much as smell it, but a cold breeze bit on my skin and I shuddered.

“It’s freezing.”

The pale blue and yellow streaks had dissipated into shades of crimson and deep saffron, the marching of time escaping my notice. I looked around and noticed that there were only the two of us, and us only, since quite some time ago.

The wind was so chilly now that our breath puffed out in frosty clouds.

“It is.”

“I want to stay for as long as I could,” he continued, and true to his words, even from this distance I could tell his eyes reflected the yearning. “BI can't. Not today, at least.”

The waves rolled in long, tossing and whirling in every direction, pounding with fringes of white foam. I nodded in agreement.

“A bowl of seolleongtang would be nice, don’t you think?”

He s